Samantha Exposed

I’m not particularly proud of myself for writing this post and saying all that I’m about to say because as a person, I like to think I’m relatively secure with who I am and who I’ve become. I hate that I felt this way, even for a minute, and I hate that this post will probably arouse a feeling of pity from some of you (even though I hope it doesn’t…please.) However (and unfortunately), there are always going to be those moments in life that shake your self-confidence completely and make you feel as small as you can possibly feel. And also unfortunately, you can’t keep those moments and feelings to yourself because if you do, they’ll slowly destroy you.

Today, I had to present in my Latin American Literature class. I had everything planned to a T, and everything was going according to plan until 5 minutes in. At 5 minutes in, I almost lost it. I was mid sentence when I felt a-bigger-than-normal twitch run through my right arm, shaking the papers that were in my hand. Being used to these little outbursts, I thought nothing of it. I just kept talking until the professor interrupted me momentarily to clarify something for the class. I looked up to listen, and that’s when I saw the girl in the second row staring at me with wide eyes. I didn’t get it at first…why was she looking at me like that? Then I watched as a grin crossed her face. She then proceeded to turn to her friend next to her, point at me from under the desk, whisper something and then imitate the twitch that had just left my arm. Her friend then turned and looked at me with wide- eyes, looked me up and down, and then whispered something back. Then, both turned to look at me…giggling…

At this point, the professor was still talking. I could feel my face turning redder and redder as I became aware of the fact that those two girls were now telling everyone in their row about my twitch. Finally, the professor allowed me to continue, and as I did, I felt about 10 eyes scrutinizing my every move as I started talking again.

I completely blacked out. My mouth was moving, and I was presenting just fine, but my mind was thinking about what I had just seen. At that moment, a million emotions ran through my body: anger, shame, embarrassment, sadness, helplessness, resentment, etc. Usually, people just ask about my twitching when they see it—they at least give me the opportunity to explain myself. But at that moment, I had no chance. I was at their complete disposal—I was completely vulnerable. I had no opportunity to explain myself, or to yell at them, or to punch them in the face (if it came to that). All I could do was continue presenting.

Fortunately, the presentation went extremely well, and the professor seemed to like what I had to say. As the presentation closed, I put my eyes to the ground and walked back to my seat without a word. I had wanted to cry when this whole shitty situation had manifested itself in front of my very eyes, but now I just felt dizzy. I couldn’t see straight, my mind was in a million different places, and all I wanted to do was sit down and try to sort out how I was feeling.

I guess this is why I wrote this post. I seriously considered not talking about this with anyone, but I decided against it because if I didn’t say something, I would have gone straight home after class, gotten in bed and stayed there the rest of the day. But I didn’t and I don’t want to do that. I know this post will probably make my mother cry, (sorry, Mom), but I guess this is just the reality of my situation.

I have been so lucky in my life. I am surrounded by people who love me for me and know me apart from my Tourettes. Everyone has always been so supportive and understanding, and usually, even people I just meet typically don’t notice the twitching straight off. And when they DO notice, they’ve already spoken to me long enough to feel comfortable to ask…or at least they don’t laugh….

I suppose this situation was a huge reality check for me. I hadn’t felt this insecure about my twitching since I was first diagnosed. When I walked into that sixth grade classroom after having been gone for so long, I didn’t know how my friends were going to receive me. But again, I was lucky. All of my friends were happy that I was back, and after I explained why I had been away for so long at the end of 5th grade, they accepted me back, no questions asked. I really do have a beautiful life filled with beautiful people.

As for those girls in the second row, I don’t think I’m mad at them anymore. They just didn’t understand, and I guess I can’t fault them for that. The best I can do is just go on with my day, try to just move past it and accept that there are always going to be “those people” in this world. If anything, this has taught me that it’s all about how you react. I’m glad I didn’t cry or allow my presentation to take a turn for the worst. I’m glad I kept it together and didn’t let them see me sweat. But honestly, I’m also glad that after this, I will never have to see them again…

5 Weeks 'til California...WRITER'S BLOCK!

As of today, I only have 5 weeks left in Spain. I know I could be feeling various emotions right now...sadness/anxiety/disappointment/excitement/relief...all pertaining to the fact that I only have limited time left here, but for some reason, I don't feel very much. I seem to be taking it one day at a time, but I'm finding it hard to find both my feelings and my words. I've tried to write at least 3 blog entries in the last week, but for some reason, they all come out...well...bad.


Hopefully my weekend trip to Lagos (Portugal) will help. Maybe the beach is exactly what I need to sort through...well...whatever it is that I need to sort through.

With that said, here is a song I have been listening to on repeat for the past three weeks. Maybe this will shed some light on how I'm feeling...subliminally, of course.

Pardon the Melodrama

I want to apologize for not having posted since Granada. And in regards to Granada, I didn’t provide any commentary because, well, the pictures pretty much say everything. Granada, for me, has been the prettiest part of Spain we’ve seen thus far.

Anyway, since then, I’ve been ill. (Are we really surprised? No. No, we’re not.) It started out as just allergies…a stuffy nose and a cough…nothing I can’t handle, right? Wrong. The stuffy nose completely took over, and before I knew it, breathing through my eyes seemed to be the best option (because if I breathed through my mouth, my lungs would give way to a hacking cough.) So, I took to my bed, and if I wasn’t blowing my nose or leaning forward with each convulsion of my chest, I was sneezing, eating, going to the bathroom or sleeping.

Then, just as things started to look up and I thought things couldn’t get any worse, they did. I woke up Friday morning, and the moment I opened my eyes, they began to sting. And then came the tears. But no, these weren’t tears of sadness and they most certainly were not tears of joy. So then, why were my eyes crying (and I say my eyes because I was most certainly not crying…my eyes must have been feeling sad that day)? Honestly, I still have no idea…

So, I was sneezing, coughing, crying, blowing my nose, not breathing, etc. But then Sunday, (God’s day, mind you), I woke up feeling better! A miracle! My nose was still stuffy and I still had a cough, but the crying had stopped along with the sneezing, and my cough no longer made me feel like my lungs were fracturing my ribs from the inside. I had more energy, and I started doing some homework, and I thought things were getting better. God’s day was good.

But God’s night....oh, God’s night….God’s night was so not good to me…

I was lying in bed on Facebook when it happened. (Maybe all of this is punishment for my consistent presence on the life-consuming social networking website??? No…God made man and man made facebook…so…facebook=good...right? Anyway, I was totally minding my own business, thinking that the next day, I would finally be able to make it through a full day of classes without wanting to faint at least 5 times. I went to get up to go to the bathroom, and that’s when it hit me. When I tried to stand, I nearly lost my balance. My feet quickly corrected my body, but my head still hung slightly to the right. There was an enormous amount of pressure on the side of my head, and that’s when I realized I couldn’t hear out of my right ear…

You can imagine the confusion/panic/fear/frustration/anger that surged through my body at this point. The reason my nose wasn’t stuffy at that moment was because the mucus…had drained…into my frigging ear!

I was completely defeated. My body felt better, but I couldn’t hear and I couldn’t focus and I knew I had an ear infection. Maybe I should have listened to my host mother 3 days prior when she said I should go to the doctor. But what good would the doctor do? I’m allergic to pretty much every effective antibiotic known to mankind. So, when I go to the doctor, they diagnose me quickly but then spend the majority of the time pondering over my allergies saying, “This is going to be difficult…” over and over again before they finally prescribe me something they “hope” I’m not allergic to.

So at this point, I have a cough, an ear infection and death in Spain seems to be looming on the horizon as I convince myself the antibiotics they prescribe will most certainly kill me. At least my nose isn’t stuffy…?

The next morning, Encarni takes me to the doctor. She’s one of our…advisors (for lack of a better word) here. She’s a tiny little fireball who smokes nearly a pack a day, speaks Spanish at the speed of light with such charisma it hurts, and has the tightest, jet black curls I have ever seen. She sees me and asks, “¿Cómo estás, maldita?” I just grin and shake my head.

The taxi ride consisted of me looking out the window half the time with the other half of the time trying to make small talk in Spanish so Encarni at least knew I was alive. I know I shouldn’t have wallowed in my self-pity for so long, but by this time, I had been sick 7 days, I was going to be sick for at least another 7, the weather was gray and the doctors were going to kill me. What choice did I have?

And just as I expected, the doctor at the clinic looked at my allergies and said, “This is going to be difficult…” the only difference being that she said it Spanish. Great. So now, I’m difficult in two languages. Perfect.

Finally, I chose to take an antibiotic that (although it’s in the same family of an antibiotic I’m allergic to) was a better option than penicillin… because I would have DEFINITELY died from penicillin. With this one, the worst that can happen is my fever spikes and I break out in hives. So, it was fever and hives or death. What a choice to make, huh?

So here I am today, ear infection and all, hyped up on decongestants, eardrops that could potentially burn off my ear if I’m not careful and Ibuprofen. I’ve made it to class and am now watching as students, whose shoes I will wear in a weeks time, are getting reamed by our professor for not knowing their facts. And if they aren’t getting scolded, they’re getting interrupted. Great.

I just need to make it through April…

Granada

Sunshine and Oranges, and No, I'm Not Talkin' about Florida!

Orange trees line almost every street in Córdoba. It doesn't matter if you're in Ciudad Jardín where it's mostly residential or if you're in La Plaza de las Tendillas right in the center of the city. Córdoba loves its oranges.

But the oranges on the trees aren't for casual peeling and eating. You don't want to pick one off the tree and just pop it in your mouth. No, these oranges are bitter--they're meant for marmalade.

Still, the orange trees promise Córdoba more than just marmalade...

Before I left, the orange blossoms hadn't bloomed. Oranges hung from the trees, but my padres insisted that the experience wasn't complete without the orange blossoms. And now that they've arrived, I must admit: my padres were right.

As I leave my piso each morning, I'm greeted by the sweet smell of the orange blossoms. I never thought I would write something so terribly cliché, but... you can blame it on the orange blossoms.

They're just such a great start to the day. I walk out the door, and there is the sun (finally). I breathe in, and there are the orange blossoms. Then I turn the corner, and there are the orange trees. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. I can't help but smile inside and out.

Spring is here, and Córdoba is about to bloom in every which way--I can feel it.
Life is completely beautiful right now.

My Final Thoughts on the Trip

Train ride back to Córdoba:

So the trip is officially over once our train pulls in to Córdoba. It’s gone by quickly, and it’s all been very exhilarating, but like all good things, it’s come to an end. Back to reality I go. I have to go through pictures once I get back, and I have to update my blog, and I have to talk to my parents and to my friends, and I have to check emails…

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday, but it doesn’t feel like it. It’ll be weird not celebrating with family. I’m actually a little sad about the fact that I’m not with them. I miss my family very much…

It’s so weird that I missed Spain. Every time we heard people speaking Spanish on this trip, we were all so comforted by it—it was as if they were speaking English to us!

Anyway, I’m just going to sit back, relax and enjoy my last train ride for a while. I’m going to miss Spain.

Actually…I already do…

Berlin

Day #1:

I was overcome with relief once we pulled into Berlin earlier today. It’s our last stop before we head back to Córdoba, and well, it’s been a very long break. I’m tired, but I’m so glad I did this.

Anyway, Berlin is familiar territory, so I’m assuming that’s another reason why I felt relieved on arrival. I love it here for some reason. It’s just one of those places that feels “right” to me. It’s such a comfortable city.

The Holocaust Memorial is still my favorite part of the entire city: it’s a totally powerful experience, and walking through it at night in total darkness just made it even more powerful. I love Berlin, and it’s a true love.





Day #2:

Today was so gorgeous. A part of me is excited to go back to Córdoba, but the other part of me will miss travelling. Living like this is so easy in some ways. You do what you want, when you want and how you want. You don’t answer to anybody. Sure, it takes awhile to get oriented in a place, but once you know what you’re doing, it’s smooth sailing. And honestly, it’s so invigorating to know I can live like this and…well…survive.

I need to figure myself out. I feel like I’m not “myself”, even though right now, I’m probably more “myself” than I’ve ever been. This trip has made me fall into love with the world, and although we’ve had some weird moments, this vacation has truly been a beautiful experience.

Anyway, I’m so glad we ended our trip in Berlin.

But…I still have so much world to see. Will I have enough time? Will I ever be satisfied? Will I ever want to stay in one place forever?

There is just so much uncertainty right now. I can’t limit myself; I can’t be afraid; I can’t settle. I have to keep living and moving, and when it’s time to slow down, I’ll just know. But until then, this is the life I choose. I choose the world as my home; I choose an impermanent address; I choose to be young, free and unafraid.


The Wall