WARNING: HONEST POST AHEAD
I normally jump into experiences without thinking and usually without fear. I made a conscious decision at the beginning of high school to seize opportunities and live a life full of experiences; to value experience over almost anything. I've lived with that philosophy and it has served me well. This weekend, it was different.
I moved back to school this past Wednesday and left for the march on Thursday afternoon. I had debated for months before about wether or not I wanted to go on this trip, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. But as the day of our departure came, I was filled with anxiety. I became very panicked and tried to get out of going. I stayed in my dorm room and called my Mom. I asked her advice. Then I called multiple people, trying to get out of it, but nothing worked. About an hour before we left, I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to go, but I wasn't super happy about it.
That weekend was the first weekend back at school. On top of that, I was going to miss several things that I would have otherwise been excited about. I didn't really know anyone on the trip and I would miss spending time with my friends. I was angry.
I tried to have the most positive attitude possible. I tried to be okay. But I wasn't. I sat in that bus for hours, speeding away from the place that I wanted to be. I slept in a cramped bus, waking up at short intervals. I was unhappy.
That Friday, we got to DC and were walking around at 6:30 that morning. I tried to have a positive attitude, but I felt like I was half there. I wasn't fully invested in the moment, and it plagued me throughout the day.
As we got to the rally, physically I was breaking down. My legs were cramped as though I was still sitting, attempting to morph my body to sleep in the shape of a cube. I was lacking sleep and my right eye kept randomly twitching. You get the picture, I was not in good shape after spending the last sixteen hours on a bus. On top of that, I felt the suffocation of the hundreds of thousands of people surrounding me. I panicked as I knew I couldn't leave. I stood there, choking back tears, feeling like my legs would buckle under me for over an hour. I have never experienced such a high level of panic and anxiety in such an ordinary situation. Ever. I don't struggle with anxiety and panic attacks. I knew that they were terrible, terrible things, but had never experienced it.
As the rally finally ended and the march began, I was seeking an end to it. I was anxiously awaiting the time that I would be able to retreat back to my hotel room in solitude, where I could wash the fear of that day away. As we attempted to march for something that I believe in, I was consumed by one thing: how awful I felt.
We could barely march as the overwhelming amount of people swarmed, inching slowly forward. In the mass of people, a boy from our group methodically counted us out to make sure we stayed together, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8. It felt like it would never end.
Throughout this time, I got texts from people asking about the march, and those who knew that I had anxiety about the trip asked how I was. I became aware of how thankful I am for people who truly care about me and support me when I'm hurting.
That night, I got back to the hotel and as soon as my roommates left, I called my Dad. Immediately, I burst into tears. I felt like a I felt like a little girl calling on her first sleepover, begging her Dad to come get her and take her home. I was silently begging him to come rescue me, even though I knew that was not feasible. As I sobbed, he listened and comforted me. I know now that it is okay to come to your parents. It doesn't mean you can't handle it yourself, it means you know you can't handle it by yourself and you're okay with relying on others. I put him on speaker and he stayed on the phone with me for over an hour as I did things around my room and on my laptop. It felt comforting, like he was there.
I spent that evening as the rest of the group was on a tour of the national monument, watching Netflix and working on homework. I made myself herbal tea and waked in downtown Arlington to the local Target and got myself some cookie dough. These were silly little things that I knew would comfort me.
I resolved that next day would be better. I would try to fully embrace the experience.
That next morning, I woke up and took a walk. When I travel, I love to walk around the area and take it in fully, savoring it as though it was food that could sustain me. It fills me with wonder and idealism, a euphoria that cannot be paralleled.
On my walk, I carried my Bible as I planned to go to a coffee shop where some girls from my group were. I wanted to start the day off right, in God's word.
That day was so much better.
On the national mall, there is a tent where worship happens 24/7-literally. It was amazing. I thought "If this is what heaven is like, worshipping God all the time, I can't wait for eternity." About 15-30 minutes in, an elderly man approached me. He asked if I needed prayer, I said sure. He asked me what he could pray for. I said I just needed prayer in general. He asked me if I believed that I could heal people, and that is where he lost me. He took my hands in his and he said that I would encounter someone that I would need to heal in the next seven days. This made me very uncomfortable. I know that some sects of Christianity feel that with God's power, we can heal others, but I don't know about that.
After that moment, it was hard for me to focus on worship. I didn't think about it too much, but kept that moment stored in the back of my mind. Today, as I pulled out my Bible, I read Luke 3, which talks about how John the Baptist was called out of the wilderness to baptize and preach the gospel. My mind flashed to that old man on the national mall. I was afraid of that. I was afraid of the things that seemed unnatural or radical. I want to jump all in to my faith. But it scares me. I still don't believe what the man said, but I don't think that's wrong.
I don't want to be naive. There are times when I feel that I know a lot, other times I am surprised. I have come to the realization that I have a ton of growth ahead of me, and now I know it will be uncomfortable.
I didn't think moving would be this hard, but it has been. I didn't realize that it was because I was comfortable. I dreamed about being far away, about living a full life. But it was just a dream, and I had routine.
It's hard for me to know how I feel about this trip. For some reason, I know it was necessary. I don't know why, but it was.
If you've made it to the end of this post, thank you. It was a little hard for me to want to release this so that others could read it. This was a time where I was really hurting, and in some ways, I don't want people to fully know. On top of that, I don't want others to think that I'm complaining. I know that I am, but I also know what I felt and am feeling. I am sharing this in the hope that maybe, somehow, it might help someone. My goal is to always be honest. I don't want people to think that I'm perfect. Growing up, I felt trapped, like I couldn't mess up. Now, I feel such freedom. I want people to see me and think, she really doesn't have it together, but she's fully invested; fully invested in being a better person. I want them to know that no matter what, I will help them and I will love them without condition.
With this mind I start my second semester of college. I can't wait to see what this time brings.
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