Finding my Shadow

I saw my shadow this morning as I was traipsing across the street to head to my favorite Starbucks to grade papers and enjoy a venti americano.

I don't normally enjoy looking at my shadow. It represents a false self. It lags behind, reminding me of who I once was, never allowing me to forget. I've hated my shadow for a long while. It was she who told me I wasn't pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough, good enough. But I never once stopped to consider who created my shadow. Who gave her life. Who was responsible for her. It was me.

I wasn't able to accept the sun shining upon me with its graceful rays, so I compartmentalized all the bad parts of me and forced them into my shadow, trying to shake her off. Never once did I stop to consider the weight of what I was doing. Instead of casting off my worries and false identity, I cast off a mile long shadow. I shoved my fears under the bed because that's where monsters are kept. And I became the princess and the pea, always feeling the uncomfortable writhing of my festering fears in the dark space between my floor and box spring. I pushed the skeletons into my closet, next to the ugly prom dresses and the cute coat I bought at a vintage thrift shop that I would "one day fit into," but never did. Everything else was consumed by the shadow. Anger. Hurt. Envy. And she took it, never once complaining.

She never once said no. She never sighed as I piled more and more upon her. She gave me the space.

Later, I learned that when you are dealing with a monster, you must give it space to be a monster. Only then can the monster transform into who he or she is meant to be. I viewed my shadow with contempt. I filled her with every evil part that has been a part of me. But she never judged. Never wavered. She gave the monster space. I was the monster.

So when I saw her today, I looked at her differently. She didn't look scary anymore. She didn't seem like a mass of darkness. She was me. She is me. And she is rather beautiful.

I took away her anger and her pain. I threw it away. I took her rags that i had clothed her in and dressed her warmly for these cold Korean winters. I told her I was sorry. She forgave me. And I forgave myself for virtually shitting all over me. For not finding worth within myself.

My shadow doesn't trudge along behind me anymore. She dances all around. In front of me, at my side, twirling behind me, I've even caught her twerking. (Don't tell her I told you that, she'd be embarrassed. Still, she rocks it.)

So today, Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful for not being who I was, for being a better person for others but more importantly, for myself. I am infinitely thankful to God, Jesus, and for the path He has me on. Even if it feels as if I am treading water, I know He is there to help me walk upon it. I am thankful for my amazing family, friends, and work family--both at E-Spirit and ProtoStar. I am thankful and grateful for you, dear reader. Maybe we know each other and maybe we don't. But thank you for allowing me to share my life, my thoughts, and everything else in between with you.


Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Love and Light to you all.

Sick in the ROK

Many, many years ago, my great grandmother was living in Boston and she happened to cut her arm. Because she immigrated from Greece, she didn't speak English very well, if at all, and she refused to go to the doctor because of her lack of communication skills...well, in English anyway. She also didn't trust them because they weren't Greek, but that is another story for another time.

So the cut got worse. And worse. Gangrene settled in. And they had to amputate her arm.

When my Yia Yia told me this, I scoffed. "Come on," I'd begin, "that was stupid! Because she was too afraid to go to the doctor, she had to lose an arm? That's ridiculous."

Oh how privileged I was. I had no idea what it was to be a foreigner in a new land, and trying to make it a home. I felt no compassion toward this woman who I was related to but would never meet. Until, that is, I became her.

Wherever you are living, and then contract some sort of illness or mishap with your body, it's never a pleasant thing. But being an American was was living in an English speaking country, it mattered very little to me. The only thing that weighed upon me was the cost of treatment. And, as you are all aware of, it still is an issue that weighs heavily upon most Americans.

And then I moved to Korea. To teach kids. Who are the cutest little germ carriers ever. Make no mistake, I am not calling out Korean children as being dirty or germ infested...all kids are. And some adults too. Eww. ^^

Now I am the stranger in a strange land. I am Helen Tournas with my arm cut and bleeding.

In my first year, I was sick every month. New hours, new job, new kids, etc. Just sinus infections--nothing serious.

Then came my first real illness in Korea. I had this massive sore throat that wouldn't go away. I went through all the normal troubleshooting techniques I've picked up over the years.

Growing up, we didn't have a whole lot of money, so I relied on homemade chicken soup and vitamin C. When we were REALLY sick, that's when we'd see the doctor.

So naturally, for this first bout with sickness, I drank hot tea, made gallons upon gallons of chicken soup, and the like. Finally, my head teacher called and made an appointment for me to go to an ear, nose, and throat doctor. The ENT doctor spoke English but his staff didn't really. I was so afraid in seeing a doctor because my Korean was not efficient enough for me to say "Here hurts." I know that I live in Seoul, in Gangnam (Yes, that Gangnam) for that matter, and that many people speak English here. That didn't take away my anxieties that seemed to harden like concrete around my feet.

So the diagnosis? I had an abrasion in my throat. No clue as to how it got there, but there it was. And all the hot liquid I was putting on it was making it worse. (oops!) So I drank lukewarm to warm water, took the antibiotics, and I was at right as rain.

I have since discovered the Itaewon International Clinic, which is where I always go now. The staff is polite and everyone speaks English. I am spoiled. Especially when my doctor visits are only about $2.50 and the medicine is less than $10.00. I am insanely blessed here.

It's not easy being a foreigner. But there are some things that definitely make it worthwhile. I just wish my great grandmother could have been as fortunate as I am now.