Through the field of psychology, we learn how to understand people – a shortened statement often used to describe the purpose of our degree. We learn to empathize with pain of the homeless, the anger of the drunken man, the internalized shame many, to give help over judge the recovering drug addict and to recommend treatment over abandonment for the “bad” people of this world — we encounter the range of human experience before ever seeing our name neatly printed on paper. However, research has shown that we are fairly inept at applying what we know to our lives versus giving to those who need our guidance. Note: People are not “bad”. We all have experiences that we can react in a myriad of ways to so to define someone by their worst reactions to life is just poor character development and a lack of regard for their humanity.
Following nearly 5 months of travel, I arrived in Hanoi, Vietnam to begin teaching English as a second language. I quickly signed a 1-year lease and danced in my own naivety because I was here to ‘make it’. As someone with a level of persistence and grit for life has always bordered on a bit ‘intense’ (read: dramatic understatement), I knew that if I came, I would not return home. I do not quit in situations that push me toward growth regardless of the potential for collateral damage. I was and am here to grow, so in the hopes of continuing to reflect and learn, below will be an attempt at summarizing some of my pondering.
Upon coming to Hanoi, I forgot how to be alone or rather relinquished the gravity of fostering this ability in favor of people, places, and experiences that challenged me in other ways. Existentialists argue that we come into the world alone and spend most of our lives trying to sort out what it means to give our lives meaning in a world that gives us the agency to determine its meaning for ourselves. I think they were onto something. However, I have realized that putting this into action to enhance my own life means confronting much more than the number of beers I grab with a friend. As uncomfortable as it is to admit, upon arriving in Hanoi I began to face social pressures and the realities of being on my own that obscured the very reason that I had come. The question still stands though, why?
Humans are imperfect, inherently flawed but instead of facing this, many of us fall so deeply into self-hatred that we cannot even understand the degree to which we look for ways to run from ourselves. We run into the arms of another person or people to avoid feeling lonely. We run to alcohol for a buzz that distracts us from our thoughts. We light up as a way of tickling the senses just enough so that the edges of reality blur. We seek to escape. My mom was an expert escape artist. She was hit by a train and killed shortly before my 5th birthday. Medical reports revealed that she put her arms up in drug-induced haze as her ‘friends’ watched her end her life. They proceeded in taking her belongings after her death which made informing us, her family – the people she left behind – a bit difficult. Yet, her passive suicide was complete. She was free from her pain. Her inner demons no longer had claws. She was free to soar among the birds she loved so dearly. In the years leading up to her death, I’m sure she danced in the space of wanting to live (as opposed to solely surviving) and not knowing how. I have never believed that people want to die because biologically we are programmed with such a drive to exist. However, for the majority of my childhood the mere mention of her name would make me angry. She was not here and she was never there for me as far as my upbringing was concerned, so why should I think of her? It seemed like a royal waste of time. However, as I got older I became more compassionate toward the depths of her experience. It took me 22 years to be able to verbalize that ‘I miss my mom’ and not have it be a thought I try to hide from own consciousness. As funny as it may be, admitting that you miss someone you once found it easier to hate than love was a huge step for me. Her absence in my life motivates me to live mine to the fullest because she was not able to. I fundamentally do not want to live in a world constructed in such a way that I feel the need to escape it using drugs, alcohol and sex. However, what will prevent me from going down the exact same path? What promotes true happiness? What prompts personal growth as opposed to the birth of more escape artists?
The art of being alone while learning to build authentic connections with people that do not endorse escapism represents the way toward my personal definition of happiness. I believe that if I cannot be alone and authentically accept the aspects of myself that I run from then I will eventually meet the same fate as my mom (if not literally through drug addiction than through running in other forms). However, how does one learn to love being alone? How can I re-learn the beauty of my existence despite being woefully imperfect? I turn to moments when I felt love for myself that were not dictated on escaping myself in any form.
When thinking of times I was in love with myself and alone, I think back to the rainy afternoon in Sarajevo, Bosnia where I could be found eating fish soup in a tiny restaurant followed by a deliciously sweet apple desert. I think back to eating burek by the city’s main canal in Rovinj. I think back to the walk down cobblestone street of Montmartre in Paris that led to the best chocolat chaud of them all. I think back to taking the S-tog to work in Niva, Denmark during the year’s first winter snow. I think back to summer markets in Zagreb, Croatia before meeting dear friends for coffee. I think back to long walks in volunteer park after getting tea in Capitol Hill of Seattle, Washington. I also think back to how informative and sacred being alone has felt for me in the past and I will be working to practice the art of being alone. I will be implementing this into my life by doing things that ‘water me’ (humans are very much like plants and require the same love, care and acceptance that we give to nature) during my time in Vietnam.
Through allowing total freedom for oneself and others, one becomes able to live from a place of true gratitude, love, and acceptance. Authentic connections with the self and with others begin when people understand you won’t leave simply because you see their imperfections, their efforts toward progress even if they stumble in the process nor abandon them during their struggle to define their own happiness. Furthermore, authentic connections begin when there is trust in the idea that one is not merely an escape or distraction from the tricky bits of one’s past, present, or future. Authentic connections begin when one makes peace with the parts of themselves they ignored, ran from or simply hated for long enough that they became deeply hidden. Authentic connections with others begin when you help someone on their journey while staying accountable for your own. So here goes an attempt at re-acquainting with myself and all the tricky bits of what that means, but to close this piece, I will share a few ways that I have found love for myself again and ways that I continue to practice this (as opposed to simply speak about it in abstract terms or ideas).
HOW TO LOVE YOURSELF
- Re-read chapters of an old book – preferably find one with dogeared corners and notes in the margins
- Find time to take long walks, eat delicious food of your choice and be merry but there is a catch – spend the day alone even if you want to call someone (Warning: It may feel uncomfortable at first but keep this practice going, this is the good kind of growth!)
- Blast music from a mismatch of genres and dance like no one is watching (Note: You may feel free enough to do this with or without clothing, but indecent exposure still exists, so don’t share this experience with the neighbors)
- Look in the mirror for as long as you need to observe the bits of your body that you dislike or have been told are somehow flawed. Find a colorful marker and get drawing.
- Take a shower but try and silence the inner monologue of daily worries you contend with (even if only for 5 minutes – it will get easier with practice)
- Write, curse at your writing, re-write, and then finally let your words be yours – stop apologizing for the way you process ideas
- Find a park, sit down, get up and wander, and then force yourself to sit the fuck down and truly observe all that is around you
- Watch a TV show, a series, funny videos, or anything else that makes you laugh out loud (Note: Don’t stifle your own joy)
- Avoid the temptation to constantly be among people even if it might feel easier than being in your own company. Lay off the alcohol, weed and other vices for a minute. Stop taking days for granted because life is not guaranteed for anyone, so don’t squander them by trying to escape this wild unpredictable adventure called life. You must live everyday to the fullest.
- Travel to a new place (part of town, city, country, or side of the world) and fight the urge to keep running (truly ‘be’ in the place you call home, stop seeing it as a phase to overlook because you might go elsewhere in the future).
Make the practice of love for yourself and acting out of love for those around you align with your actions especially when it does not come easily. Keep trying! Keep growing!
With practice you will love yourself even the bits that seem too broken, I promise~!
Stampchaser Photography 