I've just returned to Dubai after 17 glorious days back home. It was a pretty low key vacation, full of many lazy days and far too many unhealthy (yet delicious) meals. I cuddled my puppies and my fiance, went on a road trip to the beautiful Rocky Mountains, and bought a brand new camera! I was having a fabulous time remembering what it was like to have a normal life when before I knew it, it was time to go.
I swore that I wouldn't get emotional this time around. For about 10 minutes, I didn't! However, after my morning shower the realization hit me that I was leaving again just when I'd settled into my simple life back home. I sobbed like a baby in Ryan's arms as he tried to comfort me, knowing that it was no use. He drove home, as my mom, brother and I drove to the airport. My heart hurt once again, as it always does when I leave home. I maintained my composure at the airport as I said goodbye to my family and boarded a plane. 28 hours later, I was back in Dubai.
As I walked past the meeting points in the airport, I tried not to get too upset. Nobody was ever waiting for me in this airport. I stepped into the hot evening air, caught a taxi, and went to the place that I call home. It was a dusty day, and even the lights of Sheik Zayed Road were hidden behind a thick layer of grey. After a few traffic jams, I was at my apartment building. The smell of the abattoir across the street filled the night air. I unlocked my apartment, relieved to have reached it but sad because I didn't want to be there... at all. My amazing roommate was nowhere to be found, leaving me all alone, vulnerable to the certain emotional breakdowns that I'd have throughout the evening. The simplest things would set me off. I was a wreck, as I'd expected that I would be.
I didn't have much time to settle back in. I'd left little time between returning to Dubai and returning to work, and as I unpacked one suitcase I was packing another. After a few hours of sleep, I woke up this morning at 4 am. Jet lag has got the best of me. I'm going to Hong Kong today, for the very first time. I really, really want to be excited, but first I need to stop feeling so sad. It's not so bad and I know that, but I just really miss home and everything that comes with it. This happens every time, and I know that I have no option but to battle it out. By next week I'll be feeling better.
So a question to the rest of you crew.... am I alone in the post-leave depression? Does anybody else return after a vacation back home and feel this way? I do love my job, and I know how fortunate I am to have this life, but at times like these it just doesn't seem worth it.