for better or for worse.

I left Chicago on Feb 28, 2008. On that day I embarked on a trip to Mexico, ridding myself of possessions I considered trivial. Reflecting, I realize that I was restless and in search of something more than what I possessed in Chicago. This fact isn't something that I state with lament or regret, but with pride and joy. I was eight months into being 26 years old. At the time, I was more or less comfortable with my life; but there was something extremely discomforting about that. I didn't feel engaged. I didn't feel like I was on a path that promoted growth. I wasn't connected. I didn't know exactly what I wanted from that trip--or even less what to expect, but I knew exactly what I wanted to see. I wanted to see the way others lived; the way others experienced life. Existential dilemma? You bet. With that said, it was that much more difficult when--three months into my trip--I faced the harsh realization that I had to return. Reflecting, I couldn't have planned that trip any worse. Thinking about it even more, I couldn't have planned it any better. I say worse because, well, I became ill with typhoid and spent a lot of money on medicine and doctors visits. I spent a lot of time feeling sick, and feeling like I was being spit out. I returned home right before my 27th birthday, dejected and with a heavy question pressing in my head: now what? I say i couldn't have planned it any better because, well, a lot has changed since then and in ways that I would never have imagined. I just turned 29, I'm finishing school and I won some scholarships to embark on yet another trip. I'll be traveling to Guatemala, El Salvador and Nicaragua for four months to study with a program focused on social justice in Central America. When I returned from Mexico in 2008, I remember thinking how terrible it was to have been spit out. Now I realize, I was actually being swallowed.