The Next Chapter

Here We Go

I've had a few requests for a blog as I embark on my new life in Dublin, Ireland. I suppose this is an attempt to do just that. I have no idea if this will extend beyond the post I am writing here, or if it'll serve as a way for me to process all I am going through for an extended amount of time. Whatever it ends up being, this is where it begins. 

Some nice pictures of Ireland throughout for your viewing pleasure😅--This was my family's land in Mageestown Co. Antrim (long abandoned, but still owned by 3rd cousins).

I figured what better way than to continue my thoughts by jumping off of the same place I wrote my first ever blog. It was about my brother and what it was like living life as an older sister with a sibling that has autism. In many ways my brother, and the journey he put my family and I on, is a huge part of who I am today and what challenges I put before myself. 

Co. Wicklow, the county just below (1 hrs bike ride) from my new home in Lucan, Co. Dublin.

Throughout the last half of 2017 and the first half of 2018 I have been on one of the most difficult journeys of my life so far. Nothing went quite as planned. My health, both mentally and physically, failed me in countless ways. I started the last half of 2017 entering City Year Chicago. I thought it was going to be great. I knew it would be an extremely challenging time, but never did I imagine in what way that would end up being true. Then, as I begun 2018 everything I knew began turning upside-down, all while finding out I was accepted into Trinity College Dublin for my Masters degree in Social Work. I figure I'll start with what shaped my year most dramatically, City Year. 

City Year

I began full of hope and energy. The idea of meeting new people with similar values was invigorating. I was beyond excited to grow in my ability as a future social worker and develop deep relationships with my students in whatever school I was placed. My focus was always the students, so it threw me for a loop when City Year began seeming like a high school retreat program (mind you, I have always strongly disliked the retreat-type group team building games and the like). The focus was on getting to know others serving, mixed in with a bit of ambiguous school prep. It was hard to know how we were supposed to apply anything being taught when we had no idea where we would be placed (neighborhood or school) or what grade we would be with. I pushed through and reminded myself that there had to be a reason for all of this. 

Finally, September 5th, we reached the day we would meet our students. Would they like me? Would I know how to be what they need? Would they judge me for who I am? The anxiety began. But the moment I saw that first smiling, giggly face I knew all would be well. That sweet, tiny girl stole my heart the moment our eyes met as the fourth graders took their seats for breakfast on the first day of school. I sat next to her and we began to talk. All small talk at this point, but a step toward relationship. 

Over the next month relationships were deepening. I found my groove with the students, and oh how I loved them already. It doesn't take much for me. God placed a love for children in me so deep I hardly know what to do with it. I love being able to teach them, watch them learn, and see how their little minds work to form solutions. I love being the one to comfort them when they are hurting, and to show them the way when they are lost. Needless to say, that attachment was there from day one, and I was in for it. 

I heard hard things:

Students admitted to hospitals for suicidal thoughts,

4th graders.

Man shot and killed,

Parent of 4th and 3rd grader.

Abuse from male figures at home for being more feminine,

4th grader.

Belittled by their own teacher--bullied, physically reprimanded, shamed right before my eyes--nothing I said to anyone about it helped,

Classroom full of 4th graders. 

Believe it or not I could handle hearing most of those things. While hard, my duty was with the students and I comforted them, helped them cope, was their listening ear, their safe space. It was the things I physically witnessed and felt powerless to defend that got me in the end. It broke me down to an extent I never want to revisit. Paired with over exhaustion from 50 plus hour work weeks and these difficult situations affecting my students within the school building (on top of whatever else they experienced at home), I began to break. 


My anxiety became so bad I would begin to have panic attacks as I watched students being thrown against a wall for yelling out in class. I would wake up sick to my stomach and unable to get out of bed as my anxiety took over my body. I would dream about the students being hurt while I was stuck, as if glued to the floor, unable to stop anything. I spent so much of my time sick...many times still getting out of my bed and going to work for nearly 12 hours a day trying to pretend nothing was wrong. I was on the verge of a break down, and no one seemed to understand. Even as I tried my best to be vocal about it. I have never felt so alone and misunderstood. And I hope to never feel that way again. Making well under the poverty line serving with Americorps I was unable to afford treatment to help the condition I was now in. Thank God for my supportive family that stepped in and paid for doctor visits and medication. Despite the struggles I was facing I still showed up for my students, and still loved on them fiercely. I refused to give up, until that became the only option I had. 

To this day, the day I left my kids is the hardest day of my life. A week after handing in my doctors notes and explaining I had to leave to my team, I walked into my students' classroom with a handwritten, personal note for all 40 something of them and explained to them I had to go. There was this thing I did with that tiny, adorable girl I mentioned earlier. She struggled a lot, and had suicidal thoughts, so whenever she was having a bad day I would squeeze her hand three times. It meant "I Love You". It was my way of reminding her "I'm here" and "you are not alone". Well, the day I walked in and said I had to leave, I gave the students a chance to ask questions. At this point, she raised her hand, I called on her, and she proceeded to stand up and walk to me at the front of the room. She reached for my hand, squeezed three times and said "but what about this." To this day, nearly 5 months later, I still hold back tears (or don't hold them back) when I think of that moment. I felt like a failure. I was just another person to walk out of their lives. I wasn't strong enough. Students throughout the room were crying, many stayed back from lunch. All I kept thinking was "I did this, I'm horrible." While others were saying, "wow, look at the impact you made. This is incredible to see how much they love you." I truly just couldn't see that side of it. It traumatized me. Extensively. It still does. My mental health has never been the same, I still can't sleep through the night. But I just keep reminding myself how strong I am, how I'm working on it, how I loved these kids to the best of my ability and literally gave them EVERY. SINGLE. PART. OF. ME. And I will love all of them forever. It's impossible for me to ever forget any one of them. And amidst all of this, I found out I was accepted to both University of Edinburgh and Trinity College Dublin. So, with all of this crap and pain came something incredible. It gave me something to look forward to and focus my healing on...which begins this next chapter.

☘Onward to Ireland☘

So, here we are. 28 days until my life in Ireland! From the end of March until the 19th of July I have had the absolute privilege of watching these beauties. ♥ Oh how they have helped with my healing.

It is going to be so hard to leave them in 19 days...

 but thanks to their amazing parents I know it will not be the last time I will see them--whether FaceTime or a trip to Ireland to visit me.😉😊 

They have filled my days with so much joy and cuddles (and a few tantrums here and there 😜 ).

And I, of course, have instilled in them the love of all things Irish. ☘

Between physical health and mental health, babies and cuddles, and all things in between, this year has been one for the books. I'm hoping and praying with all the healing and hard work that I have done over the last few months that I am more than ready for my life in Dublin. I'm in it for the long haul, and I truly believe those green hills, endless seas, and the countryside will be good for this Irish-loving soul of mine.

Coming Next time: Updates on where I will live, what I've had to do, and what is still left--as well as a bit of fun to be had.