I began writing about my evacuation journey to process my thoughts and feelings because that works for me. You may have caught my previous post – Luck of an Evacuee. That one is (mostly) about evacuee life before the invasion. This one builds on it. These are the confessions of an evacuee.
These words could all be my private way of processing. I could type them up and then hit delete or file them away to never see the light of day. Instead, I am sharing them openly because I believe we can all grow from this experience.
My goal is for you to take something from my journey to help you on yours.
These are my own, personal experiences. They are probably quite different from the experiences of others, even others evacuating with me. Even so, there are hidden lessons we can all use to live well. Now, here come my confessions of an evacuee!
Throughout this experience, my brain has gone to surprising places. That’s normal for a big event or transition.
I have focused on seemingly irrelevant things, the stuff that doesn’t really matter. Self-criticism, guilt, and impatience have crept in. Much of it has come from fears of the unknown, feelings of being unsettled, and so, so many thoughts.
Confessions of an Evacuee: It Has Been Hard.
That unsettled feeling is a big one. It started when the idea of possible evacuation first surfaced, nearly a year before the actual evacuation. The thought of possibly needing to leave home immediately because of an invasion can be quite unsettling. Considering what it may be like is interesting in all the wrong ways.
The brain can come up with all kinds of scenarios. This is what it is supposed to do, and it is a good thing. Our brains warn us of possible dangers so we can prepare for and prevent them. It’s like a built-in warning system. We think of what can go wrong, plan and act accordingly, and then move on with life.
The problems come when we obsess over the horrible possibilities and are unable to enjoy life.
This can be overcome!
Somewhere along the way, I was advised to pack a go-bag. This bag was to contain important things like documents, non-perishable food, water, safety stuff, and comfort items for the kids. The idea is that it could be grabbed in an instant, on the way out the door, if needed. What was all this about? Weren’t we supposed to be living in a peaceful country in 2021? Yes, it all started long before the new year. This uncertainty lived in the back of my mind for nearly a year.
Living with uncertainty and horrible possibilities was hard. Watching all the hypotheticals unfold into reality was shocking.
Confessions of an Evacuee: I Focus on Stuff that Doesn’t Really Matter.
At times, I focus on stuff that doesn’t matter in the big scheme of things. My mind shifts from the realities of war to the logistics of our family and our personal belongings as a distraction from the bigger, more important reality. Before we left the reality was that there could be a full war on the streets outside our home. Actually, our home could be blown to pieces. Lots of people, including children, could die. That possibility was too much to focus on for very long, so I flipped back to what I could handle. I worried about leaving our personal belongings behind.
The same is true now.
There is an actual war back home. There are times I do focus on that reality, but I can’t do it all day every day. Instead, I wonder if we will ever go back, if our apartment building is still standing, and if we will ever be reunited with our personal belongings. Aside from the suitcases, we brought with us, our belongings are still (as far as we know) in our apartment in Ukraine. It’s easier for me to think about this war in terms of our belongings left behind because thinking about the people left behind for very long because it is too overwhelming. So instead, I take breaks to imagine just things.
You see, my brain is connecting our personal belongings with human lives and an entire country. It’s a way of coping, a self-protective tool.
The way my brain processes this is that if we get our belongings back then things can’t possibly be too horrible. If our belongings are still intact, then our apartment building is still standing. That makes it far more likely that our neighbors are still alive and other buildings made it through, too. Perhaps this means Ukrainians are enjoying the peace of their country once again, the place we left behind before the invasion.
So yes, I have spent some time focusing on things that don’t really matter because they are symbols of the things that do matter. I shift back and forth because sometimes this is what processing looks like. It’s okay to think about all kinds of things. None of it is too silly or meaningless.
Confessions of an Evacuee: Self-Criticism Has Popped Up.
This one may be a little harder to understand for those on the outside looking in, so let’s go back to the previous example. It fits in with focusing on personal belongings. My job was to pack. Sometimes I notice myself thinking things like “Why didn’t you pack the important stuff?”
When one of my kids is crying because they miss something back home, I revert to blaming myself. How could I have been so foolish to have left it behind? That could have brought them comfort at the moment. The truth is that they are processing for themselves. Sure, they are missing some personal belongings. However, what it comes down to is that they are missing the comfort of home and the people not physically with them. At times, they are thinking about things for the same reasons I think about things. It is easier to grasp than the realities of war. I don’t need to blame myself for their pain, and it’s not helpful to them when I do.
When I notice this self-criticism creep in, I work on showing myself some understanding and compassion.
The packing was messy. We didn’t know where we would be going, if we would all go, when we would be leaving, or how long we would be gone. Every time we thought we had a plan, it changed. Returning seemed very likely because a full invasion all the way to our home seemed very unlikely. Now it is being attacked. That was unexpected, either because I didn’t want to accept the possibility or because it really was unlikely.
On top of the unknowns, my emotions plus the nature of it all impacted my packing. I had to reschedule work calls and pretty much drop everything to pack and go. That stirred a lot of thoughts. There was at least one little person unpacking as I packed. Most of my “packing time” was spent trying to support my kids who were struggling to understand something I didn’t understand. Then there was the denial. I didn’t want to believe it would really happen.
Every time I thought to pack something I clearly wouldn’t need within the next couple of months my brain told me we would be back. We had to come back. Packing it meant giving up hope. This hope wasn’t just the hope of returning home. It was the hope that Ukraine would be okay, and that Ukrainians would continue to live in peace. Packing some of those things was like a betrayal. It was like believing the worst-case scenario was inevitable.
Packing and preparing weren’t logical. It was chaos in the midst of almost all unknowns. When I think of this, it becomes easy to show myself compassion and understanding. Self-criticism melts away. It’s important to consider different angles when self-criticism creeps in. There’s usually a lot more to the story.
Confessions of an Evacuee: The Guilt is Real, and It’s Relentless.
Survivors’ guilt is a big piece of the evacuee journey. I’m here in the US, living without sirens signaling for me to take shelter. My children can play outside. We have food and clothes and so much more than so many people around the world. This has always been the case. We have always been extremely fortunate. There is just a big, flashing sign reminding us of our fortune now more than ever. We evacuated back to our home country. Others have been killed, are living through a war, or have evacuated to a foreign place with far less than what we have here. Guilt, at times, has stabbed deep.
The guilt surfaces throughout the days.
Perhaps my coat story is a good example. I foolishly evacuated without a coat. Although I was cold, the thought of purchasing a new coat was overwhelming. When I went into the store there were too many options. Then I realized guilt was standing between me and my potential new coat.
How could I possibly be considering a new coat at a time like this? I was fortunate enough to have evacuated. Wasn’t that enough? How selfish could I be to buy a new coat when others were facing war? Well, I eventually compromised and talked myself into buying a used coat online. Turns out I found a scammer who never sent the coat after I paid. It was evidence that I was a horrible person for thinking of myself and buying a coat! Karma hits hard sometimes.
The truth is that I didn’t do anything wrong by buying a coat. My actions didn’t lead to the suffering of people in Ukraine. They weren’t benefitting at all to have me without a coat. After a few weeks of borrowing a coat that didn’t fit I bought a coat from a real store, not an online scammer. Guilt can be part of the process, but that doesn’t mean it’s beneficial. More importantly, we don’t need to keep it.
Confessions of an Evacuee: I Suppress Some Emotions.
You may think that as a psychologist I am a pro at processing emotions. Nobody is perfect at anything. I’m still human. Everyone has limits. Sure, I know lots of skills for emotional processing. I’m even really good at recognizing the signs in myself. Sometimes I still choose to put it off.
There are times I step aside and give myself all the space I need to process in healthy ways. Other times I suppress it and let it bubble up inside, and that’s okay. No, it doesn’t help or make anything better, but I’m not always in the mood or ready to move forward. There’s nothing wrong with going at our own pace.
It’s okay to pretend everything is okay for a bit. Wallowing is allowed. When I’m ready, I throw myself a quick pity party, feel the feels, and then move on. That’s the important part: I don’t stay there forever. Every day I process emotions many times. It happens fluidly throughout the day, seconds, or minutes at a time. When needed, I allow more time, as much as feels right. There’s no set formula for this. When we process regularly it doesn’t take as long each time, and when it builds up for a while it requires more time to let it out. Hint: it’s a lot easier to release before it builds up too much.
Confessions of an Evacuee: I’ve been known to put myself last.
Sometimes I put myself last. This one is a little like suppressing or processing and releasing emotions. It can work for a little while, but it’s not sustainable. When my whole family and overseas community is going through a lot all at the same time, we all need support.
As a parent, it is my responsibility to support my kids. I want to support my kids through this. They are so young to be facing something like war in the place they know as home. The reality of it all is not lost on them. They see the images on the news, have friends still there, and fully embraced activism. When my young children are confused and hurting, I want to suck it up and do whatever I can to help them through it. They count on me, and I choose to be someone who follows through for them. So yes, sometimes I put my needs after theirs, but not forever.
When I feel like I need to get my needs met, even in this chaos, I find a way.
Sometimes it takes a lot of creativity and resourcefulness, but I make it happen. If it were just for me alone it would be valid and completely appropriate for me to put myself first at times, and it’s not just about me. My family needs me to be okay enough, and my clients need me to be okay enough. That doesn’t mean I need to do it all, be it all, and spend all day on self-care and serve them 100% at the same time (impossible). However, I need to prioritize myself enough to be okay. When we’re not in such an unusual transition I will go back to prioritizing myself enough to thrive limitlessly again, but for now, I’ll put myself last occasionally.
The bonus of making sure my needs are met even in this insane time is that it sets an important example. My kids see me facing hard things, and they see me taking care of myself. They see me being flexible and making exceptions to my normal routines and habits, and they see me sticking to some of my others. When I make mistakes, they see me recover. My clients benefit from all the lessons I have been learning and am passing on to them. I am capable of making a bigger impact having experienced this than I ever could have before. Things change and crazy stuff happens. That’s just part of life. It’s up to us how we respond.
Confessions of an Evacuee: I’m Not Ready to Start a New Life.
While living daily life in the US I shift back and forth between hanging on to our life in Ukraine and moving forward to what may come. You see, we didn’t move. However, it’s looking more and more like we won’t be able to go back to Ukraine. We may have to start a new life somewhere else, a location yet to be determined, without a proper departure from the last.
I don’t want to move forward, not yet. I’m not ready. It’s like I have one foot in Ukraine and one foot in the US. Half my mind, half my heart, and most of everything else is back in our apartment. Sometimes I still envision our market across the street when I think about how we’re running low on food. Then I remember our home and market are in a war zone on the other side of the world.
Nothing about this is normal, but I still try to find and create normalcy in everyday life.
This is such an unusual, unsettling experience. It’s the messy in-between. Nothing is decided and it’s not up to us. If the decision had been made, I would do what I need to do to process, adjust, and prepare, but it hasn’t.
We’re still waiting. That’s okay. I’m not ready to say goodbye to the life we had in Ukraine. There’s still hope we will get to go back, even for a moment. I’ll hold on to that a little longer. Perhaps I will soon be able to share some good news that we’re leaving this messy middle, but for now, I can grow through this experience. My list of confessions of an evacuee may also grow, and that’s okay.
Are you feeling a little lost, like you could use some support through a transition or tough time? I understand, fully and deeply. I’ve got your back. Click here to learn about how we can work together.
This blog post relates to new (the messy middle between evacuating and a new life). Here are some more blog posts related to the word “new” (but not confessions of an evacuee) from other sites:
Something Old Something New by Lori Shoaf
https://www.lorishoaf.com/inspiringstories/something-old-something-new
Celebrating the New of Today and Every Day by Dianne Vielhuber
https://simplewordsoffaith.com/2022/04/01/celebrating-the-new-of-today-and-every-day/
Spring is the Season for Newness by Jessica Haberman
https://storytellerfarm.com/spring-is-the-season-for-newness/