It is not so much that I am depressed today as it is that yesterday was SO MUCH AWESOME, what with the waking up in a friend's house and then having indirect contact with a famous author. And then today, I dunno, it was mostly normal (okay, not really, because I got to visit my library friend under the pretext of investigation, and it was really nice) at work. I was going to visit the Monahans after I got off, but I'm all very insecure, and I didn't know if they would want me dropping in, so I went shopping by myself to finish up some Christmas presents, and then I came home.
I've decided to clean up my Senegal blog, and as I was reading about my adventures almost a year ago, I just....freaked out. Because I don't know when I'm going overseas again. I am so freaking attached to Peoria. It's my comfort. I have a room, and my parents usually buy my food, and I have friends, and my life has a schedule.
What if I have already become a super big wuss? Because the idea of going somewhere new with all new people? Is terrifying. Sure, it worked out great last time. But my very dear friend also followed God to another country for a couple months, and it was so not a great experience for her.
I can't move overseas. People talk to me about marriage, and even though that still feels so ridiculous, part of me thinks being a missionary means giving up boys, or at least giving up certain boys, or certain ideas of boys. I don't want to find a new culture. I don't want to learn a new language. I was self-conscious about my language-acquisition skills before Senegal, and now? UTTERLY DESTROYED. People, through joking and serious concern, have made me feel awful and useless when it comes to language. I can't do it again. I hate feeling stupid.
What if I don't make friends? What if I choose the wrong organization? How am I supposed to go where God wants me to go? I know He can use me anywhere, but what if one place is really better than another, and I don't choose it?
Ugh. It's just so stressful trying to live as a missionary, and all I can picture are these couple people who invalidate me, and just, in my head they are waiting for me to fail. And I'm so scared that I will fail, and they will be right, and everyone who has ever supported me will be disappointed, and probably they will still talk to me and hug me and tell me they love me, but it will be from pity.
Geez. I am melodramatic. I hate living alone. Living with parents feels like living alone. I want friends.
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