When I was younger, it took me a very long time to get used to sleepovers. I wanted so badly to be able to spend the night with my friends, but I felt such an intense disappointment every time that I woke up in a room that wasn’t my own that I was averse to sleepovers in general. As I’ve gotten older I have grown far more comfortable with waking up in places beside my bed at home – going to college and spending a semester abroad are two great ways to throw yourself into it.
However, I have never really outgrown that feeling of dread when I first wake up and realize that I’m not in the comfort of my bed at home. Since I’ve been in Copenhagen I have turned my studio apartment into a very pleasant living space, and I’ve had an amazing few months living here. But most mornings I wake up to a wave of sadness weighing heavily on me as I try to shake the lingering feelings of sleep. Homesickness is my personal morning sickness.
I don’t feel homesick much of the time, nothing more than a typical student abroad. I miss Boston because I miss my friends, I miss the U.S. for the comfort of familiarity, and I miss my family all of the time. But all of these feelings are exceptionally normal when you spend time apart from people and places. I’ve learned to come to terms with these feelings and figured out ways to cope with them. Making an effort to keep in touch with the people that I miss has paid off exponentially, and I am so thankful to have people to miss. But for some reason (I have several theories, such as the time difference) it’s the mornings that are the most difficult for me.
This post is short because there isn’t much to say about it. Missing people is hard. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is that fills me with such a sadness, but I have found recently that this morning sickness is beginning to feel more like nostalgia than dread. With 10 more weeks in Copenhagen I’m going to continue to challenge the affects of homesickness, and remember that each morning turns into a beautiful day.