A Year Sans Afrique

It’s incredible to imagine that I have been away from the continent of Africa for a year already. Some days, I feel like I just left. So many things about that place had become so familiar, and in many ways, yes. I miss it dearly. The travel bug has not left me completely, but it has certainly taken a snooze. I have mostly been amazed by how quickly the time has passed, and while reflecting back on this calendar year, it appears in my trusty little Moleskine planner that I did not achieve much at all, I do feel like my journey has continued and I am in a much different space than I was last September. As far as achieving the basic goals of my return to the U.S., I’d say I’m faring pretty well. I am healthy. I am healthy. I am healthy. I have spent an incredible amount of time with family and friends. I am gainfully employed again after six months spent in my slanket, watching countless episodes of Game of Thrones, Dexter, and Downton Abbey. I feel more balanced than I’ve felt in years.

I have shared immeasurable giggles with my nieces and nephew. I have hugged them, shared meals with them and enjoyed fresh air with them. I have tucked them into bed after movie night and seen school recitals. I have swung in the park and glued Rudolph noses on reindeer; I have cut the crusts off sandwiches and shared my fashion opinions. I have given creative license to Halloween costumes and snuggled into the couch reading books. I have even made it to a few birthday parties. It has been glorious, and I am so grateful that I had that time to get to know the hilarious little people Ella, Caitlin, Jesse, Ansley, Josh, and Avery are becoming. It’s pure magic.

I’m incredibly grateful for the patience and support of my parents, treading cautiously when my mom suggested things like, “Are you planning on getting out of your pajamas today?” or, “You went to TJ Maxx again?”…knowing me well enough at this point to give me the space and time I needed to process and not pressure me into decision-making, life choices, or adult-like responsibilities like rent and taking daily showers. They listened to countless hours of job-hunting frustration, shared advice about marketing my skills and networking, and sympathized when I didn’t hear back from potential employers. They helped me mend a broken heart. They never gave up on me. We cooked. We weekend movie-matinee-ed. We drank a lot of coffee. I was happy to be home to celebrate the 60^th birthday of my beautiful mother, and spend random weekday mornings meeting my Pop-Pop for breakfast at his favorite half-way point diner. It was my first birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas I had been home for in almost a decade. I traveled and traveled, reconnecting with great friends, seeing new parts of this amazing country, giggling over old times, meeting children and spouses and family pets. I costumed and glittered and shimmied my way through the streets of New Orleans for my first Mardi Gras in three years. I was able to attend numerous weddings in a calendar year—another thing I have not accomplished since I was probably 25. Incredible stuff, this reconnecting with people you really care about. Truly, a gift.

My family will tell you, this past year was not all sunshine and rainbows. I had some very low days. Very, very low days. I questioned my decision to leave humanitarian work and Africa. I underestimated the time, effort, and complexity of the domestic job market, and felt completely defeated that after years of difficult placements and overly-challenging jobs, I could not secure a gig. I worried that I’d settle for something just to have a job, a function again, only to hate it (and myself) for not doing what I love. I constantly ping-ponged over the cities I would consider laying down some roots. I hated myself for fumbling through another failed relationship, and the loneliness that resulted when I compared myself to my happily-married peers. I wondered why after all the changes I had made, all the risks I had taken, I still woke up every morning feeling like everything was wrong. Everything.

And then suddenly, miraculously, things changed. I was offered a job in Baltimore doing work with refugee youth, which despite the day-to-day insanity of it, I love. It’s certainly not boring; I’m learning new things every day, and I’m surrounded by people from all over the world who have overcome incredible struggles to be here. It is humbling and inspiring on a daily basis, and I love that I have something to give back. I have wonderful friends that fill my social calendar with BBQs, cultural events, quirky Baltimore city festivals and creative outlets. I have recovered from my break-up and come out stronger and more self-aware on the other side, and have allowed myself to open up to someone and something new. I am two hours from most of my family. I am a phone call away from my siblings. I drive home every day at a reasonable hour in my little Yaris hatchback and eat delicious food and visit with friends and watch TV when I want and don’t need to check in with 20 housemates if they need the car. Life is good, just like the bumper stickers say.