Confessions of a Freshly Returned Missionary

Well, hello everyone.
I'm back. :)
I've actually been back for almost a month now (crazy!), but I hadn't gotten around to blogging yet.
See, coming home from a mission is a HUGE adjustment. Much more so than I had anticipated. Everyone gives the new missionary in the field some slack for the first couple of months, but the freshly returned missionary gets sympathy for only a few days. And then everyone continues to tease them for still being awkward.
I keep typing and deleting attempts to express how I feel about the subject, and some are humorous, and some aren't. It is just strange. My inability to express it really reflects the confusion I feel when facing who I am, what I want, what I am doing with my life, etc. Here are a few short disconnected insights into the last few weeks of my life that depict my adjustment:

When the airplane's wheels lifted off of Missouri soil, I burst into tears, making my companion (who was an elder, by the way), feel very uncomfortable.
When my parents ran to give me my first hug at the bottom of the airport elevator, I was both grinning and crying and said, "This would be the worst day of my life, except I get to see you."
A couple of days after I got home my parents had a busy night and told me their plans to leave me home alone. I nearly panicked. Instead, I finagled my way into my mom's birthday committee to knock on random member's doors in our neighborhood. Flashback!
A week and half after I got home I decided that I should probably start listening to normal music again. I pulled up my old music and pressed play. Tense, I started listening to discover that I still like my old music. I promptly started crying again. Great. For those of you who knew me before my mission I have a pretty big guilt complex. It is now even worse.
I have had four sets of parents at stake conference, the owner of a clothing store that knows my dad, and members of my home ward all imply or right out say that I should get together with their sons. That doesn't include the two old men that hit on me at the DI, the guy at the health department that was a bit overly friendly, and a young man from my home stake that told at least five separate people that we were dating.
Talk about Overwhelming!
That makes it sound like I am uber attractive and dateable, but that is still not true. I went on my first date back with a super nice guy that I have wanted to see, and I froze. I really had nothing to say. I didn't want to be that RM that only talked about their mission all of the time, but I realized....I have nothing else to say. Awkward silence. But then he brought up missions and was fine with it, so I was able to chill out (don't get me wrong, I am sure I am still very awkward). But he hasn't really talked to me since...
I frequently accidentally call my friends "Sisters", semesters "transfers", and roommates "companions". I also have to translate my name from Sister Atkin into April whenever I say it out loud.

I think the reason it was so hard to come home was because it felt like I never left. As we drove through Sardine Canyon toward my childhood home, it didn't feel like it had been any time at all. That scared me. The experiences I had in Missouri and Kansas are so important and sacred to me, that it scares me to think they didn't happen or that I could lose that. It was hard to let it go and trust that they did happen and that I am different now because of that. I won't lose the things that I learned. Now is the time for me to start a new phase of my life and let it go. I need to be happy now and not look back at the "glory years". I am here now, and happy about it. God has a plan for me.
So warning to parents of soon returning missionaries: It Is Hard. Fact.
I don't know if anyone warned me how vulnerable I would feel when I was freshly back. The second week after someone gets home is a great time for them to mess up because they have to realign their boundaries and standards (down, actually. And that is okay), and could easily err the other way (maybe I'm the only one that feels that way, but I doubt it).
But!
Perks of being an RM:

Everything relates to a gospel principle about which I can bear testimony and about which I can then offer more (PMG p. 185). (haha, good for me, but maybe not for those around me) I love the scriptures!
I can go to the temple!
There are a lot of missionaries going out that are dying for advice. Easy target of reminiscing!
I am unafraid of approaching strangers, asking for help, interviewing, or knocking random doors of apartments I am considering living in.
I know how to receive personal revelation and my prayers are still answered. Heavenly Father still loves me.
I have a lot of new friends on facebook. :)
I know how to make thrift store finds cute (I guess this only applies to RM sisters. wait. I take that back. Some elders had awesome ties).

At the end of the day, it is good to be back. I am learning how to progress again and I am figuring out my life. I have started to rediscover my purpose, identity, value, and place in the world. Take that, Satan.
Thank you for reading this scattered, boring-to-everyone-else blog post.
I'm back. :)