Panicky Packing

Okay, at least I have started packing a few days before my international flight. My possible permanent international flight or at least, the flight that is moving all I foreseen needing in America with me out of South Korea.

But I am baking. Cookies. Because I had the ingredients for a recipe from scratch, a cookie mix from home, and an oven. Sigh. Yeah, I am baking instead of stuffing clothes into boxes or suitcases.

And I am depressed. Not just because I lived my life with my heart unaligned to the true north of joy. Not because I let someone pick me apart and dash me to pieces. But also because I am really leaving my home. The first and only home I made on my own. No family, no roommates. Only temporary pet guests.

Everything of my life from the last two years is coming before my eyes again. So many memories. So many hopes. So many disappointments. So many dreams. So many joys.

I am American for sure. I have way too much stuff. I have so many things to recycle, throw away, or give away.

Good bye home. Hello homelessness.

What will my life include in the future?

At times like these, I don’t always want to walk forward into the new future that awaits me.

Opening up to Love

I have been pretty badly heart-broken.

I can ignore it.  I can trivialize it.  I can even forget it for a while.

But I still have a broken heart.

A heart that doesn’t trust love.  Or people who say they love.  A heart that doesn’t believe in kindness, honesty, selflessness, comfort, or healing.

But today I was waiting around in the classroom and picked up a book called “Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul”.  Not a book I would typically read because I don’t go for those kinds of sappy, amateur stories and I am a decade removed from teenage.  But I had time to kill and it was lying on a table needing to be re-shelved so in between the table and shelf I flipped it open.  And read a single story.  A story of a girl and her grandmother.  A story of feeling alone, isolated, and full of loss.  The girl tells her classmates about her grandmother and also about her death.  And after telling herself it was foolish to open her heart and be honest, she receives anonymous support.  A gift of lilacs like the ones she saw with her grandmother and words of encouragement.

And I am encouraged too.  People do sometimes care.  We can be rewarded with love when we open up our hearts to others.  And we do have to open up ourselves and be honest – to not be alone and miserable.

Of course, we all want to be loved.