This post will just be writing. Thought I'd warn ya that there are no fun pictures. :)
I think I've mentioned before that I do not do change well. Even changes I am looking forward to, or changes that I want to occur. I always have this moment after the change has occurred, where my feelings meet up with all that has just occurred, and I lose it.
Well, that would be what happened yesterday. The only way I can explain it is that I'm emotionally delayed. I said goodbye to every one of my friends and family- didn't cry. Said goodbye to my best friend- didn't cry. Drove away from the home I knew for most of my life- didn't cry. Crossed the border, dropped my parents off at the airport, said goodbye (again) to my fellah (cause I had to go to language school) after getting to see him all of twice after being apart for nine months- not even a tear.
So then yesterday happened. :)
My friend Cesar took me to the airport. I didn't realize I got the timing wrong- I should've been there at 6. Well we left for the airport at 6. He navigated the streets of Monterrey like a skilled nascar driver, and by the grace of God, I had enough time to buy him a coffee before we said bye! Except when I went to pay with my card- it was denied. :/ knowing I had sufficient funds, I went to the ATM assuming it just couldn't process as credit. Until the ATM denied the transaction. Since I did not have a phone that could make calls, I could not call my bank to let them know (again) that I had moved out of the country. So I had no cash, and no way to call to fix the problem, and had to basically pray that the problem could be resolved when I got to Veracruz. Thankfully, it was all taken care of shortly after I arrived. (Not sure why I explained that part so in depth... Long story short: I had no money and that was pretty cruddy/scary)
My layover went well, but there was sooooo much time in between my flights, so it took a while for the screen to show my next flight terminal. While waiting to see where to go next, that's when it happened...
It started in my throat...a little lump I just couldn't seem to swallow. Without warning, little tears began to form in the corner of my eyes. I could feel my face redden. Though nothing visibly triggered the situation, I felt intensely alone. Never before that I can recall have I ever physically felt despair like that. In that moment, I felt engulfed in it. It was smothering me like a heavy blanket. I couldn't take any more.
I went to the restroom to compose myself, and was able to get it together.
My second flight went as planned, with only brief moments of passing sadness here and there. A memory or passing thought might evoke some feelings, but nothing like in the airport. I thought it had passed for good. I had my moment, and boy was I glad that was over!
A sweet girl from the school named Denise met me at the airport, and we cusually chatted during the taxi ride back about her studies, what brought me to Veracruz, etc.
We went out to an early dinner (around 4) and had a good time and conversation. Then, she took me in a tour of the city, showed me good places to visit, to eat, museums that were interesting.
I came back to the school (which is also the house where I live/sleep) and Denise explained that most of the students were out and about, and I was more than welcome to go explore, or rest after my trip. I chose to try to take a nap. I hadn't slept well for days- probably my nerves.
As I entered my room and began to unpack, I unexpectedly burst into tears! No warning like I had in the airport. One minute I was hanging up my shirts, the next I was sobbing so hard I was afraid someone was going to hear me and come check to make sure I was ok.
There it was. The moment everything caught up. Memories, goodbyes, moments, relationships, fears and more all flooded my mind. The overwhelming feeling of inadequacy that I battle constantly.
I have no clue if this is normal, but oftentimes there is some sort of battle going on in my head. Yes, I argue with myself constantly.
This is the gist of what yesterday's battle sounded like:
"You can't do this. You've never done well alone. You won't make friends. You're going to be lonely the entire time you're here. You'll never learn enough Spanish. What were you thinking?! You're going to be sad and hysterical like this the whole time. You asked for this. This is what you wanted! If you feel sad, it must be because you regret the choice you made to come here. You must've made a mistake."
I could easily rest in that sadness. Stay a while in the pity and regret, pulling over my head like a security blanket. It's what I know. It's comfortable.
Or, I could allow myself to feel sad, knowing that it's perfectly normal (and ok!) to be sad/scared when practically your entire life has changed, and then move on. Which is what I did. It involved literally telling myself (practically audibly) "it's ok to be sad. It won't last forever. It doesn't mean you made a bad choice. You're allowed to miss your friends. Etc etc etc"
One thing I have a really hard time doing is asking for help when I feel distraught like that. I feel like I'd be seen as weak, and possibly a little crazy.
But, in the spirit of being brave, I reached out and asked Marco if he'd talk to me cause I was feeling really sad. That kinda vulnerability to me is terrifying. To admit that A. I was upset and B. I'd like his help to feel better is foreign to me.
I don't need anyone to make me feel better! especially not a dude! I'm not one of those weak chicks that runs crying to her bf. I don't need help, I can handle this myself thank-you-very-much. Plus, I already felt sad and alone, what if he rejected me? What if I was honest and vulnerable, and he disregarded how I felt? What if he was simply too busy to talk to me?
Praise God, that's not how it went down.
I think it was two things:
-God knew I needed to see His love for me in person. That I needed an example of his support and how He wants to care for me.
-Marco could tell this was unusual. I think I've cried in front of him once or twice before this, and it was when someone close to me had passed away. This wasn't me being a needy woman (well, maybe a little? But isn't it ok to need help? lol) or that I was trying to manipulate him. He could tell I genuinely needed support, encouragement, and to feel loved.
I thank God for that (and for him), because God gave me the encouragement to be vulnerable and ask for help, and then gave me the reassurance that He is always there. Marco didn't have magic words or do something special to make me feel better. He was there for me. He showed up when I called. Just like God does.
I laid in bed last night, thinking about the roller coaster of a day I had. It really brought to mind how God is.
How, when we finally give in- finally have the courage to say, "please help. I can't do this alone. I need to talk to you." He's there. He saved me. Right when I couldn't do it anymore. The moment I had had enough, He came for me. I was overwhelmed, beaten down, and desperate. It didn't mean he waved a wand and everything got better. It didn't mean my problems were gone. What it did mean was that it became possible. My story wasn't ruined forever. My life could be better- would be better.
This one example of God rescuing me is actually a pretty small one, but it was so significant to me. I know it may seem like I'm putting a God-spin on a crying spell, :) but to me it was a small reclection of a bigger picture of God's love for me.
