bittersweet

we have big news.  i was just accepted to the university of pennsylvania.  i’ll be getting my master’s in their international educational development program.  look it up here!  penn’s graduate school of education is #5 in the united states.  and they accepted me!  isn’t that crazy?!  i get to move to philadelphia, be stretched and grown along with a cohort of just 30 others and be given a chance to get an academic perspective on all my life experiences.  thankfully, ray is just as excited with me…even when we think of the wintery snow!

but all this change and newness means one of the most painful goodbyes yet.  we have LOVED our life here and dread leaving it—especially the incredible people who make this life so rich. 

even though it’s been a full year of studying for and taking the GRE, applying to different schools and being open to what lay ahead, this decision is brand new.  we didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that might not happen.  but, of course, that now means having a short window in which to close up our lives and say goodbye. 

to leave my life as a teacher of TCKs alongside incredible colleagues is painful.  these last four years have been the best of my life. 

after the miscarriage last year, ray and i realised we really did want to be parents.  as we sifted through the possibilities, we narrowed it down to two main paths of about 5 years each: stay in thailand or move elsewhere.  adoption in thailand is free, but costly in time.  we couldn’t count on ray’s contracting job lasting longer than a year and didn’t know how long the adoption process could take (but we knew it would be at least a number of years).  in the same amount of time, we realised we could leave to pursue adoption that is costly, but more time-efficient.  we’ve decided it’s time to earn some income to enable us to achieve this goal (plus, this master’s is in a field that i’ve been passionate about since i was little).  so i worked hard this last year to be prepared for either.  we left it in God’s hands; never in my life do i remember being at such a clear fork in the road and being equally content with either path. 

and now the path has been chosen. 

i constantly battle guilt at having so many inadequacies. this last summer i came back with a new perspective: to fully accept that i will never do enough and to enjoy the gift of every day anyway.  i feel like this last year has been beautiful in its fullness of pure daily appreciation.  i have loved my days—even though i never became fluent in thai or got to know all the people in our village or remembered everyone’s birthday or served enough or was the perfect teacher for every student or solved the world’s problems. 

i have SO MUCH lacking in myself.  but i’m taking the next step to try to get a little better so i can help a little more.  i will never arrive in this life, but neither will i stop traveling.  as always, i’m grateful to have ray as my partner on this journey.  our marriage has grown so deeply here in thailand and i can’t believe that at least we get to take each other out of here to help the other remember the gift of this place. 

flowers grow out of dirt

i woke up feeling extra fat today.  and then i changed my outfit 3 times because EVERYTHING LOOKED AWFUL.  even getting in the car made me feel that i would roll to school as a blob and never stop.  which would therefore lead to never being able to impact the world for any sort of good as everyone would be too distracted by my horrifying self.  i was beating myself up big-time.  

miraculously, the sun continued to move through the sky and kids listened to me and fellow teachers were kind and no one screamed at me from the shadows about the world coming to an end because i was having a fat day. 

after school two former students came to see me.  they asked to interview me for a school essay.  it was on pain.  and i can speak on that issue.  i had 10 years—that’s 3,652 days—of physical pain due to negligence in getting me to a doctor when i was sick in boarding school.  i learned how to live daily in pain…and had to figure out how to not lose hope.  how grateful i am for the diagnosis of celiac disease and the indelible change in my physical life!

i try to live every day in gratitude for being healthy and the ability to walk and move without dread.  but sometimes i wake up like today and feel grumpy about who and what i am.

the conversation with these sweet students was rich and powerful.  at the end one turned to me and said, ‘i need to say something to you…even though i’m still figuring out the exact words.’  she spoke of how she originally wanted to be famous; to be someone that everyone knew and looked up to.  but after being in my class she changed her focus.  she watched me and was inspired and decided she instead wanted to be a teacher so she could reach out, motivate and encourage instead of being the one getting all the attention.  the other student gasped and said, ‘those are exactly the words i wanted to say, too!’ 

meanwhile i sat in a puddle of emotion.  i was overwhelmed, deeply touched, shamed and incredulous.  i do what i do because i believe 100% that love through education changes the world—one life at a time.  there are many times, though, i lose sight of that and focus on all my inadequacies over and over.  but it is not about me!  it is about honesty and openness and change and hope.  i can’t believe the kind words, but i am thankful. 

there’s something else.  the girls asked me what i learned from pain.  ‘flowers grow out of dirt,’ i said.  there’s always something beautiful—however small—from the manure.  i can usually find something positive about all situations. 

but what happened last year still has me stumped.  i accepted my infertility and chose to love all kids around me as if they were my own instead.  i found the positives of having no kids and looked forward.  but then i was given a miracle pregnancy.  and then i had the miracle taken from me.  and the baby would have been born this month.  i feel embarrassed that this affects me so much.  but i’m still angry and still sad and still in pain.  but in this month, on this day, these two girls sat in my room, looked me in the eye and spoke kindness.  and i realised that i was so surrounded in love last year by my students—with true empathy and concern.  not many people get surrounded with that kind of sincere love in this life.  that love has changed me.  it gives me hope and allows me to keep going.  if the whole world could know that kind of honest, sweet love, there would be no war and no hate.  AND I HAVE GOTTEN THAT.  the pain is great, but the love is greater.  and i couldn’t have felt the depth of that love if i didn’t have that depth of pain. 

flowers continue to bloom.  and i celebrate the abundance of colour. 

invisible immigrant

i just reread interpreter of maladies by jhumpa lahiri.  it’s one of the most beautiful collections of short stories i’ve ever read.  it tells the stories of people’s lives from the sub-continent.  i relate to every one of them for some reason or another.  and then i look up, startled, to realise (yet again) that i’m a pale caucasian who was not a true immigrant in america.  but that is how i felt.  it was lonely and painstaking and complicated.  i felt so lost and confused.  i looked and sounded like i should understand the american life, but i dreaded waking up most days to be confronted with more ‘new’. 

i couldn’t grapple with the dichotomy of calling my boss by his first name while still treating him as my superior.  i struggled greatly with driving and the long list of rules that went with it.  vending machines scared me and getting through a grocery store and all its overwhelming excess took me hours.  i came from a place of such community and eventually moved to chicago where i was just one of millions trying to survive.  i had nowhere to go every summer unless i found employment with housing.  i prepared with gusto for every visit from my parents and then felt disillusioned when we found ourselves in a small space face-to-face with strangers instead of family.  i didn’t know about roaming charges on my first cell phone nor how to manage a checkbook.   i cried alone in a mouldy bathroom in a subpar indian restaurant because the smells made me violently homesick. 

in all of lahiri’s stories, any new arrival eventually adjusts and makes sense of their new surroundings.  my story is no different.  i may have been an invisible immigrant, but the journey was just as confusing though i, too, eventually adjusted.  i had incredible help from MANY amazing people.  i had aunts who surrounded me in love and answered my many questions.  i had a family who let me live with them and taught me to drive (at the near expense of their lives).  i had parents who called long distance to check in on me.  i had roommates in chicago who taught me how to shop and not be afraid of traffic. 

even with all of that, it was still hard.  because that’s what changing countries can be.  everything is ripped away and a new system is slapped down and you need to adjust to make it.  i remember being in that family’s house—filled with heat and good food and my own comfortable room.  i had just gotten home to an empty house having narrowly avoided an accident on the way there, and felt completely alone.  i knew i had so much, but i was still so lonely.  there was no one who understood and i sat alone in the stairwell and wept. 

but that was years ago.  i remember the feelings of scraping loneliness and metallic confusion so i can help those in the same situation today.  it no longer describes me, however, for which i am grateful.  i still feel country-less and do not possess patriotism, but i am no longer drifting in an endless ocean with no floor.  in fact, i am going back today to the same country that gave me my adult start.  and i am excited to see it again.  i will still be in awe of the endless rows of food in the grocery story and the sparkling efficiency of traffic.  i will still marvel at the rightness of the customer and the never-ending search for consumer convenience by businesses.  but i will no longer be afraid of the country as a whole.  i no longer will fear the newness and feel angry at the separation from the familiar.  instead i will embrace my aunts, laugh with friends, enjoy being in the same country as my family and drive down orderly roads.  and appreciate visiting the once strange land of america that now welcomes me.

clothespins

the ONLY household chore i miss from living in the states is laundry.  i loved the freshness, the ability to take care of clothes when necessary, the rush of choosing the perfect machine setting and most of all: hanging everything outside to dry.  i dreamed of doing the same in the tropics.  could there be anything better than hanging freshly washed clothes under palm trees with butterflies flitting about?  at first, when we were packing, it was hard to convince ray of the necessity of taking clothespins to fulfill my dream.  he originally scoffed; ‘as if they don’t have clothespins in thailand?!’  i only remembered plastic ones, though, so even with little luggage space, i somehow talked ray into letting me take a bag of wooden clothespins.

wouldn’t you know it: the one chore completely out of our hands—laundry!  our landlord doesn’t allow for a washing machine.  ‘take your things to the village laundry lady like everyone else does!’  so pi baan gets the pleasure of hanging our clothes out to dry…and she does it with plastic pins. 

life just doesn’t work out like we expect, right?  that’s really hit me lately in the small things.  there are circumstances that aren’t bad, but they aren’t what I planned or accounted or worked for.  we’re constantly remodeling expectations to fit the life that is.

there are no breaks in the school year from january to april.  then i get two glorious weeks to celebrate songkran (the big water festival and new year) and catch my breath.  after that i dive back in for six more weeks to the end of the school year. 

ray and i planned a long holiday this break.  we have amazing friends who let us use their resort on the beach.  so ray scheduled time off from work, we daydreamed about sunshine away from pollution and we started book lists.  every time things got too much or the sadness came back, we looked at each other and said: ‘hold on till the beach.’  the beach is healing and relaxing and mostly: it’s away from our home.  our house is a good place, but so much sadness has happened here.  we want out—for longer than a weekend.  we want to be away from the memories and reminders that linger.  ‘wait for the beach…’

but the beach fell through.  so we’re staying here.  in our house.  the cats are happier…but i’m fighting feeling bitter.  what would it have hurt?  we are tired.  we just want a break.  why don’t things work out when you feel like you need them the most?

i don’t know. 

........

i promise: i’m grateful.  i look around daily and am amazed at all i have been profusely given.  that I even have holiday options is more than 97% of the world!

and because the beach fell through, we went on an epic little trip up north where we didn’t overexpose ourselves to the sun, got to experience more of thailand and frolicked with great friends.  i wouldn’t have wanted to give that up.  but I do want to write about working through disappointment. 

this is a seemingly small issue that i’m really struggling with.  it’s harder when i can’t make logical sense of things.  it’s harder when i’m so tired that i’ve lost the right perspective.

this is the life that is, though.  whining won’t change it.  so I will pick myself up and look around at the good and accept what is. 

hmm, maybe it’s time for arts&crafts during my staycation! …anyone know any good ideas for wooden clothespins?