Post Mission Blues.

Well, I might have figured it out.
The reason I got Post Mission Blues so bad this year is because I had nothing to go home to.
Sure there was youth, but that's once a week, and school is a downside, not an upside.
When I think about the changes in my life recently, the only reason I didn't want to leave beach mission so much, besides all the great people and kids/teens/families, is because I didn't want to go back home.

I really hate being at home, more than anything right now.
So much so that sometimes I refer to it as 'house' rather than 'home'.
I dread being at home.
It wouldn't be so bad if I could go somewhere to escape, but there's nowhere to go. My bedroom is the size of a box, and I have the privacy of a flea...as unrelated as fleas are...I just wanted to write flea...can we all move on? Good.
I can't drive either. Well, I can, but not by myself.

Anyway, I feel slightly better, to have figured out the deep, dark root of my PMB, but also feel slightly worse to face the fact that I hate it here.

Begin to hope...