Navigating Feeling Untethered After A Visit From Loved Ones
As of writing this post, I have been away from home for 314 days. In all honesty, up until about day 310, I had not felt the least bit lonely. There had been moments, of course, when I had longed for less of a time difference between me and some of my family and friends, but it never was much deeper than that.
Those of you who have been following my journey on Instagram (if not, you can check it out here or here) are already aware that, at the end of May, I had a gaggle of visitors from home come out and spend some time with me. It was wonderful to be surrounded by old friends from high school and my parents. Plus, we opted to rent a car which made it easier to do a tour around the country to hit all of the major sites, which would have definitely been much harder to visit on my own using only public transportation.
After not seeing my parents for over 10 months, I’d love to say that all was bliss and peace, but that would be a lie. There were moments of laughter and awe. But also times of tension and frustration, as we fell into old patterns and I adjusted to being abroad and traveling with others rather than operating solely on my own schedule. At times, I thought that by the time their vacation ended, I would be ready to resume being fully independent and acting solely based on my own wishes and desires - bound to no one and nothing else. But as everyone prepared bags to get ready for the airport, I only thought about how strange it was going be to remain in the country for another two months after their departure.
When everyone arrived in Ireland, I had only been in Ireland myself for 4 days. I had yet to establish my own patterns, rhythms, and routines. As everyone was on planes back to the States, or already there, I was on a bus back to my place in Dublin. I occupied myself with emails and computer work I put off during our adventure, but the loneliness began to set in once the to-do list was fully cleared.
I felt untethered and lost. It was strange to go from having everyone around, to talk to in person, for about 10 days, to knowing I likely won’t see them again until Christmas or later. Part of me longed to be on the plane back to Cleveland with all of them.
Luckily, those feelings didn’t last long. I was reminded of the amazing opportunity I have to be in Ireland and connect with and assist the amazing work being done here to support families before, during, and after child loss. There is so much left to learn and so much more that I want to do.
In talking with a friend, she remarked about the freckles on my skin and the curls in my hair. Neither has looked as prominent as they do now in years. Tourists on the streets have stopped me for directions numerous times, anticipating an Irish accent, rather than the American one I produce to share in their confusion.
Ireland was the top country on my list when planning my Watson Project, now more than 2 years ago. Starting tomorrow, I will work with an organization that was my first “yes” when asking places about their willingness to host me for a project that was only hypothetical at the time. We first connected on April 14, 2021. 782 days ago.
A few days ago, as I wished my time as a Watson Fellow to move faster, I felt like I had nothing left to do as a Watson Fellow. Today, I am sitting at a picnic table in the sun on North Bull Island, sipping coffee, watching people cross over a long wooden bridge, and admiring sailboats drifting on glimmering water. At this moment, my brain is flooded with thoughts of everything that I still want to do, and with only 55 days left abroad to do it all.
I have booked my flight home. It feels surreal and like a milestone that didn’t feel I would ever reach. I’m going to try to not count down the days as they pass. But rather, mark the short time I have left as a current Watson Fellow through the moments I’m savoring, people I’m meeting, conversations I’m having, things I’m learning, new things I’m trying, and once-in-a-lifetime experiences I’m embracing.
Just like the visit from my family and friends, my Watson year could not be, never was intended to be, and hasn’t been one purely of bliss. Feeling uncertain, untethered, lost, and lonely are part of the experience. A vital piece needed to grow and develop through this opportunity and keys to emerging with new knowledge about myself, the world, and how to understand both.
So in these final 55 days, when things are feeling challenging or overwhelming, I just need to remind myself that there are plenty of lighthouses in Ireland. Like ships lost in the night or shaken by stormy seas, I’ll go to them. Maybe I’ll enjoy a cup of coffee and breath in the breezy air. Something will catch my eye sooner or later and offer me direction.
And, if not, at least the views are lovely.
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