Reflections and Blessings: End of School Year 2012-2013

"To witness miracles unfold in your experience, count your blessings and be thankful. Perceived small blessings accumulate to be the most powerful." 

T. F. Hodge

As the school year in Kuwait has come to a close, and my coworkers and friends are embarking on there summer journey's either back home, Europe, or even in Kuwait, I feel that its time to take a moment and reflect on the things I've seen, been a part of, and grew from in my first school year in the Middle East.

1. You are never to old to learn something new-- I will be a very proud 35 year old in two months, and I have been very challenged emotionally, spiritually, and mentally throughout this first year. From learning to work with others and taking a back seat (so not my character), to learning to navigate within a different language and culture, I am constantly learning. I thank God for that.

2. The power of the nap- I am now a creature of habit. Everyday I take a nap. 30-45 minutes of solitude and rest feels soo good on a regular basis.

3. Homesickness happens in phases- After the honeymoon period, homesickness appeared in phases for me; its never a one shot deal. Homesickness may not have to do with family either. Sometimes it was desiring to shop at a Cato or Lane Bryant; sometimes it comes on when something happens and the only people who understand are the people at home. Sometimes its just the weather. I missed seasons this year. The changing of the leaves, the snow on the ground. The cold rains in April....

4. But technology brings everyone closer- The world indeed has gotten smaller. Technology makes it that way. You don't miss nearly as much as you think you do. You just find ways to substitute or get what you need. I do love that fact that I can start my day while calling my family close to their bedtimes; or using facetime to chat with friends.

5. The friends you start with, may not be the friends you end the year with- Fast food relationships happen in Kuwait; then you see the true nature of people and realize that sometimes people are in your lives for a season and for a reason. But I'm lucky to see some of my friendships evolve into genuine relationships, while others I have been blessed to leave those behind.

6. It's never to late to try something new- This year I played rugby. And although I might have been the slowest and the biggest, I loved every minute of it. If not for the sport, but for the sisterhood that I feel that I am a part of now. This new sport, meeting new people, made my life in Kuwait a little bit better.

7. The world is indeed a beautiful place- I have been blessed to see so many great places this year: looking out the window on my initial flight over and seeing the sky change in an instant from dark to light; the tropical rains on the island of Zanzibar; street food and traffic in India; sunrise walking in Doha; the top of the world in Dubai; walking to school everyday. But those places can't compare to the people I've met along this path. The world is beautiful not just because of the places and things, but truly because of her people.

I feel soo blessed to have listened and followed my heart and spirit to a new journey in my life. I'm so thankful for all the help from friends and family in the states, to friends that I consider family here in Kuwait. I know that next year will present even more challenges as relationships evolve and my travels take me to other places. As I reflect on my school year, I am just so grateful for every minute of every opportunity.

Active Forgiveness

It's 3am, and I have to pee.

It's one of those things that is a part of my life due to just getting older. I should know that if I don't drink anything after 8:30pm and use the bathroom before going to bed, I can generally sleep through the night. But some days I don't get home until late, I have a glass of orange juice or tea before my 9pm bedtime, and next thing you know I am up at 3am to go pee. But normally I can go back to sleep as soon as I do that.

However, I have been having trouble going back to sleep recently. I go to the bathroom, crawl back into bed, and lay their trying to will myself to go back to sleep. Next thing you know the call of prayer goes off at 3:45am and then at 4:00am. My alarm goes off at 5am. I get sleepy about 6am, but I leave for work at 6:30am. Then I go into work sleepy, angry, and upset; craving a nonfat Chai Latte with an espresso shot and a breakfast sandwich. You snack to stay awake on all the things your body craves, and you're burnt by the end of the day. You want to go to bed but you know that if you go to bed too early, you're going to stay up the night.

My momma used to tell me that when I have times like that, it means that God is trying to tell me something. But what was it? I honestly didn't know. I thought I have handled my conflicts or moved on from issues stemming from co-workers and some students. I thought I moved on and forgave myself and them for incidents of misunderstanding and mistrust. I thought I forgave them, but in all honesty, I really didn't.

When I pass them in the hallways I cringed or didn't say hello; I used email and text messages to get any issues out. But I could have sworn I forgave them. But I didn't.

It's 3am and I have to pee.

Another night of troubled sleep and awareness that God is indeed trying to tell me something. My words in my head may have said that I forgave, but my heart which directs everything I do told me different. That's when I realized that forgiveness truly is an active verb. Clarissa Estes, a poet and psychoanalyst who specializes in traumatic experiences, stated that:

"How does one know if she has forgiven? You tend to feel sorrow over the circumstance instead of rage, you tend to feel sorry for the person rather than angry with him. You tend to have nothing left to say about it at all."

I think it's so much easier to forgive when you are younger, you move on quicker, you get your toy back, you may fight but have the ability to move on from that fight. But the older you get, the more those experiences where you are hurt, affect you so much deeper. It's seems that so much more is at stake and the heart and spirit can only handle so much. So when you open your heart and it gets hurt because of betrayal or lies, or even being irrelevant in a world where you once belonged, true forgiveness is simply hard because its admitting to yourself that your heart has been battered and bruised.

But bruises do heal. At least I think they do.

If anything the bruises heal enough that you don't notice them as much. You breathe, you move on, you can go back to sleep. And although there may be some scars, they do fade enough over time. When that happens, you can truly say that you have forgiven them and moved on; you can say I had an epiphany.

It's 3am and I have to pee.

I wake up and pad to my bathroom and empty my bladder. I return to my bed, snuggle under the covers. And for the first time in a couple of weeks and I did go back to sleep.

The art of settling; the art of compromise

"The middle path makes me wary.... But in the middle of my life, I am coming to see the middle path as a walk with wisdom where conversations of complexity can be found, that the middle path is the path of movement...." 

Terry Tempest Williams

This Thursday, I was leaving my principal's office after a very surprisingly productive parent/student meeting. My principal asked me how I was handling this last portion of the year, and I told him that I was learning so much: how to work with parent's better, learning to control my exuberance during conversations that particularly pissed me off, and learning to define my role in this school, after leaving a role where I was several positions in one body. That going from a position like that, to one where I am one role, has been the most difficult part for me. He then smiled at me, and tells me, "you must simply need to lower your expectations." I smiled and told him, "you know me enough by now to know that is difficult for me." We both chuckled, because we both knew that we were both right.

Fast forward to Friday night, Saturday early morning, celebrating a friend's birthday. It's about 2am and we get involved in a heavy discussion about relationships and expectations; Mr. Right, Mr. Right Now, and Mr. Fulfilling a Need that could lead to Mr. Right Now. How complicated dating gets the older we get, and do we really set ourselves up for failure with our internal lists of what we desire in a mate. The big question: do we need to lower our expectations to put a ring on it?

And this afternoon, I had the most vivid dream I have ever had during one of my naps. I dreamed that I ran into an old friend from college (This girl during undergrad was truly glamorous and had everything she ever wanted). When I saw her, she introduced me to her husband who was in a dirty track suit, who spat tobacco while we talked. She still looked the same, but her shine wasn't there like it was in college. She showed me pictures of her children and they both looked like pigs, and all I could say was, "Oh really!" I woke up soon after but couldn't help but think if she lowered her expectations or compromised to get married.

All of our relationships: work, family, dating, marriage, etc., take a bit of a compromise or even a lowering of expectations. Many of the friends and people I have met living in Kuwait didn't exactly have this country on the top of their list when looking for jobs overseas. But we settled/compromised in a way to work tax free: some people choosing to live here for a great while, some leaving as soon as their contracts expire. For those who stay, it's the things that they gain in this compromise that makes it work. To live in Kuwait you give up pork, alcohol, and in some ways organized infrastructure. On the other side, you can travel to exciting places, see the world, and enjoy the spoils in countries that allow you have the things you desire. You can also have daily afternoon naps and work late only when you need to, hired help to help you function, and a little bit of home in the array of chain restaurants located in this country (so last statement are more personal to me).

Its the same thing I believe when it comes to relationships. I admitted to myself a couple of years ago that I would like to be married, although in the back of my head I know the odds are stacked against me. Do you know that for Black women, the higher we are in our education and our lack of children, means that we are less likely to be married? I have two master's degrees and no children. The odds are truly stacked. Besides that, I also know that marriage is not promised to everyone, and I'm actually ok with that.

But I look around to the marriages I have been exposed to in my life: those who seem to have been married forever, those who do get married later in life, and those who started but couldn't quite finish. For those that worked, I know that compromise and a slight lowering of expectations had to take place, more for the woman then the guy (no offense fellas, but really). And you know what, those that work, work. Those who didn't work tried and tried until it did or until it failed. But effort was put into it either way.

Its the effort of living this life that opens you up to what it means to settle and what it means to compromise. In my twenties, I never wanted to compromise and I always wanted people to see my vision, my way. However, the older I get the more I am beginning to realize that my life was not that exciting because of that. I did some awesome things, have great stories, but because I was little uncompromising, that passion burnt me out.

As I look at my life right now, in this moment, its the shades of in-between that has made my life interesting. The more I am allowed to live this life, the more I appreciate my passion coupled with a healthy dose of complex experiences and thoughts. My conversations have more meaning, my relationships matter, and I still have a bit of myself. Will I ever get married or have the perfect job or perfect life? Probably not. But if lowering my expectations means that I get to enjoy the wonderful shades of gray that comes with living, then I'm ok with that.

Momma Said There'd Be Days Like This

"What do girls do who haven't any mothers to help them through their troubles?" - Louisa May Alcott

My Mom has a very uncanny ability to call when I need to just talk. Now mind you, I talk to my family on a weekly basis. The joys of technology and magic jack has allowed me to keep in touch with my family 8 time zones and thousands of miles away. I love talking to them on Sundays as I am getting home from work, and they are having breakfast before going to church. I even call my parents when I am about to go out of town for the weekend, as if I am just driving to Indianapolis for a meeting or a weekend. We are close. I'm actually very proud of that. 

But my mom just knows when I am having a bad day. Or a moment. Or just a thought that only she will get, or that I will get. The relationship of the mother and daughter in my experience, is one of this uncanny ability of just knowing. This week is just proof of that.

I can say that professionally, my ego and spirit took a hit this week. Mis-communication and the blurring of roles resulted in unnecessary stress that I haven't encountered since I left my crazy charter school life. And because I have issues with sharing what I really feel about a situation, or struggle to keep the, "Angry Black Female," in check, I internalize all of my anger and frustration and it comes out in the form of gastrointestinal issues. Then I get even more pissed that a small situation results in these feelings, which makes me even more sick and nauseous. 

I was determined to fix things myself. I told myself that I need to learn how to deal. I need to grow up. "Christina, you are 34 years old, deal," is what I had been telling myself. I made myself so sick that I came straight home from work and laid down because I was just physically, mentally, and emotionally worn out. And in classic mom mode, my phone rings just as I am about to doze off. I was going to let it go to voicemail, but I can't do that..... I don't want to burn in hell later.

Hello
"Hi Chris."
Hi Mom.
"You sound tired. Everything ok."
Yes Mom, just feeling under the weather. Stomach's been upset today. Just taking a nap (I swear this is all I said.).
"You know the last time you had that, you were dealing with all that stuff at that school (her reference to my last job). What's going on?"

And just like that, I tell my mom my troubles. I tell her what I did because my mom is the best BS checker in the game. I told her how I felt, and then she confirms my plan on how to deal, without me telling her what was in my head. This is common. Then my dad (yes even my dad) got into the act. My parent's tagged team me! When my dad was done, he gives the phone back to my mom to, as he put it, to bring it home. My mom makes me pull out my Bible, and read Romans 5:1-5. And she reads and we talk some more, and just like that, I feel a little better, a little braver, and confirmed about what I need to do. 

It's times like these when I know how blessed I am. Not just because I have built some genuine relationships here, but because I have parent's who pray for me and call me out on my insecurities and my bull. Even 8 time zones and thousands of miles away, I have some support in this strange land that I have started to make my home.

My fear is that one day waking up and not having this any more. But even a friend of mine who lost their mother a few years back, said that even now, the spirit of their mom just knows when they need support and some wisdom. Momma always said there will be days when we doubt ourselves, have some troubles, or a string of bad luck. But momma also always has a way to make things a little bit better. 

Game Changer

"Life is a song-sing it. Life is a game-play it. Life is a challenge-meet it. Life is a dream-realize it. Life is a sacrifice-offer it. Life is love- enjoy it."

Sai Baba

I was praying that we didn't have to play. We had six players, and I was the one that was most out of shape, the most not ready to play in this weekend's rugby tournament.

It had been a rough start to 2013 for me. I admit that I went into this "all by myself,"phase for a moment, avoiding all things social with exception to work. Its a habit that I have developed over the years for self-preservation. In addition, things were going downhill rapidly with a kid I was working with outside of work. I was hit with an awful respiratory issue that I couldn't shake, and my scale was starting to creep back up. My positive energy slowly began seeping into a negative realm that I did not enjoy. The one thing I had going on, rugby practice, being slowly put on the back burner to deal with my kid, heal myself. Instead it became the Christina Laziness Show starring take out and my television.

Then two things happened: a hookup from my local pharmacy and the cancellation of services for my kid. I went to the pharmacy after a night of hanging out with friends at a Murder Mystery party, and the older woman in a hijab heard my cough. She said: "You come here." She then peppered me with questions in her broken English: "Mucus yellow? Hurts when cough? Warm?" I nodded yes to all those questions. She proceeded to give me a box of antibiotics, cough syrup, and mucinex, all at a reasonable cost. "You rest, feel better," is what she ordered me.

The cancellation of my kid came around that same time. That was a blessing in disguise because as much as I wanted to continue (it was extra travel money), it wasn't good for him and it wasn't for me either. I went home most nights frustrated, too tired to care about anything else. When I had a week where I didn't have to see him, I felt almost sad that I was happy not to see him. I got stuff done, did my laundry, went to bed at a decent hour.... I didn't miss him or what I was doing. And it freed me of any excuse not to go to practice. Even after his service was over, and I was invited to help with another case, instead of doing it I declined. It was the smartest decision I think I ever made.

So now that my sickness was handled and my services no longer needed, it freed me to go to practice with no excuses. My personal game changer so to speak. But I wasn't ready to play in a tournament. At least I thought I wasn't.

We landed early Friday morning in the UAE, and with little to no sleep because I was nervous and a little afraid. Doubt filled my head, and of course the regular round of self-pity and doubt reared its nasty head. But I got up and prayed to God that whatever happens happen, that we will be safe, and that if he could permit, just make sure I didn't have to play. But as we all know, no matter what God you believe in, you may not get what you want, but you will get what He thinks you need.

I made some tiny mistakes in the first game but we pulled it out. The second game we played hard and had a slim lost. By the third game we had a rhythm and clearly defined areas, while by the fourth we were aggressive and pushed through. As a team we talked to each other, listened, and most importantly had some fun. And we won our division! And I had a hand in that! OMG! I didn't pass out and we waked away with some scratches, some bruises, and some minor injuries. Although we limped, we had our celebratory drinks and had a good time overall.

I wouldn't have been able to enjoy any of it if I was still sick and still trying to work with that kid. Instead, I feel as if I was being told that I can't be like everyone else and I need to enjoy my time here and get well. So here I am, trying my best to not envy what others have in regards to making extra money or being in perfect shape. Instead I am simply trying to live this life, my life, and the life I had been called to live. The game of life I think is one of individual pursuits, helped by those to help shape your thoughts and feelings. I am deciding that although it will be hard, living my life and playing the game without envy and regret will probably be the best thing for me to make it through. And ultimately, I will win this game no matter what.

Confession.... Good for the Soul

I must take this time and opportunity to confess something that only a few people know about me: I'm an introvert.

Let that sink in for moment....

At first glance, people would not think that about me. I'm the giggly black girl with the weird hair and bubbly personality. I don't sit in my apartment, wearing all black, and having silent conversations with my two fish (Donny and Roberta), reading books about philosophy and existence. I go out, hang out when I can, and willing to try different things to meet different people. But the energy it takes for me to do that is hard. Really Hard.

Why all of this confessing on my blog? Because survival/happiness in Kuwait is not made for the faint of heart. Fostering relationships with complete strangers is key to having a life here. And since I have moved here, I have been all in: going to events, playing rugby, online dating that never goes anywhere, dinner parties, etc. I came into Kuwait with this mindset of go big or go home. And I'm grateful that this attitude has definitely pushed my personal boundaries. But I must admit that I'm a little worn out.

When I tell people that I am an introvert, I get a skeptical look like I must be crazy. Even the web definition of an introvert doesn't seem to fit my personality at first glance: A person predominantly concerned with their own thoughts and feelings rather than with external things. It makes being an introvert sound like being a complete jerk, which I don't believe I am (maybe I am a self-centered person =)). But the traits of an introvert are dead on to my personality: the struggle of small talk, exhausting pressure to fit in when its hard to be with lots of people, the need to spend no longer than 20 minutes at a social gathering, the constant need to go to sleep after any social outing. All the things that are anti-survival to living in Kuwait.  

But being an introvert isn't such a bad thing. I am much better one on one because I want to know people's thoughts and feelings on an array of subjects. I guess that's why I'm a counselor. I love learning, gathering knowledge about things that I did not know. I love conversations that dip in and out of the realm of seriousness and hilarity. I do enjoy going out, I just need to have some coffee or a red bull before I go.

But recently it has been a struggle. I've missed out on some great things already in 2013, because my body and my head is still spinning from the close of 2012. When I get home at a decent time, all I want to do is have falafel and go to sleep. And as I am waiting for a Skype video with my family on MLK holiday, I am missing out again with rugby practice. So I thought I would write this little blog to let me my new friends know that it's not you, it's me, Madame Introvert.

So in a way, I am apologizing to my old friends who are used to my moody introverted ways, and also to my new friends that I have made in 2012, and ask for their understanding as I get through the first month of 2013. There is a reason for my moments of shyness. Just work with me and I will be ok. February is already starting to look up. Help me to continue to stretch my boundaries, but be gentle.

Now that this confession is over, I think I will go have a nap. Just typing this blog has worn me out. But before I close, I found this quote that goes with this blog, and represents my feelings well:

"Introverts treasure the close relationships they have stretched so much to make."

Adam S. McHugh

P.S. Fun posting about the 10 myths of introverts: http://www.carlkingdom.com/10-myths-about-introverts

How do you measure a year?

On New Years Eve, I was travelling to the city of Jaipur, India with a tour group of fifteen people. Most of us were a sleep but I was wide awake looking out the window at the countryside of Northern India. Then one of my favorite songs(from Rent, the musical) came on:

"Five hundred, Twenty-five thousand, Six hundred minutes moments so dear..... how do you measure a year?"

How do you measure a year? How do I begin to measure this year in particular? Soo many things happened in 2012, that it makes me excited and scared for 2013. But all of the blessings of 2012 didn't start out of the blue, I had to go through my own trials, heartaches, disappoints, lots of tears, before last year, to be open to what God had in store for me for this moment in my life in 2013.

How do I measure my year?

I think about my family first. I truly know that they support me all the way. We are a family that supports one another. I really know how blessed I am to have that. Mind you, they weren't exactly thrilled when I told them I wanted to work overseas, and then to say that I will be working in Kuwait, but they trusted me enough to know that I never fully hop into a situation without thinking and researching it. They also are a praying family so I know they are always praying for me, and I for them.

I think about my former students. For five years, I have watched these kids grow up. I was a school mom: proud of them when they made great decisions, disappointed in them when they made poor ones, but loved them every single day. I know that they knew that I would do anything for them (within reason), and they did the same for me (believe me, I can write a blog on some of their shanigans they did to support me). I was so nervous to tell them I was leaving, because I didn't want them to think that it was because of them. But they were happy for me because I have always told them that you have to go after your dreams and follow your heart. They said those same words back to me.

How do I measure my year?

I think about my hometown of Gary, Indiana. How I love it with all of its faults. How there are days that I wish I could walk to the coffee shop around the corner from my apartment, or to the beach, or to the local pizza place. How some days I didn't pickup a newspaper because I didn't want to know about the bad things that happened the night before. Even with its faults, I love my hometown. It allows me to appreciate what I have here in Kuwait.

I think about Kuwait. How it frustrates me so, but yet I feel as if I belong here. The proud moment when I knew what each change denomination was, and used it correctly. The first time I gave basic directions from Beirut Street to my apartment in broken Arabic by myself. Becoming braver in walking in my neighborhood, while also being very tenacious in where I go and how I get there. Meeting friends who aren't teachers, befriending a local person. My first date here....

How do I measure my year?

• Looking out the window flying over the Mediterranean Sea to get to Jordan and then Kuwait.
• The first time I went to church here. 
• Flying into Dubai and getting jealous that they have taxi's with meters and streets with sidewalks.
• Hugging a student who got into their first choice school.
• Seeing the Taj Mahal, a place I have dreamed about seeing since I was like 12 years old.

How do I measure my year?

I really can't measure my year. There are soo many memories that are flooding my mind right now, that I can't measure it. But I can be grateful and happy for the 2012 that I had. And I will be even more grateful and happy for my 2013, and the moments and memories that God will allow it to create for me.