Day 38.

I have lived in Russia for 39 days.  I'm comfortable navigating the city, I've picked up a bit of the language (for as much as I have been out), and I have settled in nicely.  Though at day 38, I stumbled.  I was pick-pocketed by a man who stole my wallet with my passport.  For the 3 hours that I went through a foreign country without any form of identification on me, I was completely panic stricken.  Yes, I can go on and on about how amazing God is for getting my wallet back (which I could do for a very very long time), but that is not what I am here to talk about.  I'm here to talk about the repercussions of this incident on the mental and spiritual parts of my life.  Yes, obviously I am praising God, but as I sat there listening to the police talk back and forth to each other, so quickly that I don't even pick up a single word, I felt absolutely alone.  I hugged my arms and shut down.  I had no hope, knowing Russia, to get anything back.  My passport, my money, my precious photos.  The end of that story, is that GOD IS GOOD, and only He could get it back. I'm still completely screwed up.  I am, in no way, trying to take away from God's glory.  I am, however, being real.

I didn't know what vulnerable was until I had nothing.  I had no way to identify myself (legally, copies don't work) and I couldn't pay the 17 rubles (50 cents) to ride the bus back to my house.  Thankfully, I had Kim and Natasha to help me.  But in these moments of complete vulnerability, I felt completely helpless.  I literally stood in silence as everyone around me did the work.  The talking, the translating, the movement.  I stood, cowering in on myself, lacking any control over what was going on.  I wanted to go home, to America, in these moments. What made it worse, was even if I quit and wanted to fly back to America, legally I couldn't do it!  I was helpless.  While prayer is ridiculously amazing, and what you should always do, I felt like that wasn't enough.  Like I wasn't enough.  For some reason, the only think I could think was "why would I ever get my wallet back?  I'm just me." Or how every single person back in America was probably laughing (after the initial freak out) that of course, this would happen to Teresa. I hated myself.

Literally, this happened to me because I spoke English in a public place and I was seen as this stupid girl, who, if someone just stepped on my foot to distract me, they could get my wallet right out of my lap. (Yes, this is what happened.)  I hated being American. I hated Russia.  I hated everything I stood for.  All because some jerk thought it would be fun to steal from me.  I've never felt so violated (and I've had my wallet stolen in America) in my life.  I've come to this place to help spread Love, and here I was, the victim of the opposite.

I'm okay, severely homesick, but I'm okay.  I just can't shake this feeling.  I have everything (minus $75) back, and yet, I can't get myself to go outside.  I don't want to speak in public again, I don't want to be vulnerable, I don't want to be taken advantage of.  I want to feel good.  I want to be happy.  I was doing SO well outside of this issue.  I was finally settled, and now I feel unsafe just walking down the street.  My self esteem has fallen off a cliff.

I know this is the enemy. It's so obvious.  But I can't get myself to stop let go.