ISRAEL Entry 4: Moving Forward
I’ve been back in the states for just under 4 weeks. It’s been chaotic, a bit messy, and sometimes stressful, but at no level even close to my experience in Israel. I keep expecting to see a post pop up on Instagram and feel some level of FOMO but I don’t. At all. I’m happy that some of the friends I made there are happy, and I’m happy I’m home.
Some things became really pressing upon my return. Credits, housing, rentals, and transitions. This path also isn’t the easy one, because, at this point, there is no “easy” option. Of course, our choices and the many facets to them, are framed by our own privilege, which plays an integral part in all aspects of the situation. However, through the thicket of variables, we have developed a somewhat rough plan, and that will be the road map for the next month or so.
So, what is that plan? I’m sure you definitely aren’t asking through the screen. Well, a road trip. Put simply. We are taking to the roads, and we’ll be there until the start of my second trimester, which begins the first week or so of November. We’ll go look at some colleges in the Pacific Northwest (my top location in the states), I’ll log my driving hours, and we'll embrace some of the vagabond lifestyle I didn’t realize I needed until my time in Israel. It’s not perfect, but it’s a good solution considering our predicament.
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My first two weeks back in the states, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Choosing instead to dive into the isolation I longed for in Israel as well as the space to process my complex emotions. For the first week I was filled with chest aching guilt. How could you give up such an incredible opportunity, look how much space you’ve taken up, look at how much your mom has canceled?
I’ve spent most of my life priding myself in my resourcefulness, my independence, and general strength of character. A teacher once told me I take the hard road and it really stuck as this integral part of my identity. I do the hard things. I fight my way through. But the more I consider, and reflect, the more I’m reminded of a deceivingly complex concept: the very things that make us unique, powerful, “strong” are also our kryptonite, and our greatest flaws.
So what’s mine? Well I have many, like all of us, but after hours spent in my room I’ve come to a conclusion that frames this entire experience.
I don’t like taking up space at others “expense”.
I am a big person, in personality, passions, and values, but I will quickly shrink if it is my needs against theirs. In Israel, I took one drawer and a locker for my things. I got smaller, and of course, intentional or not, some of my roommates viewed that as an opportunity to be bigger, to take up more space. I have stayed in programs, positions, and places only because I fear being a burden or someone who requires extra care. My brain also always jumps to comparison here. What about him? She always seems so cheery. I know it’s a facade, that we all have boundaries and needs, just, for whatever reason, I can’t stand mine.
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There’s a balance required when it comes to peoples boundaries and needs in programs such as the one I attended. The students must be willing to push their comfort zones, understanding that some needs may not be met like they have been in the past. Simultaneously, the program must do their best to meet the most severe of those needs. They must treat students adequately and swiftly enough that the they are healthy, physically, emotionally, mentally, and even spiritually.
When that doesn’t happen… kids come back home.
Perhaps this is the best way to explain what occurred during my two short and yet excruciatingly long weeks. I came into a program not understanding my own needs well enough to even understand what comfort zones would be pushed, or to what degree. And the program, while doing the best they could, didn’t react adequately for me to feel healthy, safe, or even somewhat comfortable.
And so, in a sleep deprived, dysphoric, and overstimulated haze, I came to realize, that despite how much I might despise my own needs and personal challenges, if I don’t respect them, I’ll end up dead. If I don’t learn to honor those things, I am not honoring myself, and I end up hurting those around me.
So, to those I hurt in my all consuming shame, I am truly sorry. There is not justification, and there is no expectation for forgiveness. We often char others in our own fire, and it is our jobs, to eventually understand how a fire can heat, and protect, but also burn down.
