Nap Inspired Genius

I love napping. I always have, always will. There are some moments when I feel guilty about taking my daily hour and a half nap in the Dominican Republic, mostly when I think about my friends and family in full time jobs or juggling grad school and internships and life and all of that, but then I fall asleep and the guilt passes. Sorry guys. I find that it's not the rest that I love, but that somehow when I come out of my naps and my brain is switching over from sleep mode to wake up and smell the coffee mode, I surprise myself with good ideas. It's where I've decided to take a vacation with my dad before I head home, it's where I decided I'm going to write a book, where I planned my outfits for the first week I'm home, and where I figured out a way to appreciate my last days here in a way that will let be thankful for the time that's left, and focus a little more on the present. I've mention my anxiety and my want to come home despite how much I loe it here a thousand times, so let's just move past that saga and pretend I've described it again, shall we? You don't really have a choice, so just nodd and smile. Obviously as the days become less in number, my anxiety is increasing because I want to go home and, as I mentioned before, I'm afraid somehow I won't make it. Call me irrational, it's true, but the feelings are real and they often take away from my ability to enjoy my time here. I've tried to combat it in different ways, and at night when I pray, I list ten things that I'm grateful for to remind myself that life is good, and beautiful, and full of happy things. As I've progressed through doing this, I've found that I'm focusing more on things I'm grateful for because I miss them, rather than because I am experiencing them here. And so, kind of subconsciously when I was waking up, I confronted this issue and decided to find one thing every day that I am not only grateful for, but that I could only have experienced here, in the Dominican. And thus, I am presenting this list to you. Some are things from last week, some are from this week. All only could happen here, and are things I would have missed out on if i did what I wanted and jumped ship last week. These are the things that are keeping me calm, and reminding me that no matter how tough some days are, how hard it can be to find peace amongst the anxiety, I wouldn't have given up my time here for the world. 1. A chicken laid an egg in my clothes today. Literally straight up roosted itself amongst my jeans, tank tops and shorts, and laid its egg in the middle of its make shift nest. It reminded me what it's like to laugh at unexpected surprises, and how much I like scrambled eggs. 2. Lacking a baseball, I watched Freddy's sons and friends play baseball with a child's bat elongated with a stick, and the tops of water jugs. It reminded me how even when people here have nothing, they make something work. It also reminded me how at home, we seem to need the best and newest of everything, and forget that sometimes its more fun to play with the box than the actual toy. 3. I lost horrifically in dominoes to my friend at the nursing home. I ended up playing with him by accident because my friend Ramone turned me down, saying his legs hurt. How that pertains to dominoes, I'm not sure, but I found myself playing with Julio, who was not only a better player but a better sport. I hadn't asked him to play before because he has Parkinson's and I wasn't sure if he had the muscle control to play. He clearly does, and can kick my ass. It reminded me not to be afraid to ask questions, and not to judge by appearances. 4. I got to sit in on a general assembly meeting at ADESJO where all of the community leaders come together once a month to air grievances and talk about what's happening. Understanding all of the proceedings showed me how far I've come in my Spanish. Hearing people bitch, complain and congratulate ADESJO reminded me of the importance of free speech, and of having an organization that not only  provides a safe place for people to talk and air their opinion, but relies on that as the basic function of their operation.  5. I returned to Rancha Arriba with Freddy to meet with some more people in the community and sort out some organizational matters. It reminded me how much I really do just love truck rides through the mountains. It also reminded me how poverty here exists on another level. How  5 dollars is something we may throw away at home, but can change a life, at least for a day, here. It also reminded me of the importance of sun screen as it was a very hot day. 6. I ate arroz con leche sitting outside on a worn out adirondack chair while looking at the mountains and a tree that looks like something out of the African planes in the lion king. it reminded me to be grateful for my view, because it will change in a few days. 7. I went walking and had to navigate my way around Spanish speaking children, motorcycles, broken irrigation tubes which cause flooding, chickens, cow poop, actual cows, big rocks, and scattering salamanders. It reminded me to look where I'm going, because I didn't and I fell.  8. I drank coffee with way too much sugar, and loved it. It reminded me how important coffee is to the culture, but more so how it's important to take the time and enjoy it. To take five minutes. 9. Upon waking up from my nap, Argentina prepared me two mangoes from their trees outside. Apparently when eating a mango, one is not enough and two is the absolute minimum. It reminded me how much I just really love mango. And how expensive they will be once I'm home. 10. Did I mentioned a chicken laid an egg in my clothes? Let me remind you. A chicken. Laid an egg. In my clothes. This is by no means a great list, or the best one. It's not perfectly written, grammatically correct or full of grandiose things. But it's helpful. Is helpful because it reminds me to be grateful of things everyday no matter how I'm feeling.  It reminds me that even when I want to be somewhere else, I can find something to be grateful for here. And it reminds me that as much as I want to come home now, it would mean missing these little things, which I don't think I could live without. And it gives me strength to make it through until next weekend, when I can be home and bring my heart physically to where it is emotionally. Until then, I will keep napping, keep living and keep listing. I hope you do the same.

Q & A

Our sophomore year of college, one of my best friends received a quote in the mail via a good friend from home. It was one of those quotes that comes at the right time, and speaks to you in a way nothing else can. It was one of those situations where you're forced to believe in fate and things happening for a reason, because that's the only way to explain how something so perfect shows up so unexpectedly. The next year, Kalin passed  the quote to me right when I needed it, saying it was time. It had done its work for her, and now it was time for it to help someone else. I, in turn, would later pass it on, and forget about it, much like you forget the little moments when life seems to just get in the way. About a month or so ago, when I got an email from a friend, the quote found its way back into my life. I smiled at it, thought how funny it was that it would find me across the world, and then tucked it away, again forgetting about the importance of the little moments. It wasn't until last week that the quote made its way back into my conscious, appearing at a time when I was questioning the meaning of my trip here. And there it was, that quote coming to serve me again. Written by Rainer Maria Rilke, it states " I would like to beg you to have patience. With everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for answers, which could not be given to you now because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer". It's one of those quotes, much like obamas book, that I didn't understand at the time, and even at different times in my life, after I've understood it once, I've failed to find he meaning again. It seems as if it only makes sense when the person reading it is ready for it to make sense. In other words, it's magical. Coming into my second to last week here, I would be lying if I said I wasn't ready to come home. My anxiety is at an all time high, and I'm tired of it. I'm ready to drink a grande iced skinny vanilla latte, and eat a big green salad. I'm ready to see people face to face without a computer screen in front of me. Struggling with this, I also started to struggle with what my time here has meant, what the meaning is, what I'm taking away from it, what I'll change about myself when I get home. And then that started to freak me out. Would I still be the funny Siobhan I was before? Would I be quiet and withdrawn for a little? Will I want to talk and be with friends, or hid away? Will I love the same things? Will I cry a lot? How will my life change? Will I even be ready for a full time job, or the full time job of looking for a full time job? Will I lose my Spanish? What will happen? Will I have time to do all my laundry? Will chocolate still EXIST in the world when I get home? As you can see, asking myself questions and begging the answers could easily drive me to insanity. Looking for answers to questions I don't have made my skin crawl, made my face hot, brought on a slew of tears, made me want to be home right now. Because I'm a control freak. Because I have to have the answers, and when I don't I get mad and anxious. Because I like to know what's coming, because I like to be proactive and independent and to make things happen the moment I want them. It's not instant gratification so much as its knowing that when I want something, I can work to get it. But no matter what I did,I couldn't fix this. I couldn't find the answers to my questions. Because, guess what smarty pants, they don't exist yet. And that's when the quote came back. And in a very un-Siobhan-like moment, my anxiety stopped, my chest cleared and I found the answer by not finding the answer. I realized, quite naively, that I'm never going to have the answer because I'm never going to stop asking the questions. In no way does this trip have closure, or even end once I get back to the states. I'm always going to come back here. I'm always going to try and figure out how to change my life to better others. I'm always going to look for new ways, better ways. I'm  always going to wonder, try to fix things, want to fix things. It could be here, it could be in education, it could be in my personal life. The point is, because I'm a person that never stops, the questions are never going to stop. And thus, just by living, I will have to find my answer. Because living is the answer. The questions that I'm asking can not be passively answered. They can't be thought out, but rather I have to act my way to the answer. And eventually, I'll find that I'm living it without realizing it. Or, I'll find another question. For some reason, instead of it being a source of anxiety, knowing this gives me some clarity. Maybe its because it takes me off the hook for not having an immediate answer to everything. Or maybe it's because if nothing is never really final, it means that everything is a process and thus goodbyes are only temporary. I don't know. What I do know is that I loved my time here, and I wouldn't take it back for anything, despite the hard days and tears I've cried, despite my anxiety. I know that I'll take it with me, and it'll change me. Maybe not right away, and maybe not in a way I'll notice, but it'll change me. With this, I also know that at my core,I will always want to go back home where I belong. I'll always be witty and sarcastic, because it's my defense against the world, and my best feature- Really its what draws in all my prospective suitors. And I know that no matter what, chocolate solves an anxiety attack.  Wishing you a day filled with questions, Sabrina

Cranky and Protective

My brother has always been really protective of me. It started soon after I came home from the hospital, and he piled blankets on me to make sure I stayed warm. Clearly his three year old brain had yet to learn about overheating or suffocating. When I was three, he saved his accident prone sister from driving her power wheels into the stream, and warned our parents when I almost drowned in a lake after falling through the ice. When middle school came around, he threatened to beat up the bullies saying mean things, and later in high school threatened to beat up the boy who tried to kiss me. No wonder I have bad luck with boys. College came around, and he'd always been a phone call away. He let me hang with him and his friends when I had no one, and even after just because they were more fun than being by myself. His protection has truly formed me into who I am today. It's why I feel bad for anyone who doesn't have an older sibling,and it's why I know I'll always have someone to turn to, even if it's just to put me in my place.  While I've felt protective of my friends before, it wasn't until last week that I felt the true force of what it means to try and protect something from someone meaner, someone ignorant. And I felt it not for a sibling, but for an entire culture. Learning from my brother, I got protective real quick, a d got heated even faster. The Lavery temper followed me here. Here's the thing. Having gone to Saint Michael's college, we were taught that doing service in another country first and foremost meant respecting the culture and the people. We were taught to go in with an open mind, to learn as much as we could and to be sensitive to the fact that we would not always understand the cultural subtleties or implications. Simply, we had to think of how our actions would be interpreted, both now and in the future; how they would affect our group, and the group after us. We were taught to think not of ourselves but of others. Oh, and we weren't allowed to drink or have sex. The small things. So when I started translating for a group of nurses, I figured they would all do the same. Put their lives on hold, put their needs on hold,in order to be here to better the lives of others. And granted, 99% of them did. 99% of them were great and wonderful. But haven't we learned that it's the 1% that can ruin it for everyone? And ruin it they did, at least for me. Simply put, there were a group of girls more interested in wearing nothing, in drinking until nothing was left, and of putting it all on the table than they were in leaving their needs behind and giving of themselves...in appropriate ways. Because most of my fellow translators were young Dominican men, under 20 for the most part, cute, Spanish speaking and kind, the girls went after them. And kissed them, slept with them, and from my view, used them. They came into the culture, and used it to their advantage. And who can blame the translators for giving in? What teenage boy wouldn't with drunk girls throwing themselves at them? So naturally, my Lavery blood kicked in and I got protective. And pissed. From where I stand, it was justified. Here's why. These girls came on a trip to help others, and instead were helping themselves to the culture in ways that were crass and rude. I don't care how much good they did during the day, they ruined it at night. Don't get me wrong. I get that going to a tropical island is sexy and fun and that you want to let loose a little. But you can do it with your pants on and in a way that doesn't disrespect the culture. Because at the end of the day, you're not only proving what your character is, but you're using the people here for your own gain, and making it harder for future groups. Because now, any white volunteer that comes through is going to be assumed to be easy, and there for a good time. And from personal experience, it's not much fun to deal with when those aren't you're motivations. Because when we get down to it, you're not falling in love with the boy like you say you are, you aren't going to keep in touch when you get home, and you're not going to marry him. So you leave, and what happens to the boy you just left? You used him, and you used his culture. I get that I'm ranting. I get that my writing is cranky and angry and might not make sense. I get that there are people who will read this and get offended. But guess what? I was offended. I was cranky and angry and therefore decided to write about it. Because that's what I do. And when you get protective of a culture, when you learn the implications and the subtleties, when you take the time to get to know the people, you can be cranky when people blatantly dont care. It's not about me knowing more. Its not about knowing the answers. It's about caring enough to think about your implications, to think about how your actions are perceived,to think about other people during the day and at night. And when I care so much about a place, and witness other people not giving a damn, mama bear comes out and she gets pissed. Brendan taught me well.  At the end of the day, I guess I also have to say thank you. Thank you to Brendan for not only keeping me alive and well during my formative years, but for also teaching me the meaning of protection. Thank you Saint Michael's for teaching me what real service means, for teaching me how to respect other cultures, and for making me sign a no sex contract. God knows I would have gone crazy without it (jokes, mom and dad). And I'll even give a shout out to the whores who came. Because without you, I might not have realized how fiercely Ive come to love this culture, with it's good and bad, or the extents that I would go to to defend it. And finally, thanks mom and dad for not letting Brendan suffocate me in my crib. Much appreciated. Wishing you a happy weekend, Siobhan 

Looking Back

I do a lot of looking forward in my life, a lot of planning. In college, notebooks were filled with appointments, schedules, colored coded sticky notes and plans for the upcoming weeks, months, semesters. God be damned the person that wrote in my planner in a free space; they were negating my plans, and my organization. As often as this is a skill, which I like to think it is 99% of the time, it can also make it hard for me to stop and appreciate the moment, to recognize where I've come from. It's something that I've blogged about in the past, and is something that I continue to work on. So what better way to work on this skill than to stop, take a moment and reflect on where I was a year ago, with all of you along for the journey? Let's go, seriously itll be fun. And just a little rainy. A year ago, I was sitting in our best friends townhouse, waiting for the next day with the hope that it wouldn't really come. The night before graduation is one filled with high emotions, stress, anxiety and hope that rain will stop and the sun will shine. For the record, the rain never stopped and I've got my water damaged diploma to prove it. The night before graduation turned into the morning of, where quite literally it could not have been a more epitomized moment of what our friendships were, of how our relationships acted out and of who we were within each of those relationships. We made a plan to eat breakfast at a certain time. Only half of us were ready, and sat down to eat. Tragedy struck in the morning, making celebrating a little harder. The stress of finding families, of getting seated ran some of us ragged. And I was not having a good hair day. True to saint mikes fashion, no one knew whether or not we were taking a big class picture, and we winged it. Just like we would for the next year. Graduation morning was not idealized. It was not perfect, or in many ways very pretty. Being shoved out of your townhouse by a certain date at the same time that you're forced to say goodbye to your best friends, while waiting for a new car battery I might add, is not glamorous. It's cruel and unusual punishment. And yet, we made it through, just like we made it through the first year of the "real world" as scary as it seemed. Looking back, the succeeding year followed much of the same pattern as graduation morning. Tragedy struck for some of our best friends, forcing us to look at what's important in life, what we want to take with us and what we can leave behind.  We realized that plans in the real world are a lot harder to make than plans on a tiny campus, and that sometimes we missed the simplicity of sticky notes and planners. We tried too hard, did too much, found mistakes and bumps along the way. We left home, came home, and tried again. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't pretty. There was a lot of rain, but we winged it and we made it through. Someone asked me a couple of months ago if life in the real world was scary, and as bad as he had heard. At first i wasn't sure if I was qualified to answer, seeing as I avoided the year of rent, car loans and 401k funds, instead moving off to a tropical island in the middle of an ocean. And then I started thinking that there is no one real world, but rather the world that we find ourselves in and make for ourselves. Moving to north Carolina is a different real world from landing your first full time job, or finishing grad school or moving out of a small town for the first time. But it's still real. Working in a restaurant is as much real world as making your own products or presenting in front of your company's CEO. Getting a parasite in the Dominican Republic is as damn real as suffering from a bad head cold in the US- you still find yourself missing home. So whose to say what's the real world? Whose to say if it's really as bad as it seems? You. You are. You do. Because the real world is what you want it to be. And as long as you dictate it to the degree you can, it's not so bad. The key to surviving, I truly believe, is listening to your heart, realizing that this is your time. That what you do is your decision to make. That where you want to go is under your control. So, yes, the real world can be hard. But you can change it. Yes, there are obstacles, but you can move them. And, as always, there are rainy days, but when you get to run through them with your graduation gown and your best friend beside you, they aren't so bad. I get that my voice might be annoying on this subject. After all, I'm not at a desk job, or any type of job. I don't know how to pay rent, or even look for an apartment. But, I'm here, in my real world, and I'm happy. I didn't do what I thought others wanted me to after college, and im happy. I created my own real world, and I'm happy. Sure, there are days that suck. But they pass, and I realize that where I am, what I'm doing, its what I was meant to be doing in this moment. And I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't tried. If I hadn't leaped, and taken away the safety net. So the point is, the real world doesn't suck. Your life doesn't end when you get your diploma. Your friends don't disappear once you cross the stage. Things change, yes. Life can be hard, yes. Tragedy hits, yes. But it's doable, it's manageable. And just remember, when your planner full of sticky notes doesn't help, it's still okay to wing it. Because that's when the fun begins. That's when, instead of being in a full time job you end up speaking spAnish on an island. And loving it. Happy graduation, and one year anniversary to my very best friends in the real world. I couldn't be here without your support, and cant wait to see you in a month. Love you, Siobhan

¿Habla español? Si.

I love translating. I love being able to hear what is said in one language, and change the message around to fit the boundaries of another. I love the fact that most of the time literal translations are impossible, either because they don't exist or I just don't know the words, and I have to work out a puzzle to decide how to express the same thing in different words. And, being the control freak that I am, I love the power that it provides. The way someones health or situation is in my hands, for me to fix. I'm basically a superhero. Who speaks two languages. AKA I'm more powerful than batman.  For me, the fact that I am able to speak two languages, or really 1.75, is some sort of measure as to how much I've accomplished here. I've said before that there are days when I feel like I don't do enough, like I could have done more, run farther, held more hands, spent more time with my host family. But the fact that I can create sentences in another language, can hold theoretical conversations and truly express myself is a mark to the fact that my time here has been worthwhile. I came knowing the basics, and nothing more. I'm leaving knowing another language. Obviously there are words I don't know, things I need help with, but I don't have to stare starry eyed at everyone when they ask me basic questions. I can respond, and make sense. If we are being honest, which I always (kind of) am, I also love the look of surprise that people have when they realize I can communicate in something other than English or forced sign language. It always starts with someone asking questions about me to whoever I'm with, assuming I just don't know. And when I start jumping in and answering for myself, the look of surprise never changes. It makes me feel like I have a secret weapon, again, even better than batman. While all of these treats make knowing Spanish great, my favorite thing about being able to translate is the ability it has given me to learn more, see more and do more. Because ADESJO and the sisters have used me as a translator, I have been able to see and do more than I otherwise would have been able to. I have been able to learn about the bee keeping societies here, and how bee hives are kept. Granted, I didn't understand half of what they were telling me in English, let alone trying to fit it into Spanish, but at the end of the day with a head about to explode, it was still interesting and different. Working with nursing students now, I've been able to learn about the health care system here, see different patients and visit new communities. I've been able to visit the domestic violence center, i center i didn't even know existed before translating, and hear about how this organization is working to combat a crime that is much too prevalent in much too many countries. I've got to meet new friends, see different perspectives and become an asset in ways I didn't think we're possible. Ive been able to meet more people in ocoa that are my age, as they have translated alongside of me. I've even gotten to boss people around in spanish, meaning I've been able to translate the famous attitude that i possess in English into another language. I'm sure they really appreciate that.  The Spanish language has opened doors for me. It's allowed me to learn in ways I couldn't have imagined. It allows me to connect with people on a level that surpasses hi, how are you. Of course, we can make connections with people with the simplest of phrases, with minimal language. But theres something to also be said for being able to dig deeper, to question more and not to settle for a simple answer because that's all you can understand. My fear in returning home is that I will lose all of this that I gained. That I'll come back in a year unable to speak, unable to translate. I think the loss of a super power is a lot more painful than never having one to begin with, which is why I will do my best not to shed this cape. Instead, I will let it keep opening doors for me, talking to others in Spanish and learning more about other cultures at home. I'll wear my Spanish cape out of pride, just because it took so damn long to sew. Wishing you a day whee you feel like a superhero as well, Sabrina 

My Slippers

Ok. Fine. I admit it. For the last week and a half or so I've been anti-blog. I don't know how it started, or why it came on, but I had the infection, and I had it full fledged. Even though I had a couple of ideas of what I could write about, nothing excited me. Nothing made the words jump put of my fingers. Nothing made my heart stir. And I confess, when that happened I wondered for a second if I had stopped being inspired here. The thought was striking, provocative and scary, seeing as I have a month and half left and the last thing I want to do is just coast through uninspired. It was with these thoughts that I started to get a little nervous about not wanting to write, and about getting hate mail from my dedicated followers, even if there are only two or three. Hate mail is hate mail. And then it happened just like it always does. Inspiration hit when I thought it wouldn't, and in a place I didn't expect. You'd think that after this kept happening, I would come to expect it. Apparently I'm a little dense. About a week and a half ago, on one of my down days, I went to Theany's house searching through her box of books to find some new material. Picking up three randoms, I was just hoping to find a book better than little women, which I was struggling to get through. Whoever said that was a classic clearly also thought that staring at grass growing was an invigorating hobby. What I found in Ed box of treats was more than just books: it was my spotlight on the world, and my life. I know that a lot of people think of books as a way of escaping; as a means of leaving this present life for an hour or too and engrossing ourselves in the lives of others. While I see that side of the argument, I don't think it holds water, at least not for me. It's through books, through novels and truly well done literature, that I've come to understand my world more. It's shed light on myself and my life, and made it possible for me to empathize with others, in different situations. It's through books that, yes, I've seen other parts of the world, but I've also changed parts of my own. When a novel is truly special, it changes us, shakes us, and moves us. Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese was one of these shakers. It was a book I was flying through, loving every page. And then it made me stop. It was a passage about halfway through the book that made me rediscover my inspiration, my want to write. It made me not only see the things that I struggle with, but except them as part of myself instead of casting them off like a smelly sock. After returning from an extended prison stay, the father of the twins in the books explains the importance of owning ones slippers. He explains that " the key to happiness is to own your slippers, own who you are, own how you look, own your family, own the talents you have and the ones you don't. If you keep saying the slippers aren't yours, en you'll die searching,you'll die bitter, always feeing you were promised more". Although it makes more sense within the context of the book, the point is simple: own yourself for good or for bad, and love it. Because its how we think of ourselves that often decides how others do as well. It was in this paragraph that I found my inspiration. Because, in my life, here and at home, I have a lot of slippers. And being here has illuminated them, some good and some bad. Looking back on my blogs, while I've revealed a little of myself here and there, I haven't truly owned my slippers, and I truly don't think I can keep writing, keep being fair, keep exposing my experience, until I do. So here, in front of the blogging community, I am going to own my slippers. Get ready for a whirlwind. I am Siobhan Lavery, aged 22. I am not married, I do not have children, I do not have a boyfriend, and I am not Canadian. All of these facts are disappointments and surprises to every Dominican I meet. More so is the fact that I'm not actively searching for a boyfriend to fulfill the supposed hole that exists in my life. I hate being taken care of. I am a girl who has the best family in the world, and really didn't recognize it until I was in college and learned that not everyone's parents are as supportive, and not everyone's brother is a great role model, leader and comedian. I am a home body, which makes traveling hard but worthwhile. My true passion in life is education, specifically special education, although someone here recently helped me realize that international service is also a passion of mine. I have the best friends in the world, and wouldn't trade their craziness for a more mentally stable group in a second. I am a person who loves to share my experiences, which makes it easy for my to talk to groups and help them shed light on their own time here. I can speak Spanish better than I know, and have a laugh that's ridiculous and sometimes contagious. I love chocolate, am fiercely independent,and have an attitude that, as my mom put it, follows me no matter what country I'm in. These are some of my slippers. These are my nice slippers. And then there are my dirty slippers that I've tried to cast aside, but that I have to own. I struggle with anxiety. I have a grave fear that I won't make it home to see my family. I always feel the need to tell people how much I love them in case I don't have another chance. I have a great anxiety about the fact that the world is rumored to end at the end of this year. Sometimes I can't breathe because of my anxiety. I struggle with my body image. I hate the fact that I haven't been to a gym since the beginning of January, although I also think its good for me to struggle with this. I fear that I'm not spending enough time helping others here, and that I'll leave with regrets. I'm afraid I haven't touched enough lives, even though mine has been touched by many. I hate teaching English even though I love teaching in general. I've realized that I can't live in another country for more than 6 months because I love my home too much. And sometimes I worry that I won't find true love in my life; that my standards are too high, even though I refuse to lower them. These are my slippers. These are my struggles and my strong points. And here's what I see. When you separate the slippers, when you categorize them, they are just things, material. But when you throw in the beautiful with the ugly, they become real. They became me. I am not who I am because I only show my beautiful side to the world. I am who I am because I am sarcastic, anxious, emotional and chocolate loving. I am who I am because next to my anxiety, I have a lot of love. And next to my strengths, I recognize my weaknesses. I wouldn't be who I am with only the good. It is the ugly slipper that has made me Siobhan. Its my slippers together that have brought me to Italy,Vermont, the dominican and the world at large. It is my slippers that will bring me home. So here it is, my blog to return to the world after an absence that felt much more profound than it was. And it's fitting that it would be a book that brought me back, as it's books that reveal myself to me in ways other things can't. My hope, for you, is not only that you never lose your inspiration, but also that you never leave your slippers behind. Wear them, and wear them with pride,. Happy Thursday, Sabrina

The Danger of Venn-Diagrams

Comparisons are a funny thing. It's something that we naturally do as humans; how does my butt compare to hers, am I having a better hair day or is she, or how does my life journey compare to that which others the same age are embarking on. It's something we learn to start doing at a young age, and in many ways it's helpful. It can keep us in check as we look to others to see what is socially acceptable and morally right. It can help us make decisions that otherwise we may be confused about. We learn to compare in school with venn diagrams, t charts and pro/con lists, and it's something we take out of the classroom and into the real world in order to make sense of the chaos that is life.

Last week, I realized first how dangerous comparisons can be, and then again how they can help us keep perspective. During my week off, I had a hard time with a bout of homesickness. When I was left to my own devices without tasks and activities, I found myself thinking a lot about home and what I was looking forward to. In a lot of ways, this is normal. I can't wait to see my family and to share small moments with them and my friends. But on the other hand, I started to live in the future instead of the moment. I found myself looking forward too often, missing what was right in front of me. I was too busy comparing and planning that I was tuning out the lesson that was right in front of me. Kind of like in class when I took way too many notes and then missed what came next. Some things never change.

And then last saturday I was delivered a blessing in disguise. The week before I was invited by an employee from ADESJO to come to his house and to a private pool with him and his family in thanks for the translating I had done for him the week prior ( yes, I now know enough Spanish to translate. Be proud of me). I honestly didn't want to go. I didn't know the family, and still feel awkward going places without someone in my DR family by my side. Plus the fact that I was going to have to put on a bathing suit after three months of eating platanos. But went I did, as I was invited and that's the nice thing to do- thanks for the lesson in manners, mom and dad. 
When I walked into the family's house, I was immediately struck with not only how nice it was, but how western it seemed. The kitchen was stocked with appliances you would find in the US, and was big and airy. There was American music in the background and I was spoken to in a mix of English and Spanish, as the oldest son speaks it almost fluently, and the mother lived in Canada for a while. Lunch consisted of chop suey over rice, and tuna sandwiches were made to bring to the pool. Taking a tour of the house revealed an actual shower with hot water, and other western comforts. And the time at the pool was spent much like it is in the US; occasional swimming with a lot of drinking and singing. At least, that's what happens on my family vacations. Overall, the day wasn't awful. I survived in my bathing suit, and only felt out of place half of the time. But I can honestly say that I've never been happier to arrive back into Freddy's house with the people that have come to accept me as one of their own.

Here's why. There was a moment when, in being spoken to in English and encouraged to eat my tuna fish sandwich, I forgot that I was in the Dominican Republic. The family and house was so western in so many ways, that it was as if a piece of this country and culture was lost. Not all of it, but enough for me to notice. Sure, the creature comforts there may have been greater, but at what price? If I had ended up living in that type of house, I guarantee you my experience would have been different and for the worst. I wouldn't have learned Spanish as quickly, I wouldn't have eaten as many platanos and I would have lost the experiences of the culture that I find so rich. I would have missed the sounds of the merengue music which were replaced by Bruno Mars. I would have missed the community coming to visit, and half of the family living in the same house. I would have missed the sounds of farm animals in the middle of the night, and I wouldn't have learned how many bucket dumps it takes for me to rinse the shampoo out of my hair. Would life with the other family have been easier? Sure. But I would have missed so much richness. I would have missed everything that I've come to treasure. 

It was with this in mind that I gladly came back to my little home, and hugged the family. It was with this in mind that I took my bucket shower, got dressed, did NOT put any make up on
( ha ha) and then left to go to church with the family, because that's what we do in this culture. And it was with this in mind that I realized that while being homesick is hard, and looking forward is easier than living in the present, I have to let it go. Home will always be there waiting for me, and the time will quickly come where I will go back to it. But this won't always be here, not in this pure and unadulterated way. I don't have a lot of time left to soak up everything here. And as hard as it is, I have to leave my pro con list behind and be here, in the now. As I learned on my LEAP retreat my second year of college, I have to stop anticipating and start participating. Comparing here to home won't do anything but make time go slower, and take me away from what's happening. Home will always be there. My friends and family will always be there. And I will be happy to go home. But until June 13, I also have to remember to be happy here. Because this will soon come to an end. Home never will.

Wishing you a wonderful (almost) April vacation!

Sabrina