Week Three

Short posts are overrated. It's a long one. But a good one. (I hope).

I've been home now for exactly three weeks, and this is truly the first time that I've felt like I could be coherent enough to blog.

Coming back has been terrifying, heart-wrenching, inspiring, difficult, and humbling. The first week, I was at a complete lost--I didn't want to hang out with people, didn't want to talk about my experiences, I simply wanted to be. I wanted to be alone and sort out what was going through my head.

Week two was by far the hardest. I went to school to visit my friends, and it was hard to see how they had changed, how I had changed, and how we meshed differently than we have in the past. I realized how much I had missed out on in their lives, and it was difficult to share my experiences with people who can't fully understand them.

This week has been bearable. I've started to adjust more. I've made plans with friends from both high school and college to hang out and to get back in the swing of things. It's hard going from being busy every single day, having tons to do and little time to do it, having friendships and relationships to maintain, and trying to process it all to coming home to nothing, friendships that need to be rekindled, no job, no school, no nothing. It's hard.

I didn't realize how much I was leaving behind until I came back. Don't get me wrong, I knew I was leaving lots behind. I just didn't realize how much I would miss my life there. I get caught up in the details here, in the complications and requirements, while there I was more care-free and live-by-the-day.

During our trip to Bahía de las Águilas, I journaled one day on the beach. This was during my last week, and I want to share a little bit of my thoughts:

"There have been very few moments in my life where I have felt right where I needed to be doing exactly what I needed to be doing. And then I came here. I've gone back and forth on this since I've been here, but I feel in my heart that this is where I belong. How do you leave that? How do you willingly walk away from a place where you feel absolutely right? I know one thing, you do it with tears in your eyes and a broken heart.

How do you go back to a life that wasn't satisfying, when you've found something incredibly satisfying? How do you return to a comfortable place when you've been constantly challenged for the last four months? There was not a single day here when I woke up and thought "Today is going to be easy". Maybe there were days that were easy in comparison to the days before them, but there was never an easy day like I have at home. How do you return to a life of complacency, of ignorance even, after you see some of the things I've seen here? How do you leave behind people that you've formed bonds with, come to love, and feel like you belong with? How do you leave behind compañeros, who you've struggled with, laughed with, cried with, and learned with? How do you leave behind a place where you learned more about yourself than you ever thought? How can you leave a place where God daily revealed himself to you? How do you go back to searching for beauty when it's been evident in so many people and places for the last four months? How do you leave behind a family that has become your own? How do you return to what you were, taking with you who you are now and continuing that life?"

Although I've found temporary answers to some of these questions, I still go through this struggle every.single.day. And my final conclusion to all of these questions is: I don't know. But I'm finding out.

And on my next to last day, I wrote again:

"Tomorrow is the day that I've both dreaded and feared. In some ways, it's both a blessing and a curse. At the beginning, I counted days. 'I've survived 10 days, I can make it 10 more'. By mid-February, I had stopped counting and starting enjoying. And recently, I've started counting again, but in the other direction.

Before I came here, someone told me that I wouldn't want to go and at the end, I wouldn't want to come home. I cried when they told me I had to go. And I'm crying when they're telling me that I have to leave.

I think about how far I've come in just four short months.

Before coming here, I didn't know what it meant to listen. Learning another language forces you to do that. It forces me to listen to what people are telling me. I've become less reliant on people around me and more reliant on myself. I don't feel like I have to be surrounded by people 24/7, doing nonsense things just to pass the time. I'm content just sitting and being alone and without distractions.

I know that I'm going home a better person. I've learned and lived, but mostly, I've loved. I've tried to take every experience and every opportunity for what it was. I've tried to say "no" and took everything as it came. While I'm not ready to go, I know that in time I'll be okay.

And I know that I'll be back."

I feel like everyone's favorite question to ask me is "How did this change you?". (Everyone's other favorite question is "What did you miss the most?" And the answer to that is Sweet Tea. I mean really, was that even a question?) I feel like the best answer is how DIDN'T this change me. I know that's super vague. But really, I feel different in every aspect of things. I feel like I've really been stripped down to WHO I am during the last four months. I intentionally left home behind..and although that's a hard thing for a lot of my friends to hear, it's the truth. I knew that the drama would be there when I got back. I knew that I wouldn't miss anything of super high importance. I also knew that I would come back and people would love me just like they did before I left. (And they did). For my sake, I had to leave behind the Wofford World. (Or Wofford Bubble as it's affectionately called).

I think more than anything, I'm more aware. Aware of situations going on around me. Aware of how I treat people and how people treat me. Aware of how blessed I truly am. My neighbor remarked to me the other day that knowing me, he knew that my heart bled for every single kid I came across in my community that was less fortunate. More than y'all know. I know I have a big heart, and I have a heart to serve. I've always known this. I just didn't realize how big it was, or how great that desire is to serve. And now I know. I've given the Peace Corps a lot of thought since I've been back, and I've also thought about Doctors Without Borders or Partners in Health in the future. For now though, I'm looking into volunteering somewhere in the area that I can continue to quench my desire to serve. (If you're local and know of a place--let me know!)

Y'all already know that I'm planning on hopping on a plane there the second I walk through the Wofford gates in my cap and gown. (Just kidding, Mom. Kind of). Y'all know that it's all about the people to me. I felt like I was in my campo the whole four months--everyone was that friendly. People accepted me like I was their kids best friend for 18 years--the way that my friends parents accept me here. I was in awe of the people.

And that awe has followed me back home. I have to admit, I was a little surprised when no one yelled "Rubia!" at me when I walked through Target the other day...but I digress. Through Facebook and through email, there have been so many people that have shared a piece of their hearts with me. I absolutely love it. I love that people have reached out to me and thanked me for writing my blog--it reminds me what I loved so much about the country.

But really, I need to thank y'all--all of my readers. Without y'all, I wouldn't be here. I would be writing for my mom and my aunt (love y'all!). I would have given up a long time ago. I hope you've seen that not all Americans are what the movies portray. Through this blog, I've been real--no facades, no expectations, no nothing. I've shared my heart openly and willingly, and truly, I owe all the thanks to y'all.

Because y'all are the best.