The important adults in my life as I was growing up, primarily operated out of fear. A deeply ingrained way of being that appeared to be normal and as such, was never challenged. I inherited this set of beliefs and behaviors. One divorce and in the midst of another marriage that was not a good choice for me, I became determined not to be driven by fear.

This newfound bravery led me to travel places I had never considered going, like Liberia. I signed up for a trip where a group of us would be presenting to educators and delivering water filtration systems. The educators’ conference was designed to acknowledge the importance of teachers and school administrators, particularly in a country with a very young population recovering from years of conflict. Little did we know at the time that the few isolated cases of Ebola would grow, and West Africa would experience the largest Ebola outbreak since its discovery in 1976. Creating another set of crises for Liberia and its people.

We began the trip in Monrovia, Liberia’s capital. The educators’ conference was in two parts. The first day each member of our group gave a presentation to the large group, roughly 400 attendees. It was a warm and humid auditorium filled with an eager audience. In hindsight, it is easy to see that we had little idea of the challenges faced by the attendees. We each gave sincere if misguided presentations; a collection of pep talks from well-meaning people from the United States and the UK.

The next day I led a workshop for several small groups of attendees. At that moment in my work, I had not been facilitating small groups regularly and struggled to design an appropriate activity. In fact, I was suffering from a severe case of imposter syndrome. My coaching practice was fairly new, and I was still searching for my voice in a space of very loud voices. My inspiration for signing onto this trip was specifically the recognition of educators and their important role in the lives of young people. I had recently attended the Centennial celebration of my school, a place I landed as a 12 year old after a series of other schools. My school and more importantly my teachers provided a safe haven for me. At the Centennial celebration, I was reminded of the instrumental role a handful of teachers played in my curiosity, persistence, and belief in myself. If I could support people who were playing similarly vital roles for children in need then of course, I would go.

I conceived of a workshop making friendship bracelets. I brought with me all different colors of embroidery floss and an instruction manual for designs that ranged from the simple to the extravagant. I talked a bit about how color can influence different feelings. I reflected on the power of a tangible item as a reminder of something bigger. My embarrassing attempt to suggest that making and wearing a friendship bracelet could be an amulet of sorts to provide comfort or inspiration during turbulent times or feelings of doubt. 

Setting the skeins on the table I invited the group to select the colors they preferred and offered the instruction manual to all. Within minutes, the group started weaving bracelets, necklaces, and more. No instruction manual needed. I had completely overlooked that this was a culture well-versed in weaving and sewing. I felt silly for not knowing enough about the people I was interacting with and bringing this elementary activity to them. I was learning from my workshop participants. 

After the conference, we traveled inland where we visited small villages to demonstrate and deliver water filtration devices. It was then that I realized clean water as an issue disproportionately affecting women. Ultimately, we arrived at an eco-lodge on the coast to enjoy a couple of nights of nice beds and meals as well as to reflect as a group. During that time, the organizers of the trip wanted each of us to share our experience on camera. Marketing material for their next trip, I suppose. I lost my voice. I could not speak. It was frustrating and disappointing because this video was also meant to be something I could use in my business. 

Looking back on this experience, I am so grateful I went. What at first seemed like the scariest part of the trip- travelling to a new country and a new continent, ultimately was the least frightening part of the trip. It was the first time I had spoken in front of a group of that size. I met wonderful people and found myself in a continuous state of learning. It was a time when I so desperately wanted to feel validation, to have a sense of belonging. Many of the lessons learned would have to wait a couple of years before I was able to fully integrate them. When I returned home, the long unraveling of my second marriage began in earnest.