My resignation naturally meant that I had to disperse or pack my things and leave Uganda.
Believe me, it was not an easy process.
At times, I would just pace in my room instead of sorting through my things, because I didn't want this to be the reality I was facing.
Mary came over one afternoon to help me (I still paced a bit), and then I went to dinner with their family that night.
There was talk going on about how to best get me home--I was mentally/emotionally unstable enough that there was some concern I shouldn't travel on my own.
I think it was the next day that my parents called me when they got up in the morning and told me that Mom's roundtrip ticket and my return ticket were already bought. Mom would arrive late in the evening on March 31st (Resurrection Sunday was April 1st that year), and we would leave Uganda on the evening of the 3rd. (Yes, as I write this, it is also April 3rd. Definitely a bittersweet day.)
Once I knew Mom was coming, that I'd be traveling home with her--it convinced me that it was really happening, I guess. I started selling my furniture and appliances to friends and coworkers. Thankfully, the Emmanuel Youth Outreach was having a bazar shortly after my leaving date, which made an easy way to get rid of the many things I didn't plan to take back to the U.S.
There were many good things about my mother coming. One small but significant one was that it meant I had four checked bags I could pack to go back included in our tickets - not just two. But much more importantly, it was my Mom's chance to come and meet my Ugandan family, briefly though it was.
That meant a lot to me, because in the weeks and months after, as I struggled hard with the emotions of being ripped away from my Ugandan family, she could remind me how much they loved and appreciated me.
I'm thankful for the goodbye that I had. The singles' group cooked an amazing dinner to see me off. Pacific family, the one out of the seven family groups that I was affiliated with, invited Mom and I to their Easter dinner. We had good fellowship and meals with several of the NHU staff members who I was close to.
And then the final day came.
People came by the house that had been home for three and a half years to pray for me and bid me farewell. My three house sisters accompanied my mom and I down to Entebbe, driven by Geoff along with Mary. We seven shared a last meal together not far from the airport. The hardest farewell was definitely to my sister Harriet. That was the closest I got to crying in the whole goodbye process.
In talking to a friend in the past week or two, about processing my grief of leaving Uganda, she pointed out to me that I still haven't been back in the States for as long as I was living in Uganda. Four years and three months in Uganda, only three years today since I came back. That was a novel thought to me, but it made a lot of sense of why this anniversary season from Jan-April is still hard for me.
Unfortunately, leaving Uganda and coming back to the U.S. didn't solve all my problems. I knew it wouldn't, of course, even before I left Uganda. But I don't think I ever would have expected just how hard it would be.
Most mornings in April I didn't want to get out of bed. There felt like no reason to.
My mom had a pre-planned trip to my grandpa's place to help him with organizing/clearing things out in April. Which would have left me home alone during the days, BUT, my brother very kindly offered to come hang out with me/us, which was definitely a bright spot in April!
I also started seeing a counselor and a psychiatrist in Dallas--honestly, I didn't like either of them particularly well ... but I kept seeing them consistently in the coming months. The psychiatrist increased my dosage of the anti-depressant to try and help me break free. The counselor, although part of a Christian practice, wasn't really offering me much from the Bible, though she did give me at least one helpful word picture that I still think about sometimes.
And so April came to an end ... but the roller coaster ride continued.
Written April 3, 2021
