The year that was

A year ago today, I left London, unwillingly, sadly, and not on my own terms. Here are some thoughts, on what followed...

When the clock struck midnight last year, and we turned the page on 2011, I felt a sense of relief at putting that year behind me. 2011 began with hope at where I was headed, and 2011 ended, well, with hope at where I am headed. In between those two midnights however, there were a lot of hopeless midnights, where I felt the only place I was headed was further down into a well of black.

I had big plans last January, that included career advancement, European travel, and truly becoming a Londoner, and not a long-term visitor. Whilst, I was still reeling from my Grandma's unexpected death in December, I could easily see the positive road ahead. For the most part things were good. I had worked very hard to get to this place; months of low-paying jobs, nights spent unsure of my place, and struggles to understand English education at my job. I had spent so much of my time in London feeling uncertainty of job, money, and friends, I knew that was soon coming to an end. After all my hard work, I was almost there, just one more hurdle. The one I thought was surely the easiest, after finding a job, fighting to ensure that job stayed funded, developing my 'urban-family' support system, and learning my way around. I had done everything I was supposed to do, and soon, I'd be on my way.

Then February began and well, it all fell apart. The work visa wasn't coming, it was easier to get rid of me than fight for me, and a mere twelve days later, I was saying good-bye to the city, the life, that had become home. So, I headed back to my other home, where I had to figure out what was next. I had to figure out what you do when you've done everything,when you worked hard, when it still isn't enough. What you do when you miss your new home so much, but don't want to hurt those in your old home who just want to help you. What you do when you lived in a capital city and are forced to move back to the small town. What you do when you get accused of being superior, when the truth is simply that your experiences have changed you. What you do when your career is snatched away, and you have to find a new one. What you do when you hate being stuck inside, but don't want to be outside either. What you do when you feel betrayed, but still miss that which betrayed you, all the same. What you do when feel stupid for believing it would work out. What you do when you didn't get to say good-bye on your own terms. What you do when you are running out of hope.

I can't say that I have the answer to those questions; the only one I have is that, I think, all you can do is try not to drown in those questions. I think you do have to feel them, and you have to give credence to them. Perhaps, I wallowed, perhaps I spent too much time feeling bad for myself. I don't know. All I know is that the way I kept from drowning was to take the time to cry and be angry and talk about it and feel betrayed. To be grateful that I had some place to go, but still think it is okay that this shouldn't have happened to me. To understand that I am still relatively blessed, but to be mad as hell that this ended the way it did. To let time do what it does and scab over the wounds and let them begin to fade.

In time, I found another job. One in the U.S., but one that I like nonetheless. I have spent time with my family making up for so much time spent away. I celebrated my Mom's 60th birthday and my sister's 30th. I have started to reconnect with friends. I am figuring out what my next steps are. Where I am going; where I am headed.


A year later, I am still sad. Still angry. I still feel betrayed. I still miss London, my friends, and my old life. I am still caught with unexpected waves of nostalgia for a double-decker bus, my independence, and strangely at times, the smells of London. But, not all the time any more. I feel better; I have some hope again.

The ups and downs of the journey...

This is only my seventh post in 2009, and it is already November; I’m not even averaging once a month. This post is basically why I haven’t written much this year, which goes way beyond the standard ‘I’ve been busy line,’ but because I was dealing with a lot. I do hope that I’ve reached a point where I can begin blogging more often, that I feel up to it and have the necessary mental and time capacity. I’ve been wanting to write this post for at least two months if not more, and writing it is a bit like getting the monkey off my back and putting the past year behind me.

If you read my last post, you know I got a job in London after months of looking. And the looking was really hard and painful and discouraging. I applied to nearly 80 jobs, mostly in the non-profit sector, a fair few in the educational sector, and even a few in the business sector. [From an American perspective, 80 may not seem like that many jobs for all that time applying, but applying was about way more than simply sending in a resume and cover letter. For each job I wanted to apply to, I had to fill out an organisational-specific application, which normally wasn’t formatted very well, which meant a lot of re-formatting on my part in order for the application to show up properly. Within each application, I would have to invariably type out job titles and tasks, figuring out how to tailor each job or internship of my past to the specific needs of the organisation and job. Beyond this, I would have to write a personal statement extolling the merits of Sara, and why I should be hired.] [Also, if you are wondering why I now organise with an s and not a z, it was because I decided it would be best to try and be as English as possible, and I now work for an English organisation—I’m not deliberately being pretentious. I’m sure a month back in the States will knock it out of me.] It is absolutely not an exaggeration to say that each of these applications took, on average, four hours. This is on top of the five to six days a week I was working (often having to get up at 5:30 am, and you know I ain’t no morning person), as well as searching for jobs on a daily basis.

While the physical exhaustion was great, frankly, it was the mental exhaustion that I am still recovering from. I was told, (or often not told but my application went ignored) that ‘on this occasion I had not been selected for an interview,’ or that I didn’t have enough experience, or thanks but not thanks. I wasn’t shooting for the stars: I was applying for jobs that did not require the MA degree I just worked for, in jobs that barely paid above the poverty line. I applied to jobs that I had experience in, and in jobs that weren’t jobs, but volunteering in prestigious organisations, where I would not get paid but hoped to get an ‘in’. (I have a lot to say about this, but that’s for another post). From all of this, I had five interviews, and not a single one was with a NGO or non-profit. Not one.

All of this alone would have been enough to shake my confidence, I’m sure, but add the recession, the constant worry about money (I was the very definition of scraping by), and no existing social or family safety net, and to say my spirit was beaten down would be an understatement. There were so many nights where I would lay awake with worry, cry myself to sleep, or just simply wanted to go home. I think half the reason why I didn’t book a ticket was because I’d have to walk downstairs and the prospect of physically moving was out of the question. It was something I couldn’t articulate well over the phone or in an email, making it difficult for family and friends to help from the other side of the world. They tried, and they did help, because I always knew they were there. My flatmate (who is now on her own adventure, and has now moved solidly and forever into the ‘one of the best my friends’ category) spent hours upon hours listening and reminding me that I was in fact not a worthless person. The few other people who I have managed to make a connection with in this country encouraged me as well, and for that I am grateful. Without these people, I’m not sure I would have made it in London.

I recently went through and read some of my old posts on this blog. I remembered writing about searching for a peace within myself that I tried as hard as I could to make it work in London. When I wrote that post, I was miles away from that actual inner peace. It was somewhere I wanted to be, and at that point knowing it was half the battle. I was slowly coming to grips with the very real idea that I might have to leave London, that it didn’t actually matter what I wanted, or how educated I was, but that economics would drive me out. For a few months (around February to May) I was really angry with that. There weren’t many jobs to apply for, both because of the economy and because I began to eliminate almost any job to apply for that I wasn’t over qualified for. I didn’t try and explain how my skills were transferable, because I knew that at least 100 other people would have direct skills. The number of jobs I applied to within that period dropped because I was just so discouraged. There was a lot of self-examination and a lot of putting things into context. I began to really look at the concept of privilege, which is what perhaps let me get to a place where leaving London wasn’t the end of the world. So, I moved into a sad acceptance of the way it was, and mentally prepared to leave London at the beginning of September, when my lease was up and the lack of fundage would be critical.

Somewhere in that sad acceptance I got a second (or maybe a fourth) wind to give it one last go. A few more jobs were showing up that I could see myself qualified for, and letting go of the worry about if I would have to leave (because, I almost surely would have to) freed up some mental space. I was still tired all the time, and still worried about money, and still sad about leaving, but that particular fight was gone. It was freeing. Maybe that’s what allowed me to ‘see it.’ A job I knew I was highly qualified for, a job that I would like, working with students similar to my job at USM. Certainly that’s why I got excited. In fact, there were several jobs at this one organisation, and I started to think ‘surely I can get one of them’. Which was so different from the ‘surely I’ll never get one’ narrative working in my brain for so long. I think letting go of the anger about leaving London, left me some space for the positive. It was not easy, and sometimes I don’t know how I did it. And it took a long time, about 8 months in fact. But that positive feeling showed up in my energy level, and I think it showed up in my application, and it most certainly helped me in my interview.

The most interesting part of this is that the job that got me excited is not actually the one I got. It wasn’t even for the same organisation. The one I got I almost didn’t apply for, because I was afraid it was completely beyond my reach. But, because I needed to know I had done all I could, I went for it. And in the most extreme case of luck literally changing over night, I actually got two interviews in the same week. I only got one job offer, weirdly the one I thought I had no chance at. It still hurt a little to not get the other job offer, but truly it is about perspective. I was able to rationalize why I didn’t get the job, because I realise it could be that I don’t have enough experience, or it could be that I didn’t give it my all because I had the other job already, or it was just how the cookie crumbled on that one day. I felt dishonest feeling this way, like it was too easy to accept this. Yes, I was now on the other side, almost a traitor to my former self—where was the pain at not getting the job that should be there. I didn’t get that it was much bigger than one job offer. I think that feeling was truly earned. I think the blows to my confidence; to my very being that I worked through earned me the right to be okay with not being offered two jobs in one week. Because one job, one job that I knew I had the real potential to love, one job that would pay my bills, help me begin to get out of debt, and let me enjoy London, was enough. I was lucky, and thankful, and most of all relieved that it actually went my way when I was sure it wouldn’t.

And now here I am almost four months later. I am working in London, working with students, training and developing, and doing things I really like. The destination of the past ten months, the job, has not been a panacea to every bad thought I felt the past 10 months, and I don’t feel happy 100% of the time. I didn’t think it would. I still have very few people I feel like I can really trust or count on. I’ve had a few incidents that have shaken me lately, and tend to feel like I generally don’t rate very high on most people’s lists. But, I feel a million times better than I did, and when I get the urge to complain, I have tried to do it gratefully.

When I write about myself on this blog, I find it difficult to figure out how to articulate certain things. How do I say it was really hard, while making it clear I understand that the fact that I was living in London with an MA is a certain privilege? Heck, that I can view this experience as learning one and not one which plunged me into debt for all times, is a privilege. How do I explain that I understand my experience isn’t universal? Most importantly, how do not sound like this is a ‘just work hard and you’ll get what you want’ story? Because many people work hard, and don’t get much. I got lucky, both by birth and by accident. I don’t know if I articulated that well, but I do know it's true.

So I suppose to sum up nearly 2000 words there is this: The past year has been one of the most difficult times of my life. I think it is because I’ve been ready to tackle some issues that I might not have in the past, to challenge the way I have always thought, and to go through a process of discovery. To work for something in a way I have not in the past, to understand the difference between true complaints and whining. This past year in all its warts, its tears, its pain, has also been one of the most necessary in discovering what I am capable of and what my worth is as a person. The past year has been a very literal representation of ‘the journey.’ I don’t think all journeys need to be so painful, and I also know they don’t all end the way mine did. If my destination would have been different, I don’t know what this post would have looked like. The journey may not be more important than the destination, but it helps you recognise the destination for it is: the opportunity to rest, reflect, and let yourself off the hook because boy you sure did try, and then, to gear up for the next journey. Because, soon enough, there will be another one to begin. I do hope that my next one isn’t so painful, but if it is half as educational it will be worth it.

We are the World

When I was in kindergarten, I remember buying a Michael Jackson button at the Vineland Fun Fair. It was raining that day, so it was in the gym, and the button had a blue background and Michael was in a white jacket (I think). It most likely cost 25 cents, but man was it cool. It was also a really big deal one day during rest time when we got to listen to one of his records, most likely Thriller, (and yes I said record), in Mrs. Hawk's class. These lovely memories, along with good music, have always made me smile with regards to Michael, even as he became, more, ahem, odd. So, I think it only proper that I post a little something to say RIP Michael, albeit a week late. Hey, I was in Dublin!

Of course, if it is the the cheesiest thing ever, that's okay too. But really, what could be better, I ask you, than a little "We are the World?" It is a trip back to the 1980s, (which some of you will recall, were my home), and it really will make you laugh (and laugh) and cry (even if from laughter). But, honestly, I kinda like the song, I love the memories it makes me think of (which may be why I like the song) and for sure it gets stuck in your head.

So, here's to you MJ.

Saying Good-Bye, It's Not Getting Easier

I've recently returned to London after three great weeks in Missouri.  I had been almost a year since I was home, and despite a few changes to the landscape, most everything was the same. And it was great.  I love how home is always the same for me; I know what my house is going to smell like, I know where the floorboard creaks, and I just generally feel comfortable there. I love seeing my Mom, Dad, and sisters.  I love hanging out with my friends who really 'get me,' and I love not having to be so outgoing to meet people. After a year where I struggled in many areas, it was nice to take a break from all the worry.  It was basically my own version Cheers, since everybody knew my name. A few people even cried out, "Sara!" when I entered the room. 

After the holiday, where I got to see many people, but not everyone, I had to go through the whole process of saying good-bye again.  It was not easy.  I was just getting used to being home and seeing my family and friends when it was over.  Although I wanted to go back to London, and I missed London, it was very difficult knowing it would, most likely, be at least a year before I saw many people again.  

I have been thinking, as I re-adjust to being in London, that ever since I went away to school at 18, my life has filled with saying good-bye a lot. First it was to my family and a whole way of life, and then at the end of each year of school, good-bye to all my friends.  Then there was that big good-bye to college life and Truman State University.  Good-bye to all my friends from various work places when I left, good-bye when I left for (and from) Jamaica, and now again bye, bye, bye. And sometime, I'll probably have to say good-bye to London.  And after all of this practice, it's not really getting easier.  I still cry when I have to do it, and I still miss people and places, when I'm not with them.   All the time, actually, no matter where I am. I'm not depressed about it, I realized this is just how it is.   A price, I suppose, for moving around. 

Still, there is a reason why I keep doing it, and it has a lot to do with my desire to try new things and push the limits of my comfort zone.  While the past year was hard, it has also been an incredible learning experience.  It has allowed me to meet people I never would have, and learn so much about myself.  The trade-off of course is that the more people I meet and grow close to, the more people I will eventually have to miss.  But, I have decided, that I'd rather miss than miss out on something because I was afraid to say good-bye.  I think, in some sort of way, the difficulty of saying good-bye is a very real signal that all of this worth it for me.   And that all of you who are increasingly scattered around the world, and that I never get to see enough, have helped to make it that way. Because, if it hard for me to say good-bye to you, then the time we spent together really meant something.  Each good-bye is a representation of both beginning and ending, but more importantly, all that comes in between, the proof that I truly am making connections, learning, and growing.

Endings and Beginnings

I have come upon yet another time of change in my life, and frankly I've had quite enough for the past year. Since January 2007, I had three jobs in the U.S., got accepted to and began graduate school, lived in Jamaica, lived in London, worked another job in London, interned at two different non-profit agencies, finished graduate school, completed my dissertation, moved into yet another place, and said good-bye to (too many) people. Whew.

Really, it has been a bit much of late. Seriously though, the past year has provided me some wonderful opportunity for growth, both through good times and the not-so-good times. I've struggled to find my place as an intern in agencies when I was used to being integral in the daily decision making of the Service-Learning Center (oh geez, I almost wrote Centre). I've had to re-evaluate who I am as a student adjusting to not only new grading scales, but how I have changed (or not changed) since the last time, many long years ago. I've had to face the realities of a tight job market for the first time ever, and swallow my pride and be willing to take positions I feel I am over-qualified for. And then swallow it some more upon finding out I'm not even being considered for those, and ask lots of questions and make lots of phone calls to figure out what I'm doing wrong. I've celebrated reacting less emotionally in certain situations, but realized that on this front, I still have a long way to go. Duh. Most recently I have had to tell most, and soon all, of my newest friends, (my counterparts, my partners in this past year: my fellow classmates) good-bye as they left London to start their own new paths. I have struggled with the realities of living someplace where I literally have no support system anywhere near me and what that actually means, and wondering if I have the will to create a new support system. (I do, don't worry). But, I've also marveled at the opportunity and excitement that living in a new place, completely on my own, can bring.

I suppose all of this musing is to say good-bye to my year of graduate school, and hello to what comes next. I'm not entirely sure what this holds, but I know that for awhile, it is London. As is often the case with me, and I've written about this before, endings are sad for me. Even as I look forward to forging new relationships and building a new career, I am nostalgic for the past year. Part of this is of course the good times and people I met along the way; part of it surely is because at least then and there, I had map telling me where to go. I feel quite unsure about where I'm headed, although I feel like it is in the right direction. And writing all of this here is, I guess sort of "internet therapy," or not having to say it out loud all the time but still let you know, or maybe it is just because I enjoy writing, and they say write about what you know, and right now this is what I know.

Actually, it's probably just about me seeing how many commas and semicolons I can use in one post. I'm too tired to count, but if the goal was to use a lot I surely succeeded. Hmm, I think that is a byproduct of too much dissertation writing lately. But, actually, it is very indicative of what goes on in my head. People who know me well, know that my brain runs faster than my mouth, but my mouth runs pretty fast, and sometimes when it all comes out I wish I had the benefit of visual commas, semicolons, and parentheses to help me out.

Anyway, practically speaking, this blog may change a bit now that it isn't solely about my graduate school journey (since I started it as I was leaving). I'm still going to keep posting, but it may not always be so directly related to my life, as I presume that will become very boring in the upcoming months. (Which is, assuming it ever was not boring, which may be a fallacy of thinking on my part.) I will still keep up the picture of the week as I still have a ton of pictures and hope to keep traveling, once I get some money again. I'd also like to have more comments so if you're reading out there, let me know what you think!

So, now, onto my next challenge, and on that I will obviously keep you posted.

Well, my Mac is pretty (and the sun is too)

So, sorry folks, I know I was meant to post a few days ago. But, I have a great excuse, really do: I've been working on the dissertation. So, in honor (or is that honour), my picture this week is my Mac, and one of my two typing hands. 

[hears outcry that a picture of a computer is all there is]

Oh, all right, I'll throw you a real picture too. I've been thinking about Jamaica a lot lately, probably partially because my    dissertation relates to Jamaica, and partially because it has almost been a year since I left for Jamaica, and partially because it has been almost exactly six months since I lived in Jamaica.  One of the things I miss most about Jamaica was the traveling we were able to do. I literally went all around the island, up a mountain, stayed at a nice hotel and an African hut, and of course saw the beautiful sun set over the ocean.  For our very last trip, we went to Treasure Beach, someplace we almost missed.  We decided, very last minute, to go ahead and make the journey on mini bus, and thankfully, it was totally worth it.  Treasure Beach is quite unlike other places in Jamaica in that it is not tourist-y at all.  In fact, if you don't like quiet or don't bring along your own fun, you may find it boring.  But, we found it a great place to spend one last weekend together before we all left for our various holiday destinations. We had fun on the beach riding some of the biggest waves we'd seen on the island, and just enjoying each other's company.

Anyway, here's to Treasure Beach and my fellow Jamaican IPSL kids: I really miss you guys! (well, not Jerome. But that's just because he lives 3 doors and 20 feet away from me) This sunset picture, possibly taken from a camera other than mine, is for you. 

Bye Jamaica

Well, I can't believe it is already time for me to say goodbye to Jamaica. August seems both a long time ago and just like yesterday, at the same time. It is fitting that a tropical storm is causing the rains to come down this week, since a hurricane happened my first few days. Dean greeted me, and now Olga will send me on my way. Sorry to all you Midwesterners getting pummeled by ice and snow; outside of the rain it as been 85 degrees, sunny, and with a lovely "Christmas Breeze." In short, divine.

I have had an amazing semester here, meeting people, learning the culture, and traveling around the country. I have gotten to see each region in Jamaica, and do things many Jamaicans haven't even done. The picture is from Treasure Beach, a very quiet area in the south of Jamaica. I traveled there last weekend, and it marked my last trip with the IPSL group. We had a great time just relaxing on the beach, playing in the waves, and generally spending time together. I will see the grads in London, but for Alice, Kim, and John, after Jamaica, who knows.

I have to thank many people for my experience here. Mrs. Rattray for opening up her home and cooking for me each day. Her food was great, and through it I really got a "taste" of Jamaica. Geri (Dr. Hodelin), the IPSL coordinator for UTech, my Contemporary Conditions prof., and most importantly (at least to me) my Thesis adviser. She helped me out very much this semester, and also had us over to dinner. Also to Cynthia Onyefulu, Jennifer Hall, and Veronica Salter, profs who have taken us out or made food for us. Dr. Gordon-Bell and Mrs. Samuels, History and Literature professors who taught me a great deal. All the people at Jamaicans for Justice, esp. Louise and Andrea. Tameka who helped me so much, and St. Rachel who took me on a field trip.

I have many more thoughts swirling around, and I think I will try and tackle each topic in a separate post. I am also going to edit and post the Jamaica pictures over break. I know I will have just as many from London, and I don't want too big of a backlog.

My sister (Alexis) arrives on Friday and we'll spend a week relaxing in Jamaica, living the tourists life. Then I'm headed home for Christmas and New Year's before I fly out on January 8th for London. I am sure break will pass quickly by, and I hope I get a chance to enjoy it. If I don't get a chance to see you, have a great holiday and be safe!

Thanks for all your support, and I will post again soon, now that all my homework is done!

Saying Good-Bye...

I waved good-bye to my life in Kansas yesterday. It is hard to believe how fast two and some years go by. It was in 2004 around this time I started contemplating becoming a VISTA and moving to Leavenworth. It is amazing how much things have changed since then--after all I have found something I can be passionate about! I never thought three years ago how long I would end up staying in Leavenworth or how attached I would become. Yes, to Leavenworth, and especially all the people.

So here is where I tell you about all the hard things of the past few days. It was really hard to tell Monica (my Little) bye. I met her when she had just turned 5 and now she is 6 and half and going into first grade. It was one of the more difficult things in my life. It was hard to finally turn in my keys for Saint Mary and truly have that phase in my life over. It was hard to tell Kymberly and Justin au revior, my two constant friends. It was hard telling the other KC kids bye. It was hard to move out of Annie's and realize that we won't be around each other for the first time in two years. It was hard to say bye to Lexi when it seems like she just got back from Africa. It was hard telling everyone I have formed relationships with the past two and half years bye, those of you from USM, BBBS, and the other various places I met you! Heck, it was hard to tell my Starbucks and Cingular co-workers cio-abunga. I'm going to miss good ol' KC and I am definitely going to miss my Chipotle!

So this blog is all about my good-byes, because gosh darn it, I have spent the majority of the last few days either crying or wanting to cry. I promise the next blog, which will be soon, will be much happier. That's because it will be all about new beginnings and the next adventure I will be facing. After all, I was sad to leave all my St. Louis friends and my family two years ago and look what happened. I had a great time, grew personally and professionally a whole lot, and well, met a lot of new friends.

So to all of you friends I was blessed to meet while I was in the Kansas/KC area, I love you and I will miss you! Keep me in your thoughts and/or prayers and keep in touch. You are fabulous people.

See ya!

I'll Miss You Harry (and Ron and Hermione)

Well it is done. The last Harry Potter book has come and gone and there will be no more. I was so excited for the book, but I was also a little sad. As I read the last pages I was more sad than happy, not because of the ending of the book, but because the books were over. The more I have time to think about it the more I like it. I would say that I loved the first third and the last third of the book. The middle was a little slow, but I just think J.K. Rowling wasn't quite ready to let go either. Anyway despite what I didn't like, it was a great series and a great book. And I will definitively will miss you Harry, Ron, Hermione etc. Three Cheers!