"I didn't know what was happening to me. Everything was chaos and I was scared... order. That's what I needed. So I took my journal and started writing." For this summer, I am going to continue my job working as a Personal Care Assistant with the little boy I worked with last summer. I feel extremely blessed to have bonded with this family so well over the past year. I was touched when they gave me this graduation gift - I have put it on my desk and arranged the pieces so they read: Pause Create Evolve. Over this past week, these words have brought me some comfort. Pause.
I am taking this summer to pause, to catch my breath - to write, to read, to listen to music, to go on walks, to visit with friends. I feel these past couple years I have been moving non-stop in order to graduate on time, and now here I am. I am allowing time to work on myself and to explore my interests on a deeper level. Create. I am also using this summer to look closer at what I might want to do in the fall. I am scheduling meetings with occupational therapists and psychologists to chat with them about their career paths. I am taking a creative writing class in the cities so as to not lose sight of my passion and to help me stay grounded. I am continuing my work from last summer and continuing to learn new things about the people I am interested in working with one day. Evolve. I have been spending the last week cleaning my bedroom, in hopes to eventually remodel it. It has been the same since middle school, and I have gone through so much in this tiny space - including surgery and chemo recovery. There are a lot of memories residing here and as I have been cleaning I have almost felt like I have been reliving a lot of those moments, which sometimes can be a lot to process. I definitely do not feel like the same person living in this room anymore. I have changed immensely over the years. But - it has all been for the better, and I have to have faith that the same is going to continue (starting with my bedroom). I am very grateful I still have this place where I can spill out and sort through some of my thoughts when things feel a little too out of order. thank you for reading. <3
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I have opened this site 5 different times, and I have three different blog drafts blinking in the corner of my screen. I have been trying for weeks to articulate all that I have been feeling, and it has been extremely difficult. But I am going to sit here now, and I am going to try. In April, I spoke in chapel about my experiences with cancer, and how my time at Olaf has allowed me to heal and to cope. Yet, since that day, I have felt a new healing experience opening up. As I am preparing to graduate, I have constantly been reflecting on all I have gone through these past few years. I have often minimized my experience of cancer because it was "behind me" but now it seems to be more visible to me than ever. In my children's literature class, we read The Giver. Last week I was reading the book curled up under the soft lights of my dorm room when I read a part that brought tears to my eyes. Jonah, the main character, was struggling to recognize why people in his town don't have memories, especially painful ones. But why can't everyone have the memories? I think it would seem a little easier if the memories were shared. You and I wouldn't have to bear so much by ourselves, if everyone took a part." Three years ago I went through something extremely challenging. In doing so, I felt it was my duty to be there for everyone else who was struggling, too. But it is not always easy. I have been reflecting a lot on my freshman year of college and all of the physical and emotional pain I experienced - something I have not really thought of for a long time. But those feelings were real, and it was my own experience. During this past month I have been addressing some of these painful moments. It has been incredibly difficult, but also very healing. In my medical terminology class, we were assigned to read through case studies and reword them so all of the medical terms were in a language anyone could understand. I started reading a case study, and my heart skipped a beat. The patient has been experiencing extreme night sweats, a loss of appetite, weight loss and fatigue. The patient underwent a CT scan, and discovered they would need chemotherapy and radiotherapy treatment. I googled "Hodgkin's Lymphoma", "chemotherapy" and "radiation treatment" in order to put it all into words that made sense to the general public, despite the fact that I had experienced all of this firsthand. It is a heavy reminder that, no matter how much I try with words, no one will ever fully understand what I have been and am currently going through. Last weekend, the St. Olaf Cancer Connection hosted a luminaria ceremony - a time to honor and remember all those who have had cancer. The campus was illuminated with little bags of candles as we all took a moment to stop and reflect. I did not have enough time to make a bag for every person in my life affected by cancer, but I knew I could fill a whole row, which made my heart hurt. It was around this time that I found out about the passing of a St. Olaf student, Marshall Bruno. He had leukemia. He left after his first semester. For a few hours, I was inconsolable as the memories of cancer were again too real, too familiar. That night at the luminaria ceremony, I asked everyone to light glow sticks. The dimming day became aglow with love for parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. As Coldplay sings, "lights will guide you home." I have made a home for myself at St. Olaf, and I am going to miss it immensely at the end of this month. This is the place where I experienced a lot of pain, but also a lot of beauty, love and light, and that is what I will always hold on to. The taste of coconut juice stings my tongue and cuts through my jet lagged mind. Flecks of sand dust the soles of my new Chacos and warm my feet. I blink into the bright sun and take in the view - a shoreline dotted with bundles of fishing nets, coconuts and dogs. I settle into the sand, forming a circle with my classmates. Seated across from us are a group of women chatting excitedly. Their colorful saris and bangles glint in the late morning sun. It is our second day in India, and we have traveled to visit the villages of Pulicat Lagoon. We have gathered on the beach and are invited to ask about the daily life of the women in this village. Through translations from a local social worker, we learn about their days of doing housework, caring for their children and finding community in each other. After some conversation, a student asks the women if they are content with their lives. One woman begins to answer, playing with her toe rings in the sand. Yes, there is some discontent here. We learn that these women were all married into this village, and that their lives are characterized by oppression. Women here are denied education, cannot visit their parents without permission from their husband, and have no role or voice in the local government. Then, this woman says something I know I will not soon forget. She said there is also a feeling that something is missing - something that could potentially lead to the fullness of life. They can’t quite place what it is, but it feels just out of reach. The translator shares that if the local government would empower women, they could see positive changes in the economy, education system, and environment. Later that day, as we sped back to our hotel, I tried to form optimistic thoughts about the coming days of this trip, but was weighed down by the reality of what we just learned. I was disheartened to hear firsthand about the women’s repressive lives. Yet, as I gazed at the beginnings of a sunset, I also experienced a sense of hope and light on the horizon. This image held clear in my mind as the long bus ride to our hotel lulled me to sleep. As our group continued to explore and move deeper through India, I began to see this hopeful light grow brighter and brighter. In Pondicherry, we visited a rural village and celebrated Pongal, a harvest festival. We were welcomed by such a vibrant and kind community of people. Upon our arrival they wove flowers into our hair and slipped colorful bracelets on our wrists. During our visit, we learned that both boys and girls were attending school, and this community of both men and women were working together to foster a life of inclusivity and equality for generations to come. As we drove away, I admired the new bangles I had received, taking comfort in the way they shimmered in the evening sunlight. In Bangalore, we had the opportunity to visit the NIMHANS Center for Well Being, a branch of the NIMHANS (National Institute of Mental Health and Neurosciences) government hospital that focuses on promoting the importance on mental health. The center worked to address many things, including alcohol addictions, parent-child wellbeing, trauma recovery, and positive psychology among all age groups. The center also worked a lot with youth groups, educating them on the importance of mental health and empowering them to recognize and care for this important part of human growth and development. As we walked back from the center through a residential street, I captured an image of a large tree blooming with vibrant golden and green colors. A few days later, our group visited the Parikma Center for Learning, a non-governmental organization that acts as a school for young children in Bangalore. We learned that “parikma” is a Sanskrit word that means “to complete the circle.” Those at Parikma are dedicated to helping children flourish from end to end - they carefully guide students through high school and college, and mentor them in finding successful jobs beyond their completion of school. Parikma cares for each child, as well as each family member. The Parikma Foundation wants to ensure that each child returns home to a happy and safe environment. A collaborative effort is made to empower the parents to sustain a better life. For example, mothers receive training to learn English so they can learn alongside their children. Many fathers struggle with alcohol addiction, yet the foundation provides programs to help fathers overcome it, and uses the child’s education as a motivator. When we arrived at the school, one of the first things I noticed was a chalkboard that faced out onto the courtyard. Written on it was a “thought for the day” by Sundar Pichai, the CEO of Google, which read: “Indian education should allow a system of creativity, project based, experiential learning. We should teach students to take risks and not penalize them for being different.” Later that day we were welcomed into a classroom, where the children sang songs and played games with us. I walked over to a table of small boys and sat next to them. Immediately, they started asking my name and wondering where I was from. Soon they were teaching me phrases in Hindi and showing me magic tricks. One boy made an origami shape out of a playing card and handed it to me, “free of charge.” I thanked him, and took out a few tiny cat bookmarks I had brought from home. The boys shouted excitedly as I clipped each bookmark to their notebooks. They asked, “how much?” and I told them it was a gift - free of charge. The Parikma Foundation is working to eradicate poverty not by giving money, but by empowering these children through education. I could see all of these kids had an extreme passion for learning. I was touched by the loving community Parikma has created - the teachers truly care about their students, and in turn the students care deeply about their teachers and each other. This experience allowed me to recognize such a cohesive and collaborative community, all working together for a brighter future. Since returning to the U.S. and reflecting on this time abroad, I have pieced together this ever evolving image of change and promise. It has all come together to form a unique kind of hope, a feeling I wish to always have when I think of India.
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