Much Ado About Nothing?

Hello there, everyone! I suppose that in comparison to my past few posts, there are relatively few concrete events to discuss this time (if it gives you any idea, I am sitting in my living room watching Friends and doing laundry right now). Nevertheless, at the risk of overinflating the importance of certain intangibles I feel that a lot has happened to me recently. Over the past week, I have gone through so many ups and downs that it's difficult to even put them into a coherent scheme, but I believe I'm beginning to digest it all a bit more.

Before I get too far into this, I would like to preface the post with a provisional apology of sorts. I know that I HATE to read about and/or hear people carry on about their feelings incessantly, so I'm hesitant to stray into that self-indulgent territory. However, I also genuinely believe that what I've encountered these past few days is just as much a part of my study abroad experience as the sightseeing I do and the classes I attend.

Perhaps I should explain. When I wrote last week, I touched on the fact that I had felt a bit unexpectedly homesick when I was sorting out my class concerns. Although I was doing better on Wednesday and Thursday, the unease remained and even flared again over the weekend. It was set to be a grand time, with the Arcadia students taking a trip to Belfast to learn more about Northern Irish culture. All this was great...until, of course, on Friday morning I woke up with the stomach flu right before we were supposed to leave. Our program liaison Grainne very kindly bought me a cup of tea to settle my stomach before the bus ride. I got to Belfast without major incident, but for the rest of the trip I didn't see much of the city except for my hostel bed. As you might imagine, this gave me a solid chunk of time to feel sorry for myself and wish that I was back in the United States. What surprised me is that I wanted more than anything to be in California for those few days--not in Washington, the place with which I most strongly identify my concept of "home." Somehow, though, I suppose being ill has a way of making a person want to revert to the most basic level of existence, safe in the care of family and free from adult responsibility.

After I returned to Dublin, my illness--and my bad mood--persisted. Having gone three days without a full night's sleep, I was physically drained and dreading the school week for which I knew I was unprepared. In this frame of mind, I grew increasingly discouraged about my time abroad. It wasn't so much that there was anything wrong with Dublin in my eyes, but I felt a disconnect from my environment. Yes, I had been living here for a little over a month now, but I hadn't gotten the sense of home that I had expected yet. Moreover, I was afraid that this was a personal failing, that maybe I had chosen the wrong place, that I was doing study abroad "wrong;" after all, peers had assured me that study abroad was the best part of their college careers, and my supporters from home had eagerly anticipated me having the time of my life here. I didn't want to disappoint them or myself.

While it would be overly simplistic for me to ascribe my entire negative view to outside circumstances, I have to say that getting my first full night's sleep in a week last night and feeling almost normal health-wise today have done wonders to improve my outlook. Yesterday I promised myself that I would skip my last class without guilt in order to rest, recover, and recenter myself for the remainder of the week. As a result, I found myself at once both more invigorated and more settled and was able to enjoy the end of my week. I attended a great lecture for my Early English Language module this morning, wherein we discussed illuminated manuscripts and Anglo-Saxon poetry. My enthusiasm in lecture revealed that so many avenues have opened themselves for me here, and I am happy and confident in my course of study in a way that I don't think I ever have been. In contrast to the burnout I encountered last spring, I can really see myself attending and enjoying grad school for medieval history when I graduate from Puget Sound.

The real turning point, though, came just this afternoon when I went to pick up a care package at the post office that had come from my Pi Phi sisters back in Tacoma. The candy and well-wishes lifted my spirits considerably, but the part that struck me most was actually just the process of going to retrieve it. Stepping out into the chilly fall breeze and inhaling the homey chimney-smoke smell of the air around me--the moment didn't feel imbued with any special significance; rather, the very ordinariness of it was what I reveled in. It just felt so normal, so natural--routine, even--and that's when I realized that perhaps I feel more at home in Dublin that I had previously acknowledged.

I'm not going to claim that I think Dublin is perfect and that I have no reservations left about my time here. Then again, I'm not ruling out the possibility of me coming back in a couple years, either. At this point, I think that I'm only beginning to understand my own jumble of thoughts and emotions surrounding my semester in Ireland. Chaotic though it may be, the ongoing struggle and delight are authentic, and I feel liberated by the notion that there IS no right way to study abroad. Thus, while the confusion, identity crises, and day-to-day happenings that I divulge may match those of others and may even seem painfully conventional from an outsider's perspective, I can say with certainty that they are aspects of a process than I can claim as being uniquely my own.

Until next time (after a brief jaunt to Brussels and Amsterdam),

 Kelli