Despite being nauseous for the first week and a half, I really grew to love this place. I could tell you where everything was, where members lived, how to get from one end to the other, which parts were to be avoided at night, and where the nearest Sonic was (priorities, right?). I met so many people who have influenced my life and who I think about nearly everyday since.
Admittedly, I was very intimidated when I first arrived. Hermana Watkins knew everyone and everything. She had been a very effective and helpful missionary in that area, and I wondered if I could do the same. Then I started meeting these wonderful people.
Vanessa one of the first people that I met. She was a less-active member of the church, about my age, with a personal background that seemed so much like a cheesy telenovela, except that it was all real. From what I learned through Hermana Watkins, Vanessa had some rough things happen to her but from the few months prior to me coming, she had changed her life drastically, and for the better. I quickly grew to love her, and she became our go-to person when we were having a bad day or if we had some extra time.
Carlos was a young man who lived with Vanessa and her family. For being someone who had been learning english for only a year, he spoke way better english than I did spanish. He was not a member of the church but had been taking lessons from the missionaries once he started staying at Vanessa's home. Again, here was a guy with a crazy background of things you only see on TV. He was a sweet guy with a big heart and a love for cooking (and it was really good food, too).
Franchessga was also one of the first people I met. She was a young lady about my age with about the biggest heart I've ever seen. Adrian and Chaz were a pair of artistically ambitious brothers. Adrian has published a book and is currently working on the rest of the series (I have yet to read the first one--sad, I know!), and Chaz has been working on making his own animated movie.
And then there was Nick. We inherited him from the elders in our district because, even though he lived in their area, he was technically YSA, and so we were able to teach him. Actually, that whole process was somewhat an ordeal, but that's a story for another time.Luis and Laura were a hispanic couple with three young children. When I came to the area, the two oldest children had been baptized. Laura wanted so badly to be baptized--she could practically teach us all the discussions herself, and went to church even after working long days in the field picking fruit. Unfortunately, Luis and Laura were not married and could not be until Luis' divorce papers went through in Mexico. Until they were married, Laura could not be baptized. For someone outside the LDS church, this may seem a bit strange that we cannot allow someone to be baptized if they are living with someone of the opposite sex, but it comes down to being chaste--not having any sexual relations outside of marriage. Many people will lose interest in the Church because of this, especially among the hispanics where I was serving; marriage required getting visas and having the money to do so, and many that we talked to didn't see the need to be married. Laura, however, was not discouraged. In fact, several months ago while catching up with a member back in Mesa, I discovered that Luis and Laura had indeed been married, and Laura was baptized. Such a sweet experience shows me that our God will take care of those who believe in Him.
Of course, there were many others we met every single day. Some we would see only a few times before we lost contact with them, others would show no interest from the start, and some wouldn't even open the door for us (even though we knew that they were home and could hear the door lock click). With all these wonderful people and experiences, one may wonder how I even had time to be sad, but somehow I could.
Sometimes it was the day-to-day things that would bring it on. Our day looked something like this: We would get up about 6 am to play sports with our district or zone. I'm so glad that Hermana Watkins was an athletic young woman because she would always want to go and play sports. For me, doing so helped relieve some of the mounting anxiety. When we were done around 7, we would come home and get ready for the day. By 8 am were were doing personal study; 9 am was companion study; 10 am was also companion study, but it was specifically aimed at my personal training as a missionary; 11 am we would have an early lunch; 12 pm would be language study. By 1 pm we would be out visiting people, teaching, and serving. Dinner was usually at 5 pm, and then by 6 we were again out with lessons. By 9 we would be back in our apartment to plan for the next day. Then we got ready for bed and were in bed by 10:30.It was quite the day. Everyday.
My problems would start as early as the morning. I looked forward to sports every morning. I think it may have been what got me out of bed. Where things started to go downhill was during studies. That brain fuzziness that I struggled with in the MTC and back as school was still there. I couldn't focus, no matter what I did. I tried to take notes, to look for things for the people I was teaching, look for themes. All I would get out of it was sleepiness and fuzziness. I felt like I was swimming all day. When it came time to do companion study, I struggled pulling myself back to where we were and to participate. This brought frustration to my companion as we tried to work together. I just couldn't do it. I was supposed to be learning to teach by the Spirit, to follow impressions or thoughts that I was getting--but I wasn't getting anything. The bathroom became my new favorite place because it was the one place I could go that I didn't have to be with my companion. It was there that I would cry. Of course, more than once I cried in front of my companion.
The problem was, everyone told me that the first transfer, or 6 weeks, is hard for everyone. It wasn't uncommon to cry and want to give up. What I couldn't seem to tell anyone was that I knew that this was more than just feeling like the mission was hard--I actually had a problem. I would get so down about myself because I just couldn't function. I would literally be sitting in the middle of a lesson with my brain moving so sluggishly, the fuzziness overwhelming. More than once my companion would get upset at me for hardly speaking during lessons, but my challenge was two-fold: I was still learning the language, and with all the fog, I couldn't process what was going on anyway. Honestly, I would try so hard to pay attention, but I couldn't do it, and that would in turn make me feel depressed. How was I supposed to help these people when I couldn't feel the Spirit and when I just felt so miserable?Finally, by the end of the transfer, after talking with my companion and mission president, I was to go see a therapist again. She was out of town for a while, so I had to wait even longer to go and see her. The wait was awful. Everyday it would take all that I had--and more--just to get through. I would literally pray all the time, begging Heavenly Father for some relief so that I could help his children. Somehow I would make it to the end of the day and crash, but I couldn't find the relief.
If everyday as being a missionary would be like this, I wasn't sure I could do 18 months of it.
