You Never Know What the Tide May Bring

Two months into the Fellowship year. My days feel like 4-in-1, but also feel as though they fly by at the same time.

Overall, I've been really happy and pleasantly surprised by the experiences I've had so far. That said, there are times when I'm frustrated with how tiny Estes Park can become when I need a little space. Sometimes, I just need someone to talk to or some place to go that has no connection to where I live and work.

Sitting in one of my few local escapes, a coffee shop (of course) in which I've already spent countless hours, I actually met someone who isn't a tourist, can't be mistaken as a part of the retirement community, travels a ton, and has a lot of interesting hobbies and stories. It was a short conversation, but that was all I really needed to help bring me out of the weird head space I've been in the last several days. It was a good reminder that just when you're least expecting it, the unexpected can happen.

Goal-Setting

I ask my students to set goals. I help them form measurable, realistic, and timely goals for themselves.

One would think it would be easy to set some for myself; however, upon being asked to give 2 for the year, I came up blank... and have continued to do so for the last week. Why is the simplistic sounding question, "What do you want to learn and/or accomplish this year?" as difficult for me to answer as "What do you want?"

Initially, I thought perhaps it was because I hadn't figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up, but then I eventually came to the conclusion it's partially because I've invested so much of my time focusing on helping others, I've forgotten to give myself a little attention. The other, possibly bigger, part of the story is that a lot of my life has been spent just trying to get through the day I'm in; I'm not used to stepping back and thinking in terms of the long(ish) distance future.

But here I am at 28 years old learning that maybe, just maybe, my life will extend beyond the day, week, month, and even year I'm in. It's time to learn it's ok to dream and plan for the future- even if those dreams and plans change a billion times as my life progresses.

Goals are important. They give milestones to reach for, and a framework for future endeavors. They make the abstract more tangible, and assist in propelling momentum towards accomplishment of even bigger goals.

So in these quiet hours, I'm asking myself, "What do you want to learn and accomplish this year?"

1. I will continue writing in a way that is productive, integrative, and introspective (possibly even published outside of my own blog)- at least 4 journal/blog entries a month until the fellowship year ends.
2. I will learn to communicate more effectively through daily interactions with staff and students, weekly check-ins with my supervisors, and weekly meetings with  my housemates. 

Nothing particularly profound, but baby steps towards answering the broader more difficult question of, "What do you want?"

For now, I don't quite have an answer to that question, but perhaps I will by the end of the year.

To be continued...

Balancing Act

not a bad place to do my work and decompress

Today is my day off.

Sort of.

When you live where you work, "days off" are a hazy line.

I love what I do, but I'm finding my brain still seems to need a break from it all- several hours to not have to troubleshoot, problem solve, mediate, wrangle schedules, maintain a calm composure, try to pretend I know what I'm doing, and do my best to make sure every.single.thing.I.do.and.say is setting a positive example.

So what do I do to actually give myself time off on a not-so-day-off?

I take my laptop to a beautiful spot that has wifi access, work for awhile, and then do something that restores me. Like what I'm doing right now- writing. Sometimes I escape to a nearby city to hang out with friends, or I hide away from everyone for awhile to check in with myself, decompress, and let my mind wander freely to whatever draws its attention.

I'm just over a month into my new 'job', and I'm learning what it means to balance work and play, being accessible and taking time for myself, when to intervene and when to let situations play out, and being content in the moment and realizing there may be some future moments that require prior planning.

I still have times when I'm incredibly nervous about the end of the year as I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up, but I'm also learning to 'trust the process' as the staff so often said during our first 2 weeks of orientation. For now, I need to focus my energy and attention on where I am, and plan for the end of the year when the end of the year approaches.

I'm learning to balance planning out my life and then letting go.

Fourteen Years Later

"To lose a brother is to lose someone with whom you can share the experience of growing old, who is supposed to bring you a sister-in-law and nieces and nephews, creatures who people the tree of your life and give it new branches. To lose your father is to lose the one whose guidance and help you seek, who supports you like a tree trunk supports its branches. To lose your mother, well, that is like losing the sun above you..."

In about 12 hours, 14 years ago will have passed.

Fourteen years.

In 12 hours, my mother will have been gone more years than she was with me.

It's a hard concept to process- and one that's not easily (or at all) understood by many others. In spite of all of the silver linings I've found, the strength I've gained, and insights I've accumulated... there's an echoing loneliness every year at this time. And now, it's amplified by being so far from familiar people and places.

Don't get me wrong, I've never been as happy with my life and what I'm doing as I am now. It's just that I still have these fragile moments of bittersweet melancholy that remind me of the vulnerable bits of my heart.

I guess I don't really have a positive twist, inspirational line, or any sort of wisdom to this entry. In the midst of my beautiful surroundings, amazing internship, and incredible people- I miss my mother because she's not here to listen to my stories.

But as I've reminded myself on so many other occasions: "How lucky am I to have something to miss so much?"

Language Barriers

The students have been here for over a week now. Things that I would have thought would bother me just amuse me- their antics, their attitudes, their varying degrees of defiance and testiness.

I love it. I love their personalities, their quirks, their stories... though, sometimes their stories break my heart. They are a group of survivors- resilient fighters trying to figure out how to live in this world.

And sometimes, they're also just goofy bratty teenagers.

While discussing my daily schedule with my supervisor, I realized that I don't actually know when I'm working and when I'm not because what I'm "supposed" to be doing is stuff I want to be doing. I had a moment of utter disbelief... "Wait... What? Seriously? That's what my days are supposed to look like?" I mean, obviously there are going to be days where I retract everything I just said; however, after the purgatory that was my last job, even the hard days here will likely pale in comparison because here there's meaning. There are people involved- people who tell stories and speak in a language all too familiar to me. They speak in honest tones of avoidance and detachment that give away the depth behind the facade, and at the same time also speak with open sincerity and willingness to let you into their space. I was surprised by how quickly their affections surfaced with us. They hug, tease, test, challenge and inspire.

I feel lucky to be here in this beautiful place where I will be challenged to grow in ways I would have never imagined a year ago.

The intensity of the schedule and environment leaves me little space to process some of the tender areas of my life... so here I am, putting it out there into the safe anonymity of the internet.

About 6 weeks ago I decided to reconnect with the adoption agency my parents went through in efforts to find a translator to make communication with my biological father easier. One would think that after over 8 years of trying to communicate between English and Korean, I'd have learned that this process is never easy. This is a language I don't understand, and honestly, I'm not sure that I want to learn it for a multitude of reasons. There's a surreal element to my life- this whole other family, culture, and identity that almost was, but wasn't, but somehow still is. Pieces of myself are contained in this family literally a world away- and I don't even know how to speak to them. It's frustrating.

Years ago when I first initiated contact, the agency sent me a letter that my father had written 3 days after I was born. It sat in the archives for over 20 years. I learned that my parents intentionally wanted me to be sent to some place where I would stick out- where it would be clear that I did not belong so that I would look for them one day. And they succeeded. My entire life, I have not once felt as though I belonged anywhere, so I've traveled, wandered, and searched for the transient meanings of "family" and "home."

Here in the mountains, I'm exploring what those things mean. I'm exploring the concepts of identity and belonging with and through the students. I'm exploring parts of myself that I had to hide away because I wasn't strong enough to deal with them before.

Before I left Pennsylvania, a few people felt it necessary to remind me that I couldn't run from myself. I was never trying to run away from myself; I am giving myself the chance to know myself in a way I wouldn't have been able to without letting go of my comfortable routines- without facing my fear.

This year will be hard in a lot of ways, but as I'm finding, not in the ways I anticipated. Instead of learning to build walls and defenses, I will need to learn how to let them down while maintaining healthy boundaries.

There is much growing to do, and I'm looking forward to learning the language of it all.

As far as my biological family is concerned, I suspect that, like the rest of my life, the results will be something I would have never predicted.

What's Love Got to Do With It

In spite of being through various broken uncertain hells, the forefront of conversations are... 

Can you guess?

Relationships. The current loves of their lives. 

It's amazing that no matter how old people are, what they've been through, where they're from, what country or culture they belong to- relationships are so often front and center of what matters. 

Even if it's in the context of attempting to avoid them because it's "safer"... 

Why is it that someone can be abused, raped, neglected, and/or abandoned, and somehow, what still seems to matter most is a deep meaningful connection to another human being? 

It makes me rethink our society's tendency to champion complete and utter independence. Sometimes I wonder if that's just a facade to cover the insecurity and fear that prevents so many meaningful connections from occurring. Maybe what we need isn't sheer independence, but an acknowledgement that we are social creatures and there is no surviving, let alone thriving, without each other. 

I do it too. I try to pretend I don't need anyone or anything... but at the end of the day, all I really want is for someone to understand the language of it all- the sacred unspoken nuances of existing.

One of the most poignant messages I remember hearing in passing was "love changes everything." The more I thought about it, the more I realized how profound such a simple sentence was... Love does change everything- the way you see yourself, others, and life itself. It gives depth and purpose to existing- it changes how you live.

It only makes sense that people who have been through hell- lost their homes, cultures, identities, friends, families, loves, dignity, maybe even parts of themselves- would want another person to be there, to stand by them when the world is too much to bear because love makes the unbearable bearable. 

Living Space, Work, and Elk

Into week 2, and I finally have some semblance of what I'll be doing here.

With my super useful bartending, waitressing, barista-ing experience, English degree, and 4 years in logistics, I will now be counseling teenagers.

WHAT?

Yeah. I thought about that today while I was discussing the next few weeks as the students arrive with my supervisor.

But in spite of my seeming lack of experience, I've never felt more grateful for my sometimes idiotic decisions, massive dysfunction, and complete and utter heartbreak and loss. My lack of academic experience is, thankfully, overcome by (some) life experience.

That said, I have no delusions that I'm at all fully prepared for what I will encounter this year. I know this year is going to be incredibly challenging (and I will likely want to cry at some points).

I'm learning to adjust to living with 11 other people fairly well. Unexpectedly, I don't mind the constant bustle. It likely helps that there's more space than I was initially anticipating in spite of the small campus.

Another thing I have a love/hate relationship with is the wildlife- it's mostly love, but the unexpected herds of elk sauntering across the street in the middle of the night has caused a few intensely startled moments.

The students began arriving today, so there will likely be much more to write in the coming days...

Stay tuned.