I Am A Early Returned Missionary and I Am Not Ashamed: Part 2, Coming Home

Wow, I did not expect so many people to read my blog post but thank you to those of you who did. Also I apologize for the grammar, and being very wordy. I will try to be better in this post but I can't guarantee anything. I will however read over this post when I am done. Try to make it sound less confused and rambling. Now, where to start. I ended part one with the night before where I was prepping to go home.

The Flight Home

I won't bore you with the details about all the running around that took place the next morning before we went to the airport as well as the running around that took place in the airport. To sum it all up Sister Moraes was leaving before I was, plus I had an international flight so it was just an early morning as well as a long one. My mission president called before I left asking for an email when I arrived home as well as a hello to my parents. The same flight attendant who checked me in also checked my passport to get on the plane. He told me that it was alright. That I would return on my mission. I was hoping that was true. Part of why he was saying this was because I had been crying. I didn't want to leave Brazil, minha companeria (my companion) I didn't want to leave my mission. I didn't want to feel even more like a failure. I didn't want to have to deal with people thinking of all the "bad reasons" I was home from a mission. I was already beating myself up enough without being home that I was thinking I might as well kill myself at home if that's what I was going home to. It might even be worse at home than on my mission because at least people semi understood there. Or at least this was the thought process in my mind.

On the flight to Miami I was by myself still surrounded by people that didn't really speak English. Trying not to cry. Sleeping. Studying my scriptures and my Patriarchal blessing. I had not been released yet so I couldn't watch the in flight movie. I was considering getting off my flight in Miami and getting lost. Then my family wouldn't have to worry about the shame of me coming home. I wouldn't have to deal with it and I could just start a new life. Maybe be homeless. At the time it sounded like a better option. Something that made me smile a little more was this dorky older man who was a flight attendant. He kept trying to make people laugh and would just try to make the flight enjoyable. During one point of the flight he asked what I was doing in Brazil. I told him serving a mission for my church. This started a conversation and I was able to share my testimony with this man as well as just have a normal conversation. He liked that I was actually a person, that I talked honestly and frankly and answered his questions. He kept telling me how much of a remarkable, intelligent young woman I was. He helped me through customs and made sure I got on my next flight back to Boston. He was sweet and to this day I believe he was an answer to a prayer for my safety. He helped me get my mind off everything for the 13 hour flight I had to Miami. We probably talked for at least half of that time. I don't think anyone except Heavenly Father and I will ever understand how much I needed that man named Patrick.

American Soil

It was so surreal being back in Boston. I almost didn't actually believe I was in the airport to be home. I just kept telling myself it was temporary. I was just going to be home like a month or two and then I could go back. I was trying not to ball my eyes out. I saw my parents and I just lost it. My parents probably have never seen my cry so hard or so heart broken. My parents were crying and just telling me that it was going to be okay. I just kept saying over and over again, I don't want to be home. I hope you aren't disappointed. Or other phrases to that effect. After I stopped crying I started telling them about my mission and how much I loved it. We talked about if I wanted to see people and who I wanted to see. We also talked about doctors and medicine as well as church leaders that I might see. When I might go back, that I would go back. When I got home that night all my siblings were asleep and I was okay with that. I got in my bed and just started crying again.

Being Home

When I was first home I didn't want to see anyone except my family and a few close family friends. Part of this was being home from my mission and the other part of this was my depression. I had social anxiety so bad that I would hyperventilate and start crying if my parents asked if I wanted to see people. In the beginning depression, at least for me, made my emotions hard to process. I was constantly overwhelmed and crying. Within a day or so of being home I was released. I cried but I was also given some great counsel about how to deal with being home and how to deal with other people about me being home. For other ERM's out there here are some things that made my transition home easier.

1. Remember that you served. Do not be afraid to say I served a mission. Just like how someone served in the military you came home wounded in a way. Even though everyone around you might not understand this, surround yourself with people that do. You deserve a warm welcome home. Also remember the parable of the laborers that Christ gave. It doesn't matter if you worked 12 hours or just 1. You still receive the same blessings for serving and Heavenly Father DOES NOT think any less of you.

2. Plan for what you are going to tell people the next Sunday you are home.

I had so much anxiety about this but the member of the stake presidency who released me told me to do this. It was so much easier to explain that first Sunday home.m In general it made it easy to explain. My first Sunday back my Branch President told people I was home for a medical reason and that I had been honorably released. That I was welcome back. This took a load off of me and I really appreciated it. Even with all this it was still hard and I was crying the whole time. In fact, despite all of my emotions I got up and bore my testimony about how I still believed the church is true. That was terrifying and up until that point I had been hiding in my dad's arms trying to ignore the people that were staring at me. Afterwards I ran out and I was embraced by friends who said "Welcome Home!", "I have missed you!" or something to that effect. My family ward and YSA ward were great about welcoming me back. My local leaders have also been great about checking up on me and making sure that I am doing alright. This may not be everyone's experience but that was luckily mine. Just a tip for those of you having a early returned missionary come home whether family or friend, welcome them home! Tell them you are glad to see them. DO NOT ask them when they are going back. DO NOT tell them oh you will serve again. Give them a hug if they like hugs. That being said,

3.  Try to not be offended by all the unknowingly awkward questions people ask. I can't remember all the awkward questions that people asked with me being home but, early returned missionaries, try to not be offended. I am usually a very even tempered, patient, not easily offended type of person. Guess what? I got offended. I tried to not be offended and realize that sometimes people don't know that the questions they are asking could be offensive. So, when this happens, take a deep breath, count to 10 and try to figure out an appropriate, kind response.

4. DO NOT stop the habits of reading your scriptures and saying your prayers. Attend the temple regularly. No, seriously, go do it. You just came from a spiritually charged environment and if you just kind of give up on those habits it can harm you spiritually. This is speaking from experience. When your depressed, it is hard to feel the spirit. It is hard to force yourself to go to church, plus add having to face people being a ERM and sometimes you just want to go home. In fact, after sacrament meeting my first Sunday back I went home and slept. Do that if you really need to but try to spiritually feed yourself in other ways. Force yourself to do the primary answers because they work and they will help you stay closer to Heavenly Father. They will also give you the extra spiritual strength you need to sort out all your emotions.

5.Give yourself A LOT of time (weeks, months, however long YOU need), sort out your emotions, and then pray about going back or staying home. I was not great about giving myself time. It only made it harder in so many ways. Even now I am still dealing with being an ERM. It is still hard when someone gives a coming home talk. It is hard to tell people I went on a mission and then tell them I am 19. Then I have to explain. It does get easier to tell people but dealing with feeling like a failure and many other emotions takes time. Talk to people you trust. Talk to your Heavenly Father. Wait to ask about going back until you have everything sorted through.

Here is also a great article about what you can do for any early returned missionaries that you know. For early return missionaries it is just a great read to help you.

When a Missionary Returns Early

Life After the Mission

What is life like now? I am currently doing better with my depression. It took so much longer than I wanted or thought it would take. I always have to be aware of stresses in my life and possibly relapsing back but I know I am stronger now because of dealing with it. I am trying to go to the Boston Temple as often as I can and I am currently a Gospel Principles teacher for my YSA branch. I had my ups and downs with the Gospel as everyone does. Sometimes it can be greater it seems like as ERM, but push through it and repent when you need to. It is worth it. I am working at Walmart and I am looking forward to going to school in the fall at BYU-I. I got my answer that I was needed at home, that I to needed stay home. Now I know why for more reason than one. I won't say that it isn't still hard, that there aren't days where I miss my mission or get nostalgic for it. I just try to remember that Heavenly Father has a plan for me. That he loves me even if I didn't serve what people consider a "full time mission". That I am not a failure. The church is true. I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. That the Book of Mormon is true. I know that families can be together forever. I know the Atonement is real. I love the Gospel of Jesus Christ. My name is Rebecca Thacker and I  am and early returned missionary. This is my story.


If you are a returned missionary and are still struggling with being home here are some articles that helped me. Also talk to your priesthood leaders and others at church, family members and friends you trust. They can help you with inspiration from our Heavenly Father.


8 Powerful Reminders for Missionaries Who Come Home Early
Like a Broken Vessel (This is more for missionaries dealing with depression and emotional issues)
Early Return Missionary Blog

Want to contact me? Need someone to talk to? Want some more helps I have? Contact me here:

Email: rthacker94@gmail.com
Facebook: Rebecca Thacker

Ashley, Amy and I on a family trip

A little while after I came home

I Am An Early Returned Missionary and I am not Ashamed: Part 1 My Mission

I am writing this post mainly for myself. I am hoping it will be cathartic and ultimately I just want to tell my story as an early return missionary. I also hope that it will help others gain an understanding of my decision to stay home, and how to deal with missionaries like me. My experience has been difficult and I haven’t been honest with many people about my real feelings because they are too raw and still too confused to always figure out. I have had so many different emotions and perspectives about the whole thing I want to share them all. The good and the bad. The things people say and the things people are afraid to mention. This is my story.

MTC First Day.

I was so excited and so nervous. All of my planning, my studying, my money and any work I had done in the last 8 months had led up to this day. I was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I got to wear a name badge representing the Savior every day for the next 18 months. I had been set apart and promised many blessings and I felt confident in my ability to teach and bring others closer to Christ. I knew it was going to be hard but everyone always said it was worth it, I just had to try my hardest. When I came home I would be more spiritually mature, it would be a good day. I would be more grown up and have experienced a different world and culture. My parents and family would be proud and see me as the adult I truly became. I would know who I was and where I was going.

Fast forward a little further into the day.

I was spiritually overwhelmed but even more so excited. I was introduced to Portuguese my first day, I got to meet my companions, I met the Elders who I would spend the next 6 weeks with who would be in our district and I already knew I was right where I was supposed to be. We heard welcoming talks sang Called to Serve, which made me cry because I was so happy to be there and knew in my heart that I made the right choice, that I was is meant to be doing this the next  18 months. I felt like I was drinking out of a fire hydrant like everyone said because there was so much to learn and so much activity but by Sunday I was settled and we started to get the routine.

Here is a picture of my companions and our district.

                                          Left to Right: Sister Maugn and Sister Bosworth-Arzani

Left to Right: 

Back Row: Elder Pennington, Elder Hodges, Elder Hargrove, Elder Hodgeson, Elder Moss, Me

Front Row: Elder Ballard, Sister Maugn and Sister Boworth- Arzani

Next Six Weeks

The next six weeks were on an insane schedule that always kept us busy. We woke up around 6 and did not go to bed until around 10:30 or 11 pm. Our days were filled with studying, teaching, eating and sleeping. We studied the scriptures, Preach My Gospel, Portuguese, and anything else they thought we needed to be successful and stable. We had amazing devotionals and Sundays where every day was a good day. Not always easy but still a good day. I got used to sending letters and emailing my family as the only form of communication I could have with them. I spent Christmas and New Years in the MTC. I also missed the day my sister got married in the Salt Lake temple which was hard but I knew I was where I needed to be. I learned things about myself, about teaching and loving people, and living with people I barely knew and was forced to get used to. I cried from feeling the Spirit and hearing servants of the Lord. Over and over again I felt like I was supposed to be there. I had days where I was a little concerned maybe I didn't know enough or maybe I was not good enough but then Heavenly Father always reassured me or someone else would do so. I loved our district and we were so close. The Elders always gave us blessing when we needed them and helped us as best they could, we did the same in return excluding the blessings part. We laughed together and shared our thoughts and feelings. We were a family. Our teachers were amazing and helped us the best they could. We spoke Portuguese and English together. We played pranks on other districts in our zone. We were so happy for each other when we got our Visas. I was so shocked I got mine I started crying. The Elders laughed that it was the best reaction out of everyone. I was so happy and yet so terrified but I knew Heavenly Father would somehow get me through it. Since I knew I was leaving I got a haircut! The Elders didn't recognize me at first afterwards!

                                                                          Before

After

Brazil

I left with another Elder from my district that was going to the same mission as I was early in the morning January 13^th. It was sad to say goodbye to everyone whom we had grown so close to but we had known it was inevitable. Almost everyone in our district was going to different missions and so we knew we wouldn't see each other anymore unless we sent the occasional email. I felt just like I had the first day I arrived at the MTC.  I was only a little more nervous because of the language. I arrived in Brazil safely and stayed with a temporary companion the first half a day we were there. We rested and then the next day we were assigned our real companions who would be our trainers for the next twelve weeks. My companion was named Sister Souza. I loved Sister Souza she was a dork, easy to get along with as well as encouraging and willing to help. We also stayed with Sister Moraes and Sister Patino. All of whom knew Portuguese almost perfectly. Sister Souza and Sister Moreas were native Brazilians and Sister Patino was from Colombia. We worked hard and did our best. I was enjoying the work even though we had a couple of difficulties with my foot swelling up because of mosquito bite and Sister Souza getting a little bit sick. Even with these things I loved Brazil. The people were so kind and generous as well as committed to the Gospel. We had people to teach, love and serve. We had new investigators within the first few days and I was still so excited to be there. The language was hard and I didn't always understand it. It was hard to not always be able to explain my feelings clearly or to teach or be the missionary I thought I was going to be but I kept trying. I kept pushing on praying, crying and hoping it would get better. In some ways it did but I had no idea the Lord had other plans for me.

                              Left to Right: Me, Sister Moreas, Sister Souza and Sister Patino

                                                      My wonderfully swollen mosquito bite.

It felt like I was in Brazil for a month maybe more. In reality I was only there for two weeks. After arriving to Brazil I cannot tell you honestly what changed. I was still trying hard and every time I got discouraged I threw myself more into being a missionary and doing my best. Doing all the things I was supposed to when I was feeling discouraged or homesick. I was always trying to have positive thoughts, write uplifting emails, and look at all the positives. I was praying like no tomorrow, reading my scriptures and I knew without a doubt I was worthy to be on my mission. Somewhere along the way it just wasn't cutting it but I didn't want to admit that to myself. Admitting that meant something might be wrong with me. I felt alone and lost. I felt hopeless and like a failure. I was so extremely sad I didn't know how to face every day. I hardly slept at all and only ate when I had to. I would start crying for no reason at all. Even if it was a beautiful day and everything was going well. I was so sad I couldn't teach or bear my testimony. I started to feel nothing at all and it scared me more than anything. This kept going on but I couldn't tell Sister Souza what was going on. I didn't know how to explain it in another language. She knew something was up but she thought it was her fault. 

I didn't want to not go out because I didn't want to be a fubeca, a lazy rule breaking missionary. I was worried if I was not out working I was being a fubeca missionary but the truth was I couldn't even be a missionary because of how I was feeling. Some part of me knew something might be so wrong I might need to go home and that was the last thing I wanted. A few days before I came home Sister Souza made me go back to our apartment. She could tell that day I was worse than all the others. We went back home and I showered, studied my scriptures, my patriarchal blessing, prayed, cried, and slept. Sister Souza left me to my own devices worrying that I was mad at her which I didn’t know at the time. I didn’t admit I needed help until later in the day I realized I had been thinking about committing suicide all day. I had been coming up with ideas throughout the day about how I could kill myself, zoning out, trying to escape. Trying to think of ways maybe my companion wouldn't notice. I had actually maybe been thinking of doing it for a couple of days but at that point I was not sure. I had come up with two definite ways of doing so but I don’t want to scare you with the horrors of my mind. Both actually may have worked but I was so lucky to have a companion who stayed with me at all times. That night when the Elders called to see how our day went and checkup I asked Sister Souza to ask them for a blessing. She told them how our day had gone and had me talk to the Elder. I explained what was going on and that started the ball rolling for me possibly going home. Part of me wanted to go home and part of me didn't.

The next day I talked with some professionals who were American as well as my Mission President. Sister Souza, Sister Moraes and Sister Patino took turns watching me and going out as well as trying to get some last laughs because even if I had been depressed on the outside I could still laugh and seem somewhat “normal”. Sister Moraes was having similar problems and needed to go home but not quite so urgently. After many talks and terrifying phone calls they decided it was best for me to go home. The mental health counselors made me promise to not harm myself, and they got me a flight for the next day back to see my family. It all seemed so surreal. That night I packed as well as Sister Moraes. The next day we went to the airport and I was on my way back home. Thinking, my mission was over. 18 months just gone. Fearing my parents, my family and my home ward’s reaction. Fearing so many things and terrified even more so of what was to come.

End of Part 1. To be Continued.

March 20, 2014 Waste of a Day

Yeah I forgot to post yesterday. I fell asleep around 10, tonight it is almost 11 so my sleeping schedule is a bit sporadic ish. Also yesterday I had an amazing work out with Emma which is probably why I was so tired.
So how was today? As the title says a waste of a day and I feel a poem coming on whether it is good or not does not matter to me just that I want to write.

A waste of a day
It started out great
I couldn't find my wallet
and  my day went down from a 10 to an 8

a doctors appointment
too long of a wait
but not enough to change my gait
I was still walking, not skipping with joy
but my day was not quite too horrible
till I came home.

the stress started to build
I wanted to hide
but instead I tried,
to smile and nod and do as my mom asked.
A friend left early
I was in another home, a slave
someone to fulfill a role once again.

I was asked to drive and drive and drive
Still I had found nowhere to hide,
I thought I had found a friend
to provide an escape
but turns out he might, have been
on a date.

It was for the better because you see
I was in no emotional state to deal with him and me,
An ex-boyfriend he will forever be.
I just needed a friend, someone to hold on to
I was overwhelmed, not sure how I felt.
Lost and lonely, unloved and alone.
I think that is on of my biggest fears.
By this time my day was from an 8 to a 4
I thought I couldn't handle much more.

From a text I felt betrayed
by a friend who I thought was close to
I was tired and ready for sleep
everything piling up making my day almost complete.

My stress levels are high
My good feelings are low.
Can I just start this day over?
I wish I could sound like Poe.

March 18, 2014 A Day to Remember

Is this a day to remember? Not really. It sucked. It started out good, in fact I was happy looking forward to it exciting things happening. Going to get a lot accomplished. What actually happened? Not to be a downer but...

So I was planning on a lunch date with Cheryl and Amy, and a workout with Emma. Otherwise just cleaning a bit and trying to be nice and get laundry done so my mom does not have to worry about it when she is home. Otherwise have a relaxing day, read a little bit, do something that makes me happy.

What actually happened?

I worked my butt off cleaning the kitchen, cleaning the refrigerator. Now I am exhausted and what do I have to show for it? A thank you ish and a dirty kitchen again. My brothers are so irritating. So is Amy. Why can't they just pick their stuff up? Do their part to keep the house clean? Amy to keep the house and our room clean. Yes, jobs suck but guess what? The sooner you get them done the sooner the house is clean, Becca is less stressed and then everyone feels happier and people feel less yelled at. Does anyone else notice when they make little messes and then can just clean it up? Does it take that much time to pick up crumbs? To clean up a spill? My brothers are incompetent at doing jobs right even if they try to do it. Half the time I just have to do it over again.

Oh did I mention the mountain of laundry I did in addition to my own? I folded my parents laundry and mine. My brothers did their's but even that was fought about between my brothers. Doing things is always a fight with them, and stop being the parent and blah, blah, blah.

I did get to read for a little bit but I worried about what had to be done so I couldn't enjoy it as much as I wanted to. Also Emma ended up having a crisis because Fritz is dying of cancer... I was really bummed out that I didn't just work out earlier in the day like I had planned, it would have been some great stress relief. I understand her need to do something else and we did end up getting our eyebrows waxed. I did enjoy it and it brought temporary happiness. Temporary being the word. I just got back home, the kitchen was a mess, dinner was everywhere and Amy had cooked noodles even though she hadn't needed to. She was just sitting on the couch refusing to eat what someone had so kindly brought over.

So good?
Eyebrows waxed
Had lunch with Cheryl
Accomplished cleaning/ laundry
got to go for a little drive with country music and the breeze
(hey pretty girl (cute version) and I don't dance by Lee Brice)
got some reading in

All in all yes there were good parts... but it was more stress and bad parts than good. It is just hard to see those good things with all the stress and frustration I feel right now. Anyways I should go to bed. Another post tomorrow if I am good and consistent. Hopefully this will have helped and I won't sit up thinking about everything. I need to work out tomorrow and make sure to do something for me. Ending of this post as I said.. today sucked.

March 17, 2014, Day Zero

This is just an experiment. A start to make me motivated to actually write down my feelings and emotions. Maybe I will do it in a poem. Maybe I will just write it out plain and simple.

Today was a mix and a mess
Some parts light, some parts dark.
New things to remember, old habits to break.

Light was Emma, a work out, a good talk with my Dad.
Light was finally moving forward in a sense with my counseling.
Light was getting a lot accomplished, keeping the house clean.
Light was an answer to a prayer, feeling love, finding myself for a little while again.
Finally being the true me with the one person I thought I was being true to.

Dark was being stressed about the house and the time restraints I felt I had.
Dark was crying at counseling.
Dark was realizing I hadn't realized as much about myself as I thought I had.
Dark was remembering my Mom and my Andrew's set back.
Dark was feeling trapped even though I am not.
Feeling like I was still a failure, feeling overwhelmed, feeling like what I did was not enough.

Remember:
Others feelings/ reactions/actions are NOT your responsibility
Do at least one thing a day for YOU
Take things one day at a time
Be patient and kind to YOURSELF
You are a Daughter of God of infinite worth.
This IS your JOB for NOW.

Old Habits to Throw Away:
Doing something for your emotional well being is not selfish
If something is not wrong don't feel bad for it.
It's not usually your fault
Reevaluate not internalize

Things I have learned today. Everyday might vary but that is okay. As long as I get my feelings out. As long as I finish this for "work" I accomplished something good today. Today was still over all a good day?