It took me a while to realise why I'm having such trouble leaving; why I couldn't help but cry when we hit Gretna on the way home; why my chest is tightening and my eyes watering a little even now.
There are two reasons to my mind, one good and one not so good (although I wouldn't go as far as 'bad'):
1) I've been deeply inspired spiritually, more than I imagined would've happened at SH. I thought I had it figured out you see; I thought I'd be surrounded by oppressive dogmatic ideas wrapped up in a façade of open-mindedness and forward thinking. For some reason, that was my abiding memory of the place. It's possible that this is because there's a certain element of that in the way the children and young people are taught. But this year I felt inspired to follow the ideas I've been having; to educate myself on spiritual and historical matters, and explore my own relationship with God and with my own spirit. It was freeing, it was refreshing, it was relaxing. I haven't felt so at peace for so long. It was like coming home, like that was somewhere I should be. I'm now left with the question of whether it's somewhere I should be more often, or if it was just something I needed for that short space of time? I lean more towards the former because this feeling isn't new - I've felt drawn to leadership and ministry there for a while - but is that a genuine desire to spiritually lead, or is it a desire to 'perform'?
2) It was the first time I'd been really submerged in something that is very closely linked to my depression. I've managed to skip quickly through Kent a few times over the past year, but I have cut most of the ties. This wasn't Kent, but it was Kent people and it was a situation I have spent many years of my depression in. There's an odd feeling of safety being back somewhere like that, and this isn't (as I said earlier) completely bad: my experiences at SH are really the only completely positive memories I have of that time, so to be able to return to that place and feel an even greater positivity run through me is, in truth, a very good sign. But the comfort and safety I felt, almost instantly, is hard to leave. This hasn't completely left me yet as Irvine is a limbo space - I have no responsibility here, I can avoid certain things if I want to and justify that avoidance. This is why the thought of returning to Aberdeen scares me - I'm fired up in one sense and ready to push myself into more things, but I've managed to change enough in just two weeks that it's a different persona that is returning. I doubt I'll be rejected by anyone; probably the very opposite in truth, but how I'll deal with this change myself is a different matter.
This is a very personal post, I don't imagine it will be fully understood by anyone who chances across it but I'll thank you for reading this far anyway. I'll also apologise for not including any artwork - I'm saving that for next time. Possible updates on these feelings may follow, just so you're warned.
On an unrelated note: One of Vincent Van Gogh's doctors was called 'Gasho' - how brilliant is that!
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