Earning a Visit and My Parallel Process

To have a visit from family members, a student must be at the school for at least 8 weeks. To be allowed to go home for a visit, a girl must earn her Level 2 designation which signifies she has proven herself to be trustworthy in the community on a consistent basis. She will also fully accept her life on campus and within the community. This can take anywhere from 5 months to a year, sometimes more sometimes less. I struggle each time I have to answer a parent who asks "why can't my daughter come home for a weekend?" My heart aches; I crumble. I take a deep breath and explain how a disruption early in her stay could make it very difficult for her to accept her life on campus as well as the emotional work she was sent here to do. Prior to the holiday, it was the hardest thing for me to say. It was hard because I didn't believe it fully. I hadn't "fully accepted" the words I was speaking... then I went back to Texas for a week.

I had heart to hearts with nephews, cuddled with my niece, ate and chatted with my sisters. I felt at home. I felt at ease. I felt comfortable for the first time in more than three months. There was no one to prove myself to; no agenda; no "new kid on the block" feeling. I never once doubted the way I was interacting with my family the way I do with my new acquaintances in Montana (to no fault of their own).

My flight left Houston at 7am on a Tuesday morning which meant I had to leave my parents' house by 3am to get there in time due to anticipated holiday travel chaos. I spent my last night celebrating my sister's birthday at her house. As the night wore on, family members trickled out. My best friend and sister left with her three boys and husband with whispers of how proud they were of me. My 15 year old nephew, who I grew closer to on this short trip than any other since he's entered adolescence, obediently hugged me, released, and then pulled me back in for another side hug. A gesture I hope to never forget. As each hour passed by I told myself, "just one more hour... then I will go home to sleep." As each new hour came I found myself sending wishes to the stars that if I never left that backyard, 3am would never come; there would not be a plane ticket with my name on it, and there would not be an apartment in the middle of Montana with all of my possessions in it. By 1:30am my clothes could absorb no more smoke from the fire pit and I could no longer put off saying goodbye to my sister, my other best friend. I tiptoed into her house to kiss my sweet three month old niece, Alice, goodbye as she slept soundly with her hands above her head the way infants do.

In hindsight, I realize that my attempts to negotiate with the stars kept me from taking full advantage of the two hour drive I had to say goodbye and thank you to my parents. Instead, I slept. I jumped out of the car, still half asleep, and gave quick hugs to the people who have given their unending support of my endeavors and who had to turn around and drive right back to where we came from. I rushed through baggage claim with my tranquilized dog in tow, wishing I were in a cozy little cage unaware of my reality. I waited in the security line and wept. Sleepiness, the after effects of wine from the night before, and emotion all caught up to me. I quietly and almost unnoticeably let go.

I returned feeling lonelier than ever before. I found myself sobbing as I texted with my sister who was traveling with her family and unable to talk on the phone unless she wanted my sadness to play on speakerphone for my nephews and brother-in-law to hear... the ones who are proud of me and who, I imagine, think I'm quite a strong person. I texted that I regretted my decision and that I was angry that I chose this life. I was irrational and I knew it, but I felt helpless against the overwhelming emptiness. I felt alone as I was about to enter a new year without a single soul I felt close to. My sister reminded me that there is a grand picture that will reveal itself to me one day, letting me know why I wandered up to the mountains. "There are life lessons you cannot even imagine right now and this will be one of the most memorable New Years of your life, even if it is the loneliest" she wrote. I read and re-read that message and knew she was right. Welcome back rationality.
Deep breaths. Fresh mountain air in. Openness to new friendships. Adventure at my fingertips. All things to relish in in 2011.

The next morning I went cross country skiing and made a commitment to myself and one of my new friends to be positive and to see the proverbial green grass in my life. Each day since I've witnessed, experienced, and welcomed new joys in my life. I've made more connections; I've started working out; I've re-entered my job confidently and openly.

During one of the first circles back at work, all but a few of the girls were in attendance. I observed their greetings to one another and hugs and embraces as those who had earned a visit off campus for the holidays were welcomed back. I felt lightness. I felt joy at their joy. I felt that same comfort I felt at home... as if I were exactly were I needed to be.

Now, as I reflect on that intensely lonely day upon my return, I believe in the message I tell parents about why we recommend their girls don't go home until they are fully settled. I understand that "earning" a visit is for the protection of the girls' emotional well-being. While we cannot protect them from ever feeling lonely or even from regressing a bit after a visit, we can protect them from facing inevitable loneliness without the resources to come back to the present moment and get back on their skis.