Reflections

I wish I had brought my pillow with me to Honduras. Some nights, when sleep eludes me, I think it would help to have a little piece of home. Or at the very least, allow me to relax enough to close my eyes and imagine away all the bugs crawling through the house. I wish we had not run out of Raid the night of the red ant infiltration. Sometimes I distract myself by hunkering down and reading one of my books or binge-watching DVDs of The Big Bang Theory. I wish the couch was just a little bit longer so I could stretch my legs out all the way. There are many things about my living situation I wish I could change, and really, I wish there was a mirror in my bathroom.

The first time I washed my face after moving down to the house I was struck by the absence of what I thought to be a staple in the bathroom. My face lathered with soap I instinctively looked up, searching for my own eyes. Instead, staring back at me was the splotchy grey face of the wearing cement wall. Over the next few days we became seriously acquainted. Every morning, my face dripping with water, I looked up expecting to see myself. Instead I was greeted by the wall: constant and unchanging, with little to contribute to the conversation. Brushing my teeth and washing my hands also became rather lonely practices.

It was not until I used a bathroom in a different building that I realized how often I usually see myself. And not just see, but scrutinize. Was that a freckle or dirt? Had it really always been there? Was my hair getting darker? How long had I had this pimple? Is one eyebrow thinner than the other? It had only been a few days and already I felt stranger to my own reflection.

How then, I wondered, would this time affect my perception of self in more than the physical sense? In a matter of days, I noticed differences in my appearance. How did these few days affect my personality? I was staying for more than a few days. How would four months affect my perspective? Of myself? Of others? How would these four months change me?

In the absence of physical reflections, I have found much time for personal reflection. Although I have a phone and am able to check email often, I still feel ‘unplugged’ here. I am not constantly bombarded with notifications or updates from social media and I am often without the weight of my phone in my pocket. I feel less distracted and my clear mind gives me room for reflection. I make more time for reading and writing which encourages most of my introspection and contemplation. In the last seven weeks I have finished five books and am working my way through three more. I have written more than what makes it onto the blog, but my weekly deadlines motivate me to keep this a priority and part of my daily routine.

I believe I do my best thinking through writing. I am able to find all the words I lose when I am speaking. This was true before this trip, but here I have had a lot to think about. I am in a major transitional time in my life. Caught between high school and college, adolescence and adulthood, yearning for independence and wishing more than anything my mom was here to take care of me when I got sick. My life is made up of contradictions; my mind is running in every direction. I only prolonged this time with my decision to take a gap year. This time I would characterize as filled with uncertainty, but also with growth. Already I have asserted my independence by flying thousands of miles away from home and landing in a country where I barely spoke the language. Already I have realized the love I have for my family by calling home crying more than once because I miss my mom and dad so damn much.

I tell myself I am growing the most during the hardest moments. When I first arrived, I was told this place is full of ‘really high-highs and really low-lows’. I expected the highs. After all, this place is called the Mountain of Light, and I associate the name with the warm, shining moments spent with the kids and the mornings spent together at chapel. It is easy to see the light under the sun, surrounded by people singing and praising God. It is much harder alone at night under the stars.

At night when I cannot sleep, because I do not have my pillow, and I cannot roll over and check my phone for notifications, I let my mind ponder all the changes I see in myself since January. I think about my eyebrows, sure, but I also think about my worldview and how it is evolving. I think about all I have learned and seen since my plane landed. I think about my family and all that is changing at home without me there to see it. I remind myself change is inevitable, but growth is optional, and what I take away from this trip will determine how others see the light in me.