I told myself I wouldn't let this happen. That I wouldn't let myself become so focused on the past that I couldn't live in the present. That I would be strong. I would take what I had learned, and apply to life here.
How foolish I was to think that by preparing myself, I could just jump right back in.
There's an empty, achiness in my heart that refuses to go away. I constantly feel tears spring into my eyes at the thought of anything to do with Peru or Sagrada Familia. And I find myself being listless. There's plenty to do with school starting soon, but I don't want to do any of it.
The only thing I want is to go back to Peru.
It started earlier this year. Earlier than it ever has. I think because I wasn't sick. While that was a blessing, it has made the return much more difficult. I wasn't ready to leave. Before, I had been ready. I was ready to come back to the United States. I was tired and I was sick and I just wanted to get home.
But this time I felt fine. I felt like I could stay for much longer, and be fine. Honestly, I didn't even miss home very much.
I miss the smell of Peru. The feel of the cool wind whipping around the hills. The view of the majestic mountains that you get from anywhere. I miss driving past the hills and seeing shacks that are precariously built on the sides of mountains. I miss hearing everyone talk in Spanish, whether I can understand it or not. I miss my friends. I miss the raw emotions that are shared in Peru. I miss waking up every morning in the same room with girls who I love dearly and getting to spend all day doing what we all know is God's work together. I miss the deep friendships that are formed.
I miss Sagrada Familia. The place where God changed my life forever. The paintings on their walls. The joy in their faces. The way they all want you to hold their hands and look into their eyes. I miss having Carmencita's arms wrapped around my neck. I miss her touching my hair and then hers and saying, "pelo". I miss her saying my name. I miss seeing her smile, hearing her laugh.
And I just feel angry. I feel lost. I feel alone. Like no one quite gets it and the people that do don't want to talk about it. I feel like I'm trapped inside a tiny box and I'm pushing so hard to get out of it, but the iron bars don't budge.
I miss my Peru team. I miss having someone there every second of every day to hear and understand. To comfort you when you need comfort. To give you a hug when you really need a hug. To listen when you need someone to listen. And to encourage you when you need encouragement.
I seek solitude more than ever, which is not good. The only people I want to be with are people who have experienced the same or similar things that I have. I get so frustrated and beat down being at home surrounded by people who are younger than me, people that I have to pour into, that I just leave.
I went on a 4-mile walk and listened to angry Lecrae songs today in 90º heat. I just feel out of sorts and angry and alone and worthless. Which is ironic because not even a full week ago, I was sharing with 900 orphans how much we're worth in Christ.
Make me to hear joy and gladness,
Let the bones which you have broken rejoice.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation
And grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.
- Psalm 51:8,12