Fake it till you make it
Two whole months now.
That’s how long I've been back in the states. It feels like a dream; and not a dream in the
sense that it has been magical bliss, but instead that it seems removed and
unreal. Let me
try to explain this to you even though I don’t seem to understand it myself. For those of you who know me, you
have probably noticed that I haven't quite been myself since returning from Haiti. I feel like I've been a little
bit of a disappointment. I am usually an
intentional, one-on-one, deep conversation, 27 best friends, kind of girl. People have always been a priority for me, and
I believed that we make time for what’s important. I understood that sometimes relationships
take more effort on one side than the other; we're human, sometimes we need more
love than we can give and visa-versa. I
loved that part of me. I could be so
much for so many. It was truly life
giving, most of the time. It's been so difficult to find this part of me since leaving Haiti.
When I returned home on June 16th, I knew that reentering American culture
after living in the poorest country in the western hemisphere for 11 months was
going to be an adjustment. I heard that the hardest culture shock is not in moving away but returning. I tried to read all the articles, listen to
all the stories and prepare the best I could.
Well, guess what guys? It seems that this was another one of those life
experiences that you couldn't be "prepared" for. The first surge of emotion I felt was when I
got off the plane in Atlanta and had to begin the process of customs. Everyone was moving so quickly, running here
and there, without a care for their neighbor.
The tears began to well up, and I clung tightly to my furry best friend
nestled in her carrier (thank GOD for my cat).
I couldn't handle the fast pace of life, it felt so cold, and I felt
alone. I finally made it to my family,
which was so wonderful and again...overwhelming. I quickly realized that I didn't have answers
for all the questions people had. How do
you answer the question, "How was Haiti?" It seemed impossible for me to consider my life-changing year reduced to a three word question. My
way of coping with this was to say, "It's great," and deflect the conversation or, better yet, end it.
I began to realize how happy the simplest
things make me, things that we usually take for granted - like brushing my teeth with sink water, or flushing toilet paper, or HOT WATER!
Then guilt would quickly rush in.
How can I be so happy having all these luxuries when so many I love are
without so much? I'm not even saying
that I'm angry they don't have hot water; honestly, that’s the least of their worries. When I've expressed my feelings to people they've said (with the best intentions), "Nycole don't feel guilty, we are blessed to
have what we do." I'm afraid, however, most of us don’t seem to see that all of these
"luxuries" are hindering our sensitivity towards others. We can get so comfortable that we forget to get up, look around, and see the bigger issues in people's lives. Our comfort, our luxury, can deafen the cry of those in extreme need. It's so easy for us all to dismiss these issues by a simple statement of "we're blessed". This is an issue that is continually on my heart and mind as I transition into life here in the States.
In addition to this adjustment, I also realized that I felt lighter. It was as if I was physically lighter. I didn't understand it, but it was almost
relieving. About a week after being home
I had to go through some pictures and saw my gorgeous Haitian babies for the
first time since coming home. Something
broke, and I understood why I felt so light.
There was a burden lifted. I no longer had children coming to my door
daily, asking for food because they're hungry, or an elderly friend walking to my
house on his hurt leg to ask for something to help with his hunger pangs because
he hadn't eaten in a few days, or a mother looking for a sponsor because her
child couldn't continue her education without a payment being made, or a sick child
that's not receiving care because the funds just aren't there. Although I didn't see these
people anymore, they are still there - going through the same things day in
and day out. Not seeing a situation doesn’t
mean it doesn’t exist. I realized that
the reason I felt so light was because I left part of myself in Haiti. I am literally
lighter because I am not whole. I have
felt like this since the day I left, and I don't know how to fix it or remedy
it. I've decided I have PmehbowD:
Post My Eyes Have Been Opened to the World Disorder. It’s a real thing. 
I don't know how people do it. There are so many people who have seen so
much more and carry such larger burdens than me.
I have so much respect for how these people put one
foot in front of the other. I think the way they do it is by taking the very burden that engulfs them and dedicating their lives to it. I have
realized that the times I feel best is when I'm talking about
Haiti, and when I dedicate my life to this burden. My heart lights up and my soul comes
alive, I feel a fuller sense of myself remembering my life in Haiti. I'm beginning to find my light. I don't know if I'll ever be the same
"Nycole" that I was before, but
I am confident that I'll be better because all of this. Every step forward is moving towards the me that I was created to be. 
A lot of days I just tell myself that even when you don't
feel like doing life, the more you walk in truth, the closer you get to
it. It's not about a feeling, it's about knowing confidently
within you that when you walk towards the light.... eventually you'll get
there.
