I've really been acting like a caveman for the past few days.
When I killed a pig (with my bare fists), I had an urge to go cook it in my furnace. But then, I remembered that I wasn't at home. So I ate the meat raw. It wasn't half bad.
My shelters have become caves (some with unfortunate occupants). Every single night, as the moon comes out, I just sit next to a rock and wonder, Will I ever find my home?
But of course, I have to get a grip and move on. I will have to assume that I will never be able to find my home again. It's better to start again rather than die of starvation in another dimension.
Remember, get a grip.