It Took Traveling 9,000 Miles To Find Myself

It Took Traveling 9,000 Miles To Find Myself

I have become the me I wish I was back home


I remember when I made the decision to move to Thailand, a year and a half ago, everyone reminded me to think about what I was doing. More so, to remind me not to be running away from anything. Running away from pain, running away from myself, or even running away from the idea of being somewhere where I've always called home. And, being who I was, of course, I wasn't running from anything. I gagged at the idea of someone traveling to find themselves because essentially you should be able to find yourself where you are. Either way, you are the one person you will always have to put up with. So the idea of me moving to a different country to "find myself" or to "run from myself" was a bit ridiculous.

But here I am. Here I am working on my third month in Thailand. But before I go into who I am now, let me give you an idea of who I was. I was the one to always say "no" to plans, even though to this day I defend why I said no, but I said it a bit too much. I said no to about every plan that came my way. I talked about the same things I had been talking about with the same people for months. I had been talking about the same people, I had been going to the same places, and I had been doing the same things that I had been doing for years.

I absolutely loved college and everyone I had the chance to get close to, but that's about it. Greensboro in four years became what my hometown was to me after eighteen years. I was just tired and ready to leave. I didn't care to leave my apartment because I knew what was outside of it. I enjoyed people in small doses because that is all I could handle at the time. I was even okay with death. Not the death that I would bring upon myself, but the death that would come when it's my time to go.

And now, this me doesn't seem to come around anymore. I am terrified of death because there is so much world out there that I haven't seen yet. There are people who I haven't met who I know I will come to love. People who I deserve and, at the moment, deserve me. Who I am now is okay doing nothing after a long day of doing everything that I can. I love exploring and talking to new people. There are people I have met because I put myself in a position to be as open as I could with them, who are now people I consider so lucky to have met. I love that I am in a place where I can be ignorant and have every chance to learn something new, and I am open to putting myself in situations that I would completely avoid back home. Although I have come off my anxiety medication, which has held me back some, I am a me that I didn't think existed.

I didn't come here with the plan of being someone new nor was I trying to run away from anything, but inevitably, both have become an agenda for me. I have pushed myself more here than I have ever pushed myself before. Anxiety has been an enemy for so long and I knew that was someone else I would bring with me here, so I had to tackle it differently. And, now that I find myself happy here, I am now running from who I was and going back to America.

I have this fear that if I go back home, I will end up being who I once was, so I know when I am ready to leave Thailand that I will be running from going home. Although this isn't necessarily a bad thing to be running from, I just have found myself in a place and time where I am grateful to be alive and I remember when I didn't feel that way.

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I Visited The "Shameless" Houses And Here's Why You Shouldn't

Glamorizing a less-than-ideal way to live.

After five hours of driving, hearing the GPS say "Turn right onto South Homan Avenue" was a blessing. My eyes peeled to the side of the road, viciously looking for what I have been driving so long for, when finally, I see it: the house from Shameless.

Shameless is a hit TV show produced by Showtime. It takes place in modern-day Southside, Chicago. The plot, while straying at times, largely revolves around the Gallagher family and their continual struggle with (extreme) poverty. While a majority of the show is filmed offsite in a studio in Los Angeles, many outside scenes are filmed in Southside and the houses of the Gallagher's and side-characters are very much based on real houses.

We walked down the street, stopped in front of the two houses, took pictures and admired seeing the house in real life. It was a surreal experience and I felt out-of-place like I didn't belong there. As we prepared to leave (and see other spots from the show), a man came strolling down on his bicycle and asked how we were doing.

"Great! How are you?"

It fell silent as the man stopped in front of the Gallagher house, opened the gate, parked his bike and entered his home. We left a donation on his front porch, got back to the car and took off.

As we took the drive to downtown Chicago, something didn't sit right with me. While it was exciting to have this experience, I began to feel a sense of guilt or wrongdoing. After discussing it with my friends, I came to a sudden realization: No one should visit the "Gallagher" house.

The plot largely revolves the Gallagher family and their continual struggle with (extreme) poverty. It represents what Southside is like for so many residents. While TV shows always dramatize reality, I realized coming to this house was an exploitation of their conditions. It's entertaining to see Frank's shenanigans on TV, the emotional roller coasters characters endure and the outlandish things they have to do to survive. I didn't come here to help better their conditions, immerse myself in what their reality is or even for the donation I left: I came here for my entertainment.

Southside, Chicago is notoriously dangerous. The thefts, murders and other crimes committed on the show are not a far-fetched fantasy for many of the residents, it's a brutal reality. It's a scary way to live. Besides the Milkovich home, all the houses typically seen by tourists are occupied by homeowners. It's not a corporation or a small museum -- it's their actual property. I don't know how many visitors these homes get per day, week, month or year. Still, these homeowners have to see frequent visitors at any hour of the day, interfering with their lives. In my view, coming to their homes and taking pictures of them is a silent way of glamorizing the cycle of poverty. It's a silent way of saying we find joy in their almost unlivable conditions.

The conceit of the show is not the issue. TV shows have a way of romanticizing very negative things all the time. The issue at hand is that several visitors are privileged enough to live in a higher quality of life.

I myself experienced the desire and excitement to see the houses. I came for the experience but left with a lesson. I understand that tourism will continue to the homes of these individuals and I am aware that my grievances may not be shared with everyone -- however, I think it's important to take a step back and think about if this were your life. Would you want hundreds, potentially thousands, of people coming to your house? Would you want people to find entertainment in your lifestyle, good and bad?

I understand the experience, excitement, and fun the trip can be. While I recommend skipping the houses altogether and just head downtown, it's most important to remember to be respectful to those very individuals whose lives have been affected so deeply by Shameless.

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For Camille, With Love

To my godmother, my second mom, my rooted confidence, my support


First grade, March. It was my first birthday without my mom. You through a huge party for me, a sleepover with friends from school. It included dress up games and making pizza and Disney trivia. You, along with help from my grandma, threw me the best birthday party a 7-year-old could possibly want.

During elementary school, I carpooled with you and a few of the neighborhood kids. I was always the last one to be dropped off, sometimes you would sneak a donut for me. Living next door to you was a blessing. You helped me with everything. In second grade, you helped me rehearse lines for history day so I could get extra credit. In 4th grade, you helped me build my California mission.

You and your sister came out to my 6th grade "graduation". You bought me balloons and made me feel as if moving onto middle school was the coolest thing in the entire world.

While you moved away from next door, you were a constant in my life. Going to Ruby's Diner for my birthday, seeing movies at the Irvine Spectrum and just hanging out, I saw you all the time. During these times, you told me about all of the silly things you did with my mom and dad, how my mom was your best friend. I couldn't have had a greater godmother.

In middle school, you pushed me to do my best and to enroll in honors. You helped me through puberty and the awkward stages of being a woman.

Every single time I saw you, it would light up my entire day, my week. You were more than my godmother, you were my second mom. You understood things that my grandma didn't.

When you married John, you included me in your wedding. I still have that picture of you, Jessica, Aaron and myself on my wall at college. I was so happy for you.

Freshmen year of high school, you told me to do my best. I did my best because of you. When my grandma passed away that year, your shoulder was the one I wanted to cry on.

You were there when I needed to escape home. You understood me when I thought no one would. You helped me learn to drive, letting me drive all the way from San Clemente to Orange.

When I was applying to colleges, you encouraged me to spread my wings and fly. You told me I should explore, get out of California. I wanted to study in London, you told me to do it. That's why, when I study abroad this Spring in London, I will do it for you.

When I had gotten into UWT, you told me to go there. I did and here I am, succeeding and living my best in Tacoma. I do it for you, because of you.

When I graduated high school and I was able to deliver a speech during our baccalaureate, you cheered me on. You recorded it for me, so I could show people who weren't able to make it to the ceremony. You were one of the few people able to come to my actual graduation. You helped me celebrate the accomplishments and awards from my hard work.

When your cancer came back, I was so worried. I was afraid for you, I was afraid of what I would do without the support you had always given me. When I was in Rome, I went to the Vatican and had gotten a Cross with a purple gem in the middle blessed by the Pope to help you with your treatments. It was something from me and a little bit of my mom in the necklace, the gem.

Now, sitting so far from you away at college just like you wanted me to. I miss you. I wish I was there to say goodbye.

I'll travel the world for you, write lots of stories and books for you, I will live life to the fullest for you.

You are another angel taken too early in life. Please say hello to my parents and grandma in Heaven for me.

Lots of love,


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