I'm not writing this because I feel the need to explain myself, and I don't think anyone is really looking for an explanation anyway. I'm mostly writing it because I have this constant need to share and be vulnerable. For some reason I feel like doing so helps me grow. I've never been good at being some mysterious entity like I wish I could be. You know, like those strange people who never update their social media and have the same profile picture for years? Truly magical beings. But I'm just not one of them. I tend to keep to myself a lot but when given the right platform and given the right state of mind, I can be incredibly open and honest and embarrassing. I feel silly for being this way, but as I said, it tends to stimulate a lot of growth for me. It keeps me uncomfortable enough to keep moving.
Toward the end of 2014 I decided I wanted to serve a mini-mission. I had been attending community college for the past year and a half and as much as I was doing well, my heart was set on a mission. I couldn't take it anymore and decided to take a semester off, talk to my bishop, and do a little test run until I could serve a full-time mission. It all felt inspired.
The mini-mission was a blessing in many ways. I loved it. I love the people I served with and the experiences I had. For a whole month I finally felt like I was doing exactly what I was meant to be doing all along. Talking to people about God and His love is the only thing that has ever made true sense to me, it felt so natural. Very little of it seemed challenging to me, I was experiencing the highest of spiritual highs, and even my failures felt like happy news. It was all just a process of learning and growing. I think because I didn't have a lot of time to really analyze all that I was experiencing, I was able to just run with it despite any strain.
However, at some point I became really confused. I felt exhausted in ways that didn't make sense. All my feelings felt muted at some points. I didn't understand how I could be having the time of my life while simultaneously feeling like I wanted to die. Sometimes my companions would look over at me in the backseat of our car and ask if I was okay. "Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about it." I knew I was fine, but I didn't feel fine.
It wasn't really until weeks after I returned home that it started to settle into my mind that maybe things were a bigger deal than they seemed. Other things started to happen that continued the stream of disappointments. I suffered silently for a good chunk of time until I finally broke and started trying to open up to people. Last year I received counseling from a woman at LDS Family Services and she reassured me that if I couldn't serve a mission, it didn't make me a failure. After holding on to wanting to serve a mission for so long, I finally was ready to admit to myself that maybe I didn't want to serve after all. I did, and I desired it for years, but not if the stress of it was going to subconsciously tap into all of my extremes and make me suffer. I wanted to change the world and help so many people, but would I be able to sustain it?
I realize maybe I have lacked faith all along. I realize that others with similar tendencies have successfully served missions even if it came with great amounts of trial. I don't know what it is about God's plan for me that requires a different story than what I had imagined. I still understand very little of my experience and I don't have any nice conclusion to tie a knot at the end of this, I just need to put it out there publicly. Finally. I don't want to own any of this baggage anymore, I want to move on. Maybe if you're reading this, you want to talk to me about it. Offer a similar experience, your perspective. Anything. I'm here. I'm open. I'm tired of suffering alone.
