The Worthington Bubble

When the plane touched down in Atlanta I cried. I was overwhelmed with emotion, both relief that I was back on U.S. soil and grief knowing I had left my life in Honduras. Everything was about to change, I thought. The man across the aisle glanced over, but quickly turned his eyes forward. No one was sitting next to me as the tears rolled down my cheeks.

Since arriving back home I have hardly had a free moment. I was greeted at the airport in Columbus by balloons, flowers, and the three friends my family brought along to surprise me. The hugs have not stopped as I have caught up with friends and family from all over. I even went back to Kilbourne to see the Senior Project displays from this year’s seniors. Senior Project, after all, is the main reason I took a gap year.

Many people have asked how it feels to be home. I hesitate before answering. It feels normal. I expected everything to be different. I thought everything would change, but it feels weirdly not weird. I know the last four months have been hugely impactful on my perspective and attitude (and sometimes my digestive system). Not feeling a change feels like I am discounting my time away. Reentry was so easy it almost felt like I never left. I am struggling with feeling comfortable.

Part of my discomfort with the comfortable I attribute to the Worthington Bubble. Where I grew up, everyone looks the same, sounds the same, and more or less seems to think along the same lines. Although I traveled a lot with my family, many of my beliefs and experiences were formed and shaped within a mile of my home. This year I left the bubble. I saw, heard, and experienced life in another country, with different customs, languages and measures of success. I learned what it feels like to not understand, and in turn to not be understood. At Starbucks this week while catching up with a friend I became distracted when I overheard a conversation in Spanish. How many times had this happened before? How often did I tune out because what I could hear was not what I was listening for?

Honduras, Haiti, and Panama have made me more aware, more accepting, and more understanding. I learned the art of flexibility (in all but the physical sense, as I discovered this week at Hot Yoga) and find I am much calmer when plans go awry. I did not, however, have to travel 3,000 miles to leave the bubble. As I was reminded during Ansley’s Senior Project defense, I need only travel ten miles down the road to find a community and attitudes that differ greatly from my own.

Ansley completed her Senior Project at the Kirwan Institute. They study race and ethnicity in Ohio. She described a “field trip” she took with her mentor to the South Side of Columbus. “I had no idea about the advantages I was born with because I grew up in Worthington,” she marveled. Ansley now hopes to get involved with a ballot initiative reducing low level drug possession crimes from felonies to misdemeanors and release 10,000 people from Ohio prisons. Her experience with Senior Project allowed her to see life outside of her own. It is this kind of exposure, to something different, that I believe has had the most important influence on shaping my worldview during my year off.

We arrived home from the airport around midnight last Wednesday after a late night Steak n’ Shake run. Before I could set my bags down I screamed. A giant ball of black fur had just barreled through the room. One of our cats, Fred, and he was obese. When did he get so fat? Has he always looked like that? My family laughed. He hasn’t changed much since you left, they claimed. But there is no way. I would remember that, right? Nine days later I am still taken aback everytime I see him waddling through the kitchen or lounging on my desk.

Now I am back in the bubble, as evidenced by cats with fat rolls in place of rib cages, and as much as I have changed things here have not. I have seen and learned so much, and it bothers me how easy it was to slip back into a life that ignores everything different. I know the lights will turn on when I flip the switch, the water in my shower will be hot, and I flush the toilet paper without thinking. Without thinking about the four months I spent living with uncertainty and discomfort.

I know the last four months have impacted me greatly even though I feel like nothing has changed. It will take time for me to see the effects of my time away from school in myself. Although I may not know what all of those changes are, I am confident they are positive and will continue to shape my actions and words long after my time on the mountain. One thing is clear upon my return to the States: I am glad I did not go to college. I am glad I instead took the time to work, travel, and learn from the world. I chose my own path, and I will continue to encourage others to do the same every time I am given the chance to share my stories from The Gap Year.