I had been in full preparation for my week long stay at Girl Scout Camp camp for two weeks. It was my first time away from home with anyone other than family, I was 7 years old, and unbelievably excited. This was a huge step towards being a “big girl” and I was ready. We had bought camp supplies (pink towels, shower shoes, bug spray, adorable blue and green butterfly stationary etc.) and I had even corn-rowed my hair! I imagined making lifelong friends, having daring adventures, learning new things, and having the time of my life. My parents dropped me off on Sunday afternoon and we had a fun evening of camp orientation before heading to our cabins to rest up for the next day. I was so excited that I could barely sleep! The next day couldn’t come fast enough.
While I do not remember exactly what happened that day, I know I did NOT have fun. It was harder to make friends that I thought, the activities weren’t enjoyable, and I missed my mommy and daddy. The day culminated when I was going to take a shower before bed and my shampoo had spilled all over my cubby, covering everything I had in it, including my pjs. I sat down on the concrete floor next to my bed and began to bawl. I grabbed one of my blue butterfly cards and began to write a letter to my mom, describing in detail the awful day I had had and how much I wanted to come home. While I was writing/plotting my escape from that horrible horrible place our counselors came in and announced that we had mail! I was so happy to see one in my mom’s handwriting. I ripped it open and began to read.
“Darlin,
I hope you are setting in nicely at camp! I can’t believe what a big girl you’ve become. We miss you at home but I just know you are having a great time…”
My little 7 year old heart was breaking. I felt like I was disappointing my mom by not having fun. I felt like I wasn’t a big girl if I wasn’t having fun. So I did the only thing I could think of, I tearfully tore up my letter and wrote a new one, telling my mother about the great time I was having, the friends I was making, lying with every word. I didn’t write my mother another letter that week.
I managed to make a few friends and have a fairly decent time my week away from home. Yet I never wanted to go back to that camp and didn’t venture to camp again for 3 years. I told my mom sometime later about my torn up letter. She was shocked that I felt the need to sugarcoat my experience. If I wasn’t having a good time or things weren’t turning out the way I had planned she would rather hear that then my cotton candy version. I learned my lesson (so I thought) and learned how to go away from home and have a good time.
So why on earth did I share that story?
Because I did not learn my lesson.
I made the decision to come to Scotland 8 months ago. I’ve spent those 8 months fluctuating between excitement, fear, joy, trepidation, giddiness and every other emotion in between. Mostly though I was pumped. I expected instagram worthy adventures, interesting people, exciting learning opportunities and the chance to really be on my own for the first time ever. I felt again like I was actually “becoming a big girl.”
I stepped off of the plane a month ago and began my adventure. Oh boy the culture shock from Texas to Scotland hit me like a tidal wave. Yet I was enthralled with my new home away from home, my new friends, and my new school.
I was homesick, but figured that would go away in a few days.
School started and I was still homesick, but I figured that would go away once I settled into my classes.
I settled into my classes and I was still homesick, but I figured that would go away once I found some good friends.
I found some good friends and I was still homesick, but… you get the picture.
Basically a month has gone by and I still ache for Texas, & the people there.
Yet I didn’t want to say anything because I felt like I was supposed to be having the time of my life. My instagram should be filled with pictures of gorgeous hikes and lovely Scotland things. I should be happy. I should be soaking up every minute and not counting every minute til I was back in Texas. If I wasn’t then I was failing. What I didn’t realize was that by suppressing my homesickness I couldn’t process it and so it just festered and grew until it blew up in my face. Sunday night I wept and moaned that I wanted to go home and that I didn’t like it here.
Obviously that isn’t an option nor do I really think I would take it if offered to me but it felt so good just to say the words! Just to tell the truth that this place wasn’t what I expected and that it was harder than I thought. Once I did that I was able to sit down with a few good people and develop a plan to combat my homesickness without just willing it away with a magic wand. I’m a huge fan of to-do lists & with my new resolutions in hand I felt more capable of conquering Scotland. What’s more, one of the girls I spoke with felt the exact same way! Empathizing with her did wonders.
While I cannot report that the few days since my melt down have alleviated the problem I can say that I feel better. I feel less burdened with the need to have a good time. I feel more productive because when I am doing the things on my list I am doing something to acclimate myself here.
Had I just used my experience 13 years ago and come clean about my study abroad from the beginning I could have avoided the last four weeks of faking it. How nice would that have been! I hope this lesson sticks this time.
When we fake life we miss out.
Sometimes the struggles are beautiful things. They allow us to rely on others who are stumbling through just like we are. They allow us to rely on The Lord because we actually cannot do anything without Him. My plea to you is that if you are faking something in this life right now to let it go. Find someone who can help you. But more importantly find Jesus. Let him pick you up and carry you where you need to go. He wants to. We just have to let him.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and are burdened, and I will give you rest” Matthew 11:28
