Riddle me this, riddle me that. Watch out girls, the blog is back!

Well, what do you know? Here I am, one year after the creation of this blog, blowing the dust off the URL. I’m sitting in a window seat with no one next to me on my flight back over to Europe, feeling much calmer and more comfortable than the 2018 version of myself ever did. I’ve found a favorite long-haul airline (TAP Air Portugal!!), I know exactly how to get where I’m going, and I’m doing the trip in about half the time it originally took me. There’s a pink and purple sunset outside my window, and the girl sitting behind me finally finished her bag of cheese puffs. Life is good. 

After losing my dad and grandma in terrible ways within the span of two months, my world narrowed to a pinpoint. Going to work and taking care of my basic needs felt like enough to consume every last bit of my time and energy, as so much was being expended in the background by grief and processing. The only people I could bring myself to really talk to were my mom, brother, and boyfriend. All of the rest of my thoughts and feelings stayed inside, weighing me down like sandbags. I stopped writing altogether, preferring instead to consume media that didn’t pertain to any aspect of my life. Escapism. 

Although it sounds really sad, and it was, I didn’t fall into a seven-month bout of depression like book characters do after they lose a loved one. There were still good moments and I still felt some happiness. I think one of the biggest misconceptions I had about grief is that it absolutely consumes you. Don’t get me wrong, it definitely can in spurts—but beyond that, it’s just not that constant. Life isn’t painted exclusively in bright colors before a loss and only in dark colors after. So one tip I’d give you if you’re interacting with someone who’s grieving: don’t project your preconceived sad narrative onto them. Sensitivity is nice, but pity… not so much. 

This summer really helped me. I mean it really helped me. I was back in my nest at home in Ohio, and my mom did everything in her power to ensure I felt loved and safe and comforted. She cooked my favorite meals, planted and nurtured my favorite garden flowers, and even welcomed this wild, smelly dog into our family just so I’d have a friend. (okay, that's not really why, but sometimes it feels like it) 

I got to relax and regroup, I went to therapy, and I also went on a lot of adventures in places like West Virginia, Bermuda, and Chicago. Hiking, kayaking, swimming, zip lining, snorkeling, cliff jumping, spelunking, deep dishing, jet skiing, and white water rafting, just to name a few. 

And now, I'm returning to my beloved Canary Island for another year, now with a recharged battery, a sense of purpose, and someone there to leave the light on for me. Funny how things can change in a year. 

This year, I'm the Culture & Pedagogy Mentor for the 32 new grantees coming to Canarias for Fulbright's second year in the archipelago. I've spent much of the summer researching this wonderful place to put together an all-purpose regional guide for Fulbright, and hope to ground truth my findings by visiting each one this year. I've been really trying to avoid sounding like a nerdy camp counselor, but I'm just so excited for this new cohort to arrive in their new island digs, and hope they end up loving it as much as I do. I have a feeling it won't be too difficult! 

Onward.