Sitting behind the wheel, I felt paralyzed and wanted to cry. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I wanted to run away and hide, never to return to such a God-forsaken place . . . as South Jersey.
That’s right. After only seven weeks back in the US, I’ve been officially diagnosed with Reverse Culture Shock.
While I’m still waiting on the prognosis, the hope is it’s not terminal.