I didn’t feel that this would happen. I stepped onto the plane to Rome after the jog from terminal A to B of the Dubai airport, the only exercise I will get today, and a familiar, but distant past feeling rushed in. I didn’t think I would be affected by an abrupt return from third world to first, being that an abrupt entry from first to third several months ago had no such effect.

As I organized my things in my seat and attempted to discreetly un-bunch my underwear, standing with rear facing the windows of the airplane, I took in the sight of an Italian couple. The man: tattoos, Dolce Gabbana, shiny adornments, and…presence. The woman: makeup, neat and stylish hair, silk clothing, lips with fresh Botox.

The feeling I had doesn’t seem fair, and don’t agree with it, but I already miss the atmosphere of busy survival I left early this morning. My system was “offended” by the sight, however reverse culture shock is far too extreme of a term. This was 30 seconds of feeling the heaviness of coming back into a world of rich unconsciousness. I don’t belong in either culture, but the poverty feels less challenging in ways. In the end, the ability and means to “have” has nothing to do with if a person will be conscious or not. If your soul is prepared to wake up, you wake up.

The feeling quickly faded. I watched the couple play with their small baby and laugh with each other, and they were quickly humanized. Maybe they were happy. Maybe more so than me. As usual, I have no business making a judgment.

Perhaps my 30 seconds of internally-fabricated alienation rose from the numerous goodbyes I didn’t get to have, and the one important one I briefly had before I ran off to my gate. The floodgates were already open. A lot of energy is moving around inside. A lot has been changing this past week within me, and I’ve been quite sensitive.

I spent the last 10 days getting to know 20 something Italians and 20 something Brits in a challenging environment and in the context of medical service. I feel happy. I made at least one close connection, and a few others that have potential to grow.

I remember walking into the Bangladeshi hospital on our first day. Cameras, brown people in white coats passing out flowers, eager to catch a glimpse and a selfie with the “foreigners.”

We sat around a long brown conference table, room packed and noisy, listening to speeches, for the sake of speeches. The typical Asian (just India/Bangladesh) way. Fanfare for fanfare’s sake. Proudly presenting their plans for a new hospital like a child at first grade show and tell. It always makes me laugh. It feels like meeting an old, predictable friend after some time. I sat politely and listened through the unbroken chatter coming from all the occupied black chairs lining the walls.

After a verbal duel between the Adult Rehabilitation Medicine head and the Pediatrics head, the Italian pediatricians and I followed towards the pediatrics area. At each corner of the stairs, a trash can, lined with a yellow bag sat, blood splattered against the wall, on the floor and dripping from the lip of the can into depths beyond my view. People lay in the halls and infant clothing hung from the cages placed over every window, drying in the sun. Were the cages trying to keep people in or out? The Italians and I weren’t sure. Maybe it was for the monkeys.

Into the inpatient area, I glanced to the right through a wide doorway. Metal bed frames with thin red and white cots were closely placed and filled with one or several bodies. Eyes stared out at the foreigners. Cold and tired, I couldn’t read them.

PANG. It hit me. Another feeling that I didn’t expect. A moment of sickness, but the kind of sickness that comes with seeing a terrible situation you can’t do anything about. Seeing someone live so differently than you under such poor conditions. In India, I saw many “terrible” things, but had been able to look at it with neutrality, or even to appreciate it. In this moment, I didn’t know if it was regression or progress to have this chest-caving feeling.

It lasted 5 seconds. I quickly returned to center. This was life here in Bangladesh, in a public hospital overrun by patients due to lack of facilities, bodies laying wherever there was space, IVs being placed in infant arms on a table next to the toilet. I could work with this; I could integrate. Then, my heart accepted that this was just life right now.

Days passed quickly; much happened. There was a lot of drama, but it felt far away from me. I was enjoying every moment. I was watching myself carefully. An interesting phenomenon was taking place.

The old feelings of a frequent stress response, my long-time companion, were gone. I felt calm. Even though I was overstimulated and under-slept by old me standards, I felt energetic, at peace and like I was floating in a vast open space. The space was empty. Nothing to crash into and nothing to create friction.

My mind occasionally reached for something to do. I was changing, but the body I’m occupying hadn’t caught up yet. Strange half-complaints about how late it was or, “oh no, another surprise cultural event and media attack before dinner. I thought we were just going to dinner.” The words came out but they were empty. I didn’t feel disturbed at all.

In this new void came something amazing: me. I could joke and laugh, I was easily able to talk to everyone, to lead conversations, to be quiet if I wanted without feeling like I had to be a part of the chatter. Free.

I finally had space. I was finally emerging. It made sense. My former state of constant sympathetic activation consumed all of my energy, and all of me. It wasn’t safe to be me. I was closed and hidden. Having taken it away? I emerge? This seems to be text book.

When we start closing, we start finding masks to wear because, even if we close, the world doesn’t go away. We have to be a part of it; we descended. We chose to be a part of it. I can feel the masks and the fear going at the same time. It feels like a void and expansion at the same time. A recalling of energy, but without doing anything. Just like the text book said, if you take away the threat or perception of threat, you can return naturally to homeostasis. Our soul and life force knows what to do.

This amazing and dynamic experience of coming together with so many souls at different levels of consciousness and transparency for a common purpose has contributed to my inner growth significantly. I’ve had a taste of third world and first world simultaneously. Maybe the universe again was trying to help me with the transition. In the contrast I felt very resilient; I felt comfortable. And now, I miss my companions.

The plane has taken off. I’m watching the Italian family sit next to a Muslim family, both with small children. I don’t know anything about either pair. From the outside, they just look like people, rocking their little humans with attention and care while standing in the aisle. From this perspective, it feels easy to feel love for them. There is no shock in this moment.

Everyone is on the earth because they chose to be. They’ll wake up eventually this life or next. But until then, there is so much beauty in just watching them laugh. And now, I’m excited to spend some time deep in Italian culture, appreciating every moment for what it is.