Around late September, a professor gave me the book, The Inner Voice of Love, by Henri Nouwen, a collection of journal entries, never originally intended for publishing. They were written shortly after he moved into the L'Arche community of people with mental disabilities. He was called there to be a spiritual support for the members but found himself in a dark season of questioning and searching. I had a brief conversation with my teacher about my time transitioning back from Cambodia and the next week, he handed me this book as a gift of encouragement. When I opened it up, the first words of Nouwen's dedication line said, To Wendy. A mere coincidence but perhaps also a well-timed nod from the divine. I leafed through it every so often, as it is not a book to be read all at once. But, as this semester has concluded both academically and with my counselor, reading selective parts of this book has beautifully mirrored the lessons and discoveries of these past few months. It is as if these words were written for me to be read at exactly the time I am reading them now.
My sense of self has grown tremendously this past year, but a lot of the growth came only with lengthy experiences of being alone. And in that solitude, of being confronted with my insecurities and fears.
My community (and even just the understanding of what "community" is) has changed several times this year. I left California at a time when the pieces had all seemed to fit. Great roommates, a rebuilding of a certain broken relationship and an enjoyable job. Then I went to Cambodia for four months, shocked and terrified. There, I met a new group of people who furthered opened my mind and heart. I learned a new language, found myself against a beautiful backdrop of rice fields and was confounded by the daily challenges of life in a third world country. Then my grandfather died and suddenly, everything changed.
"When you fully own your own pain and do not expect others to alleviate it, you can speak about it in true freedom."
I came back a month earlier than planned, to friends who graduated, no job, and a broken heart that could not shake the deep painful longing for Cambodia. I found a job, got fired, started school again, found another job, somehow managed to write nearly 200 pages, got A's in my classes and went to counseling. All the while, I rarely saw friends who lived only a few miles from me, congratulated more friends who got engaged, and commuted to school and work via public transportation while I lived at home with my crazy wonderful family. Needless to say, there wasn't very much cohesion.
"It is possible that the pain of absence will show you that you are out of touch with your own deeper self. You need the other to experience inner wholeness, to have a sense of well-being. You have become emotionally dependent on the other and sink into depression because of his or her absence. It feels as if the other has taken away a part of you that you cannot live without. Then the pain of absence reveals a certain lack of trust in God's love."
I learned so much about myself in my isolation - writing papers, reflecting deeply on Cambodia, living at home and experiencing the distance of many friends. I found myself questioning the validity of certain relationships, their sustainability and my commitment to them. I spent many nights restless in the sadness I felt of being neither here nor there. Through counseling, I learned how skeptical I became of people and my own fear of being vulnerable with others. My need to control relationships built up boundaries and unrealistic (and unvoiced) expectations led to inevitable and devastating disappointment. I struggled in writing my papers as I often became overwhelmed by my own sense of failure. I hated myself. All the work I had put towards self-love was exposed as nothing more than an illusion, a bravado. It was if I had to start from the ground up again. "You look up to everyone in whom you see goodness, beauty, and love because you do not see any of these qualities in yourself. As a result, you begin leaning on others without realizing that you have everything you need to stand on your own feet."
With grace, I learned what I already possessed from within - inner strength. In my counseling sessions, I often went in circles with myself because of my fear in communicating honestly with others. I would get emotional and make conclusions or decisions based on how I felt but they rarely involved the other. Instead, I shut people out as a way of self-preservation. I thought, if people really knew me, they would leave. If they stopped seeing me as beautiful, they wouldn't want me. So, if they can't even get close enough then they can't hurt me. But even in this false safety I created, I was miserable because I never saw anyone.
One of the relationships I've thought a lot about involved the person I fell in love with in Cambodia. I would tell my counselor things that I decided and then she would always bring it back by saying, "But you never told him". And I would respond with, "Yes, but...", always ending my response with some excuse about the fear of rejection.
The last time she said this, her words stayed with me. Though he was my best friend there, I was never brave enough to tell him everything. I spent a lot of time processing what it meant for me to not say the things I wanted to. I went back and forth for a long time, convincing myself that it was best this way. I would keep my silence and hopefully, just get over this in time. Maybe even just chalk it up to another name on the long list. But I realized I was preventing myself from fully moving on and making peace with not only my emotions but also with the situation.
In one of the bravest things I could do, and one I thought I was just never going to be strong enough to do - to both bare my soul to a friend now living so far away and be able to stand on my own to face whatever he could say back to me, I finally wrote to him. I was not scared. All these months culminated in that moment of clarity, and I wrote with bravery and honesty. I had to be honest with him for myself. The experience of this has brought such grace and fullness, it is hard to convey in length on this blog.
His words of response were as I expected - grateful, caring but most importantly, honest. The great thing I realized and am continuing to learn is that I never needed him to want to be with me. He loves me, as he can, just as he always has. He always gave me and our friendship everything he could, which is why I trust him as much as I do. There are reasons why we are where we are, me here and him in India. But our paths have moved us forward and we are still learning from each other, caring about each other. That is beautiful. And while he does have a lot of the qualities I want in a person, my longing for a partner goes beyond him. He can't give me everything I want (or at least what I think I want).
"It is not easy to stay with your loneliness. The temptation is to nurse your pain or to escape into fantasies about people who will take it away. But when you can acknowledge your loneliness in a safe, contained place, you make your pain available for God's healing."Having him far away, and with so many of my friends married or engaged, I have had to seriously reevaluate myself and be honest about the insecurities I have in singleness.
Through all of this, I've been brought back to myself and understanding my identity as a beloved of the Divine. I don't know if I will ever be able to sit next to him again and see his beautiful face in person. I don't even know what is in store for me and my current relationships here in California. I spend a lot of time with myself but I have learned that I am never alone.
"The more you have loved and have allowed yourself to suffer because of your love, the more you will be able to let your heart grow wider and deeper. When your love is truly giving and receiving, those whom you love will not leave your heart even when they depart from you. They will become a part of your self and thus gradually build a community within you."
I feel things deeply. I am always working towards being more honest and open with myself and with you. I hope this blog can be an encouragement.
With hope,
Wendy
1 comment:
This is all so beautiful. You are beautiful, Wendy Bi. Thanks for sharing yourself with us. It's been such a blessing to know you and be known by you.
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