, who didn't really understand or value self-knowledge, or who had burned out, wasted years of my life, become a loser.
I know this is harsh self-talk. I know it. I would never talk this way to someone else. But that's been another part of the process: learning to treat myself at least as gently as I'd treat someone else, and learning to compassionately unpack the negativity one fear and false belief at a time.
The day I realized I was probably going through depression in Beijing, I knew I wanted things to be different this time around. They had to be different. I had tools now, resources. I knew how to take care of myself, could see the changes that needed to be made. I was scared as hell but I vowed that I'd get through this and come through stronger on the other side.
After I finished working, that is. After this month’s client projects were wrapped up. After the party I planned to attend on Saturday night. After I had pitched another story, edited another page, scheduled one more date, one more lunch, one more interview.
I’d tell myself that the important thing was that I was aware that I was struggling, and aware that I needed a break. I'd take one. Eventually.
So looking back, it's really not a huge surprise that a few weeks later, I was still struggling to get out of bed, still seeing my future through a fog of gloom, still feeling like I was just barely keeping my head above water.
The tears refused to come that afternoon in spite of my best attempts at a wine soaked breakdown. But they came later that night, when I (soberly) started hysterically crying, finally admitting how scared and lost I felt, and finally able to say “Something's gotta give” and mean it. Drinking wine with lunch in order to feel something was not how I wanted to cope with my problems. I knew better than that, deserved better than that.
That's when I decided to get a change of scenery, slow things down for a bit. And I felt positively giddy about doing that in Chiang Mai. In addition to the slower pace, I looked forward to traveling again, which always brightens my spirits.
It's funny, the things that happen when you finally start listening to what your body, your moods and your emotions are telling you. When you finally stop pushing the most important things to the back burner and being honest with yourself. I wasn't immediately spry and chipper again after booking my flight to Thailand, but I felt more relaxed, more optimistic. I was taking steps toward helping myself. Things would get better.
At the time, I kind of thought that two months would be enough - I'd go to Chiang Mai, relax, write, journal, and come back to Beijing with a new outlook on life and a brand new approach to work. All would be well.
The thing is, my ability to work hard and achieve was never the problem. I had always worked hard. I can hustle. There has never been a major goal I’ve set for myself that I did not achieve. Which is great. And I love that about myself.
The problem was that I had long neglected certain parts of my inner world. Long-held, intense fears about failure, loneliness, shame, humiliation. Those don't go away overnight after a few good crying jags. And neither do ingrained habits, like working all the time, taking on assignments that don't yield that much in the way of pride or financial benefit simply because you can't conceive of not working, ignoring your own preferences and priorities because you think it's what you should do for someone else’s benefit.
These things take time to understand and change, and require consistent attention to and compassion for yourself as you move toward a healthier place.
And I knew that, on some level, when I started down this new road on my personal growth journey last summer. But that didn't stop me from falling down many more times and learning it over and over again during this past year.
An unexpected year in the Land of Smiles
My one-year anniversary of living in Thailand is coming up at the end of July, and while reflecting on the past 12 months, I decided to write a series of posts on this most unexpected year in my life. When I flew to Thailand last July, I planned to stay two months. I wanted to heal from burn out, ease back some of my work commitments so I could take care of myself mentally and physically and work on creative projects I had set on the back burner for some time.
I knew I needed a break back then, but I didn't know how badly I needed it, or the extent to which some serious emotional healing needed to happen. I expected to return to Beijing by the end of September 2012 and more or less resume life as it had been when I left.
I ended up staying in Thailand for a number of reasons, all of which I will cover in forthcoming blog posts, but wanted to say a few words of introduction to this series of musings.
The past year has been one of the most beautiful, difficult, emotional, messy, exciting, maddening, and rich I have lived so far.
As I wrote in a post last summer, I initially left Beijing for a couple of months because I was burned out. I love Beijing, and fully intend to return at some point. But last summer, I just needed a break.
I was working to the point of exhaustion most of the time, often on things that didn't mean much to me. With the exception of a few projects, I didn't feel I was building a body of work that I could be proud of. I started to feel ashamed and unhappy, angry at myself for what I perceived to be a squandering of the opportunities and experiences I had had in the past.
My personal relationships were also in flux. Some relationships became strained, while others were strengthened. It took me a long time to realize how deeply those shifts affected me and contributed to my endless feelings of exhaustion.
There was a lot of good in my life at the time, but sometimes I just felt like I was drowning. I was often sad and angry, but more than anything else, I was just so damn tired. No matter how much sleep I got, I was always exhausted. Things that once seemed appealing now seemed either altogether uninteresting or simply too much effort to even conceive of doing.
I had been in Thailand earlier in the year and wanted to spend more time in Chiang Mai, so that seemed an obvious place to go for a change of scenery The city is small, and manages to be both lively and relaxed, which seemed a good mix for me under the circumstances. It's a place that attracts those who are trying to "find themselves" or are making big changes in their lives, and the idea that I'd be around other people trying to figure some things out appealed to me. The cost of living is generally significantly cheaper in Chiang Mai than in Beijing, so that also made it seem a good choice of place to stay while I wouldn't be working as much.
Despite an exercise in extreme travel frustration when it came time to leave Beijing, I arrived in Thailand at the end of July and knew immediately that I was right to have come. What the subsequent 12 months have brought me has been unexpected and wonderful, and I will treasure the time I have spent here for many years to come.
When I decided to write something about this upcoming anniversary, I quickly realized that a single post wouldn't do. So I decided to write this series, which is not only about Thailand, but about friendship, depression, doubt, self-care, travel and growing up.
The topics of these posts have been bouncing around in my mind for awhile, but I couldn't bring myself to write them until now. I'm so grateful for all I've had and experienced and shared this past year, and hope that by writing about it, I'll come to appreciate and learn from it all even more. And if anyone reading these posts relates to some of what I've felt and been through, so much the better.
To read the posts in the Unexpected Year in Thailand series, click here:
2: What's so special about Chiang Mai
3: How Thailand taught me to be generous again
4: A year worth celebrating
Ugly lessons in a beautiful place
Back in May, I had the opportunity to visit Chai Lai Orchid, a small resort in Mae Wang, in the mountains outside Chiang Mai.
I had heard interesting things about the resort, which is run by an American woman and employs at-risk members of local hill tribe communities. Many of these employees are women who, due to economic circumstances, were at high risk for being trafficked.
The people of the ethnic minority groups that make up northern Thailand's hill tribes face a precarious situation in this country. Even if they are born in Thailand, they are not considered Thai citizens and therefore are not entitled to the same rights, protections and opportunities afforded ethnic and natural-born Thais. In many cases, this leaves them ripe for exploitation, an all-too-common situation for disenfranchised groups in this part of the world.
These ethnic minorities have rich and in many ways self-sustaining cultures and environments, and I have had the privilege of getting to visit a few. My experiences have been but a glimpse of what the villagers’ lives are like, but they've moved me all the same.
Last fall, I spent a short amount of time in a Lahu village, where I was struck by the beauty and generosity of the children living there but also by the abject poverty in which many of them live. I later visited a Karen village and had a chance to observe stunning women wearing traditional Karen clothing, men weaving