Land of anxiety

I don't know about you, but whenever I go back to the place where I grew up, I feel like I automatically regress to whomever little person I used to be when I was there, before I left.
do you get that too? visiting the house where you grew up, your home town, your local park, (all looks so small all of a sudden , doesn't it), your family, maybe your old friends, (if you are lucky to still have them)... you kind of revisit your own self as you were. As you used to be.

The clock has gone back, and I turned backwards with it.

I guess it could be a wonderful feeling for someone who's had a magical childhood, and adulthood turned crappy... but for me it's certainly not the case; Not to say that I had a crappy childhood, but what I have today, in my thirties, is a way sweeter deal. (for one, I am not the 186 pounds sun-burnt braces-smile frizzhead anymore ).

Going back into childhood, turns me instantly into that goofball , with all of her problems, and when I can observe the situation realistically, this almost makes me laugh, (or cry), because here I am today, feeling the most comfortable playing (=being) the femme fatal ,sexiest lady alive called carmen, but at the same time, in a drop of a hat (or a 10 hour flight), I am able to turn into ugly betty. poof.

Usually this condition disturbs me, but not that much, because my visits to my home land, are only that: visits.
This time, however, I am about to work there , debuting my carmen, and showing off the adult that I've become.
How do I float above the muddy swamp of regression?

I've been having these anxiety dreams about taking taxi's there, that drive me to unknown destinations, people speaking to me in languages I don't understand, I get lost.

Today , would be my challenge to look the past in the eye and conquer that ugly duckling with my present tense, and what has become my salvation:

I . am. singing.