Update

I have tried a new experiment this time. Rather than in one moment writing out all of my thoughts, I have kept a record of my thoughts and feelings over the course of the last week. The result is a little more disjointed than usual and in some ways more personal, be warned now. To give the short of it, this week was a few thousand steps backwards in terms of my emotional journey coming home. Additionally, I was hit is a new set back, my research project needs to be completely redone. There goes nearly a year of work. These are some of my reflections and while I could have kept them to myself, I did feel some need to post them more publically. I still don't know why I prefer this medium of sharing my life, perhaps it is because I acknowledge that I am not wise or experienced enough to understand myself and by publically stating it I hope for some kind of help. This feels more real. An honest acknowledgement of myself. It is a way to embrace who I am, because if I don't share it then it suggest there is something I dislike or am ashamed of about myself. Well, I suppose I should get on with it. These musings are for another time. 

It is amazing the need I feel to impact my surroundings, to truly inhabit them. I am suffocated by the endless fear that my absence will not be felt, particularly in a space I enjoyed inhabiting. If I've found a home, a place worth being, then I want to mark it as my space, wrap myself in the scenery, make an indention in the matter that makes my absence a void, a reminder that I am not there. For I know that to be forgotten is a true death. To be forgotten by people you care about, a more true death than any in mortal flesh. (I find the drama, while melancholy in nature, also peaceful because my feelings are melancholy in nature and weigh me down. It makes me sad to think that honesty and phrasing make others rebuke and mock my feelings. There is truth in melodrama. Sometimes things are felt strongly enough to warrant strong responses. Just because language seems extreme it doesn't mean I don't have the experience to judge it so and or that I am trying to manipulate people into being sympathetic.)  It feels as though my life before England was filled with half emotions. To feel is to be alive. I remember the haze only interrupted by Gencon and moments of embarrassment. I recognize that memory is an untrustworthy historian, and I'm sure there were a few happy moments as well as there were sad ones in England. Memory is all I have and I think back to the moment where I sat beside someone I cared about and thought, come a months time or two, I will be sitting somewhere else, far from this person and the new place will feel more real than this moment. This space will be only memory and imagination, a pale replacement for real life. I will begin to question its reality and make fictitious accounts of this experience. It will no longer be the present. I will lose its presence in my self and I will be entrenched in an experience which lacks even an ounce of the life I so enjoyed. I will be trapped in a foreign place which I have no desire to impart myself into. I will mourn a space I left more strongly than any person who still inhabits the space around it. Because I know that my impact will be lost. Like an impression in snow, my presence is impermanent. I will be forgotten. I will die. 

and no, it will not be a quick death. It will be a slow one. Like a terminal patient, I will get many visitors for a time, then fewer and then none. I anticipate the loneliness and that loneliness when it comes will be unbearable. 

The emotions I am having are unstable at best and self destructive at worst. My back has clenched in more ways than I can count and despite spending an hour meditating and trying to relax, I only felt a deep pain in both my upper and lower back. I get anxious all of the time, often without reason. I have been prone to burst of anger so red and hot that the thought of punching someone or something was appealing for the catharsis. I feel like I can't rely on my friends because they don't quite understand these feelings and many are struggling with their own version of suffering. To rely on them would be cruel and burdensome, Particularly when there is little they can do. Sympathy or empathy are unhelpful as while they may alleviate temporary stress and frustration, when those feelings are constant, it becomes disingenuous. My attempts to find solutions have all been met with failure and I am stuck and hopeless. I just need something to change and I've run out of options or the only changes I see are ones that are worse. 

My family suggested medication or therapy and that terrifies me more. Why should someone live a way that makes them unhappy? Taking medication or even therapy feels like treating a symptom not a cause. It is a step to live with a situation, giving up, making a situation bearable. Why shouldn't we listen to our feelings? Why do I feel like everyone denies their feelings and expects me to do the same? 

One of the struggles is that my life is filled with so much tedium that there is often little time to seek alternatives. I waste my time with my courses which aren't preparing me for my future career and are meaningless boxes that I have to tick to receive a piece of paper that says I'm competent enough to continue my education. It is remarkable how little this year will impact my future and I am left questioning why it has to happen at all. I've taken the MCAT and my applications are sent out. I struggle to see how this year is making me a better physician and given the struggle it is to live through, I wish that I didn't have to bother. 

I have found some calm, today or yesterday, and this is through the realization that I have to find some way to make being alone fulfilling. Which for an extrovert like me is like asking a person to live in a desert with no water.  I read somewhere that happiness is about action. It is engaging in activity which makes you happy. Passivity is never going to make a person happy. And I do try. I have tried many times to actively pursue happiness, but with little luck these last couple months. It is funny, in moments where something resembling the activity I once liked occurs, I become giddy with emotion as all the emotions and outlets that have remained bottled up spill over. Similarly, in those moments alone, I still find the pain creep out and suffocate me. Where I thought I was done crying, I find more tears and suffering. 

Convenience and Professionalism, or lack there of

I should preface this by saying that I am doing better, or at least some version of better. I no longer feel like each day should be spent in bed and the amount of crying has subsided. I even have a few moments I enjoy here or there. So, while things are better, there are still plenty of things which frustrate me day to day. I still get sad and angry and there are still days where my bed seems to be more attractive than spending another moment here.

I am fortunately more busy. I think this is one of the main things to improve my mood. When I am busy, I don’t worry about the future and feeling productive has always been something that makes me feel good about myself. Though as a result, I have noticed that my mood often parallels my level of busy, with the beginning of a week beginning better than the end or the weekend. It is a weird cycle that tends to contradict most people’s feelings about the week and it leaves me often not emotionally available when other people are up for hanging out.

One of the ideas that I have been contemplating these last couple weeks is the idea of convenience. How much of our lives as humans is determined by convenience. There seem to be many levels of convenience. Things that are convenient and you do, things that are convenient but you don’t do, things that are inconvenient and you don’t do them and finally things that are inconvenient but you do them anyway. Convenience also seems to be a sliding scale with the activity falling into a careful cost reward calculation. Humans seem most inclined to do things that cost little and have a large reward. That seems to be darwinian in a way and thus natural. But to do something that is inconvenient seems to be contradictory for human nature. What does it mean to do something that is inconvenient? Does it suggest that you are betraying some natural part of yourself. I’m not sure I want an answer, but it has been something on my mind as I consider how my life is structured now and how I want to structure it in the future. To what extent do I let inconvenience dictate my life, my relationships.

The other concept which has been popping up in my life a lot is professionalism, in particular the lack of it here at Jewell. It is a systemic problem of both the faculty and students here at Jewell to check their email and respond in a timely manner. I don’t care how busy you are, it is irresponsible to not be reachable by email. In particular, my pre-med advisor has been bad at getting to me about medical school aps, the athletics department took forever to email me back about archery, and most of all my sorority sisters are completely failing at being available. This lack of professionalism leads to me feeling alone and isolated. I’ve gone back to the old way of thinking that I can’t rely on anyone but myself to get things done. It becomes frustrating when you feel as though other people are holding you back. One particular anxiety I have is concerned with my medical school applications. I am still waiting on Oxford and my administration to handle my grades. Without my transcript, I can’t even submit my med school applications. The first deadline (Sept 30) is fast approaching and I am left stagnated waiting on other people to get their shit together.

It is an unending string of frustration here. Finally after nearly a week from when I went into the offices to inquire about archery they got back to me, perhaps the only good news I have had in awhile. I can’t rely on this community to support me. The infrastructure is weak. I never felt like I had this problem when I was in Oxford, even when I had two tutors bail on me.
In fact, my whole education here has been an unending string of frustrations. Last week, I came to the realization that a majority of my tutorials here at Jewell were from first time tutors. In fact, all the current biology tutors are tutors who has me as their first tutee. I have systematically trained and become the benchmark for all the tutorials at Jewell in the Molecular Biology program. The person in charge of my program now had her first tutorial experience with me my sophomore year. I can’t help but feel like my education has suffered from this string of misfortunes. Add on the fact that I am the single Molecular Biology major in my grade and that my experience was already unique to begin with. I just feel the weight of this frustrations on me every day as I am inconvenienced left and right by other people. As I suffer each strike against me that could have seriously negative consequences on my future, a future that I am already sacrificing for.

So yes, I suppose my latest emotional thrust has been one of deep anger and frustration and not one of depression. Still there is a sort of hopelessness that accompanies these frustrations, so much of it is beyond my control. A common theme of this year seems to be having to accept with resignation what is happening to me, because the commitment I made was one of ignorance but not without reservation. Now I am vindicated by the reservations I had but it is to late. I must lie in the bed I made.

Ennui

There were many times over the last week where I considered writing a blog post. However something I can only consider akin to fear stopped me. Maybe it was a fear that for once my usually blunt honesty would only reveal just how uncomfortable I was and by saying such things I would be dooming myself to accept the fate which is slowly killing me (not quite physically, but the parts of me that make me love myself).

The last few weeks have been many iterations of one step forward a few steps back. Like a receding tide, I could feel my self growing more complacent at home but at the same time this accompanied a sort of numbness that reflected a backwards progression in my mental state. Apathy and a sense of ennui accompanied my days. Fortunately, there were brief moments of something, (perhaps passion) as I anticipated and developed my costume for Gencon. I would consider this a plateau of sorts over the course of the next few weeks, just because in terms of emotional outbursts there was a sense of calm. And I began to hope that I had found an element of stability.

Gencon was everything I expected and then not. I could feel long forgotten excitement well up in me as my sister and I spent time at the convention hall the Wednesday before the convention. Or the various messages that I used to coordinate seeing the people who I only got to see once a year. But despite this, my anticipation led to no pay off. Even when I saw people who I had missed, or who had made my experiences at Gencon for the last few years something remarkably special, I felt little to nothing. I tried repeatably to enjoy myself, to get lost in the experience, but everything was filtered with at best gray apathy and at worst frustration. There were few moments which I could honestly say were lost in excitement or at the very least a fleeting distraction. By the end of Gencon, I was devastated. I had hoped for some relief from everything in my life that was crushing me, but instead found that the strangle hold that my mental state had prevented me from enjoying or find solace in something that was once so special and dear to me.

I didn’t have much time to consider this as I had to drive the very next day to university in Kansas City. It was surprising but being extremely sleep deprived as I was, did provide some comfort. For at least the purposes of the trip, I was not really capable of reflecting on my experience. It was nice to spend some time with my mom.

When I had gone to meetings about traveling abroad before I’d gone to Oxford, one of the aspects of the emotional journey was reverse culture shock. When I came home the two times, I would not have identified really any elements of reverse culture shock. I kept in fairly good contact with home during the course of the year and I was able to track any substantial changes in my home life (of which there were very few). Jewell, on the other hand, had changed so much that the only thing that could describe the plunge that my mental state took was reverse culture shock. Between having a new building which was finished the August before we left, a complete reworking of the classroom setting with the introduction of our new ipads, half the school population being strangers I had never met, and the many more subtle changes that just made me feel like this was a strange and foreign place. I immediately felt like a stranger and became heartbroken to discover that the people I thought I knew were just as changed. I felt very singularly alone. The worst of it all was that as a senior, who knew that a year was a short amount of time, I had no desire to become familiar with this place again. I felt myself withdraw and the first few days were mentally and emotionally exhausting.

As classes started, I tried to remain productive. There were only two or three problems with this. For one, there were many things that I no longer remembered about the process of registration and about reincorporating myself into the system, so understandably I had to deal with frustrating mistakes. The second was that I didn’t have a lot to occupy myself with. I came to Jewell with the fantastic revelation that yet another of my tutors had up and vanished and that I would have yet again new tutors for the coming year. Additionally, one of my tutors was still in the process of moving and would not be here until September. This meant that my work load was already a bit underwhelming. Two of my classes are physical education, which means no outside work. My remaining class, which I would come to realize, was going to be largely review as my combined tutorial work over the last term at Oxford covered all the material. So as boredom crept in, I became more reclusive.

I was able over the course of this time to remain in touch with the individuals dear to my heart in Oxford. But even that didn’t free me from the weight I was feeling about everything. One of the major problems at Jewell, is that there is very little to do outside of school work. The town square, which is the only thing in walking distance, is very dead most of the time and lacks adequate places worth visiting. This means that most free time must be taken up one of two ways, internet or drinking. Neither of which, I have at late enjoyed.

But here we are, come to the end of another blog post that is me complaining about my life. A life that for most people would be blessed. And I know that. The rational and objective part of myself is still at war with the passionate and emotional part of myself. As they duke it out, I fear that I will lose one or the other. The only conclusion I have come to is that I have changed so much that I no longer fit in this life, as defined by the activities and environment and people that surround me. So I feel constrained and beat up as I try to fit in here, to find a way to survive this chapter of my life. So, I’m sorry. I’m just another privileged person unable to delight in the privileges I have. Who with a cry for attention, can’t just accept the way things are and is therefore so weak. I would say I’m trying but I think I’ve forgotten how.

Family

I was hoping that after nearly a month of being home, I would be able to report a feeling of accomplishment and overcoming the deep heartrending mourning to my life in Oxford. But that is far from the truth. Over the last couple weeks, I have struggled with the question of what I want in life. Unfortunately, I have come up with few answers and while I manage to put on a facade of calm, I shatter at any moment.

I feel guilty when I see the look of disappointment in my friend's and relative's eyes whenever I mention the struggles I had during my travels in Europe. Frustrated at my lack of gratitude at the opportunity to see places they have never been, may never be able to go. It makes me want to hide my honesty, and frustrated in myself for not enjoying and being humbled by the experience. It makes me feel as though people don't understand the difficulties I encountered, and reminds me that I held similar assumptions about what an adventure through Europe would be. My heart drops whenever I see the heart break in my parents eyes every time I mention my unhappiness at being home and my desire to have the life I had in Oxford. It makes me feel spoiled, like a brat. Oxford was always meant to be temporary. And now I'm complaining and pouting about it like a child. This is a first world problem, my life at home is perfectly comfortable, with more things than I probably need, food, shelter, a family that loves me. Why should I feel dissatisfied and by feeling dissatisfied does that make me a greedy and selfish first world brat who can't recognize their own privilege. It feels as though the appropriate response is to move on, to smile and to look back with fondness and be grateful.

I am grateful. I am grateful for every moment good or bad that I got to experience. Maybe I'm not expressing it well enough. I am humbled by the opportunity, but in doing it once, I am reminded that the barriers for travelling abroad are not as huge as people assume it is. But I can't seem to move on. The last few weeks, I have been preparing for medical school applications. When I really and honestly looked at myself and tried to answer the essay question about why I wanted to go to medical school, I found a self-doubt that had not been there before. At first I tried to hide it and the result was mechanical and artificial. Then my aunt, who was my editor and a frequent reader of my blog, tried to showcase it, a decision I fought initially out of fear. For a moment, I thought I could feel pride in my doubt, in being human, but then the appropriateness of it was questioned and I was back at square one. These months have taught me that no one wants to see your pain and your struggle. I don't blame them. I wish I didn't have it either. I rationally want these feelings to go away, to remain resolute once again. I want to stop feeling like a problem and a burden. I want to feel grateful and humble. But when I can't just will the emotions away, when I can't stop feeling the way I am feeling, it only feeds into that self doubt, that self-hatred. So each week, rather than getting stronger, I feel myself getting weaker and guiltier as I see the people around me get fed up in dealing with me.

I spent the last week of my life on the annual family camping trip. In the past, this tradition has always been one of my favourites. Each year, a good majority of my mother's side of the family between 14-18 people all go camping at a different location around the US (and sometimes Canada). I have seen so much of the US in the 10 years that I have been allowed to go. Since there are so many people, the trip is fairly structured with an itinerary of events and most meals planned out well in advance. Now one of the things about home that I have struggled with is the lack of people, so I was optimistic to see a large portion of my family that I had not seen for over a year and to be surrounded by so many people. This year we went it Chattanooga TN, a beautiful location along the TN river near the border of Georgia  and nestled between some of the mountains of the Appalachian. I was immediately optimistic when we rounded the corner and I was reminded what a natural location the city had and was reminded that I never did get to go hiking like I had wanted to. Going abroad really has given me a greater appreciation for the beauty in my own country.

The first full day was relatively low key. We went to the farmers market and I wasn't all that impressed. It wasn't as large as they touted and there wasn't much worth looking at. The live swing music was probably the best part. I did manage to find a jeweler who made really fascinating Jewelry and ended up coming home with a bracelet. The second day, we went to the aquarium and then had a walking tour of the city of Chattanooga. I started this day in a bad mood. I was in the wrong head space to enjoy an aquarium or anything. I wanted to sulk. I was frustrated by selfishness I had displayed that morning and the reminder that my behavior was inappropriate for an adult. I walked passively through all the displays of fish, and other than noticing the impressive design of the place, was not all that wowed. I'd managed to cheer up after lunch a little, by means I'm not particularly proud of. The walking tour gave me the chance to appreciate the city of Chattanooga which has in recent years become a very artsy city and with its natural hilly nature, an active city as well. I couldn't help but think that such qualities were ones I desired in wherever I settled down in the future.

Tuesday, I was really excited. It was the day when we were going to be on a mountain and I was anticipating some natural climbing and hiking. Could I not have been more wrong. While I did get to see beautiful views, some of which supposedly stretched 7 states, the whole experience was artificial and touristy. Rock City, the main attraction was little more than a park, with paved pathways and no freedom to explore. Not to mention the hokey gnomes and artificial Mother Goose cave. I was disheartened by the whole experience and in an effort to cheer up my active spirit my mom made the promise to try the next day to do something more active. Which we did. The unscheduled day that we always have on Wednesday was my favourite day of the whole trip. Usually, I go to see a summer blockbuster with my dad, but this year, I went rock climbing with my mom and uncle before going to the Hunter art museum. Both experiences were fun and I really enjoyed the company, something I haven't really had in awhile. We even got my uncle to rock climb with us and the ache in my muscles the next day made me smile. The museum was also loads of fun and well designed. The experience reminded me of the time I'd been to the Chicago art museum with my uncle.

Thursday we went to the Jack Daniels distillery followed by an afternoon at the nearby tiny town, which was an experience, but not a particularly memorable one. The distillation process and steps were all very interesting and it was a pretty good tour for being a free one. The nearby town, which amounted to one stop light and a square was not really worth visiting, given that the three things that were sold were Jack Daniels memorabilia, Confederate Memorabilia, and Biker gear. None of the demographics I particularly fall into. It was also a longer drive than anticipated, and I wasn't to pleased by the passivity. There are others though, who found it quite enjoyable and so I am happy to have gone.

Friday was our final day and we went on a river cruise. Now I don't know how my uncle managed it, but we were on the yacht which was beautiful all by ourselves. The captain didn't need to speak on teh loud speaker but instead sat in the bar with my family and talked about the area. I took the opportunity for some alone time as I found myself desiring more and more solitude as the week went on. I read on the front of the boat, enjoying the sun and the nice breeze that came off the front of the boat.  I enjoyed myself and the really nice boat. The rest of the afternoon, we spent at camp before going out to dinner. Everyone was packing and getting ready to leave the next day, and I found some relief at the idea of going home. Dinner was a Mongolian restaurant that was fairly good.

By the end of the week, I felt more stressed than when I had left, something I didn't think was possible, and to top it all off, when I did return home, I found I couldn't relax. Instead I felt anxiety. I tried to go to sleep early, but instead I found I couldn't really sleep. Which brings us to this moment now, where I got up and decided that the best thing to do was blog. Putting feelings to words allows me to look at them objectively, separate myself from those feelings that are burdening me. It doesn't mean they go away. Once again, I feel I should apologize for my honesty. I know people don't want to read the ramblings of a child, and many probably think that this honesty is better left to a private diary, but I've never been one to shy away from truth. Or fear exposure. I will keep trying, which is all I can do. Fortunately, Gencon is just on the horizon to distract me. I have a lot of costume pieces to put together, but I am excited for it. And excitement has been a difficult thing to muster lately. Until next time.

~KH

Reflection: Keeping it Alive

So it has been over a full week since I've been home and I would say that I have settled in and to some degree gotten over emotionally the loss of the life I had in Oxford. I want to speak to some of the things that I felt and the thoughts I have had about this past 9-10 months and to the things I have done since I got home.

My time in oxford was all about self-discovery. I think that is what studying abroad is actually about, less to do with learning a new culture (to be fair you can do this online) and seeing new places (things are less significant to life than people) and more to do with introspection. I tried to be self aware through the whole process and about half way through I reached what I would call happiness. I began to understand that I as a person had always been looking forward. I oriented my life towards a nebulous goal, to the next step in my journey, a future that I hoped would be better than my present, because I was under the assumption that as a young person, I was still building a life, not living it. During my time at Oxford I was given the time to settle down, to build a life that was all my own. My perspective began to turn towards the now instead of the future. For once in my life I relished the moment and made decisions for the present moment with little concern for my future. In doing so, I put the future I had imagined into perspective. THe future is unknown, uncertain and you can't despite your best efforts, predict it. The now is entirely in your control. You chose how you feel or think. You chose what you do on that day, who you spend your time with and what activities you devote yourself to. Living in the moment was all it took to make me happy. In the moment I could focus on those components that made me feel good about myself, such as exercise, competition, productivity, creativity, cooperation and company. I learned to thrive in a new environment with little structure or support and it felt good. I was really happy.

Coming home was like dying. That may seem a bit mellow dramatic, but hear me out. Everything I had built, everything I had been apart of, everything that made me happy and the structure necessary to participate in those things were suddenly gone. I came home to find the frame work that I had always had, the life I had had that was so future oriented. That told me that I had to prepare for Medical school, I had to anticipate some future event, because right now was only a stepping stone for tomorrow. My heart and mind revolted. I was a different person to some degree at home. This person wasn't happy. This person was too focused on the future and forgot how to live in the present. Each moment in this person's life was agony. This person didn't have any of the structure that was necessary to go to an archery range, to exercise regularly, to see people that mattered to me (other than my family, the one exception of course). I became moody and angry. This life had been all about distractions. Video games, television, projects, books, everything in an effort to distract myself so that tomorrow would come faster. Probably the hardest part, it was extremely isolating. Other than my family, only one or two other people were close enough to visit, I had gotten used to being surrounded by people, people I enjoyed getting to know and spending time with. I felt so alone. I began to resent the future that I had made for myself. That distant goal that was in many ways nebulous and uncertain. For the first time in my life I felt true doubt at the direction I was going and the things that I wanted. It was easy when the present wasn't demanding your attention to live floating towards future, but now the present was a blaring red sign that said, you are not happy, why are you here, the decisions you have made in your life is wrong.

But here is another aspect of life that brings me some relief and some trepidation. To some degree, you can't control how you feel. Your body doesn't like being under stress and I knew from experience that eventually my feelings will change. I will feel differently. This pain will be a memory, a distorted one at that, and I will move forward with my life. This thought makes me sad though even now. Because I have realized that the thing I want from this experience most of all is significance. I want my year abroad to be significant and a part of me that shows. I don't want to move on or past this experience. I don't want it to fade away. I want it to remain alive, because this experience brought me a lot of joy. So that is my next endeavor. To keep this experience alive, I'm just not entirely sure how. I used to be someone who always had an answer, even if I didn't "know", I had an educated guess. I don't have any answers or any clue how to move forward. I feel lost and conflicted. I suppose that is what life is about, struggle.

So despite all of my moodiness, my last week has been very busy. The day after I came home, my father, sisters, my sister's roommate, and I went downtown to watch the World Cup USA-Belgium match. One of the streets downtown had been closed off and three large screens were put in view of the street so people could watch. As we walked around downtown (my dad works there), I was surprised that I actually found the buildings downtown pretty. Sure they were more spread apart but there were a lot of interesting architectural buildings and beautiful parks and everything that I could have found in Oxford. I was mainly surprised because I thought Europe would have ruined my sense of architectural beauty in the US. We are a young country. I fully acknowledge that and Oxford is a beautiful city, but as I walked down the city street towards the game, I couldn't help but think, my home town is beautiful too. The game itself was a bit of a wash. Not because we lost, football is an exciting sport to watch, but it was too crowded and people were smoking and blowing ash in my face. It was nice to get out, but I didn't enjoy it as much as I would have.

Two days later, my sister and I went to the Vans Warped Tour concert festival for the day to see our long time favourite band, Anberlin, perform on their last tour before retiring. It was the first time I had been to Vans but it was lots of fun. There were 7 stages with tons of music of the Rock, Alternative, Indie, Rap, Metal, Electronica genera. We saw lots of great bands and most importantly Anberlin. It has taken me 7 years to see them in concert. I have made many attempts but something has always come up. It was great. I knew all the songs and was in the second row. They sounded as good live as they do in recording. At the end of their set, they went to their booth to sign things and meet people. I raced with my sister to get in line and we got the shirts we had bought earlier signed by the whole band. I also got to shake each of their hands. It was great! We went home a bit after that, a bit worn from the day, but overall it was good.

The next day was the Fourth of July and that was a day of some conflict. I found it difficult to be patriotic when I was missing being in the UK. Once again I would like to stress that I don't necessarily find the UK to be better than or superior to the US. I do like some aspects of the US. I was missing the life I made and the people I met, not the country itself. My family went downtown to watch the fireworks and it was a nice night. The firework show was pretty standard and I enjoyed once again being at a public event. But it did give me time to reflect on what it means to be patriotic. Even I found some of the patriotism a bit over the top. I definitely think that I am more globally oriented. Still it was nice to spend time with family.

The rest of my week was running errands and preparing the many things that I needed to get done this summer. It feels nice to be productive but I also occasionally feel cooped up and can sense myself waiting or just wanting to distract myself for a tomorrow. I still find it difficult to enjoy the day. Fortunately, I have been keeping in touch with some people from the UK and that has made this transition easier. I feel less like I'm losing that life all together and more like it is still there waiting for me, I just hope that I can come back. At the request of some people, I will probably still post to this blog every once in awhile, though my life is likely to be less exciting. Where it was once a way to keep in touch with people in the US, it will now be a life line to the people in the UK who have become my close friends and family. So until next time,

Adventures Await

KH

Ending a Journey

My final week in Oxford was a mix of heart break and joy. Most of the students had left Oxford with only those still suffering from exams around. Of course this also meant that those people who lived in Oxford were still around.  I found myself avoiding being alone at every opportunity, taking the moment to spend time with the friends who still remained. Of course the risk with spending time with those people is only strengthening those bonds and making it even harder to come home.

I don't regret anything about my final week. Rather in growing close to them I was able to live entirely in this one crystallized moment. The week went by quickly. I didn't do much archery, as the arrangement with the university and local club had ended and I had no place to shoot for free. Instead, I hung out with friends, watched shows, and played video games. The stress of the week was getting to me, and my sleep schedule became more erratic and I slept a lot more than normal. This didn't help with the speed at which the week was going by.

At the end of the week, a few archery friends who were still around, finished their last exams and we celebrated together. All of us were on Novice squad. Novice squad was probably the best thing for the archery team. The bonds that we developed by spending so much time practising and competing in a sport we loved, made us very close. Friday evening was particularly hard. There is a point where we all sat in the hall singing songs, holding each other and weeping. I was overcome by not just the fear of never seeing them again, but also a dilemma.

Never had I ever questioned the path that I had decided for myself. Never had I ever felt like I was sacrificing something for my dreams or aspirations. Never had I ever been confronted with the workaholic ambition that has driven me to this point in my life. In this hallway, I looked forward and saw two paths, one in which I continued to go to medical school in the states, only to potentially return to Oxford once I was an established doctor, or one to go to medical school at Oxford and perhaps sacrifice my career potential to recapture my time here in Oxford. Of course both of these decisions would be delayed by a year, and many of the components of the life which had made me so happy here in Oxford, would not be the same in just a years time. The only thing I knew was that I didn't want this experience, this opportunity to fade into memory which is at best unreliable. I didn't want the bonds to fade or to become meaningless in the expanse of my life. As I sat their, holding hands with some of my best friends that I had made, I didn't see how either eventuality would preserve the elements of happiness in my life. No matter what I did, I felt like my joy would be fleeting and my happiness more so. I despised the prospect of starting again and again, rebuilding and losing, rebuilding and losing.

The next day, a large group of RPGsoc came out and celebrated my last weekend in Oxford. We went to the Thirsty Meeples board gaming cafe and played games for much of the afternoon, before heading to a pub for food, a second pub for drinks and finally seeing a movie. I also got to spend the morning at the Ashmolean (crossing off another thing on my list). I was so touched that so many people wanted to come out and play with me. It really confirmed the sense of community that I gained from this year and only served to provide another instance of loss and frustration at the prospect of building a new community for myself.

My final day in Oxford, I spent largely packing. When it came to that evening, I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to lose the remaining time I had left to unconsciousness. So the last night was spent wandering Oxford at night and pretending to be a tourist by taking those touristy photos at night. It was a good way to reflect on my time here and also to take the opportunity to capture Oxford at a time when people were more barren.

Getting little sleep, I left for my flight early this morning and it was not without its tear felt good byes. I figured that I could sleep on the plane and thus was not too bothered by the lack of sleep. But then, travelling is never easy. I had plenty of hassle through every security check point and customs seemed ill equipped to deal with a student who had spent a year abroad moving home. Fortunately I got through everything, but not without being over loaded with baggage fees. I did sleep on the flight, but it was far from restful. Many times during the process I was brought to the brink of tears. I didn't want to leave and travel was already making it hard.

Just as before, I was overcome by the familiarity of travelling in the US and was saddened as I already felt the image of Oxford fade, just a little. Safe to say I am exhausted and that there is little I want to do but sleep. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other. Expect a more extensive reflection once I have had time to process and sleep. To those I have left behind, I can not be anything but grateful for everything I have been given during this process. This has been a journey of a lifetime and I hope that it doesn't grow stale but instead remains an ever present part of myself. Until next time.

Adventures Await

KH

Mourning

I wrote last week that this week would be a week of heart break, but also hopefully celebration. I would say both occurred but there was something to be said about the way I was able to react to it.

I started the week going to what at that time I thought would be my last archery fitness session. I cried the whole way there, overcome by feelings of loss and loneliness, but managed to put everything together before I arrived. It was a small and relatively quiet session and afterwards we went to the bar nearby and had dinner together. Talking more generally about archery as a sport for women. It was during these discussions that I was once again overcome with a loss, particularly a loss for the community and resources associated to archery that I would no longer have access to in the States. Archery has become very special to me and I spent most of the week frustrated at the way in which I would need to start over back home.

I stayed up most of the night that night preparing the final update for role playing society. During this session, everyone got an opportunity to discuss their character and plot that was going on but may not have been relevant to everyone. It is always a bit of a long and wield-y affair, but worthwhile. This became the first of many moments of good bye (but then it turned out I would see a good chunk of these people throughout the week anyway). I was not overtly sad, but rather sombre, and subdued throughout the evening. When I returned to my flat, I spent a few moments, just sitting outside, rationalizing to myself the situation.

Wednesday was yet another fair well ceremony as the final archery social came and went. At this point, however, I had lost the feelings of sadness for one of detached numbness (not good) but I found it difficult to feel. I still enjoyed being around everyone in a way, but I could tell that my perspective had switched.

Thursday was a welcome distraction as I went to visit people I was not saying good bye to yet and just enjoying an afternoon of board games and company. They day flew by to quickly and it was a nice opportunity to hold my head above the water and no longer anticipate my leaving. Of course that evening following my last university archery session, I had to say more good byes and the numbness returned in full.

Friday I made an effort to distract myself yet again and was pleasantly surprised to see most of the role playing society again. I went to a concert to see The Mechanisms, a really interesting band which integrates sci-fi fantasy story telling and music. One of the singers is a member of role playing society and I got to meet him over the last society game. The stories are often twists on old mythologies in a futuristic sci-fi way. It was a great show and I really enjoyed it.

Saturday was about "official" good byes from the college. There was a valedictory service which was all dressed up facade of a good bye that an institution can give. It was short, thankfully, and this allowed me to spend the rest of the evening with a variety of different people, from walking in the park and getting ice cream to spending all night wandering cornmarket just chatting. It seemed that as the week went on, I became more and more capable of distracting myself.

Sunday was my final archery competition in the UK. I shot a Bristol II which is 6 dozen arrows at 60yds, 4 dozen arrows at 50yds and 2 dozen arrows at 40 yds. I was exhausted from the night before and also ended up volunteering to arrive early and set up. But I managed to hold it together throughout the day and shot a fairly good score of 1001/1294. Only 36 of my arrows being outside the 7 ring. I was pleased with myself and given that the competition was small, I very easily acquired a gold medal. Additionally, I shot my third first class score which means that I am eligible to purchase a first class badge demonstrating my ranking as a first class archer. Hopefully this will be coming in the mail soon. As the day wore on, however, I found myself less and less able to present a façade of happy contentment. Rather, I struggled to look anything but exhausted and depressed. The night ended with yet another hard good bye.

The hardest part about this process was not saying good bye to all of the people, what I thought would be the hardest part, but rather about contextualizing this experience within my life. I have spent a year here in the UK and it is still very much present for me. However, I know from past experience, that when the present becomes a memory, it no longer feels as real. Memory distorts itself. I loved this experience as it was in this present moment, but the present is so fleeting that I mourn the loss of its reality. I know that in a month or two this memory will have grown stale, less engaging and I will move on with my life. Hopefully I can keep some of it alive by staying in touch with people, but it will never feel as it did. I mourn the fact that I can never recapture it, that any misguided belief that I could recapture is just that, misguided. Even if I came back here, it wouldn't be the same. People move on, people grow and change. It is both wonderful and also the reason that despite everything, coming back here would not solve the problem. You can't fight change, you can't fight entropy, you can only remember and learn and mourn it.

This week I will remain around Oxford and do those last minute things and say my last minute good bye before returning home. The freight train that is reality is speeding towards me and I feel numb and lost. I try to enjoy what I have left, but I feel less capable of living in the present, than I ever have. I'm sorry that this last blog post is less than enthusiastic or joyful, but it is the real me, as I have always given it. Until next time,

Adventures Await.

KH