So this post is going to be written nearly as confused as my emotions are right now, I suppose. I haven’t written in a really long time. Not sure why– maybe a combination of feeling like my thoughts aren’t worth reading, the fear that my thoughts aren’t all that profound, and maybe just feeling like there’s not that much going on in my life that’s worth writing about. Anywho, I’m feeling so overwhelmed by different emotions that I just NEED to spill.
Indeed, I am now in an intense time where I’m about to leave my home, the student village in Rimonim, after having lived here for the past two years of my life. Packing is a b**** and it’s bringing out all of these emotions I’ve had stored inside for a while regarding leaving this place. I haven’t kept perfect count, but I believe I’ve cried about 8 separate times today. I realize now that the move is much harder than I’d thought. This place is where I made some of my best friends. It’s where I went through a rough period of depression and also where I got out of it. Rimonim is where I learned to share. It’s also where I discovered that I can’t always smell the stank other people smell from my fridge, and that fermented vegetables may not be as innocent as I’d thought. It’s where I learned that it’s okay to be around people when I’m an emotional or physical mess, and that I don’t need to hide. This place is where I’ve drank countless cups of coffee with Vitariz rice-almond milk while watching the breathtaking views of the surrounding hills. Where I’ve spend countless hours binge-watching shows on Netflix. Gone on dozens of runs alone and with G, the funniest person alive and maybe the only person with the power to cheer me up no matter what state I’m in. And might I add, the only person I know who can make the dirtiest jokes while simultaneously seeming adorably innocent. This place has absorbed as much of my laughter as it has my tears (hopefully more laughter than tears, but if we’re being realistic, it’s probably even). Rimonim, where I learned to dance in front of others (with no “warm up” period necessary) and not think so freaking much about how good I look doing it. It’s where I learned that alcohol heals all wounds. Kidding. I realize now that I’m ranting. Oh wait, it’s also where I put countless hours of boredom to good use and finally picked up a guitar. Okay one more- it’s also where I realized that relationships are more complex than I had thought, and that they can hold both good and bad, positive and negative, fun and boredom, ups and downs, and it’s all good. Okay, now I’m really ranting. Basically, looking back, this place was pretty darn meaningful to me and it’s going to be really hard to leave.
As I was cleaning out my room just a half hour ago, I made myself do what I’ve been putting off for a while. I threw out two things that meant a lot to me, which forced me to confront thoughts and feeling that I have been avoiding. Unfortunately, when you’re a youngster moving around from apartment to apartment every few years, you can’t keep everything that means something to you. It sucks. So the first item I’m referring to is an adorable poster that the first and second-grade kids in our after-school program in the yeshuv made for us, the students, in appreciation for all of the activities we planned and did with them this year. How the heck does one throw out something so cute with so many precious spelling mistakes? Broke my heart to throw that out. I really loved working with the kids this year and legitimately miss those cuties.
The second item that I had to throw out, and I’m still a bit mad at myself for doing so, is this play-dough sculpture that I made with my client in fieldwork at the end of the school year. It was in a hospice and she was a relatively young patient suffering from breast cancer. The idea to make a sculpture was hers, and it was meant to be a frena, some sort of Moroccan oven that her grandmother used to bake in back in Morocco. We made it from her memory of her grandmother’s description of it. My relationship with this patient lasted a few months and was really meaningful to me (as well as to her, I believe). When I finished my fieldwork, she was still alive. The decision to throw out the sculpture was strictly practical, and made so many emotions rush forth, and confronted me with the question of whether or not she is still alive today. I’m not sure if I even really want to know and if I can currently deal with the truth if she is not. It feels really surreal to contemplate this as in some ways I still feel like a child. This episode is what threw me into my eighth crying fit.
So what I’ve learned today is that:
- A person can cry and laugh many times in the same day.
- Tears don’t run out that quickly.
- Breaking down into tears only takes a fraction of a second.
- Crying is a curious thing.
- Tears are endless, probably even scientifically.
- You don’t need a real reason to cry.
- I’m going to miss Rimonim a lot.
- Emotional eating is a real thing.
- Putting an unfinished bag of chips back in the cupboard is nearly impossible.
- Packing is a poopy thing.
Wishing for good new things this year! Amen 🙂