It sounds like the weirdest thing on the planet to say that I'm back in Texas. To say that three months have already gone by is absolutely absurd, yet that is entirely the truth.
I don't know how to process the fact that I'm back in my old room, and to be perfectly honest, I haven't even tried yet. I'm going to do some verbal (or typing?) processing right now though, so prepare yourself.
I was asked many times in the weeks leading up to my return back to the states, "How do you feel about going home?". I answered that question as honestly as possible. I told them that I missed my family and friends, but that at the same time I really didn't want to leave. I was not at all prepared for how leaving would make me feel.
The best way to explain what I was feeling when my plane left the gate in Manila is to say, something inside me broke. It was as if part of my heart was ripped away.
I *love* the Philippines. I made priceless friendships there. I started the journey to learning the language. I made it my home. Obviously I always knew I was just there for three months, but I truly put in roots there, I knew leaving would be hard on me, but I didn't know it would hurt quite so much.
When my plane touched down in Texas, I was overwhelmed and nearly started crying. I was so emotional for a few reasons,
1) my long journey was over and that was so nice
2) I was excited to see my family
3) I was heart broken that I really was no longer in the Philippines.
To say that I want to go back and live my life there is an understatement. I would be so pleased to marry and Filipino and only come back to the states to visit my family. That said, I do feel that God has something for me in America. That there's something I need to do/ get here, that I can't in the Philippines.
I don't know what tomorrow looks like; let alone a year from now, but I do know that the Philippines is rooted deep in my heart. I learned so much about myself and about how life works. I grew. I changed. I am better than I was before.