(no subject)
I am sitting in my sister's office while she's trying to do her work. Though I'm not making a sound, I know I'm a big distraction to her. I tell myself to cheer up. Snap out of it. Act normal. "What's wrong?"
Unsuccessful, as always.
"Nothing," I mumble, and give her my best attempt at a genuine smile, "I'm going to head down to the gym." I stand up and make my way down to the gymnasium where the boys are all playing basketball. What is wrong with you? Why are you so miserable? Bodies are running back and forth, loud cheering surrounds me, arguments break out, but I am oblivious to it all. This is wrong. You should be happy. You haven't applied yourself well enough and you haven't been trusting in God. You'll go back and everything will be fine. Stop worrying. Less than ten minutes later, I am back in my sister's office, horribly trying to pretend that the whole world isn't collapsing around my heart.
"Okay, seriously. What's the matter?"
"I don't want to go back." Finally admitting the truth, something deep inside of me cracks and the tears start pouring out. It's several minutes before I can make a clear sentence, during which she silently gets up and closes the office door. We sit on either side of the desk, me struggling to find the words to say what I'm feeling and her patiently waiting, eyes intensely searching my face. "I just... I want to stay here."
It has been one week since I left the community where I am doing my Year-of-Service to visit my older sister and I'm supposed to be getting on a plane tonight to return. When I decided to take this trip, I had thought that removing myself from my environment would help me to refocus my direction and put things into perspective. I had hoped to return to my community energized and overflowing with the love of Baha'u'llah. Yet, tonight, as the hours until I have to be at the airport slowly bleed away, I am filled with nothing but dread and sadness. And guilt.
"Well, what exactly is it that is making you not want to go back?" I look down at my feet and sigh. I feel as though if I start talking, I won't be able to stop. I can tell that I'm torn between feeling the need to justify why I don't want to finish my Year-of-Service and feeling like I have to defend the community and take all ownership of failure on myself. I cannot do both things at once, though.
"I am not happy there. And I don't feel like I can do my best work to serve the Faith if all I'm doing is counting down the days until I can go home again." Concise. Overly simplified, but the truth. "I'm not doing anything there. I don't know what to do. I don't know what they expected of me. I don't know what I can do. I don't know how to do it all by myself. I don't feel like I have any support. I feel unwelcomed. I feel out of place in my host family. I feel like I am constantly disappointing them. I feel like I have to do exactly what they expect of me, but I don't know how to. I feel like I am not what they wanted me to be. I feel like I don't like the person they want me to be. I feel like I'm lying to everyone. I feel like no matter what I do, they already disapprove. I don't have the skills. I don't know how to go into the community at-large and engage people. I don't even know the language! I don't know how to make my ideas into realities without help from others. I feel like there is too much pessimism and doubt in the community and I don't know how to combat that. I am stuck in the same spot, trying to make the same moves over and over, and the longer I sit here the less motivated I am to keep trying. I feel like I should be stronger, because they are all depending on me." I am not saying any of these things, but they are weighing heavily on my heart.
"Well," my sister looks away, hesitating slightly, then raises her gaze to mine resolutely, "you are allowed to leave whenever you feel is best. Don't feel like you are obligated to stay for the entire year. If things aren't working, if you are unhappy, then don't stay there. That isn't good for you and it probably isn't good for the community, either." Hearing her say those words strikes the very root of all my sadness. I immediately choke up and start crying again.
"I shouldn't have to run away! Tests are a part of your Year-of-Service and I should be learning and growing through this experience!! I don't want to say, 'This is too hard,' and just give up! I made a commitment to this community that I would be there with them for a year and I would help them. I can't leave after six months, not having helped them at all. I am the only Baha'i Youth they have and if I fail them..." My head drops heavily into my hands as the sobs shake my body.
That is the issue that is bothering me the most, the one I can hardly admit to myself: I don't want to look back on my life and see that I failed to serve the Cause of God, especially not during the time I had dedicated to doing just that. I think of the martyrs, who suffered far worse than I am for their love of Baha'u'llah. I think of the earliest believers, who struggled through much more strenuous conditions, often completely alone, to share the message of Baha'u'llah's Revelation. Why am I not strong enough to do what I had set out to do?
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