[another post from my phone because it’s hard typing with acrylics]
i have been 14 hours from home for the past (almost) eight days. this is not only the furthest i have travelled west, but also the longest i have been away from my family.
the mental toll it has taken on me is great.
starting at about 11 years old, i wanted to be anywhere but home. it isn’t because my home life was bad, but because i wanted to adventure and see things, to be with people, to wander without being stopped. it was up until i was 16 did this stay the same.
when we got put on lockdown at the start of march 2020, my ache to leave home was crushed, and well, it soon ceased to exist. we spent the next six months inside, or within the confines of my small front and backyard. it was hard. it was part of what led me to feel suicidal. it was the pinnacle of the very journey i’ve been on.
when i got hospitalized, i was away for seven days; but, it felt like an eternity. i didn’t have my own space. i didn’t have my own bathroom. i didn’t have any privacy. i spent every single day wishing to be back in my bed, to be on our brown suede couch, to sit at the kitchen bar while my mom cooked supper. i missed my home even though i had spent such an extensive time on those fluffy carpets, and in the sweet scented rooms of the family.
my home is my safe space. when days are hard, i lay in my bed. when i need to be calmed down, i sit at the bar and talk to my mom. if i need a place to cry quietly, i go to the bathroom. if i’m excited about some news, we tell it at the dinner table. when i have guests, we sleep in our extra room. my home holds much more weight than old brick walls, leaking shower heads, and stained carpets. it is the beginning and end of my favorite memories. it is the meeting spot for my
family, and the place that makes leaving so hard.
i’ve spent the last week in utah, across the country, away from my family, and in a new time zone; and it occurred to me that if it hadn’t been for wayward executive decisions, and waves of unrelenting fear that this journey from my family would’ve happened much sooner.
i’m not here to make a debate or really
pose one position or another. simply all i am stating is: covid has caused much greater damage than fear of being sick.
being home for so long has created unhealthy attachment issues for me. i know that everyone gets homesick, but because we had stayed home for so long, anxiety of leaving the house became greater. going to school was hard, wanting to be involved with church was hard, playing golf was hard. my weak mind and body had grown so accustomed to the beige walls and floral covers that the monster of fear had overtaken every joy i had previously shown about leaving the house.
we as people are meant to do things together — not apart. if anyone at all thought that zoom and google meet were going to be the equivalent of face to face learning or fellowship: they are so sadly incorrect. i know that we did the best we could with what we had at the time, but we used it as a crutch more than as something beneficial. how many of us actually listened to our Bible study leaders while we were on our zoom meetings? being together “virtually” hurt my abilities to socialize. i used to be such an outgoing person, and i still am, but starting those conversations and making new friends became a struggle for once in my life because i had become inherently used to starting a conversation over text. being apart changed my personality drastically.
staying home has inevitably been worse than been better for me. perhaps you can’t say the same. perhaps you feel the way i do. i know that a lot of what has happened has helped shape me to who i am & i’ve learned a lot along the way; but this season has caused me so much hurt because of those seven months i was cocooned in my small home. i missed a lot, while also learning a lot. one day i will be able to see those dark times as brighter lessons & one day i will not remember every moment termed as “because of covid...” or “when covid was here...” honestly, i don’t think i would change a thing because i don’t know where or who i would be. all i want others to understand is much of my bad strongly outweighs my good. pain has surrounded more than i would like to admit.
maybe being apart is what we needed to know why we love being together so much. maybe it’s what made us appreciate the small things. i have the feeling that it is something i will never really understand because His plans are far greater than mine. i have blocked out so much of last summer, that i have confused a lot of my
fond memories because they all represent a scary time for me and others.
sure, i wouldn’t change it because i realize everything happens for a reason. but if you had told me this time last year that i would feel this way, i know i wouldn’t have believed you. furthermore, these are not things i exactly want to be around. i don’t want depression. i don’t want anxiety. i don’t want attachment issues. but this is my reality and i have to accept it.
these are the times we will laugh and come back to, these are the moments we tell our children about; because for better or for worse, we have all made it through the fire. and those that weren’t as fortunate to make it, we will never leave their memories behind us because they made it too, just in a different way.
my Author has proven to be much more accurate and valuable than i ever could imagine. He is still writing these stories and paving our way to the days ahead. we learn and we apply. we forgive and often times never forget. but regardless of sinking sands, we will hold on to the strong foundation of the Most High, because He is the most perfect poet.
- emma