Victoria's Adventures

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Reflection.

I meant to write some sort of end of the year, beginning of a new year post like right around New Years, but that didn’t happen. Instead of writing a blog post on December 31, 2019, I was feeling guilty for not working on any of my homework that I was hoping to do while I was home. I was also packing up my stuff to fly back to Malta and dreading the amount of traveling I would be doing on January 1-3 (aka the amount of time it would take to fly from Indianapolis to Malta). The last thing I was contemplating was if it would be out of the question for a 25-year-old to fall asleep before 10 pm on New Year’s Eve. Hint, I stayed up later than I should with transcontinental travel ahead of me the next day. You win some, you lose some. Anyways, this will be more of a reflection upon 2019 and my time in Malta as a whole since I’ve realized I’ve become rather radio silent in many ways since I arrived here and I also move to Spain in three days.

For the past 6 years or so, I have decided on a word sometime in January to be my word of the year. In 2019, I chose the word (I believe) “audacity”. This meaning in the sense- a willingness to take bold risks. And I would say that it is safe to say I did so in 2019. When the year started, I was living at home and honestly slightly miserable and feeling like a total failure in many aspects. I was relentlessly trying to come up with a plan and an angle that would allow me to just do something outside of 1) teaching, 2) Chrisman, and 3) seeming like my life had been a flash in the pan of excitement and that living in China for a year was the only real adventure I would ever have. Honestly, I felt lost. I’d done all the things that I thought would get me where I wanted to go and where I thought God wanted me to go. And then I went back home. But I needed the healing that came from sitting still, rather uncomfortably, and just living with my emotions and pain and processing them in a healthy manner. And I did that.

Then, I applied for my dream masters program and somehow got accepted. My panicked frenzy of figuring out all the details came into play as I was scared of moving to a new continent where I only knew one person in all of Europe. I felt that they must have gotten it wrong, maybe I really wasn’t smart enough or cultured enough or linguistically capable. I hid this doubt as much as I could because if I couldn’t fake it to everyone else around me, then I felt I would be questioned, or somehow convinced that this step I was praying was right, truly was beyond what I am able to accomplish in my life. Time ticked down lower and lower until it was time to actually make that leap. I remember video calling my dad at the airport in Chicago about 20 minutes before my flight left saying that this isn’t “official official” until I get on the plane to take me to Warsaw. But I got on that plane and I don’t regret it for a minute.

I arrived into a whirlwind of chaos. Meeting so many people that were interested in the same types of things I was, promptly forgetting their names, then faking the next few days acting like I remembered their names, even though I could remember most of the other details they told me. I don’t think I’ve ever friended so many people on Facebook in such a short time period before. I had found a community that was much different than any I had been in before. And I’m thankful for that.

After staying with my friend and her family for a week, I got to Malta. We had a few weeks of freedom where I got to enjoy the good weather and the beautiful beaches before school began. That was nice. Classes started and I found a church that I loved. And the people I began to meet and get to know opened my eyes to things and perspectives I’d never seen before. One of my favorite things in the dynamics between my classmates here and me is that we are all from different countries. So many multicultural conversations and discussions over really intense topics. I found a passion for understanding the nuances of humanitarian action and what it all means as the complex pieces of the quilt are slowly pieced together, then suddenly being ripped apart as I experienced and learned more. I found an NGO I enjoyed working with and it was great to begin to understand the intricacies of how they work since I really had no previous experience with NGOs.

My favorite thing as a whole for my time in Malta has been the people I have met and the friends I have made. I’m not a fan of the bureaucracy or public transit system here, but in many ways the people I have surrounded myself with cancel that out. I’ve been forced to expand my understandings of the world through the stories that have been shared and the relationships that have been built. And I’m so thankful for that.

I’m so thankful as well that I was able to go home for Christmas and surprise some of my family. That little taste of home for the 9 days I was there was much needed. To ground myself and reconnect with those who I have known for years and to share the stories and misadventures of my travels and journeys. I’m so thankful.

When I started off the previous decade in 2010, I was 15. I was shy and meek in many ways. Dealing with a broken neck and finally being able to break free from my neckbrace were the things I knew. But there was so much uncertainty. Maybe more so than most because I had no roadmap on how my life should look. I didn’t know what challenged I would face with my neck or if I would ever feel like a whole person. Ten years later, and it’s 2020. I’ve grown a lot. I’ve sought discomfort in ways I would have never imagined. The things I thought would be the biggest hurdles actually weren’t. It was the unexpected things that were the hardest. But they were also the most rewarding. I had to fight battles I never knew would exist. But I wouldn’t change them. Somehow I’m a whole person most of the time, even with the little pieces inside of me that have been broken throughout the years. I breakdown sometimes and cry because occasionally the traumas of my life and my inner critic try to shred me apart. But I get back up. I wipe my tears. I know I can get through the hard things because I’ve done it before. Because I’m a survivor. And I plan to continue to be.

My word for 2020 is “hustle”. For this, I define it as- a state of great activity. I’ve got goals I want to accomplish, but I’ve grown enough to know not to post everything in my personal life on the internet. Maybe in 2021, I’ll share them, but maybe not. And that’s okay.