Reborn

Three years ago I stepped off a plane at Incheon Airport in Seoul, not knowing what I was exactly doing. Who I was then is certainly not who I am now. And I am forever grateful for that fact.

Weeks leading up to the initial departure of myself I had trouble breathing. I would be completely calm and then I would feel my heart begin to race. I couldn't take in sufficient oxygen to satisfy my lungs and I would stop and think, "what is wrong with me?"

I went to the Google doctor and diagnosed myself as having panic attacks. I didn't understand why I was panicking. Wasn't this what I had always planned on doing after I finished university? I was going to be reunited with two of my best friends from my adolescent-hood and I had planned to pay off my student loans, go on to grad school, then earn my doctorate like so many of my fellow English majors from Roosevelt University.

I realize now they weren't panic attacks. They were labor pains.

Well, not labor-labor pains. Allow me to explain.

I was about to be reborn. I was leaving the care of my mother and entering into a completely new world where I would have to fend for myself. Make friends. Learn a new language. Be misunderstood. Learn how to walk. Everything that goes along with a becoming a part of a strange, new society.

When I emerged from customs and saw Kat for the first time in years, we hugged. And like any newborn baby, I cried. I remember Kat asking me why I burst into tears. I just said that I didn't know. Because I didn't. I had no idea what was about to happen to me. Either did she. I don't think anyone knew, save for God.

The first years of childhood are all sorts of exciting. New places, new faces, it was all so fascinating. I knew from the first month of teaching that I wanted to be here as long as they would have me. I liked teaching. I liked being a part of an activist community (Mad love and respect for my V-DAY Crew).

I've learned much more about myself than I actually did in my real childhood. I learned how to live. How to love. How to be a better writer. A better teacher. A better human. These lessons were invaluable. And I'm still learning.

My mom would always tell me that getting a college education would provide me with the credentials I needed for my future. I used to think she was just trying to motivate me to finish school. In actuality, she was cheering me on to earn my own birth certificate. After all, I wouldn't be in Korea if it weren't for that piece of paper.

It's funny how everything is 20/20 in hindsight.

I won't say that there weren't missteps. There were always missteps. But with each stumble, I laughed. I didn't judge myself. And I picked myself up. My dad says that people don't count how many times you get knocked down, just how many times you don't get up. I thought I understood that as to never give up. To always get back up. And it is. But it isn't. I think the real truth is that even though we stumble, we should get up being thankful for it--because it brings you back to your goal. To your win. And when you accomplish what you came to do, someone will raise your hand and shout, "Winner!"

In fifteen days I will be heading back to Chicago and Florida for a month. Just a month. And I am excited to share who I was always meant to be with my family and friends back in the states. Much more that what blog posts, long distance phone calls, and status updates can bring.

But as excited as I am to get back to my family. I'm equally, if not more so, excited to get back to Seoul. My home.

Last year, I wrote a poetically written blog post about being in Korea. But as I set out to go back to the states after three years of living abroad, I know that Korea is not just a place where I am living. It is living inside of me.

Carrie Bradshaw, a fictional character--yes, I know; would always write about her great love. Not Big. Not Aiden. But New York City. She loved that city. And I totally understand her. Maybe I'll find an Aiden and a Mr. Big. But throughout all of it, I will always be in love with this city. My home. My Seoul.

Some say that true love is rare to find in this world. I don't know about that. What I do know is that, I hope all of you have a love like this. I hope you all have a place where you truly belong.