If ever I take a break from writing, I feel compelled to explain myself when I resume.
On August 26, I flew back to China via LA and Seoul. Somehow I managed to get over jet-lag within a week, and threw myself into faculty meetings and preparations for the year. It's amazing how much easier life is this year. I know where things are, I know how to interact with people I can't talk to, and the culture shock is, well, less shocking. Surprises are amusing instead of mind-boggling, and I have a better understanding how to balance the expending and recharging of my time and energy. In addition, I've lost 30 pounds since August! Sounds like life's been pretty good, right? Yay for me!
So this is what I've been telling people. All of it is true. But that's not what's truly been consuming my energy, thoughts and heart.
A week before I left America, I experienced a significant personal loss. The blow was unexpected and savage, shredding me in ways that I haven't felt in years.* My fingertips were numb for days, but the rest of me wouldn't stop feeling. Goodbyes were stunted as I threw what little energy I had into packing for another year abroad.** Those closest to me took turns caring for me, encouraging me, or explaining how it would all be "worth it in the long run." Days blurred, and I kissed my family goodbye, and flew away from everything.
And then the Nothing. The loss, the Nothing, with its immense, commanding presence, came with me.
Every day I've looked at Nothing and responded. I've wished that I could quit, but quitting has never been an option for me. How can I? Life moves, and I don't have the choice to stand still. It feels like playing Halo with my brother.*** There's nothing I muck up quite so thoroughly as playing Halo with my brother. He's patient with me, but usually ends up laughing as my solider moves around in circles, shoots at the sky, or runs into a wall repeatedly as he gets shot. I'm proud when I can walk my character in a straight line, and ecstatic when he does what I intended him to do. That's how I've felt for the past two months. I look at Nothing, and try. Sometimes I end up huddled against a wall, trying to remember how to turn around before I get shot. Other times I walk in a straight line and duck when I need to. Unlike Halo, I can't opt out of this game with Nothing.
I'm stubborn. I get frustrated being stuck in this place that I don't want to be in, tired of the colors in my world being dimmed. God knows all things, but I don't. Sometimes it makes me angry that He leaves me out of the loop, even when logic tells me that it may be for my benefit. He's been patient with my frustration, leading me when I'm able to bear it, and not before. Look out for more on that in future posts.
It's been a grim season. I've learned that faith doesn't always feel sustaining, and that trusting doesn't always encourage the heart. One can trust and hurt. One can have faith and suffer. For the past two months, I've vacillated between wanting to hide inside myself, and wanting the world to understand how deeply this struck. My experience as a performer has been invaluable; I'm experienced at boxing up and setting aside my feelings to achieve a task, even if it feels unnatural. Much has felt unnatural these past weeks. It's only been in this last week that I feel like I'm coming back to myself a bit.
When I first re-entered China, I thought often about how I needed to update my blog. For the first three weeks, the idea of writing made my hands drop heavily to my sides. I can't lie here. It's one thing to wear a smile for a stranger, and it's another thing to write with shallow happiness. For me, to write is to create Something, and my Nothing was too agonizingly vivid. I write now to re-enter my writing world, to create again. It may not be pretty, but I have to start somewhere.
To all my dear friends who will be concerned on my behalf: I'm not alone here, just choosing a little quiet space. Many good things have happened in the past two months that have encouraged and uplifted me. I'm not going to break. :)
*To the person I lost: I still exist. Your silence is so very loud.
**If I failed to REALLY say goodbye to you, I apologize whole-heartedly. It was due to my pain, not to the lack of affection I feel for my friends.
***My brother and I do a weird variety of really enjoyable stuff so we can spend time together. Sometimes that includes late-night happy hour after 8-hr shifts, running errands across the city, picking out weird instruments in a soundtrack, or cooking really great food.
