The little green men have landed

I didn't cry much at the airport, not because I wasn't sad or wasn't going to miss my family, quite the contrary. I didn't cry much at the airport because I was so terrified that my brain couldn't even process sadness. I had rather hoped that the crushing panic would lessen somewhat once I boarded the plane and couldn't change my mind, but I can tell you that sitting here in the dark in my boyfriend's room in Frankfurt (my sanctuary for the next couple of days before the next big push), it certainly has not. This is perhaps why I spent the last 2 hours staring blankly at the ceiling, paralyzed with fear. I enjoy traveling, meeting new people, eating new foods, but I think some of the joy in that is knowing that if anything goes really wrong, you're always going to be home soon-ish and everything will return to normal. I'm craving that feeling. I flew in to Frankfurt rather than Paris specifically to experience that second home feeling I get from being here among limited friends and something close to family, but it seems that my attempts to douse myself in (almost) normal isn't lessening the premature homesickness, but rather exacerbating the problem. I know that at some point I'll create a new normal for myself in Stenay, but the closer I get to leaving and creating this new life, the more my brain seems to rebel against it, and the more nauseatingly nervous I feel about things like figuring out the bus system in rural France. I know I'm just psyching myself out, but what I would give for some indication that it'll all be ok, you know, beyond people telling me "It'll all be ok".