Twelve days. I’ve been home for twelve days. I was beginning to think I had bypassed this big “T” word known as “transition.” But today I began to understand the “ins and outs” of re-adjusting to your culture-of-origin that people can’t really explain of prepare you for. Anyone can try to tell you what to expect and you really wont be able to “get it” unless you’ve
A) Gone through it before,
B) Are currently going through it.
I’ve had friends try to tell me what to expect with re-entry, I’ve seen other friends journey through their season of re-entry, and a week before we left, my entire squad was informed on things to expect when going through re-entry…and still, until I experienced it for myself, I didn’t really know what to expect or even how to identify it. I always heard about grocery stores and cereal isles being overwhelming, and while that may have happened to a few people, I’ve been loving that part of being home. I’ve gotten my nails done, gone out to my favorite restaurants, bought my favorite things from the grocery store, and its been freaking awesome. Transition for me has primarily been something completely in my head. The thoughts and internal reactions and over-analyzations that have completely consumed me. Its been internally draining, and most days its been way easier to stay tucked away inside my bedroom than to interact with other human beings- and that includes my family. I can’t really explain that or make anyone understand that. It sounds rude and its not meant to.
Something that I’ve really struggled with since being home is feeling “heard” or maybe a better term is “understood.” I’ve found myself feeling like I have no right or reason to feel the way I do about certain things. I sway between feeling misunderstood and then wondering if I’m the one whose misunderstanding.
I could try to explain more, or I can just let you into my mind for a minute…
On being in my room: “I wonder if my parents are offended that I’m locked away in my room again. I know I’m always in here. I feel bad. But not bad enough to go hang out with them. I really just want to be alone.”
On responding to messages: “I want to respond when I have the mental capacity to actually give them the response they deserve.” *2 weeks later* crap I never responded.
On eating American food: “PRAISES. YES. YAS.”
On Netflix: “wth was that Gilmore Girls ending.”
On running into people who know I just got home from being overseas: “Oh shoot…Quick how was my year? HOW WAS MY YEAR?!”
On answering the infamous “how was your year?” question: “Ok. Assess the social temperature; do they want detail? Do they want a short answer?”
On trying to communicate how I’m really doing: “Stay silent because everyone is going to think you’re being dramatic.”
There are plenty more thoughts that run through this head of mine….my mood-swings are strong enough to power freaking Epcot. I’ve been defensive and I’ve been withdrawn. And I think the biggest reason for that is because I’m too scared to let myself actually feel everything I’m feeling because I don’t want people to think I’m being dramatic or overreacting. But I’m feeling so much. I’m feeling homesickness for places that became home and people that became family. I’m feeling like I’m walking on eggshells because I feel like talking about how much I miss those things will make people think I’m not happy to be home. I’m feeling a mixture of feeling misunderstood and then self-condemnation every time I snap or have a bad attitude. Feeling misunderstood makes me feel lonely, which then makes me feel like it would be easier to transition with my other friends who are transitioning because they would get it and then I wouldn’t feel so crazy. I’m feeling guilt for how withdrawn I’ve been. I’m feeling the weight of self-placed expectations that I’m failing to meet. I’m feeling whiplash because home is not like I romanticized it to be 4 months ago. And navigating through what is true and what is false and what is healthy and what is not has been very, very tiresome for me. And what I think I really need is just some permission to feel how I’m feeling (even if my feelings don’t seem valid to anyone) and some patience, and understanding. And understanding takes the humility to step outside of your own bias/belief and just try to look into another’s perspective. It’s a difficult thing that I’m trying to practice simultaneously.
The only thing about myself that has remained steadfast and firm in an otherwise “shaky” and uncertain season, is Jesus. He is everything. He gets it. He gets me. I’m not “too much” for Him. And maybe this sounds melodramatic, but right now, I feel like He is literally all I have to collapse into. I feel like I’ve been balancing an egg on a spoon since I’ve been home trying not to screw up because I wanted to transition “well.” But as I learned on the race, we often think doing things well means doing them “pretty” and that’s just not how it works. I know someday I’ll hear the words “Well-done, good and faithful servant” and together we’ll look back at the mess of all the eggs I dropped and smile because they were perfect for scrambling.
(Transition also makes you use really goofy parallels but its literally the only thing that makes sense to me right now so go with it).
