My time here in Amman has indeed been illuminating. I have seen the highs and lows of humanity, education, friendship, and my own soul. These are never easy to peer into; and the lows have often been full of confusion, panic, and defeat. The highs have been moments that felt like dreams. Days I thought I could only read about in books are now written in my own little blue journal.
So often I have not written or shared because I have been afraid to let the confusion, panic, and defeat out into the open. I already felt like I had let myself down and did not want to add any other names to that list. I wanted to focus on the light, and I try. But I live in both.
I am Grateful and Tired. Full and Empty. Joy and Mourning.
Full of bread and a confidence that feels different than the boldness I have had my entire life. I think now there are multiple forms of courage.
Empty of the all the things I once used to define me and how I fit into spaces. Now I am trying to clear a head that feels so bottomless-ly empty.
Mourning for the life I wanted here. The things I wanted to learn. The love I wanted to feel. The greatness I wanted to achieve.
Joy from the loving friends I did find- in my extended host family, at the gym, in the ragtag group of 5 Americans I get to be apart of. Joy from my morning walks up and down the mountain that is the hill on Mecca Street (playlist sponsored by cringy-non-PC-early-2000s rap and Maggie Rogers).
Grateful for this incredible opportunity. Grateful for the beautiful, creative, welcoming people of Amman. Grateful for minutes that are now treasures I can’t fully share the richness of.
Tired of feeling paralyzed in my circumstances. And tired of beating myself up for feeling paralyzed in my circumstances. Tired of having to forfeit the work I want to do for coping strategies I have to do and hating myself for it. Tired of feeling like I am holding my breath and clenching my fist.
I have 21 days left in Amman. My goal now? Try and see what I can accomplish in 21 days – without regretting the days that came before. Without fearing the days to come. More joy, less mourning. More gratitude, less tightness in my chest.
Shoof, the title of this entry, is the Jordanian Arabic word for seeing. I think I am finally seeing.
All prayers appreciated. All blessings accepted.