living

My whole life, especially in high school and in college, I always yearned to be done, to graduate, to live my life, to have the opportunity to go on and do what I always dreamed of doing without having youth or school or hoops to jump through in my way.

Yesterday, for the first time, I realized that I am actually - right this second - living my life.

I realized that I am becoming the person I've wanted to be and that everything I do in every moment helps me to get one step closer. So although my life in Doha is fading into the past, I have never been happier with my present. My future is not as uncertain as it used to be, yet it is still hidden and unknown. And I've never been more optimistic about simply not knowing than I am now.

In the past eleven months, I've taken over 32 flights. I've visited six new countries and been to two international conferences. I've pushed myself past what seemed to be my limits and bounced back. I've been depressed and elated, sometimes at the same moment. I've become less judgemental and more open. I have felt the most invincible and the most vulnerable I have ever felt in my life. I have fallen so deeply in love with a world that the effortless misunderstandings and incorrect labels shouted by others make my heart hurt.

I developed a life for myself in Qatar, one of the most conservative countries in the world and in AIESEC. I have a home, a sort-of family, friends, people I can rely on, places I know and love and a life that is completely separate from everything I have ever known before. [And it is gratifying to know that the construction of this life was done completely and solely by me... this year, I was wholly responsible for my own destiny.]

In a few days, I won't feel like I achieved something after I arrive somewhere without getting into a car accident. I won't get to interact with people from three or more continents daily, constantly trying to guess where they're from and understand their accents. I won't get to wander around the stone pathways in the old souq and smell the spices wafting through the air or go to Villagio and watch the kiddies riding in the gondolas on the canal while eating my 1 QR McDonald's ice cream and toting my shopping bags. In a few days, I will have more than four places to choose from when I want to go out at night. I won't be able to have hommos that's nearly as good as it is at Layiali or shish tawouk like they make at Turkey Central or shawarma that tastes and smells like heaven or Umm Ali that makes me melt with its sweet, warm deliciousness. The sun won't beat down on me, burning my skin when I step outside and I may be able to bare my shoulders in public without glares and stares. I won't be able to have a spontaneous heart-to-heart over shisha and mint tea on the waterfront, decide to go duning for the day or laugh when yet another website I want to visit is blocked. In a few days, words that have become a significant part of my vocabulary won't be understood by those around me.

In four days, all this will become my past.

Leaving Madison one year ago was bittersweet, and marked the transition from student to real life. Leaving Doha now is... relieving, yet deeply saddening. I feel that I'm leaving part of myself behind in the Middle East as I evolve forward...