Self Reflection

The unexamined life is not worth living - Socrates 

Allow me to introduce myself - my name is Misha.  I am a walking contradiction.  My mind is usually in the past or better yet the future and it takes something significant to bring me back to the present.  I could describe to you my surprise when I figured out the smell my house had when I returned to it after longer than two weeks away wasn't just the universal scent of anyone's house welcoming them back.  If you have time I would like to trace the imprint the carpet would leave on my elbows when I leaned on the stairs to shout up to my mom asking if I could take a snack before dinner.  If you want I can teach you how to all but stop breathing when sneaking down some stairs at night to eavesdrop on your parents' conversations - and why mine used to call me Dumbo Ears.  Let me show you the list I have of things I want to accomplish before I'm 35 and the spelling of the name of the perfect dog I will introduce to my future family.  If you visited me at my colorful, bohemian townhouse on the west coast or maybe a modern, custom built home in the east (depending on which career path I wish to pursue - foreign affairs or writer/editor), you would be treated to fika consisting of fresh cake made from scratch and my current favorite concoction of herbal tea from the shop downtown that is owned by a dear friend of mine.  We would catch up after years apart and I would explain the indecision I harbor of whether to raise my kids with Japanese or Swedish.  Regardless, I would collect children's books in both languages just in case.  My kitchen would be my favorite part of the house, followed by the window-walled library that held a special shelf for the books or stories I published.

You should know I am suspicious of people whose resting face is always a smile, but that I am notoriously gullible.  I can tell you what paper tastes like because my brother convinced me it was cool to eat bits of my homework while bored in class.  What's worse is I got half the class doing it until our third grade teacher made us stop.  Let me practice my speech with you - the TED speech I aspire to share sometime during my life.  Perhaps you wonder why I hate dolphins so much and why I wash my hands so many times throughout seemingly random times of the day.  I have, combined, three fourths of a legitimate reason for both.  I can't whistle.  I can't sleep without applying my favorite Japanese lip balm and scented lotions for my hands.  I love to organize and I hate when people put their clothes, inside out, on the hanger.  I can't stand loud breathers or slurping noises from a mouth. 

I would like to tell you of my favorite childhood game to let my mind wander and trace each thought back to a source or an engine like the train cars I used to count during the long car rides to Colorado.  I can tell you the names of each of the crushes I've had since I was four, and tell you why most of them were only interesting for a month.  If you can keep a secret, I will reveal that my first love was my dad, and he's likely my last since I swore to myself that there was no better man on Earth and I would never marry anyone less.  I wish you could see my chubby face light up through our old home videos when he walked in the room.  For the record it was me, Dad, who broke the tail off the clay pig you made in college.  You can't imagine the guilt I felt when I snuck down to glue it back on with my white Elmer's glue.  Now you're asking why I wear a CTR ring on my left ring finger at all times - it's because I am married and promised to my best friend, Annie, who is tragically far from my embrace.  You wonder why I wear a purple and green bracelet on my right wrist, clipped higher up to keep it from falling off.  It's because those were my two favorite colors when I was in sixth grade and the boy I was in love with in middle school gave it to me.  Perhaps he will think to message me every once and a while when he reads this.

Now that we are acquainted, let me explain.  The pages in my journal are filled with memories and plans, musings and daydreams.  These cushion the spacings between the sporadic descriptions of my actual day to day life and the reason why I am almost finished filling up two journal books in five months.  The past few weeks have, in particular, been bulky when my mind was weighed down with questions.  I have, frankly, fallen into a self absorbed and tantalizing frame of mind where I try to figure myself out.  I want to know why I am the way I am, what defines me and particularly what my recent experiences have done to shape me.

Perhaps it all started with psychology class, learning about attachment theory.  I suddenly wanted to know what my parents did to raise two (in my opinion) great kids and how I would raise kids of my own one day.  My poor brain is weak to the enticing idea of wandering back through my childhood and planning my life in twenty years.  The result has been a plethora of events in my life - sensations, memories and quirks I've had.  As you can see I took you through the rabbit hole to random, cherished moments.  I have volumes worth where that came from, but does the way I organize my pencil box or my aversion to licorice tell me who I am?  It's the easiest way I know how; it is certainly easier than to examine every crucial moment of my infancy when my parents chose to let me cry or pick me up.  Writing is the only way I know how to figure out a problem without bringing in another party.  I was listening to a TED talk by my favorite spoken word poet, Sarah Kay, when she shared a tip - write what you know to be true.  I know my favorite number is seven and I love the smell of supermarket refrigerators.  I also know I have had a blessed life.  My family is stable and solid, my parents love me, I am not a war survivor or a victim of assault or crime.  I don't have a defining moment, a climax, in my life.  Am I looking on opposite sides of the spectrums of my life to find one?

Recently, it was suggested to me to look through a journal page or two from every month I have been in Sweden and notice ways I have changed.  I can't do that, see, because I am in an even more crucially metamorphic stage in my life than ever before.  I suppose that is the change; but all I know is I had barely a fraction of these existential emergencies two weeks ago.  I also want to know why, when I am currently on a year abroad for the purpose of a once in a lifetime experience to engulf myself in Swedish culture, is my mind anywhere but here during the hours I am left to my thoughts?  I joke around in Swedish with my friends by day, but put thoughts to paper by night.  I am on my way to becoming a daytime-functioning nocturnal.  I shared my concerns with members of my host family, to which they chuckled, "You are a funny girl, you are putting all this stress upon yourself."  I admit I am.

I will probably look back at this post and regret publishing it since it is not too relevant to my year abroad.  But then again perhaps it is.  This sort of self reflection certainly never happened in the States.  It's like all the sudden I realized the direction I wanted to take my life towards and I had concrete dreams and aspirations to strive for.  I would be so bold as to say that my year abroad and the sort of stretching my mind has had to do to make way for this whole new country is opening far enough to finally be able to accommodate the bulk of an existential crisis.  The fact that so much change in myself has occurred which is noticeable to me means I am probably the subject of a cosmic editing and revising assembly line notched into high speed.  The development in my character that has come about in the past several months takes the form of a new language, improved morals, more responsibility and self reliance, new friends and family, better (but bad) money management skills, and a new favorite city.  I must have read this all on a YFU pamphlet or something, because they have certainly delivered.

I think there is something about trying to teach your new family about yourself.  Your likes and dislikes, explanations for scars and funny sayings, favorite candy and least favorite activity.  On one hand you are trying to be a person they can live with for ten months, but on the other hand there isn't so much you can superficially hide or change when you will be living with them - for ten months.  You sort of meet yourself all over again. The self discoveries I have made while I am here have taught me things I will carry on with me throughout the rest of my life.  One who knows herself knows her strengths and weaknesses and how to make them better.  What could possibly stand in the way of all her hopes and dreams now?  My search for understanding has brought me to spoken word poetry, a new interest of mine, as well as (less recently) TED, and even to the comforting words of my batty ol' parents.  Turns out they know a thing or two.

Like usual, I want to express my gratitude for my year abroad.  I never knew I would learn so much about myself.  I remember thinking I would discover myself while I am here (before I knew exactly what that meant), but what I wan't expecting was that I have been here all this time - I have just never been aware of this much change.  So far I would tentatively say this change has been for the better.  I may pick up a few new quirks or a couple new pet peeves while I am here, but it's all the better to add to my collection.  At the end of the day, the person I am is the person I go to bed with.  I wouldn't mind if my companion is just a bit more refined every night.  I think I have started something great and I have made the first few leaps in the direction of self discovery.

Oh and before I forget,
It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance :)