It's finally that time of the day: evening. Not just any part of evening -- late evening, the part where I get to shut off, casually dive into the softness of my sheets, and feel my body instantly release the day's stress. I then, very carefully, let my head fall gently into the perfect opening amongst the labyrinth of pillows; the soft, fading scent of a floral candle wafts through the air.
This, to me, is happiness. This, to me, is safety -- a time and place when I do not have to wonder if an email will arrive, its sender waiting impatiently for an urgent reply, or a knocking at my door, someone demanding my time and attention whilst taking with them a dose of my energy, one at a time.
This, to me, is MY time. I do not have to give any portion of myself to anyone else. No one needs me in this moment. No one will demand anything from me in this moment. I can refill; I can finally give my attention to the one person I have forgotten about throughout the day: myself.
Not only do I need this time, I crave it. I too often forget its importance. During this time I get to step out of my "roles", take off each layer of duty, and turn on my favorite tool: my imagination, also something I too often forget the importance of.
I can feel it happening. Upon the union of head to pillow, I feel the day's version of myself leave my body like breath exiting the lungs, slowing pulling the veil off and allowing my mind to stand alone, unprotected, vulnerable, yet so clear and capable.
As much as I fight the thought, I know that this is the part of me that few get to see. This is the part of me that makes me feel alive, yet I share it with no one, still uncomfortable at even the thought.
The memories of waking up at night with words and phrases soaring through my mind, itching so badly to get out, are distant yet vibrant. Nights where I awoke to sketch, to write, to let my imagination soar and breath into changing forms -- all memories now. I long to be woken up with this urgency again, someday. Tomorrow. Today. Tonight.
The time may not be clear, but the shift in subject is.
I remember, for years, I loved evenings because my thoughts and developing dreams would consist of fantastical ideas of life, primarily of love. A princess at heart, I wanted to be swept off of my feet. I wanted for someone to see me and want me more than anything else in the world. I wanted to be someone's goal, someone's favorite being, forever. I created short film-like sequences in my mind each evening. I imagined every possible scenario of my own personalized prince charming coming into my life. I created each and every detail -- the angle at which he would see me from across the room, the feeling he would get deep in his gut upon the sighting, the background sounds creating the mood, the atmospherical lighting -- because to me, every detail was important. In that moment, everything would align. This, re-imagined, whether it be the person, the scenario, or the timing, was the subject of my evening thoughts and dreams.
I do not know if time, experience, age, or life in general, has caused a shift in these late-night images, but somehow they have changed. My once clear visions of meeting that special person have faded and rarely, if ever, make a reappearance. Now, during this time of my day, my imagination is full of other scenarios. Rather than my inner princess drawing up moments of meeting prince charming, my inner warrior now imagines each and every detail of myself sitting on a late night show, explaining to the world the content of the novel I have written. I rewind and re-word the way I explain the importance of key events in my autobiography. I find more colorful ways to explain how the places I visited changed my life. I picture myself speaking to a group of wide-eyed listeners about the importance of fighting human trafficking and encourage them to join the coalition I have been a part of for years, using all the work we have done to save victims as an encouragement. These are my new dreams.
So here I lie, nestled in a place where I feel free to imagine. And I think, looking at the transition of my thoughts and desires, that I will always have a bit of my old dreams within me. Buried deep, carefully protected from others, I think they will always be a part of me. I reflect on the fact that my thoughts, upon the opening of my imagination, are now different. I do not judge what was or is, but I appreciate that in these moments, I can still feel alive. In these moments, I am reminded that I can leave everything else behind and create a world that makes me feel deeply happy; I can dream, as big of a dream as I desire, and it will never seem out of reach. Because it's finally that time of the day: evening.
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Speak Up!
It has taken me much too long to write this post, but I continually put it off for numerous reasons. One, it is very personal. Two, it is an emotionally draining subject to discuss. Three, despite everything I believe in and know to be true, I was still afraid some might point fingers, judge, or understand the situation much differently than it happened. All of these reasons have made me feel it is
---------------Part 1: The Beginning---------------
Almost two and a half years ago, I was sexually harassedat
It all began slowly and progressed over time. When I first changed from an all-girls middle school to an elementary school, there was an older man (mid-40's - early 50's) working at the school who volunteered to help me move into my new apartment and welcomed me with kindness and a smile. He and another woman, neither able to speak English, both in charge of the office at my school, seemed eager to help and quite friendly upon our first meeting. Since these were the people sent to represent my new school, I thought I could trust them professionally. I was later proven wrong.
------------Cultural Differences--------------
Now, I must interrupt to explain a few cultural differences between Americans and Koreans throughout my story in order for you to completely understand. I must note that these understandings of cultural differences are based on my experience (2 summers working in Korea followed by 2 full years of living in Korea and working at a public, all-Korean school) and may not be subject to each individual, as with any cultural statement. Let's begin with these:
1. Koreans are NOT touchy people between sexes. It is not common for men and women to even be friends, and when they are, they rarely touch--that kind of thing (touching/closeness) is reserved for girl-girl friendship, boy-boy friendship, or two people in a romantic relationship. They even have a name for it between same-sex friends: "skinship
2. Korean culture includes very distinct hierarchies when it comes to age and status. To put it very generally: if you are older or have a higher position/job, you are in charge. There are even specific ways of greeting someone, pouring drinks, eating, etc.based or
3. Some Koreans' ideas of westerners come from movies andtv
4. When some Koreans see someone with uncommon traits such as blonde hair, blue eyes, and "white" skin (their words, not mine), they feel very curious. I have had numerous people in public touch my hair or arms when I was not looking, students steal strands of my hair and play with the strands the rest of the day, etc. As do most people, they have a fascination with traits theydo not see
5. In Korea, your reputation is EVERYTHING. As you may have read, Korea has an extremely high suicide rate. This is caused by the intense pressure many Koreans feel to succeed. Once a person's reputation is tarnished, death seems like a better option than facing the consequences and moving on.
-------------Part 2: Progressively Worse--------------
As a new teacher at the elementary school, I tried to be positive, friendly, and happy to show I was enjoying being part of this new environment. I said hello to the teachers and workers who I knew, I smiled when passing students--all the normal actions a person would take once starting a new job. As time went on, and I continued being my normal self, I noticed that I had a few awkward moments with this male office worker in particular. One example is when I passed him in the hallway and he put his hand out. I thought he was waving, so I waved back. He then came up to me, grabbed my hand, and kissed it slowly while looking up at me and telling me I was beautiful. I figured the awkwardness might stem from cultural differences, something this person had seen in a film and thought was polite, and so I convinced myself of this and tried to move on. I was also afraid to address him and the situation, though I normally would have had it been a westerner, due to the cultural hierarchy in Korea.
The problem with ignoring moments that make you uncomfortable is that they can sometimes progress into more serious situations, which is what happened in my case. Over the course of a few weeks, this person started showing up in my "office" (an unused classroom at the far end of the school, furthest away from the Korean teachers I worked with, and far away from most classrooms).
He has planned his visits carefully, visiting when the other teachers and students were out on sports days or away on field trips. These moments meant that I was alone and far away from any classroom with teachers in them. This male officeworker's actions moments including
-------------Part 3: What to Do-------------
After the last incident, where he tried to kiss me after I had told him "No!", I sat in my office and cried. I felt completely defeated. I had made it clear that I did NOT want any of this, but he was persistent. I started to become scared of being alone in my office, in fear of him coming into my room again. With each visit, his actions had become more planned, more relentless, more aggressive. I was unsure of what he would try next.
I was torn between trying to fit into a culture/environment so far from/different than my own, and trying to stand up for what I knew was right and wrong. I had only been at the school for a few months by this point, and I did not want to ruin it. But, I knew I had to do something. So, shaking with nerves, I told my co-teacher, one of the only two English-speaking Koreans in the school. She immediately reassured me that this was not only unacceptable in western cultures, but was 100% shocking and unacceptable in Korean culture as well.
After a discussion with the school principal, I was told that I had to report the incident to the police, based on the department ofeducation's for
-------------Part 4: Problem Solved?-----------------
I spent three - four hours in the police station telling every detail of my story first to my co-teacher and then translated to the police officer. It was exhausting, uncomfortable, and embarrassing. I knew I had nothing to be embarrassed about, but being asked specific questions such as "How did he look at you when he kissed your hand?" or "What angle did he try to kiss you at?" would make anyone feel ill.
After filing the report, I met with the school Principal to write out a deal between me and this man in which I would drop the charges if he would stay away from me--actions recommended by my school. Again, I wanted to make it easyon the school and just protect myself from having to deal with the situation again, so this seemed like the best plan. It also allowed us to handle it within the school and not involve the police further. The man knew he was wrong, so our agreement was that I would sign the contract, drop the charges, and he would be required to stay away from me since he knew what he did was wrong and he was sorry. I figured everything was now solved.
-----------------Part 5: Lies/Deceit-----------------
About a week after I signed the contract, I (well, my co-teacher) got a call from the police station. They needed to speak with me again. I had no idea whatfor
I went in, this time meeting with my co-teacher and an actual translator who worked for the police station, along with the police officer handling the case. The meeting began with similar questions as before--asking me for details about what had happened and how it happened. So again, I sat and recounted every uncomfortable detail again and waited for it to be translated into Korean. After many questions, the police officer finally came out with the reason he had called me in again: the man had denied ALL of my claims and said that I, YES--I, had sexually harassed him! SHOCK- TEARS - SHOCK - CRYING. Now, if any of you actually know me, you will know that I do not cry often. However, the moment the officer told me this, I burst out in an intense crying that I do not think I have ever experienced before, unable to catch my breath, unable to see, unable to speak.
I was not only shocked by what he said, but sickened by the man's denial and accusations. I would NEVER try to put someone else in that type of situationat
I instantly had flashbacks of myselfsunken in
It turns out that he had gone into the police station the DAY after I signed the agreement in school and then given his statement. He had waited for me to sign the paper saying I would drop the charges before he went in and lied to the police. This man not only sexually harassed me, but he manipulated me, took advantage of me, and tried to get away with it.
I had been more than willing to drop the charges beforehand so it would not cause any harm in return, but this situation changed everything. Due to the lies told to the police on his part, the contract I had signed at school was now void. I told the police that I had tried to solve the problem on my own by not getting them involved, but obviously that did not work. So, I allowed the police to take it from there and leave me out of it. The next step and decisions would, from that point and on, be in their hands, not mine.
--------------Part 6: The Harassment Continues--------------
For the next month or so, I was constantly harassed by the man's wife and daughter. They would show up at the school, demanding to speak with me. They would text me (though I do not know how they got my number). They would call me. They would write me notes and leave them for me. They would call the school daily, asking to speak to me since I wasn't answering their calls. One time they even showed up at my office door, after sneaking past the office workers, to try to confront me without anyone knowing. They were relentless.
One day, they showed up at my school again, begging for me to meet with them. They chose a day when my co-teacher was gone so she could not tell them to leave (since she was the only one who could speak both Korean and English). Though I did not want to talk to them, I knew they would not stop harassing me unless I did.
Now, imagine being a person living in a foreign country, unable to speak the language or communicate with anyone around you. You are the only English speaker working at your school, the only foreigner.
Now, imagine having to sit down, look a man's wife and daughter in the eyes (two people who love this person dearly and believe every word he says, naturally) and tell them that their husband/father has sexually harassed you and lied about it to the police.
I have never in my life had to do something so emotionally painful. I had to watch this woman's face as her daughter translated every word I said. I honestly would not wish my position or theirs on anyone, not even on my worst enemy. It was one of the worst moments of my life.
---------------Part 7: It Worsens-----------------
At the end of my meeting with the man's wife and daughter, they asked me repeatedly to drop the charges and sign a new contract with the man. I tried to explain to them that I did that once, but how I was then accused of sexually harassing him, so I could not take another chance. I told them that this time I wanted the Korean police to handle it, and that I wanted no part in it. They were upset, but seemed to understand, or so I thought.
I received a slew of gifts and a thank you note a few days later. At this, I assumed the situation was somewhat resolved and that I would finally be able to deal with the emotional damage of the situation and move on. However, I was wrong.
About a week after the meeting, the wife and daughter started harassing me again, but this time, it was worse. I received calls and texts again, often. One day, I received a long text from the daughter trying to GUILT me into dropping the charges, saying that her father was now depressed and every time he went out on their high apartment balcony, she was worried he would jump and commit suicide.
Here I am, age 26, living in a country alone, without anything familiar, with no family, working at a school as the only foreigner, now a victim of sexual harassment. And on top of that, I am being told that if I don't give up what I believe is right and give in to the current harassment, then I would be responsible if that person commits suicide? It will be my fault? I was being made to feel guilty by the same person who not only sexually harassed me, but also lied to police and told them that he did nothing and that I sexually harassed him instead?
A grown mannot only took advantage of me, but he also used his family to try and guilt me into making a decision I did not agree with - a decision that did not only go against my morals/beliefs, but also could have left me in a lot of danger.
Although I was hurt and upset, I thought long and hard about what to do next. I felt so incredibly torn. I wanted to stand up for myself and stay true to what I believed was right, but I did not want to cause any pain to anyone, especially an innocent mother and daughter. I also did not want to be the cause of someone's suicidal thoughts. I did not intend for anything like this to happen. I cried so many times, distraught over the pressure of a family's happiness and someone's life being in my hands.
And then one day, after endless prayers and tears, it hit me -- this was NOT my fault. I did nothing wrong in the situation, yet I was carrying the weight of it. I had even tried to right it by signing the first contract, to avoid any more hurt, and then gotdeceived and taken advantage of again, causing more damage. All of the pain and hurt that was being brought in and put on to everyone involved in the situation was his fault, not mine. I knew I had to let the Korean authorities handle the situation since I had tried and it did not work. And I also knew that it was wrong to let myself take on the extreme guilt of causing so much pain when I had done nothing wrong.
If I could describe how devastating and heavy this whole situation was to deal with, then I would. But part of me has blocked this out now, not wanting to revisit it, in hopes to never feel the same way again.
---------------Part 8: Moving On-----------------
I haven't told many people about the situation due to the sensitivity of the topic for me and the fear of judgment. It is sad that although I did nothing wrong, I still feel as if I should be embarrassed or worried that others will judge me for it. That only adds to the pain of the situation. I never even told my family. It was not because I did not want them to know, but for many other reasons. I did not want to make them worry, especially because I would be staying in the same country at the same school for another 7 months.
But also, I honestly couldn't talk about it. I still cannot talk about it -- that is why I had to write it down. I started this blog post over two years ago, and it has taken me the entire two years to finally dig up enough courage to finish and publish it. I would start writing then have to stop. Then I would come back and add a little more,then have to stop. It is not the best quality, but I needed to finish it and release it, so that I can be released, too. It has been such a painful process, but I feel like sharing my story is better than pretending it never happened.
What happened to me was not okay. And the worst part about the situation is that it was out of my control. I did nothing tobait this person or lead them on, I did not wear revealing clothes or act "sexy" or "tempting" for them. All of these are misconceptions about victims of sexual harassment, are horribly offensive, and make me literally feel sick when I hear them. But what I did do, what was IN my control, was that I told someone. I stood up for myself, said "No!", and said that what was happening was not okay and that I would not accept it.
HARASSMENT IS NEVER OKAY! Whether it is sexual, emotional, psychological, or any other form of harassment/abuse. None of it is acceptable. No one deserves it, and it is not your fault if you become a victim of harassment/abuse. But we must all SPEAK UP! We live in a world that tries to silence us, that tries to make us accept something unacceptable. WE CAN CHANGE THIS. The more we SPEAK UP, the more others will know that we are not going to sit around and let this continue to ourselves or to others.
If I would not have spoken up when I did, I am scared to think of how far the sexual harassment would have gone. But I am glad I never had to find out. Yes, speaking up caused even more harassment and it was painful and it hurt me, but what got me through it was the fact that I was fighting not only for me, but for all of those who have been in a similar, or even worse, situation. I knew that giving in would let that person think that what they did to me (or have done/will do to someone else) was/is okay. But it wasn't, isn't, and never will be.
So please, SPEAK UP. Be bold, and do not be afraid. You have people who understand and who support and love you wherever you are. Let's not let anyone silence us!
---------------Part 1: The Beginning---------------
Almost two and a half years ago, I was sexually harassed
It all began slowly and progressed over time. When I first changed from an all-girls middle school to an elementary school, there was an older man (mid-40's - early 50's) working at the school who volunteered to help me move into my new apartment and welcomed me with kindness and a smile. He and another woman, neither able to speak English, both in charge of the office at my school, seemed eager to help and quite friendly upon our first meeting. Since these were the people sent to represent my new school, I thought I could trust them professionally. I was later proven wrong.
------------Cultural Differences--------------
Now, I must interrupt to explain a few cultural differences between Americans and Koreans throughout my story in order for you to completely understand. I must note that these understandings of cultural differences are based on my experience (2 summers working in Korea followed by 2 full years of living in Korea and working at a public, all-Korean school) and may not be subject to each individual, as with any cultural statement. Let's begin with these:
1. Koreans are NOT touchy people between sexes. It is not common for men and women to even be friends, and when they are, they rarely touch--that kind of thing (touching/closeness) is reserved for girl-girl friendship, boy-boy friendship, or two people in a romantic relationship. They even have a name for it between same-sex friends: "
2. Korean culture includes very distinct hierarchies when it comes to age and status. To put it very generally: if you are older or have a higher position/job, you are in charge. There are even specific ways of greeting someone, pouring drinks, eating, etc.
3. Some Koreans' ideas of westerners come from movies and
4. When some Koreans see someone with uncommon traits such as blonde hair, blue eyes, and "white" skin (their words, not mine), they feel very curious. I have had numerous people in public touch my hair or arms when I was not looking, students steal strands of my hair and play with the strands the rest of the day, etc. As do most people, they have a fascination with traits they
5. In Korea, your reputation is EVERYTHING. As you may have read, Korea has an extremely high suicide rate. This is caused by the intense pressure many Koreans feel to succeed. Once a person's reputation is tarnished, death seems like a better option than facing the consequences and moving on.
-------------Part 2: Progressively Worse--------------
As a new teacher at the elementary school, I tried to be positive, friendly, and happy to show I was enjoying being part of this new environment. I said hello to the teachers and workers who I knew, I smiled when passing students--all the normal actions a person would take once starting a new job. As time went on, and I continued being my normal self, I noticed that I had a few awkward moments with this male office worker in particular. One example is when I passed him in the hallway and he put his hand out. I thought he was waving, so I waved back. He then came up to me, grabbed my hand, and kissed it slowly while looking up at me and telling me I was beautiful. I figured the awkwardness might stem from cultural differences, something this person had seen in a film and thought was polite, and so I convinced myself of this and tried to move on. I was also afraid to address him and the situation, though I normally would have had it been a westerner, due to the cultural hierarchy in Korea.
The problem with ignoring moments that make you uncomfortable is that they can sometimes progress into more serious situations, which is what happened in my case. Over the course of a few weeks, this person started showing up in my "office" (an unused classroom at the far end of the school, furthest away from the Korean teachers I worked with, and far away from most classrooms).
He has planned his visits carefully, visiting when the other teachers and students were out on sports days or away on field trips. These moments meant that I was alone and far away from any classroom with teachers in them. This male office
-------------Part 3: What to Do-------------
After the last incident, where he tried to kiss me after I had told him "No!", I sat in my office and cried. I felt completely defeated. I had made it clear that I did NOT want any of this, but he was persistent. I started to become scared of being alone in my office, in fear of him coming into my room again. With each visit, his actions had become more planned, more relentless, more aggressive. I was unsure of what he would try next.
I was torn between trying to fit into a culture/environment so far from/different than my own, and trying to stand up for what I knew was right and wrong. I had only been at the school for a few months by this point, and I did not want to ruin it. But, I knew I had to do something. So, shaking with nerves, I told my co-teacher, one of the only two English-speaking Koreans in the school. She immediately reassured me that this was not only unacceptable in western cultures, but was 100% shocking and unacceptable in Korean culture as well.
After a discussion with the school principal, I was told that I had to report the incident to the police, based on the department of
-------------Part 4: Problem Solved?-----------------
I spent three - four hours in the police station telling every detail of my story first to my co-teacher and then translated to the police officer. It was exhausting, uncomfortable, and embarrassing. I knew I had nothing to be embarrassed about, but being asked specific questions such as "How did he look at you when he kissed your hand?" or "What angle did he try to kiss you at?" would make anyone feel ill.
After filing the report, I met with the school Principal to write out a deal between me and this man in which I would drop the charges if he would stay away from me--actions recommended by my school. Again, I wanted to make it easy
-----------------Part 5: Lies/Deceit-----------------
About a week after I signed the contract, I (well, my co-teacher) got a call from the police station. They needed to speak with me again. I had no idea what
I went in, this time meeting with my co-teacher and an actual translator who worked for the police station, along with the police officer handling the case. The meeting began with similar questions as before--asking me for details about what had happened and how it happened. So again, I sat and recounted every uncomfortable detail again and waited for it to be translated into Korean. After many questions, the police officer finally came out with the reason he had called me in again: the man had denied ALL of my claims and said that I, YES--I, had sexually harassed him! SHOCK- TEARS - SHOCK - CRYING. Now, if any of you actually know me, you will know that I do not cry often. However, the moment the officer told me this, I burst out in an intense crying that I do not think I have ever experienced before, unable to catch my breath, unable to see, unable to speak.
I was not only shocked by what he said, but sickened by the man's denial and accusations. I would NEVER try to put someone else in that type of situation
I instantly had flashbacks of myself
It turns out that he had gone into the police station the DAY after I signed the agreement in school and then given his statement. He had waited for me to sign the paper saying I would drop the charges before he went in and lied to the police. This man not only sexually harassed me, but he manipulated me, took advantage of me, and tried to get away with it.
I had been more than willing to drop the charges beforehand so it would not cause any harm in return, but this situation changed everything. Due to the lies told to the police on his part, the contract I had signed at school was now void. I told the police that I had tried to solve the problem on my own by not getting them involved, but obviously that did not work. So, I allowed the police to take it from there and leave me out of it. The next step and decisions would, from that point and on, be in their hands, not mine.
--------------Part 6: The Harassment Continues--------------
For the next month or so, I was constantly harassed by the man's wife and daughter. They would show up at the school, demanding to speak with me. They would text me (though I do not know how they got my number). They would call me. They would write me notes and leave them for me. They would call the school daily, asking to speak to me since I wasn't answering their calls. One time they even showed up at my office door, after sneaking past the office workers, to try to confront me without anyone knowing. They were relentless.
One day, they showed up at my school again, begging for me to meet with them. They chose a day when my co-teacher was gone so she could not tell them to leave (since she was the only one who could speak both Korean and English). Though I did not want to talk to them, I knew they would not stop harassing me unless I did.
Now, imagine being a person living in a foreign country, unable to speak the language or communicate with anyone around you. You are the only English speaker working at your school, the only foreigner.
Now, imagine having to sit down, look a man's wife and daughter in the eyes (two people who love this person dearly and believe every word he says, naturally) and tell them that their husband/father has sexually harassed you and lied about it to the police.
I have never in my life had to do something so emotionally painful. I had to watch this woman's face as her daughter translated every word I said. I honestly would not wish my position or theirs on anyone, not even on my worst enemy. It was one of the worst moments of my life.
---------------Part 7: It Worsens-----------------
At the end of my meeting with the man's wife and daughter, they asked me repeatedly to drop the charges and sign a new contract with the man. I tried to explain to them that I did that once, but how I was then accused of sexually harassing him, so I could not take another chance. I told them that this time I wanted the Korean police to handle it, and that I wanted no part in it. They were upset, but seemed to understand, or so I thought.
I received a slew of gifts and a thank you note a few days later. At this, I assumed the situation was somewhat resolved and that I would finally be able to deal with the emotional damage of the situation and move on. However, I was wrong.
About a week after the meeting, the wife and daughter started harassing me again, but this time, it was worse. I received calls and texts again, often. One day, I received a long text from the daughter trying to GUILT me into dropping the charges, saying that her father was now depressed and every time he went out on their high apartment balcony, she was worried he would jump and commit suicide.
Here I am, age 26, living in a country alone, without anything familiar, with no family, working at a school as the only foreigner, now a victim of sexual harassment. And on top of that, I am being told that if I don't give up what I believe is right and give in to the current harassment, then I would be responsible if that person commits suicide? It will be my fault? I was being made to feel guilty by the same person who not only sexually harassed me, but also lied to police and told them that he did nothing and that I sexually harassed him instead?
A grown man
And then one day, after endless prayers and tears, it hit me -- this was NOT my fault. I did nothing wrong in the situation, yet I was carrying the weight of it. I had even tried to right it by signing the first contract, to avoid any more hurt, and then got
If I could describe how devastating and heavy this whole situation was to deal with, then I would. But part of me has blocked this out now, not wanting to revisit it, in hopes to never feel the same way again.
---------------Part 8: Moving On-----------------
I haven't told many people about the situation due to the sensitivity of the topic for me and the fear of judgment. It is sad that although I did nothing wrong, I still feel as if I should be embarrassed or worried that others will judge me for it. That only adds to the pain of the situation. I never even told my family. It was not because I did not want them to know, but for many other reasons. I did not want to make them worry, especially because I would be staying in the same country at the same school for another 7 months.
But also, I honestly couldn't talk about it. I still cannot talk about it -- that is why I had to write it down. I started this blog post over two years ago, and it has taken me the entire two years to finally dig up enough courage to finish and publish it. I would start writing then have to stop. Then I would come back and add a little more,
What happened to me was not okay. And the worst part about the situation is that it was out of my control. I did nothing to
HARASSMENT IS NEVER OKAY! Whether it is sexual, emotional, psychological, or any other form of harassment/abuse. None of it is acceptable. No one deserves it, and it is not your fault if you become a victim of harassment/abuse. But we must all SPEAK UP! We live in a world that tries to silence us, that tries to make us accept something unacceptable. WE CAN CHANGE THIS. The more we SPEAK UP, the more others will know that we are not going to sit around and let this continue to ourselves or to others.
If I would not have spoken up when I did, I am scared to think of how far the sexual harassment would have gone. But I am glad I never had to find out. Yes, speaking up caused even more harassment and it was painful and it hurt me, but what got me through it was the fact that I was fighting not only for me, but for all of those who have been in a similar, or even worse, situation. I knew that giving in would let that person think that what they did to me (or have done/will do to someone else) was/is okay. But it wasn't, isn't, and never will be.
So please, SPEAK UP. Be bold, and do not be afraid. You have people who understand and who support and love you wherever you are. Let's not let anyone silence us!
Friday, January 15, 2016
New Year, Same _____ (Part 1)
2016. A new day, a new month, a new year, and a new opportunity for change.
As every new year comes along, that is what most of us aim to do: change. Whether itbe our weight, our health, our bad attitude towards the ass-kisser at work, etc., we all focus on areas of our lives that are in need of improvement. We examine ourselves with microscopic, critical lenses, picking out all that went wrong and all that could be better and think of ways to change. Then, per usual, we toast with glasses full of bubbling champagne as we set shaky, though well-intended, resolutions to make those changes.
But, this year, I am going to do the reverse. I am going to focus on areas of my life that I DO NOT want to change, areas of my life that I want to preserve and keep as stable as possible amongst the whirlwind of changes around me. And, as you can probably guess, with my jet-setting, never-staying-in-one-place-too -long lifestyle , I am constantly surrounded, and sometimes consumed, by change.
So, I want to share with you some of my "New Year, Same _______" Resolutions. Due to the fact that I am nearly incapable of writing or speaking about anything in a small amount of words, I will be breakingthese resolutions up into separate blog posts -- You're welcome.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
1. NEW YEAR, SAME FAMILY.
My first "New Year, Same _____" Resolution is my Family. Yes, my heart and soul, my inspiration, my motivation: my family.
Being away from family is rarely easy. Although I am a pretty independent person (no pun intended...hehe), I still have moments where I feel empty and I need a tall glass of family time to make me feel full again.
I was reminded of this at the end of the fall term, 2015. I had just completed a full year in Sweden -- a new country, new language, new job, new culture, etc. EVERYTHING was different. Everything was especially different due to the fact that I had lived in Korea for the previous two years. The two countries couldn't be more different. But, as a person in my situation must do, I adjusted and survived. Despite my zest for travel and appetite for living in foreign countries, I still started to feel the wear and tear of being away from my family, especially when times got tough. Near the end of the term, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, literally. I was drowning in piles and piles of work, I felt overwhelmingly stressed and worn out from my job, I was tired physically and mentally, I had little to no free time for my friends, I felt depressed by the constant darkness, and I was honestly ready to say "Sayonara!" to the whole damn country and everyone in it. * It was not my happiest moment, to say the least. Like I said, on-verge-of-nervous-breakdown. I knew I needed what matters most to me in life: my family.
*I mean no offense to anyone, especially those I care about in Sweden, but a majority of expats most likely know exactly what I am talking about because we all get this overwhelming feeling every once in a while -- it is just part of living abroad, which I am fully aware of and voluntarily signed up for. I do not feel this way on a daily basis, just to be clear. Hey, we all have our moments.
I would like to interject quickly to answer a question that some of you are probably thinking: "If living abroad can be so stressful, and your family means the most to you in life, then why don't you just move back to the US?". Here's the thing -- I have the most incredible family. They are not perfect by any means, and I am not claiming that they are, but why I say they are "incredible" is because from my earliest memories up until now, I can only remember how loved they always made me feel. If I scan through my memories and look back at my life, there has not been a single moment where I did not feel love from my family. No matter what was happening in my life, not matter how many mistakes I made, no matter how far away I lived -- I always felt loved. THIS, my friends, is what I believe to be the KEY to life, especiallyto my life. This is what has given me confidence in myself and given me the confidence to move abroad on my own, to travel the world, to live my dreams, despite the difficulties this lifestyle brings. Because in reality, I never actually feel "alone" alone. I may look around an empty apartment when I am sick/stressed, crying into my cup of tea, and feel that "surface level" loneliness (the one you see in a comedy series and it doesn't make you feel sad, but kind of makes you laugh), but I never feel "alone" alone.
Even if I cannot speak to my family, I can still feel their love. It may sound cheesy, but it is true. I think it is due to the fact that my family told me they loved me often, and they still do, daily. They also never let me think they didn't love me when I did something they disagreed with. They always made it clear that they were disappointed in myactions but that they still loved me, even when I was getting in trouble and even when they were angry with me. This distinction between the difference of disappointment and loss of love is what made all the difference. Also, they were sure to make it clear that they took the actions they did when I got in trouble because they loved me, not because they didn't love me. I will be forever grateful to my parents for this.
Through my experience as a teacher, I have seen what damage the lack of the distinctions mentioned above can have on a child. I have met and taught children and teens who felt that their parents did not love them--young people who acted out, desperately seeking attention from their parents, not even caring if it was negative or positive attention. I remember one student in particular, around 14 or 15 years old, who told me numerous stories I will never forget. She once told me how she would go out drinking with friends in the summer just so she could come home drunk in order to get her mother's attention. I was shocked and concerned when I heard this, naturally. When I asked her how her mom reacted, expecting to hear about how she was scolded and grounded for life, she replied, 'She ignored me. She pretended not to see me, and said nothing.' She went on to explain something like, 'All I wanted was for her to notice me. I wanted her to see me, to yell at me, to do something.' This broke my heart.
It used to be nearly impossible for me to imagine that a parent could be different than my parents, that a parent could even be capable of being cruel to their child, that a parent could make their child feel unloved, or even worse that a parent could not love their own child -- these ideas were so far from what I knew. But, the more time I spent teaching, the more I saw that this type of emotionally damaging treatment was much more common than anyone probably even wanted to admit. I would say, during my 5 1/2 years of teaching, that a majority of the issues I have seen my students deal with have been caused by their parents. Whether it stems from abuse, lack of love, lack of attention, even lack of discipline, so many deep-rooted issues seem to come from this missing piece that I believe is essential to life. LOVE IS SO POWERFUL. This is one of the reasons that no matter how insane my students make me or how irritating they can be at times, I always try to let show them that I care, be it through positive feedback, discipline or something else. As cliche as it may sound, sometimes this type of kindness and attention is the only type they are getting in their lives. Love is powerful, but FEELING LOVED is even more powerful.
So, this is why I want in this new year to have the same FAMILY; I don't want them to change! Amongst the chaos of daily life and inevitable changes of the new year, I want to make sure that this one thing in particular stays the same. I was lucky enough this year to spend the holidays and ring in the new year with my family. During my visit, I was completely refilled with love and reminded of how incredibly incredible my family are. Every moment I spent with them felt special; every moment I spent with them made me happy. I am not sure if they even understood how much I needed their love when I came to visit, but they still gave me an abundance of it, regardless.
I feel thankful every day for my family and for how loving and supportive they are and have been. I also feel thankful every day for the love that I feel for my family--because it is real, it is deep, and it is stronger than anything I have ever felt. Because of this, I know how important it is to hold onto that love, to be protective of it, and to help share it. So this year, I am making a strong and heart-felt resolution to be sure that that love does not change. I could now insert some motivational quote that will pull this whole post together, but I don't think there is any need for that because it is plain and simple:
I love my family.
My familylove me.
And just because it is a new year does not mean that every solution needs to involve change.
As every new year comes along, that is what most of us aim to do: change. Whether it
But, this year, I am going to do the reverse. I am going to focus on areas of my life that I DO NOT want to change, areas of my life that I want to preserve and keep as stable as possible amongst the whirlwind of changes around me. And, as you can probably guess, with my jet-setting, never-staying-in-one-place-
So, I want to share with you some of my "New Year, Same _______" Resolutions. Due to the fact that I am nearly incapable of writing or speaking about anything in a small amount of words, I will be breaking
-------------------------------------------------------------------
1. NEW YEAR, SAME FAMILY.
My first "New Year, Same _____" Resolution is my Family. Yes, my heart and soul, my inspiration, my motivation: my family.
Being away from family is rarely easy. Although I am a pretty independent person (no pun intended...hehe), I still have moments where I feel empty and I need a tall glass of family time to make me feel full again.
I was reminded of this at the end of the fall term, 2015. I had just completed a full year in Sweden -- a new country, new language, new job, new culture, etc. EVERYTHING was different. Everything was especially different due to the fact that I had lived in Korea for the previous two years. The two countries couldn't be more different. But, as a person in my situation must do, I adjusted and survived. Despite my zest for travel and appetite for living in foreign countries, I still started to feel the wear and tear of being away from my family, especially when times got tough. Near the end of the term, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, literally. I was drowning in piles and piles of work, I felt overwhelmingly stressed and worn out from my job, I was tired physically and mentally, I had little to no free time for my friends, I felt depressed by the constant darkness, and I was honestly ready to say "Sayonara!" to the whole damn country and everyone in it
*I mean no offense to anyone, especially those I care about in Sweden, but a majority of expats most likely know exactly what I am talking about because we all get this overwhelming feeling every once in a while -- it is just part of living abroad, which I am fully aware of and voluntarily signed up for. I do not feel this way on a daily basis, just to be clear. Hey, we all have our moments.
I would like to interject quickly to answer a question that some of you are probably thinking: "If living abroad can be so stressful, and your family means the most to you in life, then why don't you just move back to the US?". Here's the thing -- I have the most incredible family. They are not perfect by any means, and I am not claiming that they are, but why I say they are "incredible" is because from my earliest memories up until now, I can only remember how loved they always made me feel. If I scan through my memories and look back at my life, there has not been a single moment where I did not feel love from my family. No matter what was happening in my life, not matter how many mistakes I made, no matter how far away I lived -- I always felt loved. THIS, my friends, is what I believe to be the KEY to life, especially
Even if I cannot speak to my family, I can still feel their love. It may sound cheesy, but it is true. I think it is due to the fact that my family told me they loved me often, and they still do, daily. They also never let me think they didn't love me when I did something they disagreed with. They always made it clear that they were disappointed in my
Through my experience as a teacher, I have seen what damage the lack of the distinctions mentioned above can have on a child. I have met and taught children and teens who felt that their parents did not love them--young people who acted out, desperately seeking attention from their parents, not even caring if it was negative or positive attention. I remember one student in particular, around 14 or 15 years old, who told me numerous stories I will never forget. She once told me how she would go out drinking with friends in the summer just so she could come home drunk in order to get her mother's attention. I was shocked and concerned when I heard this, naturally. When I asked her how her mom reacted, expecting to hear about how she was scolded and grounded for life, she replied, 'She ignored me. She pretended not to see me, and said nothing.' She went on to explain something like, 'All I wanted was for her to notice me. I wanted her to see me, to yell at me, to do something.' This broke my heart.
It used to be nearly impossible for me to imagine that a parent could be different than my parents, that a parent could even be capable of being cruel to their child, that a parent could make their child feel unloved, or even worse that a parent could not love their own child -- these ideas were so far from what I knew. But, the more time I spent teaching, the more I saw that this type of emotionally damaging treatment was much more common than anyone probably even wanted to admit. I would say, during my 5 1/2 years of teaching, that a majority of the issues I have seen my students deal with have been caused by their parents. Whether it stems from abuse, lack of love, lack of attention, even lack of discipline, so many deep-rooted issues seem to come from this missing piece that I believe is essential to life. LOVE IS SO POWERFUL. This is one of the reasons that no matter how insane my students make me or how irritating they can be at times, I always try to let show them that I care, be it through positive feedback, discipline or something else. As cliche as it may sound, sometimes this type of kindness and attention is the only type they are getting in their lives. Love is powerful, but FEELING LOVED is even more powerful.
So, this is why I want in this new year to have the same FAMILY; I don't want them to change! Amongst the chaos of daily life and inevitable changes of the new year, I want to make sure that this one thing in particular stays the same. I was lucky enough this year to spend the holidays and ring in the new year with my family. During my visit, I was completely refilled with love and reminded of how incredibly incredible my family are. Every moment I spent with them felt special; every moment I spent with them made me happy. I am not sure if they even understood how much I needed their love when I came to visit, but they still gave me an abundance of it, regardless.
I feel thankful every day for my family and for how loving and supportive they are and have been. I also feel thankful every day for the love that I feel for my family--because it is real, it is deep, and it is stronger than anything I have ever felt. Because of this, I know how important it is to hold onto that love, to be protective of it, and to help share it. So this year, I am making a strong and heart-felt resolution to be sure that that love does not change. I could now insert some motivational quote that will pull this whole post together, but I don't think there is any need for that because it is plain and simple:
I love my family.
My family
And just because it is a new year does not mean that every solution needs to involve change.
Monday, June 22, 2015
Caught Between
Throughout our lives, there are moments when we feel caught between two elements: two ideas, two choices, two people, two versions of ourselves, maybe even two worlds. In those moments, it seems not only impossible to go in a specific direction, but it also seems impossible to make a choice as to which of those two elements/options is the most suited for who we are, what we want, and what we need. Some, like me, blessed and cursed with the quality of overactive thinking, will also have a million different ideas crisscrossing in our brains. This, in turn, will cause us only more confusion as we slowly watch the complex spiderweb of thoughts form in our mind. The real question that we actually face in these moments is the following: Are we the spider, spinning the web strategically with purpose, or will we become the prey, eventually trapped in the web, unable to escape?
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
This is my silent struggle. This is me, caught between.
..................................................................................................
(This specific blog post was written one sleepless night, after an emotionally-exhausting day catching up with friends and family about their lives, and after much contemplation of my own life. The burden one bears for the struggles of people they love is heavier and more complex than we are sometimes able to express. Therefore, attempting to express the struggle of processing the thoughts/emotions from my day into written words was simply another attempt at dealing with said thoughts/emotions. Maybe now I can fall asleep.)
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
This is my silent struggle. This is me, caught between.
..................................................................................................
(This specific blog post was written one sleepless night, after an emotionally-exhausting day catching up with friends and family about their lives, and after much contemplation of my own life. The burden one bears for the struggles of people they love is heavier and more complex than we are sometimes able to express. Therefore, attempting to express the struggle of processing the thoughts/emotions from my day into written words was simply another attempt at dealing with said thoughts/emotions. Maybe now I can fall asleep.)
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
More From The Sunset
(NOTE: My last post was about finding inspiration through noticing the sunset. This blog post is a continuation of that, an extension, by encouraging you all to demand more from the sunset.)
As I sit here in my bed, thoughts are running through my mind, making sleep an impossible goal until I have written these thoughts down and shared them with the world (or at least you!).
Yes, it has been far too long since my last entry, and I will make up for lost time eventually with all the beautiful and sad details of my adventures over the past year. However, right now I must express the thoughts that are practically pouring out of my being, hoping that they will help both you and I to understand ourselves more, life more, and possibly be reminded of something we may have forgotten.
------STAGNANT--------
It is easy in life to become stagnant--to be stuck in a moment or place (metaphorically, not literally) in which everything around us is moving and changing but we are still the same, untouched or unaffected. In these moments, we seem to have lost the flow of interest and passion that drives us to keep moving, to keep growing and changing, to keep feeding our inner hunger for life. I am guilty of this as well. Sometimes, especially when obligations such as money and or work start to take over all of our thoughts and time, throwing us off balance, we become distracted and weighed down, thus stuck in one place. This become somewhat of an illness, affecting all elements of our being. It can hold us back from the natural flow of life.
When we become trapped in these moments, it is important to reach out and find a reminder of a part of you that may have been temporarily forgotten. This could possibly be doing something that inspires you, hearing a song that makes you feel alive, doing something you have never done before, etc. And when even the tips of your fingers make contact with this vessel of inspiration, you instantly are able to unfreeze from your stagnant state, as if waking up from a long, dreamless slumber. Then, you are able to see clearly again, feel deeply, and feel alive once more.
As of late, I have been overwhelmed with my obligations in life. I moved to a new country (Sweden) and started a new job (teaching at an international school) the DAY after I finished my old job (teaching at an elementary school) in another country (South Korea). Not only did I have to jump head first into a new job, but I also had to leave the life I had built over the past two years and start a new one. I had spent so long trying to adjust, understand, and find my place in Korea and once I finally had, I left. I had built the most incredible friendships, I had finally learnt the public transportation routes to all of my favorite places, and I had established a comfortable life. However, in the matter of one day, I left my life behind with only two small suitcases and memories to bring with me on my next journey. Along with all of this, I was also faced with challenge of being in a completely different culture. The culture in Sweden is almost opposite of that in Korea. Neither is better nor worse, just simply different. And, on top of everything else, my ability to speak English had deteriorated (considering I hadn't worked in an environment where more than two people spoke English somewhat fluently in two years). I was faced with the challenge of trying to express the millions of thoughts running through my head with a weakened vocabulary and a lot of pressure to be precise. After all, I AM an English teacher, right?
All of these things are just natural parts of a traveller's life, and the experiences I have had make these drawbacks seem minute. However, when faced with all of these challenges at once, it is easy to become overwhelmed and lose focus--as I did. Even now, months into my job, I still have moments of feeling overwhelmed which cause me to use most of my free time to complete work rather than doing something that inspires me. This is how I became/become
stagnant.
-------INSTANT OF INSPIRATION-------
As mentioned before, the best method that I have found to break this stagnant state is a moment of inspiration to remind you that you are, indeed, alive. It is the kickstart needed to recharge the uniqueness that naturally flows through you.
Mine came in the form of a hand-written letter.
Today I received a letter from one of my best friends (and yes, I use the term "best" friend because this person deserves a plethora of words to describe how incredible she is, though the word "best" will suffice for now). It was not the mere joy I felt from receiving an actual handwritten letter (which are definitely underestimated; a hand-written letter can change the world) that inspired me. It was something else. At the end of the letter, my friend said something that was exactly what I needed to hear to bring me back to life. The message was as follows:
Tiffany, I love you forever and miss you everyday, I'll leave you with a quote we both LOVE:
"Perhaps the only difference between me (us) and other people is I've always demanded more from the sunset."
With two simple lines, her expression of love and one of our favorite quotes, everything changed. I guess that is what friends are for: to remind you of who you are and what your calling is when you lose your way.
-------SEEING SUNSETS-------
I did not realize I had been in a stagnant state until I read the last few lines of my friend's letter. Upon reading the quote, tears welled into my eyes and slowly made their way down my face. It was the first time I had cried in months. I was not crying over the sadness of being away from the people I love; I was crying for the fact that the emotion of feeling overwhelming thankful to be alive filled me. In that instant, I felt my blood pumping through my veins. It is not that it had ever stopped moving, I had just stopped noticing, stopped appreciating it.
I was reminded of how incredible it feels to have people in my life who inspire me, who love me, and who I love in return. Along with this, I was also reminded of a key element of who I am: passion.
Sometimes I allow others to dilute my passion because it is unfamiliar to them, too much for them, and sometimes the unknown can be frightening or push people away. But, this is me. As I have mentioned before, I always feel things in extreme ways and my life seems to follow that pattern as well: really hot or really cold, love it or hate, madly in love or heartbroken, energetic about the thrill of being alive or completely stagnant. I rarely find myself in an in-between state. Being inspired by the things around us, and allowing it to fuel our passion, is one thing. However, being able to take that passion and multiply it, demanding more from it, is so important.
Some may say this is unhealthy, but I prefer to think that it fuels my ability to see life in a unique way. That is why I was so moved by the quote that my friend reminded me of. I don't think it is a bad thing to demand more from the sunset--to demand more from life, desire brighter colors from the things we already find inspiration from. We are told our whole lives to be thankful what we have. But, this sometimes gets misinterpreted as encouragement to stop once we have achieved one or our goals or a point which society believes is successful, happy, or a "good life". However, it is possible to be extremely thankful for your situation in life, but to still demand more from it. I am not talking about material things, I am talking about demanding more when it comes to what we get out of life. I don't want to accomplish one goal and then stop, I want to continue setting new goals and dreams for myself and working to make those come true. I don't want to only be a good teacher, I want to be a good writer, friend, daughter, sister, artist, speaker, etc. too! I don't want to live abroad in one place and then settle down; I want to travel the world and continually add to the incredible experiences I have had while doing so.
This idea of demanding more from the sunset, from life, is what makes my own life constantly moving (apart from those temporary stagnant moments). It is what allows me to leave an incredible job and life in America to take a chance by moving across the world alone. It is what also allows me to then up and leave the life I built in Korea and move on to the next chapter of my life. Allowing passion to run through your veins and touch every part of your body is not a bad thing, in my opinion. It is what has made my life completely unpredictable and surprisingly brilliant.
And so, my challenge and wish for you is to do the same. Find your passion, your inspiration, and allow it to flow into your bloodstream and pump strongly throughout your veins. Don't let the obligations of life hold you back from what life is really about. Don't allow yourself to become stagnant as you foggily watch the world move around you. Use the inspiration around you! And don't accept average. It is okay to have more than one dream in life, to accomplish more than one of your goals, to hope for even more incredible experiences despite whether you've had a few or not.
Never be afraid to demand more from the sunset, to demand more from life!
xoxo
As I sit here in my bed, thoughts are running through my mind, making sleep an impossible goal until I have written these thoughts down and shared them with the world (or at least you!).
Yes, it has been far too long since my last entry, and I will make up for lost time eventually with all the beautiful and sad details of my adventures over the past year. However, right now I must express the thoughts that are practically pouring out of my being, hoping that they will help both you and I to understand ourselves more, life more, and possibly be reminded of something we may have forgotten.
------STAGNANT--------
It is easy in life to become stagnant--to be stuck in a moment or place (metaphorically, not literally) in which everything around us is moving and changing but we are still the same, untouched or unaffected. In these moments, we seem to have lost the flow of interest and passion that drives us to keep moving, to keep growing and changing, to keep feeding our inner hunger for life. I am guilty of this as well. Sometimes, especially when obligations such as money and or work start to take over all of our thoughts and time, throwing us off balance, we become distracted and weighed down, thus stuck in one place. This become somewhat of an illness, affecting all elements of our being. It can hold us back from the natural flow of life.
When we become trapped in these moments, it is important to reach out and find a reminder of a part of you that may have been temporarily forgotten. This could possibly be doing something that inspires you, hearing a song that makes you feel alive, doing something you have never done before, etc. And when even the tips of your fingers make contact with this vessel of inspiration, you instantly are able to unfreeze from your stagnant state, as if waking up from a long, dreamless slumber. Then, you are able to see clearly again, feel deeply, and feel alive once more.
As of late, I have been overwhelmed with my obligations in life. I moved to a new country (Sweden) and started a new job (teaching at an international school) the DAY after I finished my old job (teaching at an elementary school) in another country (South Korea). Not only did I have to jump head first into a new job, but I also had to leave the life I had built over the past two years and start a new one. I had spent so long trying to adjust, understand, and find my place in Korea and once I finally had, I left. I had built the most incredible friendships, I had finally learnt the public transportation routes to all of my favorite places, and I had established a comfortable life. However, in the matter of one day, I left my life behind with only two small suitcases and memories to bring with me on my next journey. Along with all of this, I was also faced with challenge of being in a completely different culture. The culture in Sweden is almost opposite of that in Korea. Neither is better nor worse, just simply different. And, on top of everything else, my ability to speak English had deteriorated (considering I hadn't worked in an environment where more than two people spoke English somewhat fluently in two years). I was faced with the challenge of trying to express the millions of thoughts running through my head with a weakened vocabulary and a lot of pressure to be precise. After all, I AM an English teacher, right?
All of these things are just natural parts of a traveller's life, and the experiences I have had make these drawbacks seem minute. However, when faced with all of these challenges at once, it is easy to become overwhelmed and lose focus--as I did. Even now, months into my job, I still have moments of feeling overwhelmed which cause me to use most of my free time to complete work rather than doing something that inspires me. This is how I became/become
stagnant.
-------INSTANT OF INSPIRATION-------
As mentioned before, the best method that I have found to break this stagnant state is a moment of inspiration to remind you that you are, indeed, alive. It is the kickstart needed to recharge the uniqueness that naturally flows through you.
Mine came in the form of a hand-written letter.
Today I received a letter from one of my best friends (and yes, I use the term "best" friend because this person deserves a plethora of words to describe how incredible she is, though the word "best" will suffice for now). It was not the mere joy I felt from receiving an actual handwritten letter (which are definitely underestimated; a hand-written letter can change the world) that inspired me. It was something else. At the end of the letter, my friend said something that was exactly what I needed to hear to bring me back to life. The message was as follows:
Tiffany, I love you forever and miss you everyday, I'll leave you with a quote we both LOVE:
"Perhaps the only difference between me (us) and other people is I've always demanded more from the sunset."
With two simple lines, her expression of love and one of our favorite quotes, everything changed. I guess that is what friends are for: to remind you of who you are and what your calling is when you lose your way.
-------SEEING SUNSETS-------
I did not realize I had been in a stagnant state until I read the last few lines of my friend's letter. Upon reading the quote, tears welled into my eyes and slowly made their way down my face. It was the first time I had cried in months. I was not crying over the sadness of being away from the people I love; I was crying for the fact that the emotion of feeling overwhelming thankful to be alive filled me. In that instant, I felt my blood pumping through my veins. It is not that it had ever stopped moving, I had just stopped noticing, stopped appreciating it.
I was reminded of how incredible it feels to have people in my life who inspire me, who love me, and who I love in return. Along with this, I was also reminded of a key element of who I am: passion.
Sometimes I allow others to dilute my passion because it is unfamiliar to them, too much for them, and sometimes the unknown can be frightening or push people away. But, this is me. As I have mentioned before, I always feel things in extreme ways and my life seems to follow that pattern as well: really hot or really cold, love it or hate, madly in love or heartbroken, energetic about the thrill of being alive or completely stagnant. I rarely find myself in an in-between state. Being inspired by the things around us, and allowing it to fuel our passion, is one thing. However, being able to take that passion and multiply it, demanding more from it, is so important.
Some may say this is unhealthy, but I prefer to think that it fuels my ability to see life in a unique way. That is why I was so moved by the quote that my friend reminded me of. I don't think it is a bad thing to demand more from the sunset--to demand more from life, desire brighter colors from the things we already find inspiration from. We are told our whole lives to be thankful what we have. But, this sometimes gets misinterpreted as encouragement to stop once we have achieved one or our goals or a point which society believes is successful, happy, or a "good life". However, it is possible to be extremely thankful for your situation in life, but to still demand more from it. I am not talking about material things, I am talking about demanding more when it comes to what we get out of life. I don't want to accomplish one goal and then stop, I want to continue setting new goals and dreams for myself and working to make those come true. I don't want to only be a good teacher, I want to be a good writer, friend, daughter, sister, artist, speaker, etc. too! I don't want to live abroad in one place and then settle down; I want to travel the world and continually add to the incredible experiences I have had while doing so.
This idea of demanding more from the sunset, from life, is what makes my own life constantly moving (apart from those temporary stagnant moments). It is what allows me to leave an incredible job and life in America to take a chance by moving across the world alone. It is what also allows me to then up and leave the life I built in Korea and move on to the next chapter of my life. Allowing passion to run through your veins and touch every part of your body is not a bad thing, in my opinion. It is what has made my life completely unpredictable and surprisingly brilliant.
And so, my challenge and wish for you is to do the same. Find your passion, your inspiration, and allow it to flow into your bloodstream and pump strongly throughout your veins. Don't let the obligations of life hold you back from what life is really about. Don't allow yourself to become stagnant as you foggily watch the world move around you. Use the inspiration around you! And don't accept average. It is okay to have more than one dream in life, to accomplish more than one of your goals, to hope for even more incredible experiences despite whether you've had a few or not.
Never be afraid to demand more from the sunset, to demand more from life!
xoxo
Friday, September 6, 2013
Don't Forget the Sky.
---CHA-CHA-CHANGES---
As most of you know, l recently started working at an elementary school. Due to budget cuts within the Korean Department of Education, all high school and middle school foreign teachers were moved to elementary schools. So, it was neither my choice nor in my control, but I was okay with it. Well, not at first. At first, I panicked, stressed myself out, and felt overwhelmed. I mean, I am living in a foreign country which presents its own set of problems and daily stresses, but adding on a move and numerous small, loud children didn’t seem like it would help much.
Confused and unsure of what to do, I did what always helps me the most: I talked to my family. They always provide love and support which helps calm my nerves and makes me feel that everything will be okay. Along with this comfort, I also depended on the sharply honest, intelligent words of my sister which are sometimes exactly what I need. “You didn’t move to Korea to get comfortable,” she said. “You moved there to challenge yourself, to face new adventures, and that’s exactly why you need to be open to the change ahead of you.”
There was something about that statement that changed not only my decision, but also completely changed my attitude. I DIDN’T move to Korea to get comfortable, I moved to Korea to avoid getting comfortable, to avoid being too content to the point where I stop feeling...anything. I’d rather feel challenged and grow as a person than to become an unchanging, slowly rusting robot in my daily life. And, well, elementary school was and is anything BUT comfortable.
----ELEMENTARY SCHOOL----
On my second day of work at my new elementary school, I had to teach three first grade classes ALONE; no co-teacher, no English translation, just me and 25 students who don’t even know the English alphabet. I was terrified. I showed them pictures of America and my family, we sang an alphabet song (“A is for apple—a a apple…), and then I gave them a worksheet with a big ant on it to color. As I walked around, nervous that I’d be accosted to answer a question in Korean, I saw something that made me stop in my tracks: a few students had not only colored the picture of the ant, but they had drawn the sky—clouds, sun, blues, yellows. The sky. These five year old children had completed their job/task, but had taken time away from that to stop and add something that was important to them—the SKY. They took the time to shape each cloud uniquely, to lightly fill the area around the clouds with a misty blue, and to add in a big, bright sun, rays and all. They hadn’t forgotten the sky. But, like many other people my age, I had.
---BALINESE SUNSET---
Immediately I was reminded of an incredible moment that I had in Bali, Indonesia two weeks before this. I, along with two of my best friends, had taken a day of relaxation on the beach—reading, music, and a short nap. When I awoke from my nap I saw that the sky was on fire—it was time for the sunset. We grabbed our towels and moved closer to the water. Everything was still, silent, but warm. The beach was filled with scattered bodies—sitting, standing, wading in the water. Despite the lively crowds, every face was turned towards the setting sun. It became quiet, peaceful. Everyone had stopped. They knew that this was a moment that was important—no one wanted to miss the SKY.
Eyes glistened with the reflection of the sunset on the water beaming through them. I let every other thought leave my head, and I tried to take in every last ounce of that sunset. I felt it in my bones, through my veins, pumping from my heart into my brain. It was one of the best moments of my life. Who knew that something as simple as watching the sunset, looking at the sky, could be so important and necessary?
My first grade students did. The Balinese people did. And, I wanted to.
---THE CONNECTION---
My time in Bali was one of the most rewarding experiences because I felt an appreciation and peacefulness that I had forgotten existed. Every morning during my time in Bali, we would open our two doors, let in the light breeze, and listen to the morning prayers. The soft drumming, twinkling bells, harmonic Sanskrit, and incense would drift into our room. We would then sip on strong, delicious Balinese coffee sloooooowly, enjoying every drop. We’d later be greeted by smiling faces, be surrounded by local laughter, and end our day with a beautiful view of small, bird-like kites filling the sky.
I couldn't figure out why Balinese people were so happy until that evening on the beach when I watched the sunset. Then I realized—they don’t forget the important things. They don’t get caught up in the distractions that most of us do. They work hard, but they set aside time to focus on what’s important to them: their daily prayers, family, friends, and the natural environment around them.
When I came back from Bali, one of the first things I did was go to the grocery store. While riding down the escalator, I watched the people move quickly, distracted, in and out, as fast as they could, through the store, just like they do in life. It made me sad. I’ve been one of those people—one of those people who is so distracted with everything that is going on in my life—who multitasks to the point where I give nothing 100% of my attention or emotion. I can do so many things in one day, giving each a small amount of myself, but never really stopping to focus on ONE thing, to give one thing 100% of myself. Therefore, I become (as mentioned before) an unchanging robot who is effective in productivity but has no sense of emotion or passion. I think we all are, or have been, robots in our own lives, technically alive but dead in every other way.
---DON’T FORGET THE SKY---
I’m making it a point to start being more like my first graders, more like the Balinese people, who STOP and FULLY enjoy the things around them. I don’t want to be one of those people who forget that one of the most beautiful sights, something that can spike a passion and feeling of life within me, is right above me, and all I need to do is stop and look up.
So I challenge you, along with myself, to ignite that passion that you had when you were young, and when you’re drawing the picture of your life, to never forget the sky. ♥
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Rememberance of things...present.
____________________________________
Streets lined with small, open rooms
Rooms furnished on each side with cheap, red plastic chairs
Chairs filled by young, longing faces
Young longing faces attached to young, developing bodies
Young developing bodies clothed in small garments of bright colors
Bright colors worn on her cheeks, lips, and eyes
Eyes looking empty, sad, lost, fearful
Fear used to control the bodies, the girls
Girls, not yet women, still too young
Youth--stolen by the preying thieves
Thieves too selfish to respect her innocence
Innocence taken each night someone stops
"Stop"--a word she may never use freely
Freedom--something she can only hope for
Hope, all she has left until we stop
Stop stopping to steal her future
_____________________________________
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you're a small child, in a public place with your mother or parent, and you somehow get separated from them? You can see your mother looking around in desperation as you shout "mom!" at the top of your lungs. And though she seems so close, your face and voice are just a smidge too distant and weak for her to see you or hear your cries. You outstretch your arms, seeming only an arms-length away, hoping to grasp onto her dangling hand, but once you try, you miss because you're just out of reach. And, as that moment slips away, you see her slowly wander into the opposite direction while the panic starts to set in. First it creeps into your stomach leaving a tight, uncomfortable feeling. Then, it slowly makes its way into your head, blurring your thoughts and making you dizzy as it also seems to completely cover your heart leaving only pain and a loss of hope. You don't know what to do, how to make your way back to her--she's gone and now you're lost and don't know where to go or what to do next.
Thankfully, it's only a dream. And, well, eventually you wake up at the perfect moment when the last ounce of hope was about to be lost in the crowd, just as you were. Upon waking, you gasp in anguish and then relief from realizing it wasn't real at all. You look around, see a familiar wall, a familiar picture on your desk, as that feeling of loss slowly drifts out of your body and comfort sets in.
But, what if you didn't wake up? What if that dream was a reality?
Recently, I had an experience that gave me the exact feeling that I've felt too many times in my dreams--however, this time, it was real. There was no awakening at the end that allowed the helpless feeling to drift away, and there was no feeling of comfort or relief that would eventually set in. There was also no way for me to reach that lost person, for them to hear my cries of help, for them to grasp onto my outstretched hand. My moment had passed, and reality had set in. It's a moment I'll never forget.
Allow me to start from the beginning...
**************Thailand**************
It was a great vacation! A dream come true! It was the first overseas trip I had taken with no real goal or agenda, to be honest, other than to relax and enjoy myself. And I did!
Thailand was breathtaking. Though the chaos and odd foreigner crowds of Bangkok didn't particularly tickle my fancy, the island of Koh Chang (translation: Elephant Island) did! It was paradise. I took a one-hour ferry to get there and never looked back (of course, until I had to leave--insert extremely sad face--). Lush, green jungle, a variety of interesting wildlife, perfectly warm but cool beaches, fresh colorful fruit, lively people, and the most impeccably delicious food. Really, paradise.
Adventure? Why yes! Elephant trekking through the jungle, a 5-island snorkeling extravaganza, a 7-hour jungle trek complete with monkey feeding, hornet nest escaping, giant vine swinging, and waterfall swimming. Oh, and to come "home" from these adventures only to retire sluggishly into a beach lounge chair on the deck overlooking a lagoon and the sea, to watch a documentary playing on a screen over the water while sipping on a delicious coconut shake--oh, what a rough life :) Paradise. Koh Chang was a place that exceeded my dreams of paradise. Upon leaving Koh Chang, I felt pangs of sadness because I knew that the chance of me seeing anything this beautiful, or experiencing anything this perfect, would never come again. I let out dreadful sighs as I watched the beautiful, mountainous island slowly transform into a speckle in the sea.
***************Cambodia********************
If you've ever seen the quick and drastic scene change in the film Eat.Pray.Love where Julia Robert's character goes from a quiet, relaxing, idealistic dinner in Italy to a chaotic, loud, unsettling taxi ride in India--well, that's the only way I can think to describe my transition from Koh Chang, Thailand to the border of Cambodia. It was as if, in the blink of an eye, I had left a fantastical dream and entered into a jumbled and confusing reality.
--THE BORDER--
Out of almost all of the places I've ever visited, the Cambodian border was the scariest. It was unorganized, chaotic, and had random stragglers hanging around who I couldn't make out if they were there actually working or for some other reasons (I don't even want to think about WHAT those other reasons were). The border consisted of multiple, randomly placed buildings, which you had to visit one at a time, walking outside, sometimes between metal fences on an all-too narrow concrete walkway and sometimes on dusty, dirt roads that seemed to lack any signs or hints as to what direction you should be going in. With sweat dripping down my face, heavy backpack on my shoulders, and thoughts of Koh Chang painfully floating out of my head, I followed our all-too-untrustworthy guide and prayed that I'd make it through the border alive. Whether it was the utter shock of change of venue, the lingering feeling of danger, or the fact that I hadn't eaten in hours--whatever the case, I felt lost in a cloud of dust--literally and metaphorically.
Once through the border, the confusion and oddity didn't end. We were first taken back by the loooooong line, placed in direct sunlight, that we were told we would have to wait in unless we paid our guide 230 baht. Coincidentally, that's the exact amount of Thai currency I had left. Believing that this was a sign to take the "VIP--skip the line" offer, I did so hesitantly as our "guide" took my passport, stuck it in a pile of other passports, handed it to some guy, and said I'd get it back in a few minutes (ya, that's reassuring). I'll never really know where exactly my passport went during this period, but I was frankly too exhausted to care at the time.
--SIEM REAP--
Fast forward a few hours through a sketchy cab driver, issues at a "gas station" (shack with two medium-sized tanks in front of it), our amazingly kind European companions, a tuk tuk driver whose initial take-off catapulted all of our luggage into a busy street, and then finally you'll get to the part where I arrived safely in Siem Reap. Ahh, Siem Reap. Despite its overly-touristy Pub Street (which I kinda loved) and copious amounts of tuk tuk drivers offering me anything from an actual tuk tuk ride to drugs and prostitution, it was a calmer, safer, more relaxed version of the Cambodia I had first been introduced to. And for that, I was thankful.
Siem Reap--the land of $2 gourmet meals, $3 massages, 50cent beers, and the most amazing temples you will ever see in your life. I could have spent weeks in Siem Reap and still wouldn't have felt that I had taken it all in. This part of my journey seemed to be extremely fast-paced, physically and mentally draining, and eye-opening in many ways.
The gigantic, detailed temples of Angkor Wat, the numerous small young children trying to sell me souvenirs, the aggressive women selling water ("Cold water. One Dollar. You want cold water?"), the delicious fruit on the side of the road (freshly cut mango, 2 for $1 or a whole coconut--drink it and then cut it up and eat it for $1), the sad stories that were delivered at the most unexpected times by the most unexpected people (tuk tuk driver makes a detour to his house late at night in the middle of nowhere to tell us his story.....woman tells me her story while in the middle of my leg massage), and the surprisingly modern slew of restaurants and foreigners. Siem Reap was full of juxtapositions; extreme juxtapositions that were beautiful and interesting while still being completely confusing at the same time. All of these things, and more, made Siem Reap one of the most overwhelming places I've ever been.
I still have difficulty, and probably always will, describing the vast array of emotions I felt while in Siem Reap. They were intense, constantly changing, and being caused solely by the things around me. The pace of my time in Siem Reap seemed to keep my mind actively aware of the things around it-- allowing myself to stay only on the surface of my mind, restricting me from delving deeper, and leaving me no time to analyze what I was seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling, etc. My senses were on high alert, trying to take it all in, while leaving my mind too exhausted and overloaded to process any of what it absorbed--until now, that is. I was even almost afraid to go back to Siem Reap in my mind because it still overwhelms me, makes me anxious, fills me with the fear that I'll never really have enough time to process everything. So to say Siem Reap was "filling" would be an understatement. Rather, to say I left with an overflow of thoughts and emotions would be more accurate. And, though I didn't know it at the time, there were even more impactful sights I would see--more overwhelming experiences waiting for me at the last and final stop of my journey, Phnom Phen. This is where I would have a moment, just like in a dream, that would change my life forever.
--PHNOM PHEN--
My journey from Siem Reap to Phnom Phen was even more eventful than my transition from Koh Chang to the Cambodian border.
The bus ride: 6 hours, packed full, people standing down the center aisle, seat broken, woman vomitting in the seat across from mine, horn blaring, stops, drops, pick-ups, shacks and running chickens on the side of the road. It was an experience.
Upon arriving in Phnom Phen, I was shocked to see a Dairy Queen (the first I've seen in 7 months) which was such a contrast to the extreme poverty-stricken areas I had watched for hours on my journey there. This was only one of the many shocking sights I saw in Phnom Phen.
On a happier note, I was excited to see a bunch of foreigners' faces (not foreign to me though!) who were in town for an ultimate frisbee tournament. My travel companion was set to play in the tournament, which gave me access to amazing new friends, free food, and awesome parties. I was living it up and enjoying every minute of it. And, thanks to a few of my new friends, I was introduced to one of the most delicious vegetarian restaurants. Hummus and Greek salad, anyone? :) I was in heaven!
The next day, per a new friend's recommendation, I visited the Genocide Museum and Killing Fields. I didn't know anything about the history of battles fought in Cambodia, so it was very shocking to learn about it. The museum provided a lot of information about what actually went on in Cambodia at the time. The museum was in an old school that had been turned into a prison and torture center for people who were wanted for interrogation. Numerous portraits, cells, and weapons still remain at the old school. I even met one of the survivors. This made the situation even more real, seeing that the events that happened there didn't happen that long ago.
--Killing Fields--
After learning about the history behind the situation in Cambodia, I finally visited the Killing Fields. Upon entering, I was given a headset and controller to listen to information, explanations, and personal stories to go along with different sections of the Killing Fields. I must say, I was glad I went alone. Shocking, yes. Difficult to handle, yes. Emotionally exhausting, yes.
As I walked around the area, I was stepping on fragments of bone that had surfaced. I saw pieces of skulls, teeth, and clothing scraps that had been placed on glass cases, found by visitors just like me, waiting to be added to the numerous collections already enclosed in the cases. I stood by a tree, in tears, as I listened to the facts: this was the "baby-killing" tree, where officers would hold babies by their feet and hit them against the tree, then throw them into one of the mass graves. This tree also stood by a mass grave where women were first stripped, raped, head bashed, and then tossed into.
Speechless. I was speechless as tears gently poured down my cheeks, remembering. What else could I do? The only thing I was capable of was remembering.
--Frisbee Golf, oh, I mean Ultimate Frisbee--
After feeling emotionally drained and upset by the shocking sites I had seen, my friends tried to lighten my spirit and distract my mind by inviting me to join them at one of the Ultimate parties. We got to the party which was held in a beautiful club, room reserved just for the group. It was great! We danced, listened to live music, and laughed.
The next day, my last day of vacation, I attended the final rounds of the Ultimate Frisbee tournament. Knowing absolutely nothing about it, I watched in awe as people did things with frisbees I didn't know were possible. It was fun. I sat in the sun, ate delicious food, read a little, mingled, and made even more friends. I even got to enjoy the ridiculously funny slip and slide competition at the end of the tournament. It was a great day to say the least. To finish off my day, some friends and I went back to the vegetarian restaurant (which may have been my 4th time there in 2 days) and had a much needed, healthy meal. I was happy :)
And then, my trip was over. I hopped in the tuk tuk for my final ride.
On my way to the airport I tried to take in every last smell, every last sight, every last moment. I looked around, watched the people carrying fresh fruit, smelled the scent of coconuts and fresh basil, saw the sky darken and the lights of vehicles illuminate the smiles of the Cambodians riding them. I felt the warm Cambodian breeze, so foreign to the winter I had been experiencing; a breeze that I would never come across again. I remembered the excitement I felt as I got to feel an elephant's skin against mine for the first time. The humidity I experienced in the jungle that I had only read about in books. The overwhelming immenseness of Angkor Wat--a size and extremity that I thought I understood until I saw it with my own eyes. I had had an AMAZING experience, numerous experiences. I had experienced paradise, visited places I had seen on the Discovery Channel, and done things I had only dreamed I could do. It was the best vacation anyone could ask for.
--CHANGE--
I was about 5 minutes from the airport when everything, and I mean everything, changed.
My tuk tuk driver turned the corner and we approached a well-lit street. It looked exciting, colorful, fun. It had numerous open-front restaurants and bars that looked packed full of people, like great places to go. But wait...they weren't restaurants and bars.
As I got closer, I realized that these open-front, box-like businesses were colorful rooms, lined on each side with red plastic chairs. Each and every one of the rooms was full. And each and every one of the chairs was full. As I looked closer, the bodies in the chairs were girls, young girls. The girls had short, sparkly skirts, flashy bras or barely-there shirts, bright, colorful makeup, and excessive hairdos. They were each wearing high heels and not much else. As a guess I would say that there were about 30 or more businesses like this, probably more, and about 20 girls in each. But, these businesses weren't selling food or beer, they were selling real human beings.
That's when it hit me. That feeling--that feeling I used to get in dreams when I'm separated from someone, left helpless, and though I'm stretching my arms out as far as they will go, and screaming at the top of my lungs because I want to help them, I want to reach them again, I want them to hear me--but they don't. Their grasp slowly slips away through my fingertips and any hope I had of holding onto them is gone.
But this wasn't a dream, it was reality. I wasn't going to wake up or be able to feel the comfort I had once felt or be able to give them the comfort they once felt. This was different. I had read about this kind of thing--studied it actually. I had studied it for years, watched numerous documentaries, completed reports on it. But this, this was real.
I was seeing it, experiencing it with my own eyes. That feeling of helplessness started to creep inside me. It was a different sadness and helplessness than the one I felt when visiting the Killing Fields or doing research about past stories of these kinds of things. In those situations, I couldn't help--they were the past and I was living in the future of those events. But this, this was the present. It was right there, before my eyes, and I still couldn't do anything.
I wanted to rescue each and every one of the girls, give them freedom, let them know their worth, tell them they can do anything in life if they believe in themselves. But I couldn't, I couldn't. As I looked at their faces, the feeling of helplessness, of anxiety crept over my mind, my heart. I watched these women, these girls, being sold like food, to feed the selfish desires of passerbys who happen to go by and stop because they saw something that looked appetizing. These girls; being looked at like meat, like toys, not like people, not like humans. I wanted to scream, and I tried, but nothing came out. Only tears rolled down my face, hands shaking, mind blurring, heart aching.
I was just about to the airport when I passed one of the last "human-selling businesses" and saw one of the most disturbing sights I've ever seen in my life. In front of the semi-empty store front was a young boy, maybe 8 years old. He was standing close to the road, but far enough away to be out of reach. He was holding a large red glow baton that most police officers use at night to direct traffic. He was shoving it in and out of his mouth, into his cheek, and down his throat. He was bait. He was human bait.
At that moment, my life changed.
****************NOW*************
Once I arrived home, I felt an overwhelming mixture of thoughts and emotions. I had seen, first hand, that all of the horrific stories I had read about, all of the things I thought I knew about, were real. It's easy to distance yourself from problems when they're simply just words on a page, just text. But, when you see a woman and child being bought and sold on the side of the road for sex, when you see the look on their faces--a look of wanting to escape but feeling even more hopeless and helpless than I did knowing I couldn't save them in that moment, well--that's when you realize they aren't just stories--they're reality, they're real people.
I thought, for a moment, that these are the types of things, the treatment, that only happen in poverty-stricken countries. That is, until I was walking down a popular street in Haeundae one day (one of the richest districts in Busan, South Korea) and saw a young teenage couple fighting. The boy was screaming at the girl, pushing her, as she stood motionless in tears in front of him. He then shoved her into his car, slammed the door shut, opened the door again, and leaned in to start hitting her. She put up her hands in defense, only to have him pull them down and hit her again. This went on for some time. People passed by, including grown men, and no one stopped to help. No one told him to stop, no one asked if the girl was okay--no one cared. It was accepted. Again, I felt helpless--knowing that being a foreigner I couldn't speak the language, and being a woman I just might make the situation worse by causing him to take out his anger at me on his girlfriend instead.
*************WHAT WE CAN DO!*****************
This inequality, this treatment, is UNACCEPTABLE. We are all human beings and we all deserve to be treated like human beings. It's time to make it known that we won't accept to be treated like less than that.
DO SOMETHING. Be informed, stay informed. Get involved. Help other people. Help yourself.
I will NEVER accept a friend, boyfriend, etc who treats me with less respect than I think every human being deserves. You shouldn't either.
*********One Final Note*********
When I stop and think about the Red Light Districts in Thailand and Cambodia--all of those women and children being bought and sold--I ask myself: "Why?" WHY?
These businesses aren't for the Thai and Cambodian men, they are for the foreigners with money. A business cannot continue on if it has no customers. One person's selfishness and greed can take the life, the joy, the happiness, the hope, the future out of another's life. Please, don't be that person. Please, don't take away someone else's future.
_______________________________________________________________
Streets lined with small, open rooms
Rooms furnished on each side with cheap, red plastic chairs
Chairs filled by young, longing faces
Young longing faces attached to young, developing bodies
Young developing bodies clothed in small garments of bright colors
Bright colors worn on her cheeks, lips, and eyes
Eyes looking empty, sad, lost, fearful
Fear used to control the bodies, the girls
Girls, not yet women, still too young
Youth--stolen by the preying thieves
Thieves too selfish to respect her innocence
Innocence taken each night someone stops
"Stop"--a word she may never use freely
Freedom--something she can only hope for
Hope, all she has left until we stop
Stop stopping to steal her future
_____________________________________
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you're a small child, in a public place with your mother or parent, and you somehow get separated from them? You can see your mother looking around in desperation as you shout "mom!" at the top of your lungs. And though she seems so close, your face and voice are just a smidge too distant and weak for her to see you or hear your cries. You outstretch your arms, seeming only an arms-length away, hoping to grasp onto her dangling hand, but once you try, you miss because you're just out of reach. And, as that moment slips away, you see her slowly wander into the opposite direction while the panic starts to set in. First it creeps into your stomach leaving a tight, uncomfortable feeling. Then, it slowly makes its way into your head, blurring your thoughts and making you dizzy as it also seems to completely cover your heart leaving only pain and a loss of hope. You don't know what to do, how to make your way back to her--she's gone and now you're lost and don't know where to go or what to do next.
Thankfully, it's only a dream. And, well, eventually you wake up at the perfect moment when the last ounce of hope was about to be lost in the crowd, just as you were. Upon waking, you gasp in anguish and then relief from realizing it wasn't real at all. You look around, see a familiar wall, a familiar picture on your desk, as that feeling of loss slowly drifts out of your body and comfort sets in.
But, what if you didn't wake up? What if that dream was a reality?
Recently, I had an experience that gave me the exact feeling that I've felt too many times in my dreams--however, this time, it was real. There was no awakening at the end that allowed the helpless feeling to drift away, and there was no feeling of comfort or relief that would eventually set in. There was also no way for me to reach that lost person, for them to hear my cries of help, for them to grasp onto my outstretched hand. My moment had passed, and reality had set in. It's a moment I'll never forget.
Allow me to start from the beginning...
**************Thailand**************
It was a great vacation! A dream come true! It was the first overseas trip I had taken with no real goal or agenda, to be honest, other than to relax and enjoy myself. And I did!
Thailand was breathtaking. Though the chaos and odd foreigner crowds of Bangkok didn't particularly tickle my fancy, the island of Koh Chang (translation: Elephant Island) did! It was paradise. I took a one-hour ferry to get there and never looked back (of course, until I had to leave--insert extremely sad face--). Lush, green jungle, a variety of interesting wildlife, perfectly warm but cool beaches, fresh colorful fruit, lively people, and the most impeccably delicious food. Really, paradise.
Adventure? Why yes! Elephant trekking through the jungle, a 5-island snorkeling extravaganza, a 7-hour jungle trek complete with monkey feeding, hornet nest escaping, giant vine swinging, and waterfall swimming. Oh, and to come "home" from these adventures only to retire sluggishly into a beach lounge chair on the deck overlooking a lagoon and the sea, to watch a documentary playing on a screen over the water while sipping on a delicious coconut shake--oh, what a rough life :) Paradise. Koh Chang was a place that exceeded my dreams of paradise. Upon leaving Koh Chang, I felt pangs of sadness because I knew that the chance of me seeing anything this beautiful, or experiencing anything this perfect, would never come again. I let out dreadful sighs as I watched the beautiful, mountainous island slowly transform into a speckle in the sea.
***************Cambodia********************
If you've ever seen the quick and drastic scene change in the film Eat.Pray.Love where Julia Robert's character goes from a quiet, relaxing, idealistic dinner in Italy to a chaotic, loud, unsettling taxi ride in India--well, that's the only way I can think to describe my transition from Koh Chang, Thailand to the border of Cambodia. It was as if, in the blink of an eye, I had left a fantastical dream and entered into a jumbled and confusing reality.
--THE BORDER--
Out of almost all of the places I've ever visited, the Cambodian border was the scariest. It was unorganized, chaotic, and had random stragglers hanging around who I couldn't make out if they were there actually working or for some other reasons (I don't even want to think about WHAT those other reasons were). The border consisted of multiple, randomly placed buildings, which you had to visit one at a time, walking outside, sometimes between metal fences on an all-too narrow concrete walkway and sometimes on dusty, dirt roads that seemed to lack any signs or hints as to what direction you should be going in. With sweat dripping down my face, heavy backpack on my shoulders, and thoughts of Koh Chang painfully floating out of my head, I followed our all-too-untrustworthy guide and prayed that I'd make it through the border alive. Whether it was the utter shock of change of venue, the lingering feeling of danger, or the fact that I hadn't eaten in hours--whatever the case, I felt lost in a cloud of dust--literally and metaphorically.
Once through the border, the confusion and oddity didn't end. We were first taken back by the loooooong line, placed in direct sunlight, that we were told we would have to wait in unless we paid our guide 230 baht. Coincidentally, that's the exact amount of Thai currency I had left. Believing that this was a sign to take the "VIP--skip the line" offer, I did so hesitantly as our "guide" took my passport, stuck it in a pile of other passports, handed it to some guy, and said I'd get it back in a few minutes (ya, that's reassuring). I'll never really know where exactly my passport went during this period, but I was frankly too exhausted to care at the time.
--SIEM REAP--
Fast forward a few hours through a sketchy cab driver, issues at a "gas station" (shack with two medium-sized tanks in front of it), our amazingly kind European companions, a tuk tuk driver whose initial take-off catapulted all of our luggage into a busy street, and then finally you'll get to the part where I arrived safely in Siem Reap. Ahh, Siem Reap. Despite its overly-touristy Pub Street (which I kinda loved) and copious amounts of tuk tuk drivers offering me anything from an actual tuk tuk ride to drugs and prostitution, it was a calmer, safer, more relaxed version of the Cambodia I had first been introduced to. And for that, I was thankful.
Siem Reap--the land of $2 gourmet meals, $3 massages, 50cent beers, and the most amazing temples you will ever see in your life. I could have spent weeks in Siem Reap and still wouldn't have felt that I had taken it all in. This part of my journey seemed to be extremely fast-paced, physically and mentally draining, and eye-opening in many ways.
The gigantic, detailed temples of Angkor Wat, the numerous small young children trying to sell me souvenirs, the aggressive women selling water ("Cold water. One Dollar. You want cold water?"), the delicious fruit on the side of the road (freshly cut mango, 2 for $1 or a whole coconut--drink it and then cut it up and eat it for $1), the sad stories that were delivered at the most unexpected times by the most unexpected people (tuk tuk driver makes a detour to his house late at night in the middle of nowhere to tell us his story.....woman tells me her story while in the middle of my leg massage), and the surprisingly modern slew of restaurants and foreigners. Siem Reap was full of juxtapositions; extreme juxtapositions that were beautiful and interesting while still being completely confusing at the same time. All of these things, and more, made Siem Reap one of the most overwhelming places I've ever been.
I still have difficulty, and probably always will, describing the vast array of emotions I felt while in Siem Reap. They were intense, constantly changing, and being caused solely by the things around me. The pace of my time in Siem Reap seemed to keep my mind actively aware of the things around it-- allowing myself to stay only on the surface of my mind, restricting me from delving deeper, and leaving me no time to analyze what I was seeing, hearing, smelling, feeling, etc. My senses were on high alert, trying to take it all in, while leaving my mind too exhausted and overloaded to process any of what it absorbed--until now, that is. I was even almost afraid to go back to Siem Reap in my mind because it still overwhelms me, makes me anxious, fills me with the fear that I'll never really have enough time to process everything. So to say Siem Reap was "filling" would be an understatement. Rather, to say I left with an overflow of thoughts and emotions would be more accurate. And, though I didn't know it at the time, there were even more impactful sights I would see--more overwhelming experiences waiting for me at the last and final stop of my journey, Phnom Phen. This is where I would have a moment, just like in a dream, that would change my life forever.
--PHNOM PHEN--
My journey from Siem Reap to Phnom Phen was even more eventful than my transition from Koh Chang to the Cambodian border.
The bus ride: 6 hours, packed full, people standing down the center aisle, seat broken, woman vomitting in the seat across from mine, horn blaring, stops, drops, pick-ups, shacks and running chickens on the side of the road. It was an experience.
Upon arriving in Phnom Phen, I was shocked to see a Dairy Queen (the first I've seen in 7 months) which was such a contrast to the extreme poverty-stricken areas I had watched for hours on my journey there. This was only one of the many shocking sights I saw in Phnom Phen.
On a happier note, I was excited to see a bunch of foreigners' faces (not foreign to me though!) who were in town for an ultimate frisbee tournament. My travel companion was set to play in the tournament, which gave me access to amazing new friends, free food, and awesome parties. I was living it up and enjoying every minute of it. And, thanks to a few of my new friends, I was introduced to one of the most delicious vegetarian restaurants. Hummus and Greek salad, anyone? :) I was in heaven!
The next day, per a new friend's recommendation, I visited the Genocide Museum and Killing Fields. I didn't know anything about the history of battles fought in Cambodia, so it was very shocking to learn about it. The museum provided a lot of information about what actually went on in Cambodia at the time. The museum was in an old school that had been turned into a prison and torture center for people who were wanted for interrogation. Numerous portraits, cells, and weapons still remain at the old school. I even met one of the survivors. This made the situation even more real, seeing that the events that happened there didn't happen that long ago.
--Killing Fields--
After learning about the history behind the situation in Cambodia, I finally visited the Killing Fields. Upon entering, I was given a headset and controller to listen to information, explanations, and personal stories to go along with different sections of the Killing Fields. I must say, I was glad I went alone. Shocking, yes. Difficult to handle, yes. Emotionally exhausting, yes.
As I walked around the area, I was stepping on fragments of bone that had surfaced. I saw pieces of skulls, teeth, and clothing scraps that had been placed on glass cases, found by visitors just like me, waiting to be added to the numerous collections already enclosed in the cases. I stood by a tree, in tears, as I listened to the facts: this was the "baby-killing" tree, where officers would hold babies by their feet and hit them against the tree, then throw them into one of the mass graves. This tree also stood by a mass grave where women were first stripped, raped, head bashed, and then tossed into.
Speechless. I was speechless as tears gently poured down my cheeks, remembering. What else could I do? The only thing I was capable of was remembering.
--Frisbee Golf, oh, I mean Ultimate Frisbee--
After feeling emotionally drained and upset by the shocking sites I had seen, my friends tried to lighten my spirit and distract my mind by inviting me to join them at one of the Ultimate parties. We got to the party which was held in a beautiful club, room reserved just for the group. It was great! We danced, listened to live music, and laughed.
The next day, my last day of vacation, I attended the final rounds of the Ultimate Frisbee tournament. Knowing absolutely nothing about it, I watched in awe as people did things with frisbees I didn't know were possible. It was fun. I sat in the sun, ate delicious food, read a little, mingled, and made even more friends. I even got to enjoy the ridiculously funny slip and slide competition at the end of the tournament. It was a great day to say the least. To finish off my day, some friends and I went back to the vegetarian restaurant (which may have been my 4th time there in 2 days) and had a much needed, healthy meal. I was happy :)
And then, my trip was over. I hopped in the tuk tuk for my final ride.
On my way to the airport I tried to take in every last smell, every last sight, every last moment. I looked around, watched the people carrying fresh fruit, smelled the scent of coconuts and fresh basil, saw the sky darken and the lights of vehicles illuminate the smiles of the Cambodians riding them. I felt the warm Cambodian breeze, so foreign to the winter I had been experiencing; a breeze that I would never come across again. I remembered the excitement I felt as I got to feel an elephant's skin against mine for the first time. The humidity I experienced in the jungle that I had only read about in books. The overwhelming immenseness of Angkor Wat--a size and extremity that I thought I understood until I saw it with my own eyes. I had had an AMAZING experience, numerous experiences. I had experienced paradise, visited places I had seen on the Discovery Channel, and done things I had only dreamed I could do. It was the best vacation anyone could ask for.
--CHANGE--
I was about 5 minutes from the airport when everything, and I mean everything, changed.
My tuk tuk driver turned the corner and we approached a well-lit street. It looked exciting, colorful, fun. It had numerous open-front restaurants and bars that looked packed full of people, like great places to go. But wait...they weren't restaurants and bars.
As I got closer, I realized that these open-front, box-like businesses were colorful rooms, lined on each side with red plastic chairs. Each and every one of the rooms was full. And each and every one of the chairs was full. As I looked closer, the bodies in the chairs were girls, young girls. The girls had short, sparkly skirts, flashy bras or barely-there shirts, bright, colorful makeup, and excessive hairdos. They were each wearing high heels and not much else. As a guess I would say that there were about 30 or more businesses like this, probably more, and about 20 girls in each. But, these businesses weren't selling food or beer, they were selling real human beings.
That's when it hit me. That feeling--that feeling I used to get in dreams when I'm separated from someone, left helpless, and though I'm stretching my arms out as far as they will go, and screaming at the top of my lungs because I want to help them, I want to reach them again, I want them to hear me--but they don't. Their grasp slowly slips away through my fingertips and any hope I had of holding onto them is gone.
But this wasn't a dream, it was reality. I wasn't going to wake up or be able to feel the comfort I had once felt or be able to give them the comfort they once felt. This was different. I had read about this kind of thing--studied it actually. I had studied it for years, watched numerous documentaries, completed reports on it. But this, this was real.
I was seeing it, experiencing it with my own eyes. That feeling of helplessness started to creep inside me. It was a different sadness and helplessness than the one I felt when visiting the Killing Fields or doing research about past stories of these kinds of things. In those situations, I couldn't help--they were the past and I was living in the future of those events. But this, this was the present. It was right there, before my eyes, and I still couldn't do anything.
I wanted to rescue each and every one of the girls, give them freedom, let them know their worth, tell them they can do anything in life if they believe in themselves. But I couldn't, I couldn't. As I looked at their faces, the feeling of helplessness, of anxiety crept over my mind, my heart. I watched these women, these girls, being sold like food, to feed the selfish desires of passerbys who happen to go by and stop because they saw something that looked appetizing. These girls; being looked at like meat, like toys, not like people, not like humans. I wanted to scream, and I tried, but nothing came out. Only tears rolled down my face, hands shaking, mind blurring, heart aching.
I was just about to the airport when I passed one of the last "human-selling businesses" and saw one of the most disturbing sights I've ever seen in my life. In front of the semi-empty store front was a young boy, maybe 8 years old. He was standing close to the road, but far enough away to be out of reach. He was holding a large red glow baton that most police officers use at night to direct traffic. He was shoving it in and out of his mouth, into his cheek, and down his throat. He was bait. He was human bait.
At that moment, my life changed.
****************NOW*************
Once I arrived home, I felt an overwhelming mixture of thoughts and emotions. I had seen, first hand, that all of the horrific stories I had read about, all of the things I thought I knew about, were real. It's easy to distance yourself from problems when they're simply just words on a page, just text. But, when you see a woman and child being bought and sold on the side of the road for sex, when you see the look on their faces--a look of wanting to escape but feeling even more hopeless and helpless than I did knowing I couldn't save them in that moment, well--that's when you realize they aren't just stories--they're reality, they're real people.
I thought, for a moment, that these are the types of things, the treatment, that only happen in poverty-stricken countries. That is, until I was walking down a popular street in Haeundae one day (one of the richest districts in Busan, South Korea) and saw a young teenage couple fighting. The boy was screaming at the girl, pushing her, as she stood motionless in tears in front of him. He then shoved her into his car, slammed the door shut, opened the door again, and leaned in to start hitting her. She put up her hands in defense, only to have him pull them down and hit her again. This went on for some time. People passed by, including grown men, and no one stopped to help. No one told him to stop, no one asked if the girl was okay--no one cared. It was accepted. Again, I felt helpless--knowing that being a foreigner I couldn't speak the language, and being a woman I just might make the situation worse by causing him to take out his anger at me on his girlfriend instead.
*************WHAT WE CAN DO!*****************
This inequality, this treatment, is UNACCEPTABLE. We are all human beings and we all deserve to be treated like human beings. It's time to make it known that we won't accept to be treated like less than that.
DO SOMETHING. Be informed, stay informed. Get involved. Help other people. Help yourself.
I will NEVER accept a friend, boyfriend, etc who treats me with less respect than I think every human being deserves. You shouldn't either.
*********One Final Note*********
When I stop and think about the Red Light Districts in Thailand and Cambodia--all of those women and children being bought and sold--I ask myself: "Why?" WHY?
These businesses aren't for the Thai and Cambodian men, they are for the foreigners with money. A business cannot continue on if it has no customers. One person's selfishness and greed can take the life, the joy, the happiness, the hope, the future out of another's life. Please, don't be that person. Please, don't take away someone else's future.
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| Living one of my dreams: riding an elephant in the jungles of Thailand! |
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| Coconut--$1 |
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| Swimming with elephants in Thailand! |
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| A guard in the Grand Palace in Bangkok, Thailand |
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| Monkeys in Thailand |
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| Feeding monkeys |
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| Cute monkey holding my hand :) |
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| Amazing fruit shake stand in Bangkok, Thailand |
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| Grand Palace in Bangkok, Thailand |
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