On October 21 I stepped onto flight OZ 271 headed to Seoul/Incheon
Airport. I was terrified. Before this I had spent my entire life in the Pacific
Northwest, and had never spent more than a few weeks in another country.
I have always prided myself on being emotionally stable; it
was extremely rare for anyone to have witnessed seeing me cry as an adult. But
the few days before I boarded that flight my emotional wall was ripped to
pieces. I would burst into tears every time I had to say goodbye to a close
friend or one of my family members. The anxiety made me forget how to breathe
properly.
That first night in Gunsan was spent mentally trying to
figure out how to get back to the states and cursing myself for making such a
terrible mistake. I also came to the realization that I had left home with no
plan to fall back on. I had already quit my job and packed all of my things
into storage.
I have a love/hate relationship with writing. I studied
journalism in college and never really thought about doing anything outside of
that field. I also have an incredible knack for finding absolutely anything
else to do besides write when there is a deadline to meet. Then I’ll stare
blankly at the screen and re-write the same sentence over and over. After my
eyes glaze over I will admit defeat, knowing that I am sending in an average
piece of writing at best. But when I finally finish a piece I feel a huge wave
of relief and maybe a little feeling of accomplishment. But that’s the beauty of writing. It’s
frustrating and sometimes heartbreaking, but I find myself always coming back
to it. And I hope to produce some interesting blog posts for Getting Past the
White Tiger from here on out.
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