I’m writing this from my bed in Pikermi, Greece, where I’m visiting with students from my campus ministry—we’re here for a week, during their spring break.

I’ve been to Greece before (a Calvin interim trip my sophomore year) and of course I can’t help but compare the two experiences. Many things are different—the length, purpose, and make up of the trip; the people involved; the sights seen; and myself, too.

On the flight here I tried to list things about me that are different from five years ago: I drink tea. I have a slightly more stylish winter wardrobe (although a lot of the sweaters are the same). I’m more outgoing. I have a diploma.

I actually hadn’t even declared a major by that trip. My internships and work experiences were still far too hypothetical to be anything but anxiety-producing in their mystery. There were so many important people who I hadn’t met yet and intimidating things I had yet to discover weren’t that bad.

I suppose it’s encouraging to recognize ways that I’ve grown since then, but I’m frustrated by what feels unfinished.

I’ve been more uncomfortable than I thought I would be this week. I’m in a different country, yes, but it’s one I’ve been to before. I’m chaperoning college students who ask me questions like “what are we doing today?” and “when is lunch?” but I’m not really in charge of anything. While I can think of reasons why I’ve felt anxious and uncertain on this trip, despite lots feeling familiar and very little risk being present, I’m disappointed that I’m not more of the independent, self-confident, put-me-anywhere-and-I’ll-be-just-fine person that I thought I was.

Of course being in Greece of all places is hardly a trial. But I think that’s part of my frustration—how dare I feel uncomfortable in such a place as this, with its beautiful vistas and potable water. But I feel like I’m becoming the chaperone that always mystified me growing up (the coffee dependent, gets-a-sore-back-from-sitting-in-the-back-seat-for-too-long type). I can’t sleep anywhere, anytime like I used to. I miss my morning tea routine and the familiarity of driving my car to the same few places.

I want to be eager for the unknown and the adventurous, but I think as I get older I’m getting much more attached to the comfort of the familiar.

Maybe that’s because it’s the first time in my life when I’ve been able to get fully accustomed to it. As kids, so much is changing around us all the time—and there’s lots we don’t understand—so we’re more used to the unfamiliar. Increasingly (with exceptions), I see my life as within my control and am more uneasy than I used to be when that illusion gets disrupted. I’m not used to the feeling of not having a backup plan, a way to navigate towards being more comfortable, or the freedom to avoid a situation. Traveling takes a lot of those away, I suppose, and no doubt it’s good for me. I’m sad that I feel less able to fully engage and enjoy being somewhere new than I used to.

But we still have half a week left—maybe I just needed to stretch and get warmed up, like the old timer I am.

Christina Ribbens

Christina Ribbens (’19) graduated with a major in history and minors in studio art and data science. After working in campus ministry for a few years, she’s getting her master’s in public humanities at Georgetown University in Washington, DC. She has a benevolent dependency on tea, is always down for a game of pick-up basketball, and would love to have you over for pancakes sometime.

1 Comment

Laura Sheppard Song on March 9, 2022 at 8:11 pm

You wonderfully put into words the subtle changes we experience in this age. I relate very much to your “I used to be great at this sort of thing!” reflections. May we embrace these newer, sorer versions of ourselves 🙂
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