It‘s 11PM. The lights are off, and sleep eludes me as I consider that the only thing standing between me and the greatest change of my entire life is six hours. Before the sun has even thought to rise, I will take a physical step to mark the fulfillment of many non-physical steps over the last two years. Meetings, draft upon drafts of research proposals, signatures, paperwork. All of it leading to the the moment I actually step foot in the airport and move to Korea on a Fulbright Open Research Grant. The South, not the North obviously (anticipating the joke many people feel the need to make).
It’s a little odd to consider this reality–and that I chose it willingly–because my largest childhood trauma is moving away. I’m not using the word trauma flippantly. There have been and continue to be deeply painful ramifications from having no stable friendships growing up: fears and grief and dread which slowly began slithering to the forefront of my mind from the moment I made the decision to leave. Darkness that threatened to be crippling.
But
I’m in love with Korea. I found an opportunity to go there while also pursing the career I love. Before I even knew about the Fulbright, I was building true relationships with people living there. Even World Youth Day will be in Korea, nearly perfectly aligned with the Fulbright schedule. God’s hand was so clear and the desire in my heart so strong, that trauma was the last thing on my mind when I wrote back to accept the offer. I felt nothing but elation and rightness about the whole thing. So I was kind of confused when God kept telling me to “not be afraid” and “have courage.”
As if moving to the other side of the world was daunting. Sure, if it was some unknown place that would be terrifying, but this was Korea we were talking about. The place I had visited as often as possible over the past two years. The place I was loathe to leave even after three weeks. Honorary Korean, Korean in a past life, basically Korean. These numbered among the highest of compliments.
And yet.
It turns out courage is indeed required to leave behind the relationships you’ve spent the last four years building. Especially when healthy relationships are still unfamiliar, and you’re afraid leaving them behind means leaving them to wither like the house plant that doesn’t survive your vacation. Especially when some of the relationships you’ve made are with residents of a nursing home and it’s not guaranteed they’ll be waiting for you when you get back. And you’re afraid of being lonely, even though you’re already lonely anyways so it seems like kind of a pointless fear.
It is 1 AM, the lights are still off and my excitement and fear are two sides of the same coin. There is no choice but forward. There is no other step I want to take. And so I grip my Rosary and take courage. The adventure is beginning. I suspect the personal and professional and spiritual growth to follow are beyond anything I can imagine. And though I am still scared and tears have dripped onto my pillow, I am ready.
2AM and sleep soothes my fears into temporary oblivion. Two hours until my first physical steps towards the world’s farthest ends…
The journey is just begun, feel free to follow along!
This site is not an official site of the Fulbright Program or the U.S. Department of State. The views expressed on this site are entirely those of Mariel Ortega and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State, or any of its partner organizations
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