Travels with Sojo- Week 5: Reflection

When I arrived in eastern Kentucky five weeks ago I brought my suitcase, an overly ambitious stack of books, my journal and a lot of expectations. After months of planning, volunteering in Kentucky was to be the beginning of a five-month solo excursion across America. Actually, in truth, the original plan was to trek the country on a volunteer extravaganza, serving in each of the 50 states for a week at a time. I wanted to volunteer with different types of organizations and different causes in each state. It would be the experience of a lifetime, not to mention a networking dream. But after a few weeks of researching organizations, trying to coordinate projects, and coming to grips with reality- a week in each state is a year of traveling with no income and no companionship- I settled for a new plan consisting of a month in Kentucky, a month serving in New Orleans, two weeks in Texas rescuing sea turtles, followed by a road trip through all the National Parks out West and in Alaska. This trip became my focus for about five months as I planned, routed, applied and budgeted for my big adventure. After some careful thought I decided to drop New Orleans because originally my plan would have put me there by myself, during Mardi gras, serving in impoverished and dangerous areas. As much as I wanted to participate in the Katrina relief efforts, I decided my safety must take first priority, given my past. Not long before I was scheduled to begin my stint in Kentucky, I learned that the work I wanted to do in Texas wouldn’t be available until later in the year, once again throwing off my schedule. Disappointed but not deterred, I continued preparing for my month in Kentucky and several months driving out west and up to Alaska.

One day my mom asked me if I was sure this whole thing was a good idea. I told her it was, not to worry, besides if its too difficult or lonely or dangerous, I can always turn around and come home. But that night I thought a lot about what she said. I remembered all the comments people said when I told them about my adventure: “Wow, that’s amazing! Who’s going with you?” “No one, just me” “Oh… wow…” or “I would never let my daughter do that!” and “By yourself? That seems risky.” Suddenly I had terrifying flashbacks to three years ago when I was preparing to go to Jamaica, where I was later attacked and raped. People said the exact same things about that trip: “Wow, that’s a dangerous place, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

That’s when I fell apart. What the hell am I doing?! Driving across the country for five months by myself, camping in my car, putting myself in an extremely vulnerable situation after all the healing that I’ve found from the rape three years ago?! Shouldn’t I know better than that!! Why did I not realize how dangerous this is months ago before I put all my time and money into planning this! What is wrong with me?? This is the worst idea I’ve ever had! I can’t travel the country on my own, someone will murder me or rape me again, the chances are extremely likely. I was so angry. I was mad at myself for not recognizing sooner how foolish I was being and I was mad at the world and all the disgusting people out there that make this an unsafe place. I should be able to drive across the country on my own, hike in national parks on my own, sleep in my car at campsites on my own. I should be able to do that. I feel enraged by the fact that I can’t. I want to do this, I want to feel free and adventurous and I want to be able to do things on my own so I can be proud of myself and feel brave. I believe God has instilled in me a spirit of adventure. I’ve never felt satisfied staying in one place, or working a job just to get a paycheck or being content to just see the world through the television. As a kid, I didn’t care about Barbie dolls or make-up, I played with GI Joes, built tree forts and waded through murky ponds to catch turtles. I wanted to be a missionary or somehow get paid to travel the world. Traveling has always been one of the few things that really awakens the passion in me. But three years ago when I was raped and nearly killed while traveling in another country, everything changed. It was an attack on my body and my mind but also my future. The rape not only took my innocence, it stole my power and independence and replaced them with fear. Suddenly, everywhere and everyone became dangerous. Violence lurked around every corner, nothing was safe. The world I wanted to help became too threatening. I could care less about traveling to other countries; I could barely leave my front door. It was devastating. I floundered as I thought about what to do with my future; an anthropology degree isn’t much good if I don’t care about other cultures anymore. I felt a deep sense of sadness. I mourned the loss of the life I always thought I’d have and just tried to stay focused on more pressing issues like how to walk from my apartment to my car without having a panic attack.

When my big adventure started to unravel, I fell into a depression and cried everyday for a week. I was so angry about the situation it was blinding. I wanted to go so badly but I couldn’t take that risk. At the same time, I just couldn’t give up on it- the desire was so intense I feared if I didn’t go I would certainly regret it later in life and by then I would have a family and a career without the option of taking off on my own for an undetermined amount of time. I felt stuck. I determined I would still go to Kentucky no matter what, it was safe(r) and would provide a time of well-needed rest and reflection. Plus it would give me a month to stall my decisions concerning the rest of the adventure.

So as I said, I came to Kentucky with a lot of expectations. I knew what I wanted that month to be- restful, productive and clarifying. I wanted to deepen my relationship with God, I wanted to take care of myself and in many ways be self-focused, and I wanted to make a final decision about traveling the country on my own. Kentucky was an amazing month because it exceeded my expectations. I read powerful books that increased my faith, had difficult but healing conversations, dealt with a lot of shame and insecurities that flushed up, had many vivid dreams and even made an unexpected friend who turned out to be very instrumental in helping me decide that I should indeed travel onward. I feel very satisfied with my time in Kentucky and I feel encouraged that I showed up with expectations for myself and for God and all of them were met. Although truthfully, when I left Kentucky, I was still unsure about my travel plans. It wasn’t until I left and headed for Savannah, Georgia that I gained the clarity that I sought.

During the past year I’ve had several different people tell me how amazing Savannah is and how I should visit there. Each time, I tucked the information away and thought, “Ok, I’ll have to check that out someday.” Yet another person mentioned it to me while in Kentucky but this time I thought, “I’m going there as soon as I leave here!” I had a week after Kentucky where I had no schedule or plan and decided Savannah would be the perfect destination. My new friend offered to let me stay at her house, which was right on the way. Plus I would get to pass through the Smokey Mountains National Park! Even if I didn’t go on a national park tour out west, I was damn sure going to one park and getting my first National Park stamp in my passport!

When I arrived at my friend’s house, nestled in the Smokey Mountains, far from the noise and busyness of life, the sun was setting and I was astonished at the beauty surrounding me. I was alone, as I had been all day and would be all night. I sat peacefully drinking wine from a mason jar. For a while the only sound I heard was that of crickets, a calm, familiar backdrop for my thoughts. But it only took one rustle in the woods beyond the porch to steal my peace and replace it with fear. My first thought is never deer or raccoon, but murderer or rapist lurking in the darkness. Waiting for me. I don’t have the luxury of believing “it won’t happen to me,” because it has and it can again. My muscles are tense now, ears alert, eyes locked in the direction of the movement, I sat motionless. Paralyzed. I convinced myself its nothing, who would be out here? I was far from town, surely it was a squirrel. I believed it long enough to get back inside, where I hid behind walls and locked doors, illusions of safety.

All I want is to feel safe again. To feel safe on my own. Brave, independent, fearless. I should be able to spend a quiet, peaceful night in the woods by myself. I should enjoy this alone time. I have always loved being by myself. I’ve always been one to re-energize by myself, journaling, driving, anything away from others. I know people that come alive when they’re around others, they feel recharged and rested. That’s never been me. I recharge by myself so I can handle being around others. That’s the way I like it. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy people, I do. I love people and I know I need people in my life. But quiet time is critical for me. That’s when I rest, regain my sense of self and stoke myself up for another day of conversing and interacting with others. I guess that’s why the idea of a solo road trip across the country lives for me so passionately. I thrive off that alone time… in the daylight. I’ll drive all day, singing my heart out, contemplating life, reflecting on memories that have all led me to where I am now. I feel alive, strong, brave, adventurous. I feel unstoppable. I feel like me. But as soon as the sun goes down I’m terrified. Lonely, anxious, full of fear. It’s not fair. I want my life back. I want my ignorance back. I want that sense of control back. I wish I could go outside at night and appreciate the stillness or the stars. Instead, I feel fear and panic.

The next night was the same. I arrived in Savannah after dark, by myself without making prior sleeping arrangements. I found a hotel but couldn’t tell if the area was safe or not because of the darkness. The room was decent but the walls were paper thin, I knew there was a man next door, I heard him coughing so clearly we could have been in the same room. I knew the people around me could hear me as clearly as I could hear them so I tiptoed around, didn’t flush the toilet and whispered on the phone. I figured anything I said or did could alert dangerous men around me that I was alone and fearful. I felt frustrated by the reality of my situation. I felt weak and vulnerable and that no matter what I did I would never be able to protect myself enough. But I woke up in the morning, alive and feeling fearless in the sunlight once again. I realized the neighborhood I was in was fine and that many of my fears the night before were exaggerated. With some well- needed encouragement from my boyfriend, I realized I have to do more traveling. If for no other reason than to push through my terror, I have to do this and I can. My desire to travel has been squelched for the past three years, the fact that I even want to travel across the country is important to me and shows me that I am making progress in my healing. I need to nurture this desire back to health because I refuse to let this trauma steal the rest of my life. It’s taken enough from me already. I may never have that same sense of safety I used to know, but I’m wiser now and I’m learning to trust my gut. I know that I could be hurt again, possibly even worse than before but I can’t live in fear. I can’t play it safe all the time because of what might happen. This is my world too and I have a right to enjoy it.

So my new, revamped plan for my journey across the country is significantly different than before- some details have been tweaked to accommodate more safety and its much shorter, meaning more realistic in terms of what I think I can handle at this stage in my healing. I have to admit I’m scared. No plan is ever foolproof and I can’t control other people but this is something I need to do for myself. I’m anticipating many restless nights but every morning will be a victory. I’ll be hitting the road soon, with my suitcase, an overly ambitious stack of books, my journal, and a lot of expectations…