It's hard for me to admit that I've been back only 2 months, and it seems like eternity since I was in Ecuador.
It's hard for me to accept that I'm here now, and I'm not going back to Ecuador anytime soon.
It's hard for me to want to be here, when I want to be there.
It's hard for me to adjust to this culture, and to figure out what parts of this culture I don't want to adapt to.
It's hard to talk to friends in Ecuador, knowing they are happy for me to be back with family and friends, and all I want to do is tell them that I miss them with all of my heart and that I want to be with them, too, when I don't know if that would do more bad than good.
It's hard to be honest when people ask how transition is going, when the answer would be more negative than positive.
It's hard to be gentle with myself, when I feel like I'm constantly betraying my experience in one way or another.
It's hard not to look at people differently for their choices and decisions, even though I have no right to.
It's hard to struggle with my faith life here, when it came to me so easily in Monte Sinai.
It's hard to see that alumni years out are still struggling and miss Ecuador so much, when I can't wait for the day that my heart doesn't ache.
It's hard to read if people really care to hear about Ecuador when they ask, or if they are asking to be polite and want a quick and easy answer.
It's hard to do justice to my experience to those who really want to know what this year was like for me, when I can't even explain it to myself.
It's hard to know that the ones I love in Ecuador will never know how much they changed me, and how deeply they touched my heart.
It's hard to be back in the states, plain and simple.
I went to mass with a community mate, alli, tonight, and she ran into a friend from school. He asked how her transition was going, and she was honest and just said "It's really hard". And that about covers it. I've been back in the states for almost 2 months now, and yet it feels like my time in Ecuador is already so far away. It's just really hard, and I'm becoming more and more ok with saying that. I know it's important to be gentle with myself, but sometimes it seems more fair to beat myself up over it. Wouldn't that mean I love all those I left more if I was more upset? Wouldn't it do them more justice, than if I was ok with all this, than if I was accepting of it? A rational person would say no, it doesn't mean I love them more and it doesn't do them more justice. But I wouldn't say I'm rational right now, I'm lean more on the emotional side.
Poco a poco, or 'little by little', was a favorite phrase of mine in Ecuador, and has become even more important to me these days. Sometimes that's all I can tell myself, poco a poco, things will get better. There will be more time between the tears, the heartaches, and waves of sadness and less time between joy filled memories, phone calls, and love and appreciation for all the good that came from my year.
I wish that I could wrap up my year a little more neatly for you, and I am sorry that I can't. But I have to trust that all this mess that's inside me right now will only bring good things when it becomes a little more sorted out. Until then, poco a poco.
Thank you for accompanying me on my journey this past year, thank you for all of your support.
It's hard for me to accept that I'm here now, and I'm not going back to Ecuador anytime soon.
It's hard for me to want to be here, when I want to be there.
It's hard for me to adjust to this culture, and to figure out what parts of this culture I don't want to adapt to.
It's hard to talk to friends in Ecuador, knowing they are happy for me to be back with family and friends, and all I want to do is tell them that I miss them with all of my heart and that I want to be with them, too, when I don't know if that would do more bad than good.
It's hard to be honest when people ask how transition is going, when the answer would be more negative than positive.
It's hard to be gentle with myself, when I feel like I'm constantly betraying my experience in one way or another.
It's hard not to look at people differently for their choices and decisions, even though I have no right to.
It's hard to struggle with my faith life here, when it came to me so easily in Monte Sinai.
It's hard to see that alumni years out are still struggling and miss Ecuador so much, when I can't wait for the day that my heart doesn't ache.
It's hard to read if people really care to hear about Ecuador when they ask, or if they are asking to be polite and want a quick and easy answer.
It's hard to do justice to my experience to those who really want to know what this year was like for me, when I can't even explain it to myself.
It's hard to know that the ones I love in Ecuador will never know how much they changed me, and how deeply they touched my heart.
It's hard to be back in the states, plain and simple.
I went to mass with a community mate, alli, tonight, and she ran into a friend from school. He asked how her transition was going, and she was honest and just said "It's really hard". And that about covers it. I've been back in the states for almost 2 months now, and yet it feels like my time in Ecuador is already so far away. It's just really hard, and I'm becoming more and more ok with saying that. I know it's important to be gentle with myself, but sometimes it seems more fair to beat myself up over it. Wouldn't that mean I love all those I left more if I was more upset? Wouldn't it do them more justice, than if I was ok with all this, than if I was accepting of it? A rational person would say no, it doesn't mean I love them more and it doesn't do them more justice. But I wouldn't say I'm rational right now, I'm lean more on the emotional side.
Poco a poco, or 'little by little', was a favorite phrase of mine in Ecuador, and has become even more important to me these days. Sometimes that's all I can tell myself, poco a poco, things will get better. There will be more time between the tears, the heartaches, and waves of sadness and less time between joy filled memories, phone calls, and love and appreciation for all the good that came from my year.
I wish that I could wrap up my year a little more neatly for you, and I am sorry that I can't. But I have to trust that all this mess that's inside me right now will only bring good things when it becomes a little more sorted out. Until then, poco a poco.
Thank you for accompanying me on my journey this past year, thank you for all of your support.