Fully Charged

The first week of coming back, as I expected, was not easy. And it’s okay. But it was also a lot not what I expected.

A lot of people warned me in advance that there might be some difficulty getting accustomed to routine again. But the truth is, we were also a bit excited for routine. We were even a little bit excited to finally not have to think about what we were going to do the next day, or plan where we were sleeping, or figure out what time we had to get to the next flight.

It was supposed to be a little bit of a pressure releaser.

And we also knew there would be some things we’d have to get accustomed to and re-accustomed to.

The first two or three days of us being back were a little bit of a shock. And we knew it was going to be a shock, because on the one hand, everything has changed and we haven’t been here in months. And on the other hand, it’s the same roads, the same gardens of the same houses, the same people and catchphrases, and some things look like they haven’t changed at all.

The kids mostly seem like they’ve changed the most. Especially how they look, how big they are, and how much they’ve grown—mentally, physically, everything.

One thing I didn’t expect after a week of being back was the guilt.

I mean, I did expect some changes. And I expected there to maybe be a little bit of… not depression, maybe a less extravagant word than that, but just a weird feeling about being back. Shock maybe?

But I didn’t expect guilt.

I had a little bit of guilt during the trip, when there was a war here and we were there. I had a little bit of guilt because I wasn’t sure if this was the right move for the girls.

But by the end of the trip, I knew it was the right move for the girls. I was sure.

I saw how they changed. I saw the difference in how they were growing, how they were expanding.

I knew it was the right move.

And then I came back, and there was a different kind of guilt that I didn’t expect.

Because at some point I thought, you know, my friends moved on. My friends understand. They know what we went through. Our family knows what we went through and why we needed to do this.

I had some sort of expectation that people would understand.

And I think that, at some level, people don’t understand all the way.

Just like civilians can’t fully understand what a soldier goes through when they have PTSD or other difficulties going from being a soldier to being a civilian. Or any other mental difficulty that is hard to see on the outside. It’s obviously not the same, I know, but there’s something about being in a completely different reality that feels similar here.

Before we went on this big trip, we had a rough two years. Give or take, two years of a reality that wasn’t simple.

I know a lot of other people did as well. But our reality wasn’t simple, and that’s okay. We were aware of it.

And this trip was supposed to be a battery charger for us. Mentally, physically, spiritually—all of it.

It was supposed to charge our batteries.

Which it did.

And we came back with charged batteries.

But what I didn’t expect was to come back to a reality where other people’s batteries were almost fully drained.

I mean, I knew their reality was difficult from afar. Just like our family that lives far away knows that our reality here is difficult when they’re there and we’re here.

So I knew the reality was difficult.

But I didn’t understand how much of a contradiction it would be to come back fully charged, while our family and our friends were still in a difficult situation, with batteries that were almost empty.

Obviously, my brain is aware that we did what we had to do.

It was risky. It was tough. And it might be something that other people wish they could do and can’t do at this point in time.

But at some point, I think I felt that it would be understood by the people around me. Or at least partially accepted.

And it was. It is, I think.

But part of our reality wasn’t understood.

And maybe, subconsciously, part of their reality wasn’t understood by me either.

Especially because I didn’t understand how much I had left behind people who needed me.

We left people behind.

Not forever, obviously. It was temporary.

But for someone who needs you, someone who is in distress, even something temporary can feel like forever.

I’ve written in other posts about things we went through that technically lasted only a short period of time, but somehow felt like an entire lifetime.

And I think that’s what certain people I love, people who are important to me, went through here while I was gone.

Even if I was there by phone sometimes, I wasn’t here physically. And not always by phone either, cause of us trying to be present and also on some level a need to disconnect.

And I think that made an impact that I wasn’t expecting.

I wasn’t expecting that I would hurt people. No matter how subconsciously, how unknowingly, or how little.

But it hurt people.

Some people experience someone leaving as something painful.

I think about my daughters. Whenever I leave—even for an hour or two, just to work out or meet friends at night—it can be hard for them to understand.

And adults are obviously different, but still, when someone you love leaves for half a year, eight months, however long, it can be painful.

So my first comment is for everyone out there who was hurt—either by my posts, by me leaving, or by anything we’ve done: I hope you understand that there was never any personal intention to hurt anyone or cause anyone pain. And if it hurt anyway: I’m truly sorry for causing pain.

That said, I’m not sorry we went. This was something we had to do.

It was important for us to do.

And truthfully, it was important for us to do it unapologetically.

But I can also understand that people can still be hurt by it.

And that’s okay.

(Being a people pleaser and being an owner of three new cute mom guilt machines makes it difficult to ignore others pain and understanding that it’s ok..)

It’s just really important to me that people understand that hurting anyone was never the intention. Not with any post, and not with the trip itself. Leaving my lovely family and friends was never about leaving them.

And there’s one more edit I want to make.

In a previous post, I mentioned that I think everyone should go on a trip like this. It’s important for me to make it clear that I don’t mean everyone should do exactly what we did. Definitely not.

But I recommend breaking your routine somehow.

It doesn’t have to be the same trip. It can be a completely different kind of trip, different destinations, a different period of time.

You can go for a week. You can go for a year. You can go for however much time in between and as far or close as you’d like.

It doesn’t really matter.

What I meant is that I think breaking a routine—breaking your routine—and getting out of your comfort zone is something everyone should do, in their own way.

It’s something that builds relationships. It makes you stronger. And even now, when I find myself feeling like maybe I’ve hurt some of the relationships that didn’t come with me on this trip, I really hope those relationships will only become stronger from this.

That they’ll grow from this situation.

I hope.

And I believe they will.

And just to make sure that our relationships will truly be put to the test, we’re off to one last destination as I type this, more to come, stay tuned ❣️