Dear Everybody, Here's What an Introvert Racer Wants You to Know About Re-Entry.

I love lists. (If you know me, this probably goes without saying.)

And right around this time on the Race, squad-mates are realising that this whirlwind of a journey is very rapidly coming to an end.

Some are dealing with this by diligently keeping countdown apps on their phones. Some weirdos have quit doing basic tasks like laundry and shopping for shampoo.

Some just aren't dealing at all. 

But most are just trying to figure out how to carry everything they've learned and experienced back home with them, and walk the next season of life out well.

This isn't meant to be a manual, exactly - more like, in an ideal world, these are a few ideas I'd like everyone back home to get familiar with, in hopes of preventing one of those weird post-Race meltdowns in the Wal-Mart toothpaste aisle we Racers so often hear about. 

(Fingers crossed.)

all photos: Czarina Tabitha Turner. 

DON'T:

1. Ask me,"How was your year?"

For the love of all that is holy - unless you're prepared to answer the same question - DO NOT DO THIS. PLEASE. The size and scope of a year can't be retold, only personally experienced. In time, I'll tell you everything you want to know. But coming home after a year abroad has me in a current emotional state that could best be described as that split second between starting the blender and realising you forgot the lid.

Processing takes time. What I need is for you to give me the freedom to speak, and the freedom not to. I swear I'll eventually make it up to you, complete with bizarre accents and useless fun facts. 

2. Place vague inquiries (i.e., "Soooo, Africa?")

One friend back home always opens our conversations with, "I'm not going to ask any questions. Just talk, and know I'm listening to whatever you decide to say." As a result, I've probably told this person ten times more than I would tell anyone asking rapid-fire questions.

It's also hard to gauge how much someone actually wants to know. Africa? Do you want the Cliffnotes version of the continent and the average seasonal temperature, or do you want to hear about that one time our team hit the height of boredom and tested the psychological probability of intentionally peeing your pants behind the host's laundry line?

I drift a lot in conversation. If there's an international curiousity you're dying for me to debunk, by all means, get specific. Otherwise, give me more space than the evacuation radius of an atomic bomb. 

3. Take me to crowded places.

My teammate Faith flew home for a week last month to attend a family funeral. Later, she told me with tears in her bright green eyes how overwhelming it was to simply stand in a crowded room full of people speaking English.

Especially for Racers coming off the field after living in remote areas (s/o to the Vietnam teams in "the fish village", you guys are the real MVPs), being able to understand the conversations happening all around you can be overload. Doubt this? There have been months on the Race where I've streamed the Weather Channel online just to hear someone speak perfect English.

If you could make places like quiet cafes, parks and your homes available, rather than sweeping me into concert venues or crowded restaurants...I'd love you for it.

4. Say, "I totally know what you mean."

In the LEAST condescending way possible (and even then, still likely condescending): you don't. Unless you have actually done the World Race yourself, this statement is a well-meaning stab at an empathy that is, ultimately, misplaced. 

I used to think the times I had traveled or done missions work allowed me to empathize with people who were living aboard as missionaries; now I see how totally wrong I was. The best way for me to love and validate those people would have been to let them share whatever they needed to share, and simply listened. People don't always need our assurance that they are mutually understood - they need to know they've been heard. 

5. Assume I will hang out with you.

(Said to the tune of the Smiths): Ask me, ask me, ask me! Especially for those of us moving rapidly from one season to the next, we may only have a few weeks or months until we need to pack up and leave again. If you want to see me, I'm really gonna need you to say so, because I probably want to see you, too. 

At the same time, please understand when I'd would rather spend the day with my mom, my plants, or a copy of Hitchhickers Guide to the Galaxy. Coming home to churches, youth groups, co-workers, boyfriends, girlfriends and extended relatives puts a huge expectation on Racers to be social with everyone. We want to share ourselves wisely. Also, slowly.

DO:

1. Expect me to struggle.

I've left you, and everything I've ever known, for a year. I'm about to come back to the exact same things, but I'm very different now. Adapting to the same life I had pre-Race after experiencing a lifestyle of radical nomadism...will probably take some serious time. I might want to get decked out and eat at every restaurant on Main Street. I might want to stay home and eat pb&j (unbelievable, I know).

I might want to sleep on the floor. I might want to sleep in bed next to you. I might fall asleep in random places. I might forget to wash my hands, brush my hair or take my shoes off. Grace.

2. Expect me to succeed.

I've adapted to at least 11 different countries, cultures, foods, languages and weather patterns. My squad and I are bringing back an incredible amount of diversity and flexibility that will help us love, work and grow in ways we couldn't before. Expect us to do things we've never done, to handle situations with new wisdom and have a fresh perspective on conflict and communication. The change we've gone through amazes even us, and we can't wait to show you.

3. Suggest adventure(even if that adventure is XBox Live or wine on the sofa).

The community that is the World Race is spontaneous and largely unplanned. While some of us crave structure, many have learned and come to love doing things on a whim. I will love you extra if you take the time to make yourself available.

And feel free to turn me down when I suggest an 11pm hangout 30 minutes in advance or a road trip the following day; in time, I'll get better at rounding my edges. But know I likely just want you to experience a part of my new wild heart.

4. Tell me about your year.

Just because I left and had a life-changing experience doesn't mean I expect you to have remained the same. Life still continues for everyone back in the States. I want to hear all about the ways you've changed and what you've spent your time doing. Let me celebrate with you, and know you have complete freedom to be as proud of your last 11 months as I am of mine.

5. Know that I really, really love you.

It's no secret that the true heroes of the World Race are the people who didn't come on the field at all. Mom, siblings and best friends - you let me go for 11 months. You put your dreams for me aside and picked up new dreams, better dreams. You sacrificed energy, finances, sanity, and probably more than one sleepless night in order to help propel me through this journey of a lifetime. While I've been out in the world serving, having victories, having defeats and "finding myself" (whoever the heck that is), you've been supporting me 13,000 miles away. Your letters and photos have anchored me. Your phone calls have reminded me that I haven't been forgotten. I love you.

I'm so glad to be coming home.