The World Race. Eleven countries in eleven months. #11n11. So what happens when your race ends up only being eight months? What happens physically, emotionally, spiritually? There is only one quick answer and that is a lot. Then there’s the more involved answer.
Exhaustion. Isolation. Devastation. Regret. Remorse. Frustration. Discomfort. I’ll stop there because this list could go on for a while.
Every where you turn you encounter situations that don’t feel right. You are forced to live life in a place you weren’t supposed to be. You are forced to have experiences you weren’t supposed to have with people who weren’t supposed to be there with you. An example is my birthday. My friends and family were incredible, they kept things low key, and they loved me very well on my birthday but the entire time all I could think was “I am not supposed to be here for my 32nd birthday. I am supposed to be with my squad in Guatemala listening to all their old person jokes.” There have been times I could not find the motivation to step into the shower because I am not supposed to be bathing in RVA and the simple act of taking a shower hurls me into yet another uncomfortable situation.
I have completely shut down in just about every social environment with more than five people, especially if they are people I do not know. I have spent four hours at a party and talked for maybe ten total minutes. The rest of the time I was that weirdo sitting in the corner looking down and not knowing what the heck to say. Small talk is nearly impossible. I wonder if people are silently wondering why I am there, what brought me home early, or if I gave up on the WR?
I have sat silent on a couch with a friend sitting next to me, my heart wanting to explode out of my chest and my brain yelling at me to say something, but the words do not come together and I say nothing. My poor friend just sits there probably wondering what she is supposed to do, wanting to fix it but knowing she can’t.
For those of you who have known me for more than five minutes you know I’m not one for a loss of words. I can work a room. I can talk to anyone. This is a brand new development and I am believing social anxiety is just a short term product of reintegration.
There are three people in RVA with whom I spend a lot of my time (when I am even with anyone at all) and those three are previous racers. It is impossible to explain everything I am going through but those three do not need an explanation. They understand most of it because they, too, have had to leave their squads. When I can only muster the energy to sit there, not talking but also not completely losing it, they understand. They have given me permission to be at my worst with them and promised to stand by me no matter how ugly it gets. They have proven it again and again over the past month. It looks a lot like those scenes in RomComs where the girl has had her heart broken, she’s in tears, and well…we have all seen it and most of us have experienced it at some point. I don’t think any more details are necessary.
My moments with the Lord currently consist of a lot of conversations in my head and randomly processing things He brings to my mind but not having opened the Bible once since returning. He is patient. He is gentle. He speaks softly to me every day, especially those days where I feel like I am totally alone. He knew I would not make it eleven months when He asked me to give up my career a year and a half ago. I ask why He would do that knowing full well His infinite wisdom is not something I can comprehend but that my faith has to carry me through this season. I still ask.
I can count on one hand the number of nights I have slept through the night. Lately I have started having dreams about the WR where I am with my squad as we are getting ready to travel and I cannot locate my gear. I am rushing around frantically because if I do not hurry I am going to be left behind. Five straight hours of sleep is about the best I can hope for right now.
I recognize many of the emotions I am feeling are ones that every racer feels regardless of when they return. My early arrival home compounds the issue of reintegration only slightly because I did not finish something I started. However, saying goodbye to my squad was just as hard as it would have been had I finished in July. I did not love them any less 90 days prior to my initially planned return.
I wish I could say it is easier one month after arriving home. It isn’t. I just have a new set of issues I am working through versus the ones I was working through the first week I was home. Initially it was shock and acceptance. Now it is anger, frustration, and regret. Let me be clear that my anger is not directed at anyone other than myself and probably, to a certain extent, God. That does not mean I doubt for one second He has a plan in all of this because I know He does. I know whatever is in store is something He needed me home to accomplish but my flesh wishes that could have waited until July. For the rest of my life I will know I only completed eight months of an eleven month task.
To my squad mates: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to reach out. It does not make it harder on me when you message or call me. It makes it easier. I am sorry I made a mistake that sent me home and I was unable to fulfill my promise of being there with y’all through the end. Know that I love each and every one of you and am a different person because of your love and willingness to do every aspect of life with me for the better part of a year.
To my team mates: I still think about you every single day. I think back to our last week together in Malaka in that badass house Morgan found for us. I think about the three hours it took me to grill dinner and the forced game of Settlers of Catan (I would like to point out that’s just one letter off from the word ‘Satan’). I think about the games of Spades where my partner (you know who you are) would stop paying attention to the task at hand and throw out a very bad card. I think about how lucky I felt to have a squad leader with us for that amazing month of ATL ministry. I think about the random dance parties, the way we white-trashed up the neighborhood by hanging our wardrobes out to dry in the driveway, and the twilight team runs to McDonald’s for fries and McFlurries. It was our final week together as a team and one of my favorite weeks on the race. I could not have asked for a better final week to end my race.
To my leadership: I trust you spent intentional time praying over this situation. I trust you did what you felt was best. I own my actions and I do not harbor any ill will regarding the reasons I came home.
To my supporters: Thank you for believing in me enough to throw your prayers and finances behind me. Know that just because I’m home a bit early it does not mean any of it was wasted. My squad and I still need your prayers. Your finances are still being used to bring Kingdom all over this globe and I can attest to the fact that AIM is a great steward of your money.
To my family and friends: Bear with me. This is a huge transition period for me. If I seem distant it is not because I do not care for you. It is because I am highly uncomfortable where I am and most days I do not want to be in RVA. Please do not take it personally. Believe me when I say I know y’all are all willing and ready to be there for me when I am ready. I feel loved and supported by you.
To the three: You know who you are and I appreciate you more than you know. I know each of you can look back on your reintegration and remember the feelings that came along with starting a new season at home while simultaneously ending a season. We talk about how the World Race ruins people and it’s so true. We are ruined, for the better, for the rest of our lives but the truth of the matter is the transition from the race to a new season is chock full of terrible, uncomfortable, nauseating, and exhausting moments. Thank you for loving me through this. Thank you for seeing the changes in me and knowing that I am fighting to hold on to those changes and not allow myself to slip backwards into my old ways. Thank you for being okay with the good, the bad, and the ugly, knowing it will not last forever and at some point the sun will shine again. Most importantly, thank you for the hugs.
My squad mate/friend/sister/biggest annoyance (she thinks it’s funny to annoy me) Alexa sent me this song a few days ago. I decided to continue the trend of adding a video to my blog and despite the fact that this is just a lyric video the song is incredible and is probably the best description of my emotions. Thanks Bug 🙂
