At my wit's end...

I don’t know what’s going on. I’m so confused. I don’t even know what to think anymore. Saturday I felt fine…but I was busy all day. Saturday I understood and could speak alright. Saturday I had fun. But overall…this experience has been really really really hard. And I can’t tell you how appealing the thought of getting on an airplane and flying home tomorrow is. The idea of just getting to my house and crashing. I’m so exhausted. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of not having friends. I’m tired of praying and praying and praying and not seeing any of the big picture. I’m tired of trying to speak and failing. I’m tired of not improving. I’m tired of feeling like I’m going crazy-when I look back on these kind of posts when I’m having a random good day when everything feels ok, I wonder why I’ve been so up and down here. I’m tired of feeling anxious the second I’m by myself. I’m tired of feeling scared. I’m tired of trying to overcome my fears. I’m tired of being out of my comfort zone. I’m tired of being shoved around from house to house and never really feeling like anyone really wants me there. I’m tired of being stretched.

This isn’t culture shock, this is me not having a good time. This is this trip not being at all like I thought it would be. This is me, unable to have a fun time when I am out with people my age, because all I can think about is how I don’t want to go back home and be alone. This is me not improving because I don’t have the energy to put towards learning this language because I’m so exhausted from everything else.

I don’t want to talk to Greg. I don’t want him to talk to my host family and “fix things.” I don’t want him to move me to another family. More changes, more changes. Enough changes. I don’t think I can handle this.

I just want to go home. I’m tired of dealing with all this. I’m tired of things never being anything like what I expected. I’m just really tired.

I know that if I went home, everything would change. I would probably do absolutely nothing for the rest of the semester, and then change my major. Again. As far as missions goes—I don’t know if I’m cut out for that! If I can’t freaking learn the language and tough it out here in Mexico, how will I serve on the mission field with Spanish? If I can’t go 5 weeks without friends, how will I do in the mission field? I thought I loved Spanish, but being here makes me hate it. I’m not improving. And I’m tired of trying to be confident when I’m not. I’m tired of trying to be happy and fake it when I’m not. I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of being sad all the time. I’m not a sad person! It makes me feel like I’m not doing well spiritually, but I am! I’ve never spent so much time with the Lord, depending on Him as much as I have been since I’ve been here. I just feel utterly exhausted, like I can’t go any further.

If I go home, I won’t learn to speak this language. But at the rate I’m going, I won’t learn anyway. Everything would change if I went home, but at least I’d be at home. Right now the only thing keeping me here is that I know I’m not a quitter. I don’t ever bag out and go home. I know that God doesn’t ever give the people that love Him anything they can’t handle. But damn, it sure feels like I’m barely hanging on.

What’s the big picture? Why the hell am I here? I haven’t even stepped foot in an orphanage, and my Spanish isn’t hardly improving at all! What is God trying to do here? I realize I’m being stretched…but there is just too much! I’m SO far out of my comfort zone, I don’t even know where my comfort zone is anymore. I’m just so confused, and I feel like I’ve been praying for a piece to the grand puzzle for so long, to no avail. I’m almost certain God’s plan wasn’t for me to come here, realize I couldn’t handle it and then go home. But being here is wearing me thin.

Something’s gotta give. But I can’t figure out what. And right now the idea of getting on a flight to Dallas tomorrow is almost too tantalizing to resist.

Being here makes everything different. I want to go home and change my major, and get more involved at JBU. I want to get back into music, it was the only “intelligent” major I had. Everyone here works so much harder than people in the states. Being here makes home and even all its bad parts seem fantastic. Being here has made me learn so much about myself, and mainly made me see things that need to change. Being here makes me realize how hard it was for God to grab my attention beforehand. I was so distracted by school, friends, and selfish ambitions. But being here is so hard, and I crave comfort like a ship-wrecked person craves dry land. I crave laughter like a sick person craves morphine. I’m at my wit’s end and it feels like I can’t go any further.

But it’s funny how after struggling to cling to the Father’s hand through that big crowd and feeling yourself wearing thin, when you finally lose your grip and let go, right before you fall away to be trampled by all the blank-faced people above you, the Father bends down and picks you up and carries you the rest of the way…

I’m about to let go. I can’t do this.