Stumblings in a search for rest

So, today as I was biking back from my new part-time job the thought hit me: I haven't just sat down and written for myself in awhile. I say the thought hit me because honestly, it was as if I had forgotten that such self-processing methods even existed...I have been engaged in a lot of emails, a lot of communication, phone calls, even skypes, etc. But time of just "going to Gusto" or Saizeria or Royal Host, sitting with a drink bar and my computer or a notebook...just hasn't happened since coming back to the states.

People seem to have a pretty common opinion regarding my schedule these days:
"Oh, you must have a lot of free time now that you're back from Japan."

But I usually respond to that comment by saying something like, "I have no idea what it means to be busy anymore. I can't really judge my schedule very well these days."

And probably no one has a clue what I'm talking about. Oh, well. How can I possibly explain to people that I feel busy all the time, but feel completely meaningless while I'm doing things? Even when I'm trying to relax, I feel as though I should be--there's the dreaded "shoulds"--getting things done, whether it's studying Japanese or helping out my family...I hate shoulds. Whoever invented the work ethic anyway? And why is it that while so many people come back from Japan and can't find jobs and such, I feel as though I've come back with just as much if not more communication "jobs" to do, a family to reconnect with, and a part-time job?

Ok, in the midst of this ranting, I have to confess that my family really has been chill with me, and I know that they don't expect things of me...it's more my expectations for myself. And my part-time job is seriously...part-time. Not a big deal. But I still feel the heart racings like I would feel during a really busy time in Japan, and I still find myself repeating this self-talk monologue: "Ok...hyperventilating...now...just...slow...down...Haidee..."

What makes rest so difficult? Is it the pedestals that other people put me on? The pedestal I try to stand on myself? Am I running from the ache that continually threatens to catch up with me from what I've left behind, or am I simply experiencing the "foreigner's" stress that comes from being in a "new" place? Is it because suddenly I am void of dreams, void of purpose...trying to catch some sense of meaning in the daily life that I seem to screw up so often here? Is it trying to balance too many relationships? Why does God give me all these open doors that feel sometimes like they are cages rather than openings?

Darn it. Now I remember why I wiped the thought of typing on here out of my mind before...my eyes are getting suspiciously moist.

Some people think that rest is a learned thing that people grab onto, and they say that if I don't learn how to rest now, my entire life will forever be screwed up (what a joyous outlook)...maybe this is the learning process...