Day 3: Run for Your Life

Yesterday (since it's 7:30am on Friday, and I'm procrastinating getting ready for work) was rough.  Last night, I reached that point of mental exhaustion where I felt, if there was another siren, I would just lay down on the spot.  I didn't have it in me to run anymore.  I didn't have it in my to push through.  But, I went to sleep, and now I'm feeling mentally better.

Now for the events of yesterday.  The day started quietly, except for the news cast playing a live siren that was in the center of Israel, and I panicked and thought it was here.  Not bright, dudes.  I had to work evening shift, but we are closing the mall two hours early because of security situation (Hamas really likes those evening barrages of rockets).  I scheduled with a friend from work to meet for her English lesson before our shift, and as I pulled into the parking spot, a siren started.  I froze and had to really push myself to get moving again.  Turn off the car.  Get you purse.  Close the door.  Lock the door.  Run.  A man behind me started saying to me, "Run, run, run!"  Friends, I'm not a runner, but that sprint on adrenaline somehow got me inside the mall in time.  I knew that Yagel would be in a close bomb shelter, so I skipped the first one, and ran to the second one with just enough time to spare.  I hugged him so tight and just collapsed to the floor, shaking. 

I'll pause here and start a sort of rant.  There are plenty of Israelis who are scared, and they'll tell you that.  But the vast majority are quick to tell you, "You have nothing to worry about," "You have no reason to be scared," etc.  I have every single friggin' reason to be scared right now.  My physical safety is compromised (not as much as anyone would think, since we have tons of bomb shelters and the Iron Dome which intercepts most missiles).  My mental safety is out the window...that's why this whole game is called TERROR.  I'm terrorized.  I'm scared.  And that's okay.  I'm allowed to be.  I wasn't born here, I didn't grow up here, I wasn't in the army.  These things are scary, and I don't have to pretend to be Israeli tough, because, frankly, I'm not.  End of rant.

Check out this fun picture that Yagel and I took in the bomb shelter:

I guess that makes us part of the trend of "Bomb Shelter Selfies" that have an entire Facebook page dedicated to them.  No, I don't want to put it up there.  I mainly took this to get the weird portable potty in the background.  That's scarier than Hamas...

I continued on to my lesson with my friend, and as we sat at a cafe, and mall very politely announced, "Red alert, red alert, please make your way to the closest bomb shelter."  This time, I very calmly picked up my coffee and my bag and I walked to the bomb shelter, since it was about ten feet away.  I even continued my lesson with my friend while we were standing around waiting for the all clear.

My shift started, and as I discussed earlier, hyper-vigilance takes center stage in this scenario.  We have a lot of responsibility on top of having to care for ourselves.  But, for the most part, the shift was quiet.  We arrived at 40 minutes until close and the sirens started again.  I started herding customers to the bomb shelter, asking them to please not take the clothes out of the store (duh?).  We thought it was all clear, so we came back in, only to be greeted seconds later with another siren.  I called Yagel over and over but he didn't answer because I was sure he was out on a walk with the dog, like most other days.  Ten times, and no answer, and then I had to keep people from coming back into the store because sirens were still going off.  Finally, Yagel calls and tells me that he had been walking the dog in the neighborhood, and he had asked himself, if there is a siren, where will I go?  He then saw a neighborhood bomb shelter and was immediately greeted with the siren.  He said that the shelter is really safe, as he had to go down over ten feet into the ground to get to the room.  He also said that someone was living in the shelter, someone who didn't speak English or Hebrew, and that together they wordlessly counted the booms.  He instructed me to stay put because there were still sirens.  We felt the bombs as they hit, so many, and we all knew that there had been too many missiles at once for the Iron Dome to intercept them all.  Yagel called back and said that there had been 25 in all in the course of 7-8 minutes.  Customers started getting the news.  A house in a neighborhood close by took a direct hit, but thankfully everyone was in their bomb shelter.  Another missile landed in the street.  People were lightly injured.  And, going with my theme, I didn't know it was possible to feel anymore naked than I already did.  Stripped to the bone.

The rest of our night was quiet.  The girls from work convinced me to go have a beer with everyone at a bar with a bomb shelter.  I did, I ate a badass hamburger, but I just couldn't be there.  I was blank.  I was unfocused.  I was broken.  That's when the feeling of not being able to run anymore hit.  I told Yagel, and he looked at me with knowing eyes.  We've both been there.  God, I'm so lucky to have him.

And this morning.  I wake up to the terrible news that, not only did Hamas get rockets to Haifa (friends, that's on the northern border of Israel...it's unheard of), but Lebanon started firing rockets at Israel.  So, we've got rocket fire from both ends.  A woman in Haifa died while running to the shelter...either from shock or overexertion.  I would like to send a big personal fuck you to Hamas, Hezbollah, and especially Iran, for their contributions to this current state of affairs.  I have a lot to say about the politics, and I'll try to make my next post about that.  If today is a quiet day, maybe I'll be able to concentrate enough to organize my thoughts.  Wishing you all health and quiet and safety in these very troubling times.

PS  I've heard from quite a few people:  why don't you just leave???  Friends, I appreciate the concern, but please keep in mind, I'm not traveling here just for fun.  I live here.  My life is here.  I have responsibilities here, not the least of which is to finish writing papers for the end of the semester at university.  I'm coming home in about two weeks (earlier than scheduled) because my dad has to have open heart surgery.  We're all nervous about the surgery but happy that it's finally happened because it is to repair an aneurysm that he has had for 11 years.  It's about time.  So, I'll hold tight here and close things up the way I need to, and then we'll meet Stateside.  I love you all. 

Day 1: Laying it on Strong

Okay, it's official.  A war is upon us.  Israel has named it Operation Protective Edge.  It was a tense day and a very hot evening.  Let's have a rundown of today's events from my narrow perspective of the world...

Driving to work super early this morning was not fun.  Constantly listening for sirens and constantly thinking about where to stop and where to run to, if need be.  Yagel's mom suggested that we take pots to put on our heads if we got stuck outside.  Hysterical as it is, she did this to Yagel during the last war, and when he got stuck outside during a siren, he put the pot on his head.  I'm not sure if it was out of fear from the rockets or from fear of his mother - when she says put a pot on your head, you put a damn pot on your head!

We arrived all fine and dandy and started to work.  We even put on music to lighten the mood.  I swear that I heard a siren among the melodies, but everyone assured me that I had not.  Suddenly, the rest of the workers who had been in a different part of the store came running by where we were saying there was a siren.  It was super early in the morning, so no one was in the mall.  We all stood in the bomb shelter (yes, every corner of the mall has one) and waited.  I noticed that we even had a convenient portable toilet in the case that we might get stuck there.  We waited and waited...and nothing happened.  Finally, we figured out that there had not been a siren...we had all just imagined it within the music.  That, my friends, can shed some light on just how jacked up your brain is in a time like this.  You hear a siren in EVERYTHING.  The wind blowing, paper rustling, anything sounds like a siren.  My managers did have a good laugh watching us bolt for a false alarm over and over again on the store's cameras.

Our day continues, and we're all on edge for a siren during work hours with customers in the store.  We all have our various duties - mine to close up the cash registers, another to close the gate of the store, another to start herding customers to the safe rooms.  And finally, the time came.  We heard the loud speakers in the mall announcing "Code Red, Code Red," and we jumped into action.  That's an adrenaline rush I could do without again in my life, but I assume it will continue throughout this week, until it gets so bad that they close the mall.  It also caused me to be hyper alert the rest of my shift...just waiting.

And we waited for quite awhile.  Finished work.  Went home for a short nap.  Took the dog to the dog park.  And as we were there, letting him run off his nervous energy, everyone started talking about the messages we all got - Hamas sent rockets to Tel Aviv.  TA is the largest city in Israel, and her residents are not as seasoned at the whole run for cover as we Southerners are.  I got an uneasy feeling and insisted we leave, as many others did.  But, at this point in the story, I have to point out how desperately we all tried to continue behaving normally today.  We went out of our houses.  We went to work.  We were outside.  Sure, we may have had to run for cover, but we tried for normalcy. 

Now we arrive at the hot part of our saga.  About 7:30pm, we arrived at our safe haven, Yagel's parents' house, farther removed from the area close to Gaza (or so we thought).  We rest, I'm glued to my phone, and finally Yagel convinces me to go swimming.  It sounded amazing after the tense day and my super sore post-physical therapy muscles.  And it was amazing.  Then, Yagel's mom stuck her head out of the window and said that there were more rockets in Tel Aviv.  Seriously?  In the course of the last war, Hamas sent missiles to Tel Aviv twice.  In the course of a couple of hours, the same thing happened!  This is when it all started feeling very serious.  We got out of the pool - I felt it coming.  We took a shower.  Yagel finished and said that the rockets continued falling...Tel Aviv, Kfar Saba, Herziliya.  I was still in the shower when the terror arrived here.  The whole family shrieked for me to get out of the shower as fast as possible.  So, sopping wet and draped in two towels, I slipped my way into the bomb shelter and sat there in all my towel-covered glory with Yagel's family, just shaking and confused.  And we learned that not only were there a ton of rockets in Be'er Sheva/Omer, rockets reached the center to Tel Aviv and even to Jerusalem.  Five rockets to Jerusalem.  Four booms we counted here.  All in all, in about five minutes, 30 rockets pounded some of the largest communities in Israel, putting so many more people in the line of danger.  You remember that naked feeling I described yesterday?  I didn't think it was possible, but I feel even more naked now.  This entire country is under attack.  Nowhere is immune to this madness.  I don't have the energy to get into the politics of it all now, but just know that I am in total shock.  This vulnerable and exhausted feeling just won't go away.  I hope I can sleep.  I hope it will be quiet.  But I'm also not naive enough to think that this will be the case.

Side note, it's so refreshing to see Israel take a break from the craziness and watch the World Cup.  Everyone is freaking out about the Brazil vs. Germany game where Germany has made 5 goals in like 5 minutes.  I was in shock...and we all took a deep breath and enjoyed ourselves a bit.  It's those moments of normalcy that will surely keep us all going through what the government has said will be a long affair.  If you're interested in getting a real time look at what we are experiencing here, I suggest checking out www.thetimesofisrael.com (they have a liveblog that continually updates with new developments) or www.ynetnews.com (click on their updates from the home page on the left hand side).  If you're really masochistic, you can download the iPhone app, Red Alert, and get real time push notifications of every time there is a siren.  I DO NOT recommend it, as it will send you over the edge.  So, signing off for now.  I do hope that the following days will be less eventful, but I highly doubt it.

Sending lots of love, and hopefully some peace.

When My Innocence Was Stolen...Again.

Tonight finds me on another eve of war and another post writing about feelings, thoughts, reactions, etc.  I'm sure it's also interesting/fascinating/scary for y'all to read, and I hope that none of you will be in a situation such as this.  With that being said, let me quickly recap what is going on.

On June 12, three Israeli teens were kidnapped in the West Bank as they were hitchhiking home from school.  The kidnappers, still at large, were Palestinians affiliated with Hamas.  The search for the three teens went on for almost three weeks and ended, very sadly, in the discovery of their bodies in a field north of Hebron.  It's a horribly tragic story that I'm not going to get into here.  Any of you are welcome to email me if you're really interested in some further reading or discussion:  turner.megane@gmail.com.

After this, a group of Jewish extremists, according to the arrest reports and confessions from the group, kidnapped a Palestinian teen and burned him alive.  I'm at a loss for words and don't even know how to continue typing this post.  I'm am horrified and sickened and angered by this.  This heinous and cowardly act devastated a family and arguably set off a very nasty escalation that has me hypervigilant and with flashbacks of traumas past.  Riots are ongoing around the country and rocket attacks are frequent and terrifying (that is, in many parts of the South...in Be'er Sheva, we've had two different rounds of rockets so far as opposed to 60 rockets that fell in less than an hour all around Southern Israel about three hours ago).  A rather significant and nasty riot happened last night outside of the small Be'er Sheva suburb that I'm calling my safe haven for this go-round.  Bedouins protested and rioted in the street at the entrance to the city, throwing Molotov cocktails and rocks at cars.  People were hurt and property badly damaged.  A friend of mine was traveling back along this route and called the police to ask if it was safe to pass through.  Their response - do a U-turn and go back because we have lost all control there.

What.  Is.  Going.  On?!?!?

And, of course, those powerful and chilling air raid sirens are becoming a frequent part of our lives again.  Saturday evening, after reports of rockets gradually getting deeper into Israel and closer to Be'er Sheva, it was show time.  We heard the sirens and quickly got into the safe room (I'm with my boyfriend's family).  Someone told me that the second time you go through it, it's easier.  I'm not so sure, because I have found myself shaking and crying and tensed ever since.  You wait and wait for that siren (I've been waiting for a year a half, always monitoring, always looking, always thinking about where to run...gotta love trauma), and then your fears are confirmed with a piercing, gut-wrenching wail.  I was at home today between a physical therapy appointment and teaching a dance lesson when I got caught off guard.  I almost broke the dog's neck as I yanked him through our front door and down the stairwell.  We don't have a safe room in this new apartment, so down a few flights of stairs has to do.  I have been on edge ever sense.  Afterwards, I had to drive to my various lessons (which, by the way, I passed my Israeli drivers' test and now have my Israeli license), and I was confronted with the thought - what do I do if there's a siren while I'm driving?  Yes, we're told to pull over, exit the car, try to find shelter, and if not, lay on the ground and cover your head.  Great, but how do I execute this with all the batshit crazy Israeli drivers?  What if there's no room to pull over?  I have to remember to lock the doors, since a lot of cars got stolen last war...and all while figuring out where I could run to at every turn.  At one point, I got so tired of these racing thoughts, I just shut my brain off and drove.  That is the most "Israeli" moment I have probably ever had.  Just letting it all go.  Can I change it?  No.  Can I live my life in a small concrete bomb shelter?  No.  I can, however, go about my daily life while be smart and safe.  And that, in and of itself, is scary for me.

With all of that said, I'm trying not to look at the news as much, as per advice of a dear friend and veteran Israeli immigrant from America, because why do I need to mess myself up anymore psychologically?  But I also can't shake the texts and emails and phone calls from America.  I know everyone is worried sick and is only getting news of the big picture while I'm just in a little sliver.  And I can't help but feeling so naked, so bare after these attacks.  After the attacks on the three Israeli teens.  On the Palestinian teen.  The riots.  The rockets.  I'm left feeling so empty and so confused about how to reconcile all these thoughts with the reality that I have in my head of my adopted home.  I suppose this is part of the reality, but perhaps, it is a part I am not yet ready to accept.

More to say and more to update, but I've got to try and get some sleep before the madness truly begins.  Wishing all those in this area of the world quiet and calm.  Love and peace to everyone involved, not just to my fellow Israelis.      

Driving in Israel

Well, I have to get around somehow, right?  Actually, not.  I have my bike and the public transit system here is pretty dreamy, but I have put in my fair share amount of time behind the wheel here in my new home.  And let me tell you, it's a different animal...so, how's about I share with you my humorous and infuriating observations?

We drive on the right side of the road, just like in the good ole USofA, so no difference there.  Israelis typically start driving from 18 years of age and up, some not getting their license until after they've completed the army, putting them closer to age 21.  The process of getting this coveted license is quite pricey, too.  The average Israeli needs about 28 lessons that cost about $25 a pop.  Now, if you're especially bad, you will need more lessons, and that is all up to the driving instructor.  After you've completed your lessons, you have to run through a ton of bureaucratic bullshit to get your paperwork ready for the test.  This is where I jumped into the equation, since I have 14 years of driving experience from the US.  Then, you must schedule a test with the DMV and pay about $125 or more for the test.  I'm still waiting for my test spot...hopefully that will come soon.  Most native Israelis I have talked to failed their first test, even the competent ones, as it seems that this is an easy way for the DMV to make more money.  However, I have heard and I pray that new immigrants are given an easier time and are usually passed on their first try, notwithstanding any major issues within the test.

You would think that with all this time and money invested in driving lessons and testing that Israelis would be excellent drivers.  I sadly must share with you that this is not the case.  An Israeli's driving habit directly mirrors their character - loud, brash, dominate, and will do anything to get ahead.  People scream, people honk, people cut you off, and this is all just part in parcel for the ride on our fair streets here.

Now, for some differences.  First of all, if a street has two or more lanes DON'T EVER drive in the far right lane.  While it is a lane of traffic, it almost always turns into a row of parking spots, as well.  No signage, no warning, just suddenly, a line of cars blocking your way.

Second, we have traffic circles here.  No four-way stops.  My theory is that Israelis just wouldn't have the patience, but a recent episode of Myth Busters also explained that traffic circles are also more efficient.  Which is definitely what our short-tempered culture needs.  Check out the MB experiment here.

Also, be careful because there are no right turns on red in this country!  I learned this the hard way when I almost gave my dear friend, Artur, a heart attack by turning right on red.  Even if no one is coming, it's still illegal.  If you can turn right, there is a separate, designated lane that leads you into traffic.  Oy va voy if you break this rule!

Gas prices are also drastically different.  At about 8 shekels a liter, we pay dearly for our gas.  With the current exchange weight much more in the shekel's favor and the conversion of liters to gallons, that's about $10 a gallon, friends.  We definitely consider if we can walk or take a bus or a bike before we just hop in the car.

Don't be afraid to honk, because you will get honked at back!  I feel oftentimes like I am corralling a heard of cows while I'm driving, politely giving a few beeps to warn another car not to sideswipe me as he swerves chaotically through traffic or as a pedestrian hastily tries to cross the road (often illegally, as well).  Gotta be on your p's and q's otherwise, you're going to get hit.

Lastly, Israeli parking leaves much to be desired.  The lines on a parking spot are merely a suggestion to most folks as they just haphazardly pull their car into whatever space is available.  I kid you not, I've seen a midsized sedan take up four spaces before, and that was not because they parked parallel in a perpendicular spot.  They're just that lazy/rude/etc. or perhaps more people need glasses here than you can think.  And we wonder why there are so many parking issues here. 

So, that's about it for my assessment of driving here in Israel.  I'm hoping the test won't be a nightmare and that I'll understand all the commands I'm given.  Listening to my boyfriend is one thing...listening to a grumpy government work bark out orders while driving in this clusterfuck is another.  Should be interesting, as are all of my adventures in this crazy land.  Love to all!

10 Years Ago Today

A very funny thing happened to me during one of my English lessons this evening.  I was sitting with one of my best students, having a conversation lesson, when we started talking about high school and tests and graduation...and it hit me that ten years ago, I graduated from high school.  Something continued nagging me, however, and I decided to pull out my high school diploma and show it to my student.  As I checked the date, I was shocked to see that on this EXACT day ten years ago, I graduated high school.  Now, my friends, that is a weird feeling.  To be sitting in the middle of my lesson, in my apartment in Be'er Sheva, Israel, and to be transported back to where I was exactly ten years ago to that moment.

I happily remembered the day, starting off as a beautiful, sunny May morning in Arkansas.  We had graduation practice that morning on the football field, and we were all pretty sure that we wouldn't be rained out and forced into the gym with the clear sky and the pleasant breeze.  I found on my seat my final English paper from the famed Mrs. Kropp (my her memory be forever blessed)...that stress-filled project that determined if I kept my perfect 4.0 average or not (it was).  I remember time spent with the family and friends and how quickly the day ran away until we all converged on the football stadium that evening.  Decked out in red heels in honor of my beloved sister, Lori, who also wore red heels to her Southside High School graduation years before, I joined the throngs of my fellow students to graduate.  It was beautiful...I remember lots of specific parts, especially when Mr. Mahaffey grabbed my ankle before I walked across the podium to get my diploma, with a huge smile on his face (that smile that no one can forget) and surely lots of great memories in his heart.  (Super quick side story, Mr. Mahaffey, easily one of the most influential teachers of my life, taught my oldest sister, Kim, and vowed to not retire until he had taught me.  True to his word, my year was his last year of teaching.  I was so fortunate to have him as a teacher and a mentor, and I gained so much from him.)  I remember the first few students dropping their diplomas as they crossed the stage, out fear or nerves or whatever, and I made a mental note to hold on for dear life.  I remember a sea full of light blue caps and gowns and the tunnel our teachers made, escorting us into to beginning of the end...and on into a new beginning.

Now, let's twist the mind around a bit more.  I've been reflecting, ever since my discovery, on where I thought I would be and where I actually am now.  As a naive and energetic 18 year old, I never thought that my life would end up in Israel, studying my Masters degree in a language that I'm still learning, roughing it and toughing it and loving it with an amazing life partner and tons of unbelievable friends by my side.  The last ten years have been a roller coaster, but all the dips and turns and loopty-loops make me who I am, and I'm proud of the life I've lived and the life I'm living.  Sure, I've made some terrible choices, but more importantly, I've learned from them.  All of this beautiful reflection in the midst of an end-of-the-semester, too-stressed-out-to-function, all-work-and-no-play crisis with lots of tears and snot.  But, damn, if these are the things I'm stressed about - a presentation in front of a group of doctors with whom I've worked and co-treated patients all year, leading a mock group therapy session, cleaning my big and beautiful apartment, spending time with my amazing and intelligent boyfriend, finding time to be with all those super friends I've been blessed with, etc. - then I would say that I'm doing terribly well.  So, with sleep deprivation on my mind, I'll finish this nostalgic post with a smile on my face and a happy reflection in my heart.  Southside High School Class of 2004.




(And I made it through the entire post without saying something about feeling old...high five!  Hahaha!)

Surprise Post!

Surprise!  I'm back!  I mean, I've always been here, but juggling grad school, an internship, three jobs, and the multitude of other obligations we as humans have, I've neglected my poor blog.  There's so much to update you all on, as well!

I'll start with this - it hit me this morning, as I was sitting on my "sun balcony" in my new apartment that it's Friday morning.  Theoretically, this should be like a Saturday morning in America.  Quiet, no work, no school, and time for all the fun we all enjoy.  However, Israel is a different animal.  People typically work six days a week, Sunday to Friday (since Saturday is our designated day of rest, as opposed to Sunday in America), children go to school Sunday to Friday, and things operate normally albeit on a shorter schedule.  Things will close early today, around 3:30-4:00PM to allow time for Shabbat preparations.  For me, it typically has meant running to work at H&M from 7AM and then arriving home around 4:30PM to teach the last English lessons of the week before running out of steam.  So, maybe it's no surprise that I haven't had the time that I've wanted to write or read (or study, for that matter).  Our culture here is a fast-paced one, and I feel like people are constantly on the move... 

Except for me today.  My body told me SIT DOWN AND REST, and I've been sick with a stomach virus for almost a week.  I guess I can't complain too much.  We may work extra long and hard, but when you're sick, you get paid out of your sick days (I get 18 a year, for example), and you can really just focus on being better.  That's a huge change from America where, if I were sick, I'd have to use vacation days and pay dearly to go to the doctor.  Did I mention, too, that I pay $7 a month for full coverage health insurance, and I don't pay a dime when I go to visit the doctor?  Or that my prescriptions will never be more than $10 (usually around $3-4)?  Did I also mention that my American mentality is so deeply ingrained within me that I still have a hard time to stop working, go to the doctor, and just rest?  You can check with Yagel - I've driven him nuts with my stubbornness on this subject more than once.  :)

So, let's catch up on some of massive changes that have occurred over the past few months.  First of all, I moved to a new apartment.  It's HUGE compared to what I was in, and it has such a lovely character.  I have a great kitchen, a big living room, two bedrooms (one, I have turned into an office), a large bathroom, and two balconies - a service balcony, where I can theoretically do laundry (just don't have a washing machine yet, haha), and a sun balcony, which I mentioned earlier, that is used as an extension to the kitchen and a future home to yoga and meditation time.  Future meaning, when I have time.  Here's some photo evidence...

 The sun balcony before it was made into an extension of the kitchen...now there is a microwave and a wine rack and other fun kitchen-y things there. 

 This is the much talked about kitchen.  It's HUGE, and I have so much space to cook!  Plus, the sink is 4x bigger than the last one.  I'm not really sure what to do with myself...

 Entering the living room from the sun balcony...TV, book shelf, and oh my, what is that on the bottom left?

 More of the living room, looking at the dining area and front door.

 Looking back into the living room.  Two big sofas!  We don't have to perform acrobatics to relax while watching TV!  Yagel's beautiful artwork is one the walls...and oh...again, there's something strange by the sofa...

The bedroom...so much light.  TV.  More room.  So red (just like I like it!).

 And the office.  With the wild zebra print on the closets.  It even has a dry-erase board on the opposite wall, which is great for teaching lessons! 

So, to address that rather blonde ball of fur that you saw in a few of the pictures.  It is indeed true, Yagel and I adopted a dog.  His name is Tripp Turner Chernia (thanks, Mom!), and he's half Shar-Pei, half Pit Bull or Labrador or teddy bear, we're not sure.  Here he is in all his cuteness...

Yep, so new apartment, new furchild, getting close to finishing my first year in grad school.  Also visited Amsterdam for a week.  It's been a whirlwind, and I'm still loving every minute of it.  Ahhhhh, writing this blog is definitely my therapy.  I hope that I can find the time to do more for myself in the coming weeks...even with finals approaching.  Hope to catch up again with y'all soon!  Kisses, Megan

Stuck in the Middle

Maybe some of you older olim can help me with this, but my first trip home has been an emotional roller coaster.  I'm super happy and excited one minute, I'm sad about leaving the next, I'm super homesick for Israel the next, and I just feel in emotional limbo at the moment.

My flight home leaves Friday, weather permitting, since there is a massive snow and ice storm that will be rolling through the area and the area of my first connecting flight starting Thursday.  Strange enough, I'm not happy with the prospect of staying later or the prospect of leaving earlier because, somewhere in my twisted brain, I have it figured out that Friday is the "sweet spot."  Not too little, not too much.  Goldie Lock's "just right."  I blamed it on the prospect of missing more school when being weepy to my patient and amazing boyfriend earlier, but it's much deeper than that.

When I'm not in Israel, I'm not completely myself...perhaps my healthy self is more accurate to say.  My stomach is messed up because I'm not used to the heavy and gut-punching American food anymore.  My brain is all scrambled because I'm not with my adopted family(s) who have become such an integral part of my everyday life.  My body is beyond jacked up seeing as how I'm on the two week mark of being in the States, and I'm still jet lagged and finding myself tired at all the wrong times.

When I'm not in Arkansas, I'm constantly worried about my parents, my two loving lifelines who mean the world to me.  I miss Mexican and Thai and Indian food.  I miss my dear American friends.  And at this particular moment, I'm stuck between those two worlds, longing to be in Israel but already missing Arkansas (or more correctly, the people who mean something to me since we established in an earlier post that I could very well do without this small town mentality).  How do you deal when you feel like you're about to be torn in two again?

You deal with it with a smile knowing that you, and only you, have been the one to make it possible to live in such a way, having found yourself two different worlds and homes on this vast Earth.  And you're proud of that fact.  You busted it to be able to buy a ticket and come home to show those close to you how much you love them and to just simply (and importantly) be with them.  And you get to return to the place where you feel the best and continue on with the beautiful life you've built with pride and support coming at you from all sides. 

I guess this is truly summing up what it means to be an Arkansan Israeli, a citizen and lover of both places.  Pretty amazing.  So, here's yours truly, "Confused Israeli in Arkansas, Soon to Be Confused Arkansan in Israel," awaiting the balance to be restored.  But more thankful than ever for the life I have.