I walked briskly around my gate at the airport, unable to be still. My mind was racing… honestly I cannot even remember a single coherent thought. Just… “I need someone to pray for me.” I took a photo of my airplane and posted it to Facebook as quickly as I could so many would see and perhaps say a prayer for me. For my safety.
|Dad took this photo of me as I went through security. I was crying.|
|Photo of my plane|
For a split moment, I looked back from where I came and thought, “I am going to run out of this airport as fast as I can.” I looked back at the line of passengers waiting to board our airplane. “No, no, no, no, no. I can’t do that now. I’ll never forgive myself. You’ll be fine. Get in line.” I walked up toward the front, cutting in line, trying to get myself onto the plane as quickly as I could.
I made my way down the narrow aisle of the plane and found my seat. I was here now and there was no going back.
“If you need to disembark the aircraft, this is the last time.”
“…but what if —- Shh.”
“The cabin doors have been shut.”
“Okay, I’m doing this.”
The thoughts dissipated and I just accepted. I was on my way to Miami, then to Managua, Nicaragua. My first international trip and I was alone, though I didn’t feel alone. I frantically purchased the on board wifi so I could send messages to my family throughout the flight. “What if I get nervous? Anxious? What if I feel unsafe?” I thought that perhaps just telling them how I was feeling would ease my frenetic mind.
Earlier that morning, I had woken feeling oddly confident. I felt ready to conquer some fears, to trust that all is well. I say that as often as I remember, “All is well.” For months and months prior to this trip, I was tormented with anxiety. The fears, the what if’s, the irrational thoughts, and the never-ending racing of my mind. For most of my life, I thrived on my alone time, but for the last 6 months, being alone was a source of stress, anxiety, and panic. I lied and manipulated just so I could feel safe and minimize my alone time. This trip was a test. It was a step of faith. It was a great healing journey.
The flight was smooth as glass. God held the airplane in His hand. I don’t remember a single bump. I began to feel excited. A friend was waiting for me in Miami. We landed gently and I exited the plane. I already started to feel excited and less lonely. Sarah was waiting for me at my gate.
|Sarah waited for me at my gate and took this photo as soon as I appeared|
The flight to Nicaragua felt so short. Sarah and I chatted the entire time. I had known Sarah for a couple of years, but we never met in person. She is one of those people who I want to be like: she’s beautiful, kind, genuine, sweet, nurturing, gentle, creative, nerdy, with a touch of goofy. She’s one in a million. A beautiful wife and an awesome Mom of two. (I cant sell her enough). She doesn’t know how much I needed her this trip… how God blessed me with her.
I felt safe. I felt protected. When we arrived, Sarah and I walked confused around the airport, nearly forgetting that we couldn’t leave the airport until we went through customs. Once we stepped out of the Managua airport, the impossibly hot, sticky, humid air hit me in the face. A nearby storm was darkening the sky. The airport felt so small. The buildings nearby were short, the houses were open shacks made of aluminum. There was color everywhere.
|Sarah, my inspiration|
Sarah and I were on the noon pickup along with a big handful of other ladies, all headed to the same place: Maderas Village. During the first hour and a half, all of us were so overstimulated, eyes wandering everywhere. From horses, carriages, cars weaving in and out of traffic, colorful school buses, greenery as far as the eye can see. A deluge overtook us on the drive. Lightning flashed in the distance and the day of travel and flights began to wear on us. We all grew very quiet and fatigued. After 3 hours of driving, and a transfer to a truck in order to climb the rocky dirt hills to the village, I realized how far away I was from the normal ‘civilization’ with which I was comfortable. “But what if something happens…” … “Not now. There’s no time to think that way.”
All in all, I didn’t feel so far away from home. It was about 6 hours of flying, and 4.5 hours of driving. I felt that, “Well if something were to happen to me, at least my family will be able to make it here… But, what would happen?! TRUST.”
When we finally arrived at Maderas Village, I remember feeling a sense of uncomfortable acceptance. I had to just accept - I made it here. Im not leaving for 6 days. Just take it in. “Take it all in. Trust. trust. trust.” What a pleasure and an honor it was to meet new people, to see faces again that I hadn’t seen in a year, and even finally meet people I had talked to online for years! The first thing I did was walk down the rocky hill to the beach. Although cloudy and a bit drizzly, I didn’t want to waste time. I wanted to see and touch the Pacific Ocean. (It feels the same as any other ocean, Im sure). The tide was powerful. The rocks on the beach were colorful and vibrant. It was still quite rainy.
Trying to sleep was a struggle. Thank goodness for wifi. I watched Bob Ross’s The Joy of Painting on Netflix to help me sleep. With the time difference, I knew my family was already sleeping by the time I went to dinner. I couldn’t reach out and it was okay. I knew I was safe. I woke every morning sometime between 3:30-4:30am to the sounds of unfamiliar birds and howler monkeys. Although I was very tired, I enjoyed it. I awoke that first morning with a nervous eagerness.
“What if you pass out and die during yoga because it’s too hot?! — Not now.”
I felt oddly nervous during the first morning yoga class. “Oh no, if I’m feeling anxious during yoga, Ill probably feel it the whole trip. What if I have a meltdown? Who can help me? — NOT. NOW…God, thank You for this opportunity. Thank You for this experience. Thank You for this gorgeous place. I know I’m safe. I trust You.”
Thankfulness quiets it all.
My favorite moments on the trip were the times that I just sat in the main house talking to my fellow retreaters. I recognized some of their names; some I didn’t, but learning about them was a blessing. We all came with stories, baggage, insight, beauty. These people felt like my tribe, my family, my community. I felt like I belonged. Part of my aversion about the trip was, “Im going to be the only chubby, meat eating faux yogi there.” And, I wasn’t the only person feeling that way. Some admitted, “I thought everyone would think I was a fraud. I’ve only done yoga for a few months and only a couple times a week. And I love beer.”
Sweet Lindsey hugged me and said, “We were on the same flight from Miami and when I saw you, I thought, ‘She’s so open. I don't measure up to her.’” It was these things that changed me this trip. We learned so much about each other. We all have our trials and shortcomings and none of us are above or below them. We all have pride and all need to humbled in some way. We’re all so similar, and more than we think.
Then, I got sick. I left the beach one afternoon and as I was walking back, I felt like I was going to faint. My stomach was in knots and I felt weak. I managed to make it back to the room - by the grace of God - and I was down for the count. One negative thought turned into a catastrophe… a snowball into an avalanche. “I’m dying of a weird Nicaraguan disease. What if I need a hospital?! Ill die before I even reach one!”
It was then that I began to miss my family and want to go back home. “Oh gosh… so many days left… how can I handle this?” The next morning, I was so weak. I knew that a yoga class was impossible for me, so I stayed in. Once I felt the strength, I managed to lay out my mat in the small yoga room upstairs in my communal casa and stretched for about half hour. Everyone was at the yoga hut up the road. It was the first time I was really “alone” since I arrived. Usually a source of panic for me, I was able to ignore most of the irrational thoughts. The, “You are unsafe by yourself” thoughts. I knew I had to just take care of myself. I laid on the porch of the casa and read for awhile. A friendly dog and cat of Maderas Village came and rested next to me.
|Walk to the beach|
|Gentle morning stretch|
When I appeared at lunch, I learned that others were feeling ill too. I was given water, a packet of powdered greens, and some tea. Within minutes, I started to find my energy. I felt safe. My roommate Sarah (bless her heart) is a nurse. She gave me some tips to stay hydrated and gave me her ginger tea.
Later that evening, I was feeling well enough to join the group in a short (but insanely uphill) walk to the neighboring hotel for “Taco Tuesday.” As I journeyed up the hill with my comrades, I was hoping that I had the strength in my body for it. Nervously walking up one foot in front of the other in the hot, humid sun, it occurred to me… an epiphany of sorts: “I’m here for a yoga retreat celebrating my practice while walking up a steep hill. Yet, it’s thanks to yoga that I am even ABLE to climb this hill.” I walked a bit faster. A bit more pep to my step. I walked to the front of the group. That evening, we danced and sang. I was not myself at first - (in all the videos of me from that night, I have my arms crossed while dancing: obvious sign of protecting myself) - but I loosened up a bit later.
|Hulakai Hotel for Taco Tuesday|
This was the first trip where I felt like I didn't have to force myself to do anything. I could finally just be. If I wanted to do something adventurous, I could. If I wanted to do something uneventful and silly, I could. I finally felt like I could just be… and no anxious thoughts could distract me.
On our final morning of yoga, I remember the devastating feeling that I wouldn’t see that yoga space again - perhaps ever or for a long time. I looked into the lush jungle surrounding the space and tears welled up in my eyes. “I needed every moment of this place.” The tears came and I just let them come. If there’s something I learned in my yoga teacher training, it’s that we are so boarded up. We apologize for crying, for venting, for feeling a certain way, but we are being genuine. Open. We should be bearing our souls to each other. I believe that this bottling up, being closed, and allowing walls to be built so high is a symptom of our pride. We can’t be weak, we can’t be emotional, we’re better than that. It’s a plague in our society. An epidemic.
The final afternoon and evening of the trip, the retreaters and I traveled in a yacht up the coast of Nicaragua with Costa Rica’s shadow behind us, a looming volcano in the distance, a high surf, spying the disappearing beach every time a wave rolled in. I’ve always been frightened of deep water where the bottom can’t be seen. And I actually swam in the ocean, unsure of the feet of water beneath me, and actually felt safe. Next time, I want to swim out farther. I can be brave too!
|FWFG NICA on a Yacht|
|Sarah and Me|
|Adriene and Me|
|San Juan Del Sur|
|Me, Adriene, Sarah|
I couldn’t sleep that night. Anxiety from the next morning's upcoming flights and trips was gnawing at me. I was up all night. I kept washing my face in the bathroom, convincing myself that all will be well. "All is well." I watched more Bob Ross and finally dozed off. I was happy to be on my way home. I missed my family, my boyfriend, my own bed. I was sad to leave Sarah in Miami. My dear friend - a Godsend. My security blanket.
I left Maderas Village at 7am and made it back to my home at 1am the next morning. I slept like a baby. I woke feeling different. I was different. I was changed.
I was happy to discuss the trip with my family, but I began to feel down. The down lasted for weeks. I felt low. I thought I was sick, but now I know, it was post-trip depression. I realize after being in Nicaragua, even for such a short time, I hate the way we live here. We are closed off, private, uncomfortable around our neighbors, unfriendly, and GOD-FORBID the doorbell rings. Everyone fights over who isn't going to answer the door. In the village, I knew what was going on with everyone: who was anxious, who was homesick, who needed alone time, who had traveler's diarrhea. This openness among the village, with people who truly just want to wake up every day as a better person - THIS is what I want for my life. I want openness. I want freedom.
Sure, I have struggled with anxiety since I got back home. The thoughts still happen. The fears still gnaw at me. I have moments where I can't sleep, where driving alone is uncomfortable, where I can't figure out why I'm nervous. But - I talk about them. I'm open about them. "It means you're growing when you feel fear." -Hillary Larson
I must REALLY be growing.
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"Hear my prayer, O Lord;
listen to my plea!
Answer me because You are faithful and righteous.
Don’t put Your servant on trial,
for no one is innocent before You.
My enemy has chased me.
He has knocked me to the ground
and forces me to live in darkness like those in the grave.
I am losing all hope;
I am paralyzed with fear.
I remember the days of old.
I ponder all Your great works
and think about what You have done.
I lift my hands to You in prayer.
I thirst for You as parched land thirsts for rain.
Come quickly, Lord, and answer me,
for my depression deepens.
Don’t turn away from me,
or I will die.
Let me hear of Your unfailing love each morning,
for I am trusting You.
Show me where to walk,
for I give myself to You.
Rescue me from my enemies, Lord;
I run to You to hide me.
Teach me to do Your will,
for You are my God.
May Your gracious Spirit lead me forward
on a firm footing.
For the glory of your name, O Lord, preserve my life.
Because of your Faithfulness, bring me out of this distress.
In your unfailing love, silence all my enemies
and destroy all my foes,
for I am Your servant.”
Written by King David