Let's face it, I'm still awkward. But I'm talking about the awkwardness where I think back and cringe.
I was awkward in high school. Then I did my mission. And then I knew that since I had returned, I didn't want to be the same person I was before my mission. So I had three different persons coming together--my old awkward person, my missionary persona, and the person I wanted to be. The results weren't always pretty.
One of the first things I did was join Facebook, which I hadn't done before. I didn't even do the MySpace thing. I cringe at a lot of the things I wrote. Particularly comments on other people's stuff. For example, when someone talked about snow plows, I used it as an opportunity to explain all about how in Washington and Idaho they don't plow the roads very well and it just packs down. No one cares, buddy. When someone asked how my mission was, I had to go in depth on all five of my areas and how great it was. My Christmas-day status is typical of how I always had a mission story to tell:
Ah, to think that last year at this time I was snowed in at a member's house in the middle of a wheatfield just outside of Edwall, WA! Merry Christmas everyone!Then just four weeks after I got home, I started at BYU. I had never done college before, so this was a new adjustment for me. It wasn't as much an adjustment as I might have expected, since I had already experienced being on my own and living with other people. But I remember my first FHE in Provo, explaining how I had just got home. Someone decided to have us go around and say a guilty pleasure (like silly websites or something). Mine was listening to Cherie Call. Honestly I don't think I had any guilty pleasures at that time. (Today I would probably say listening to Lady Gaga.) Then we played two truths and a lie. Of course, I had to use "I lost sixty pounds on my mission." It would have been better if I said "I once weighed 250 pounds." Someone else said they had built lots of Lego Star Wars sets, and one girl was quite confident that I was the one who put that--even though I wasn't. Then we had an activity where we were supposed to say something like a great challenge or a great accomplishment we did--I had to say my mission.
One of my first weeks there, our ward did a dance party. I spent most of the party standing against the wall, even when I was painfully conspicuous. Then I had to leave early because I had to be in bed by 10:30 (on a Friday night). In all my classes, I was always making comments about things on my mission.
I was trying to find a job in Provo, but the job market was really tough in 2010. As a last resort, I applied at the MTC, since nothing else had worked out. I prepared a lesson for my interview, and then I went. It was an awful experience. I could tell that the interviewers could tell I knew what missionaries were supposed to do but I wasn't a great teacher. I didn't have a teacher personality. I went back to my apartment just feeling embarrassed about it. My roommate was in the apartment and could tell I wasn't happy; he might have asked me about the interview. I told him how awful it went, and in my frustration I blurted out "because I'm just an awkward person." He said, "Now Mark, you know that's not true," and I responded, "And you know it is true." He responded, "Everyone's awkward when they get home from their mission." I thought to myself that I was more awkward than most. Which was probably true.
My roommates the Jeffs were great roommates to help me adjust. They didn't judge me. My room roommate, James, may have been the worst roommate I ever had, but the Jeffs, and later Alex, were wonderful.
I could go on, but I just wanted to get some of these thoughts down.
However, in fairness, this was probably a little too harsh on my post-mission self, because, like Jeff said, everyone's awkward when they get home. I also made some great decisions and overcame my former awkwardness in many ways. It was during this awkward time that I took up running, which started simply as a means of exercise but has morphed into an activity that brings me great satisfaction. I tried to dress better. I wasn't successful, but I tried. I also began to listen to popular music, having previously subscribed to the old-person theory that old music is inherently better than new music. (It's not.) And that first semester, I was more diligent in my studies than I was in any other semester of college (and probably high school, for that matter). I took some tough classes, and I don't think I could have handled it if I didn't have the work ethic I had then.
I've moved on with my life now, but I still think about my mission. Why, just last night I had a dream that my mission had been extended, and my extension was ending, and on one of my last nights I was visiting a tiny town that was mostly Italians. One of my recurring dreams is tracting without a companion or without proper proselyting clothing. (My other recurring dream is about Lady Gaga at church.)
And although I was awkward after I got back, I think a mission was the best thing I ever did. If I hadn't--well, I just tried to imagine it, and it wouldn't have been pretty.
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