Why (I am free)

As many of you may know, I have been struggling a bit with my time here. The first few weeks I knew were normal, but after the first few months, I knew that something had to change, I just had to figure out what it was. It came down to realizing that it was my job.

I love some of my students. I think I like teaching. I don’t like teaching English. I don’t like teaching without having had the proper training to teach. I don’t like some of my students, and how the maturity level I thought I was getting (my definition of college students) turned out to be the maturity level of what I consider high school students. It’s their culture, I know, and it’s something I’m learning to accept, but since I was in college I knew that if I ever taught, I couldn’t teach high schoolers. That’s why I chose to teach college students in the first place, and that’s part (only part. I can write more about the other reasons later) of why this job is not for me.

I told myself I could make it better, that I should stick it out, that it would get better with time, with my attitude, etc. I tried and tried to be optimistic. I changed what I could about it. But nothing was getting better. I couldn’t go through 5-6 more months of what I had just done. It wasn’t the most awful thing in the world, but it wasn’t right for me. I woke up every day dreading going to work. I wasn’t passionate about what I was teaching, and those were signs I had to take seriously.

Around the middle of May, I finally sat down with Jenni and Marisela, cried a lot, and with their encouragement, decided, officially, to quit my job. The thing that stuck out to me the most during all of the conversation was Marisela saying, “Ally, tu eres libre.” Ally, you are free. It struck such a chord with me and finally I eternalized it.

I am free. My life could end tomorrow. Or it could continue for another 80 years. Whatever the case is, I want every moment of it to include me chasing something I love, something I want. I want to not only be free, but to also feel free.

I decided to apply to some other jobs in Santiago, at companies that send out teachers to bigger corporation companies in the area and have you teach English to their businessmen/businesswomen employees. I sent out my first application and resume and within 10 minutes I heard back. I got asked for an interview, and then a second interview. They asked me to start right away.

Suddenly I had a thousand decisions on my plate and wasn’t sure where to go. To leave my job but stay in Santiago and take this other job, or to take another job. To leave my job and start studying again, maybe here at Universidad Catolica. To leave my job and go to another city in Chile or another country altogether and try teaching/living there. To leave my job and go back to the U.S. To leave my job and go back to the U.S. and do what? Job? What job? School? What school?

About 10 months ago I took a trip to Spain with my sister. It was one of the best trips of my life. I spent 14 days with my best friend, 7 of which we spent in our favorite part of Spain, completing a pilgrimage that meant so much to both of us and to our friendship. When it was over, we decided to see a city in Spain we had never seen, Granada, and spent 3 wonderful days there drinking sangria at lunch and sharing massive pans of paella. On our very last night there, we went to a look out (“mirador”) on a hill to watch the sunset over the city. We couldn’t get a good view from the technical look out point (we actually wondered how anyone could and why it was an official mirador), so Rachel, being the explorer that she is, turned down a random side street and found a narrow cobblestone road that sat just next to a wall that over looked the entire city. No one was walking down the road and we sat for hours watching the sun dip in the sky, almost touching the earth.

I’m not sure how much time passed before 2 Americans came walking up our abandoned little road. They were clearly American, because they were wearing tank tops and board shorts looked like they had been traveling for a while. All four of us started talking and our conversation continued as the sun finally set, as we walked back to the center of town together, as we played cards and drank wine.  I realized I was directing most of my conversation to one of them.  He was handsome, and smart, and told great stories and made fun of the wine stains on my lips. My conversations with him continued as we went to a chupitos bar and as we walked the streets of Granada until the sun came up. It continued as we decided to eat “comida” (lunch) together, sit in a Spanish plaza together, and before I knew it we had spent 15 hours straight together and suddenly Rachel and I had to be leaving for our flight back to Madrid, and eventually to the U.S. We parted ways, sad, but realizing that we would probably never see each other again, though we’d try to talk on Facebook.

We spent one month talking before realizing we needed to see each other again. So we did in September. And then again in October. And November. And December. In January I went out to Newport Beach and spent the month with him and other friends and family. I even changed my flight back home to Chicago because I couldn’t get myself to leave.

I flew home and left for Chile. Three months later he flies halfway across the world to see me and I realize that the 10 days I spend with him here in Chile have been my 10 happiest days here.

It has taken me months, but I think I finally, truly know how rare that is to find someone that makes you that happy. I have a best friend in this man, someone I never get tired of talking to and someone I want to spend my time with. I want to tell him about everything happy and everything bad that happens in my day and I want to hear about his. We have a lot of things in common but we also have so much not in common and I never thought a relationship, a friendship, with a person could make me feel like it was one of the right things in my life. I want it to grow, I want it to reach every potential it can and I know that the best way to do this is to be physically present in each other’s lives.

I spent the time since I decided to quit my job (middle of May) to now (beginning of June) making lists and thinking and talking and asking for advice. I’ve been writing and writing, trying to get my thoughts and feelings out. I made lists of pros and cons, about all 4-7 of my options and every factor I could think of: family (who would I leave behind? Who would I get to see? Would they be angry with me for either choice?), friends (same thoughts as family), money (how much I would make for each job option I had been offered), chances of getting a job in x place (if I chose to not go to the places I did have a job), things I wanted, things I didn’t want, what seasons, important days I would miss if I chose one over the other. I wrote what I was afraid of and what I dreamed of, and I could go on and on, but just trust that this list was long. My thoughts were developed. I spent a lot of time considering every aspect and the moment I reached my decision it was a glorious feeling.

I was sitting in a café, once again with my little blue notebook, drinking an almond milk cappuccino and I left that place with my decision made. I got out to the street to walk home and I started crying of happiness. I started LITERALLY laughing out loud. It took all I had not to just scream out of happiness, but the point is that I have not felt like this about something in a long time. And that’s how I knew it was the right decision.

So.

I come back from Easter Island with Mari and Jenni on the 8^th of August. I will spend four more days in Santiago, collecting my things and saying goodbye, and on the 12^th of August I will fly back to Chicago. I will drive my car out to Newport Beach, CA over the weekend, and be living AND working there until November.

Chile has my heart. This country and its people have done what I thought was impossible the first 2.5 months I was here. I say “bacan” and “weon” and I drop the “s”s off the ends of my words and I love the smell of churianas in the streets. I love the street vendors, and the tardiness, and the kindness and the hospitality. I love the oceans, I love the cities, I love the mountains, I love the snow. I love its deserts and I love its lakes. I love the patriotism and the history. I love the pride and protests. I love pisco and I love the view from my apartment. I love the metro, even when I hate it. I love the slow walkers, even when I hate them. I am so grateful for everything Chile has given me, everything it has taught me… about the world, about people, and especially about myself.

My time teaching here is done. It feels right and I feel ready. My time in Chile, in South America, however is not. There is still so much I need to see and do, before I leave this continent mostly for good.

I will be back in November, and hopefully my parents with me for a week or so. I will stay through December and travel in January with Mari and Jenni to Patagonia. From there, I don’t know. I want to see Argentina again, I want to see Peru, Brazil, Colombia. I’m thinking about just working my way back up, seeing Central America too.

I’m excited to start this new chapter. I’m excited to be in California, to be closer to my family, to be living in a place that I love, living near a person that I love.

Now, my plan is to live every day and opportunity here to the fullest. Since I decided to go home in August, I find myself living each day more in the present. It’s a beautiful thing, and it’s exactly what I need. I feel more than ever free.