Selfish

I opened my last post with a metaphor I've often had in mind: MS as an abuser. The weird thing is, this relapse, while mostly something I wish never, ever happened in the first place, has also been something of a friendly slap in the face or a bucket of ice water over the head.

When this happened, I was treating myself, well, like shit. Did you happen to catch when I compared myself to a Podling, drained of her essence? "Oh, yeah, I haven't been able to write or whatever, but I'm pretty sure it'll be okay."

It, as I well knew, was not okay.

So, here is what I must do from now on:

1. take my medication. Before, whenever it might have decreased my productivity, I didn't take it. Medication will now take top priority in this equation, without exception.
2. listen to music more. It keeps me in touch with who I am, which is someone other than an expat, immigrant, imperfect speaker of Finnish, 'different' or somehow unable to fulfil (mostly my own) expectations.
3. read more books (of my choosing). I can't teach if I don't learn. I can't learn if I don't take the time to do so.
4. write. I'll hate my life if I don't.
5. find a way to ditch the anxiety at any cost, save my motor skills.
6. rest. Relax.
7. be prepared for it to show. Up until the first of this month, revealing the fact of my MS was always met with surprise. It may well not be so anymore.
8. be selfish, and make more selfish decisions. If you want that in self-help speak, I should work on prioritising my own needs.

tl:dr, Some things have to change.

Untitled umpteen

Well, the brute (MS) backhanded me sometime around March 31st. At least, that's when I first noticed that something was wrong.

I decided to go into work a little later - 8.30 rather than my usual 7.30 -  that morning. I drank my coffee a little more leisurely and I eschewed my ride to work in favor of walking. On my way, I noticed that navigating the terrain was difficult; for some ineffable reason, I was afraid I might fall.

I almost fell straight backwards a couple of times throughout the day. My balance was noticeably off. This might be very bad, I thought. But I put in a full day's work and then some at home, too.

The next day, I had promised myself a day of working remotely. I'd been feeling immensely stressed, and I had no lessons or exams that day. I wouldn't say the day did much in the way of relieving stress, but I did manage to accomplish a lot, and I suffered few distractions. Typing, however, was strangely tiring.

At 2 or 3, I decided to take a break and go for a run. It would be a treat. I donned my workout clothes, took a last-minute phone call and was out the door.

It was only after five minutes or so that I noticed I was running with a distinct limp. This is just psychological. This is not happening, I told myself before giving up.

That weekend, things worsened. I went in for treatment the following week, and they worsened still. At my worst, I was unable to do much other than walk myself short distances (My foot crumpled up and dragged beneath me, my right arm was out of commission, and my balance was awful - I'd say I was at major risk of falling.) shower, eat and sleep. This lasted almost a week, during which time I tried to distract myself in my waking moments by streaming TV shows on my laptop. All I could think, watching those people on the screen, was how easily they moved, how effortlessly they walked.

Today, I seem to be improving. Physical improvement has brought hope, which, I must admit, was only desperate sadness not two days ago.

I'm lucky to live in Finland, where doctors prescribe sick leave for a bad sniffle. Still, I'm American, and missing work makes me feel anxious and guilty. I'm doing my motherfucking damndest to return to work on Monday. (How does one use crutches?)

I'm not going to end this on a positive note just yet; I am too wary. Let's just say, I hope beyond hope that things can return as closely as possible to the way they were.

I think it's time

It's funny -- I've unable to write lately. And I don't mean that I've been too busy or lazy or tired or uninspired (although all those things have been true, too). I mean that every time I resolve to write something, even if it is a cathartic outpouring in my private journal, I've been unable to write more than a few words. It has felt impossible; it has felt almost as though I've forgotten how.

Except for today. The spell was broken today, and I wrote a poem.

I think it's this business of teaching. I love teaching, but I also feel as if I'm one of those Podlings from The Dark Crystal who've had their essence drained. That's a far more negative image than I hope to paint, but I suppose it's a common feeling; the very nature of the job demands lots and lots of essence.

Not only that, but it demands an altered formula. It's not as if simply being myself will do the trick. I've got to pretend to some extent, at least enough to portray myself as someone with a tiny modicum of authority (an attempt that likely fail in any case). I do try to be as genuine as possible with my students, and I truly believe that I forge strong relationships with them as a result -- but, even so, the formula's been altered.

I'm fairly sure that keeping connections to my own interests, of which writing is one, would go a long way to helping this. And I've tried, oh, how I've tried. The very fact of this post, though -- as I sit here with wet hair and a coffee -- is a damn good sign. Perhaps it's the increase in sunlight. You know what? It's definitely that.

But I should also probably think a lot less about "being myself" and what that entails. In other words, I should detach from my ego a little. Then, I'll probably be okay.

Land of The Free

I arrived on U.S. soil (after not having been back for two years) about three weeks ago. I'll be back in Finland by this Sunday morning.

I've experienced reverse culture shock in ways that I never would have anticipated. I thought I might find food-related things surprising - the overflowing supermarket shelves, the enormous portion sizes, tipping culture - and of those things, it was really only the last that gave me pause (the other two delighted me, actually).

The real shock, though, was the idea that I can't simply go anywhere I'd like, within reason. Since taking up running, I've become kind of outdoorsy, and I love exploring any road, street or path that looks as if it will lead somewhere interesting. There is absolutely no lack of natural (or even industrial) beauty around here, but much of it is off-limits to me or to anyone.

This is Collinsville, an industrial village that once housed an ax factory. In the last 20 years or so, it's gone from a decaying northeastern town to a genuinely nice place to explore and spend time. Some of it, though, is still very much in decay (see above). When I stole this picture, I was technically trespassing; as the sign indicates, people certainly aren't allowed to traipse through these old buildings, but even setting foot on the property is something I ought not be doing. 

Fortunately, no one seems to give a shit, and the illegality of my being there is about as serious as jaywalking (jaywalking in the U.S., that is). 

However, there are vast and wild forests everywhere, full of crude paths, overlooks and stunning vistas. Some parts are state-owned and accessible to everyone. Others (some near my childhood home, in fact) are owned by people who feel very much violated by hikers and explorers. 

In Finland, we're protected by the concept of "freedom to roam", or jokamiehenoikeus. From the Finnish Wikipedia entry: 

                              "Jokamiehenoikeuksilla tarkoitetaan jokaisen oikeutta nauttia luonnosta ja                                            hyödyntää sitä riippumatta alueen omistussuhteista."

which basically means that everyone has the right to enjoy and make use of (I assume this means to pick berries, collect mushrooms, etc.) nature regardless of who owns the land. As I understand it, this has some very reasonable limitations, like picnicking in someone's yard or "enjoying" nature through the act of destroying it. 

As I was trespassing in the woods the other day, I thought about how, in Finland, there'd have been other people there, too, enjoying the wilderness and experiencing no hesitation in doing so. On one hand, I wished more people were able to make use of those woods. On the other hand, I was glad that I didn't have to share the space with anyone else. 

Now, when I think about the fact that I'm not allowed to enter privately owned forests in which no one ever steps foot, I feel sense of indignation. I don't know that I thought much about it before moving to Finland, other than to knowingly engage in some good old trespassing every now and again. Now that it's a part of me, I'm fairly sure that every man's right is a thing I'll never renounce, 

Hi

Why, hello there.

What is there to say? I'm sorry I've gone quiet, and, I assure you, it's not that I'm dead or that I've moved back to the states or both. I suppose I've been experiencing something of a blogging crisis.

My teaching career is growing and developing, a thing regarding which I had completely lost hope a year ago. I'm nearly a functioning adult person, although I'm still painfully anxious and hopelessly fumbling sometimes. I still walk everywhere, and it gives me a sense of autonomy but also one of rootlessness, like a roving traveler.

It's just that I can't imagine why you'd care much about what I'm up to these days. I'm not a tourist or a visitor or a person fresh off the boat, only just coming to discover Finland, the existence of a partitive case, mustamakkara and the like. Although I continue to experience new things on a frequent basis, those experiences have morphed from ones novel and bemusing into something more like habitual and familiar (with, of course a dash of mitä vittua). And wasn't it my bewilderment and confusion that drew you to me in the first place?

What bewilders me now is how I ended up here. How utterly weird it is that I came to live in Finland of all places, and on little more than a whim, too. I mean, if I'd been even a little older, a little wiser, would I have ever come here at all? And yet, somehow, it's all working out and I've become someone different. Or, maybe not completely different, but I've gained a dimension. I guess that's due mainly to the language; I'd suppose I use Finnish and English in roughly equal amounts these days, though absolutely not with equal facility. Knowing Finnish has granted me a new understanding of the world -  added a new dimension to things.

So, I dunno, maybe I'll leave it up to you. Assuming you're interested at all, what would you like to know about?

when the sun hits

As Ira Glass once said (of David Sedaris in Paris) on This American Life, learning a new language can be traumatic. Traumatic, that is, if it becomes your new mode of communication, your new everyday tongue. You have to surrender familiar words, phrases and, most wrenching of all, familiar ways of thinking. That's not all, though;  competence, fluency, security and being able to express yourself in precisely the way you intend fly out the window, seemingly lost to you forever. 

Basically, you have to accept that, for a long and terrible while, you're going to feel like an idiot. 

The moment in which this feeling starts to dissipate is memorable, even palpable. It might be when a native informs you your credit card is declined and you understand every word he says without strain. It might be when you're talking to a friend and manage to describe your feelings to your own satisfaction. It might be when you have that first conversation in which you do not feel lost or left behind. 

Language learners at every level have moments in which they note their own progress and think, "Wow. I sure as hell couldn't do that before." But at some point, using the language, really using it, becomes somewhat easy, if only by comparison to your abilities 1, 2, 3 months ago. It seems to me that this is the light at the end of the tunnel. This is when you start to become less and less of an idiot every day. 

I'm still an idiot, but I'm an idiot with the skills to deal with nearly any everyday situation. 

***

It's official. I start teaching English literature, language, and oral skills at the lukio level this autumn. Planning these courses has already been challenging and fiercely rewarding, and I feel quite at home in the environment and with my very open, kind, helpful colleagues. 

After months of boredom, I hit the jackpot. 

My life can continue now. 

Say My Name

I haven't written about the YKI because, well, a very unfortunately timed flu prevented me from taking it.

"Oh, so you didn't end up traveling to Joensuu?" I hear you wondering.

But I did, in fact.

I was supposed to leave at 17.00 the night before. I sent a text message to my ride at around 16.05 and cancelled the whole thing. At around 16.30 I put a call in to him, cancelled my cancellation, and we were on the road by 17.00 after all. Coughing, sputtering, fever rising, I made it to the hotel and we had a bite to eat.

In short, it was a huge mistake to go there in the first place. I coughed all night, and I was feverish and very ill by morning. During the ride back to Lappeenranta, sick, defeated and depressed, I kept wondering if I could have made it through - if only I'd shoved the fever and raw throat to the back of my mind. I'm still wondering. The good news is that I'll be taking the test in August, at which time I won't even have to travel a kilometer to get there.

______________________________________________________________

During the two and a half years that I've lived in Finland, I've been called many things. My family and friends pronounce my name with the emphasis on the second syllable. For most of my life, it was a somewhat unusual, even exotic name. I was almost sure to be the only Elena in any given social situation. Now, I'm simply one of a seemingly massive minority.

The one fact of my name that remains here in Finland is that no one can pronounce it correctly.

People often call me "Ellu" without so much as a moment's hesitation. I like that. It feels familiar. It feels like my Finnish persona. It also feels like an escape from being called "Ellen" with an ugly [ʌ] tacked on the end.

I've often thought of going by my middle name. It'd solidify, exemplify the transformation I have made, and it would keep my real name and my previous persona intact. Still, it would require confusing a lot of people, so I've done nothing other than toy with the idea.

______________________________________________________________

My professional life is undergoing big changes. It looks as if I will be able to do what I always intended to do and what really suits me best: teach. I'll save the details for when the Ts are dotted and the Is are crossed. Basically, forget everything I said before. As usual, I'm just riding the current, hoping I don't smash my face on a rock.