(Let me preface by saying that Kyle and I feel extremely blessed. Don’t let this post confuse what I am feeling at this moment with the joy I feel at being given this amazing opportunity. We are so grateful for so many things, but I wanted to express some of my frustrations. The color of the day is blue.)
As I sit here writing, I find it hard to put into words what has happened in our life journey up to this point. Every volatile and erratic detail peppers our story of where we are and how we got here. Many of you know that Kyle and I have been hired by a school in South Korea to teach English. We have talked about our plans to go to South Korea for a couple of years now, but I have been hesitant to write the words South Korea on this blog. This circus show we call our life, started performing acrobatic somersaults last July 2007 influencing my uncertainty. Words spoken and words written hold unequal tenor. Spoken words are fleeting and can easily drift into melody. The written word holds permanency like chiseled stone. If for some reason our plan failed, and I wrote the words South Korea, my failure would feel all the more oppressing and humiliating. Each week a new development emerges from the rubble and ash of the previous week that changes everything we knew and understood. Two weeks ago we were given a deadline for Kyle to complete his coursework. The goal was attainable, except for one professor's unwillingness to budge. From the ashes we devised a plan to hold our positions by having me fly out early. A week of fingernail chewing passed and no news had arrived until yesterday.
When we got back in the states from Chile, the plan was to leave for South Korea in March. November had arrived and yet here we were, still in the U S of A. Our next plan was for July, and then September and now December. Time after time, plan after plan our spirits were heavy yet remained high throughout the adversity.
I received an email yesterday from the school affirming that if I come early, fly the 18 hours by myself to a foreign country, leaving my husband behind, our positions would be held. I had asked to be allowed to stay through Thanksgiving, allowing Kyle enough time to graduate.
I read the email with little enthusiasm. My heart fluttered with fear and anxiety rather than the joy I should have felt. I should have been ecstatic. I should have been jumping from wall to wall unable to contain my exhilaration that we hadn't been fired as we feared, but those happy emotions crawled deep inside to hide in the depths of my flesh. Shrouded from the world, they were insulated from the pain and hurt that undoubtedly would follow. They have learned that reserve rather than exposure is the safest path. Numerous times we have been sated with hope, skipping down the road to the Great Wizard of Oz, only to be met with the Wicked Witch knocking us back further than we had come.
Instead as I read the email I felt fear. I was fearful that something might happen as it always does, preventing our dream once again. I have lost my trust. I have lost my trust in the system and in the world. We have trusted that Kyle would graduate five times now, and yet he still lacks his diploma. But my fear does not stop there. Let's say that for once our plan is met without any roadblocks and Kyle has an uneventful graduation, I will then have to fly to Korea by myself and wait for him. I have had many adventures in my life, and I would consider myself to be venturesome, but as I look back I realize that every one of those adventures were with my husband and never once by myself. I am afraid and sad to be leaving him behind. Not only will we miss our first Christmas together, we will also miss our 8 year bench mark of being a couple. Many couples, especially military couples, often deal with times of separation. We are strong. We love each other intensely and I am confident that we can do this, but I wish we didn't have to.
I sometimes wish I were a child again. Children go into the world, fearless and unknowing of the dangers that lie ahead. Their spirits are full of life and hope. But adults age and in their wisdom learn to build walls of distrust and fear. I don't want to build a wall to the outside world. I want to experience life and enjoy it without reservation. I have to trust that one day I will be unafraid and hopeful. I have to trust that my now despondent heart will once again soar with the eagles.
To end this on a happy note, and to prove that I am not actually depressed, I am going to once again list things in my life for which I am grateful.
1. We have an amazingly supportive family that has encouraged our many pursuits.
2. Our wonderful friends who continue to help pull us out of blue moods.
3. The daily sunshine and good weather.
4. We will be able to spend Thanksgiving with our family
5. Kyle's laughter that always brings a smile to my face.
6. The wonders of technology allowing Kyle and me, during our month separation to be able to communicate daily.
7. Freedom to write and express myself. Thanks for listening.