on emotions and language.

If you’ve spent any time with me over the last 30 years, you know I am full of emotions. I experience so many moments of deep deep (tear inducing) laughter. I am the first to cry at a wedding. I love to celebrate the happy moments – new life, promotions, moves – both in my own life and in the lives of people around me. I smile at the small things as I walk down the street in a new city or as I make connections with new friends (read: strangers). I am always the first person to cry in a disagreement. I can be quick to feel frustrated and I am easily offended. I really know how to FEEL things.

And many times I feel frustrated by this fact in itself; that I feel things so deeply. And then I am reminded by sweet people in my life of the blessing that it is to experience the world in this way. I’m still working on loving that part of me.

Based on how deeply I feel, you can imagine how much feeling I’ve done in the last two months (WHAT?!). There have been so many highs, so many happy tears, so many beautiful moments and concurrently so many tough moments, too. And in living at least 90% of my day in Portuguese, I’ve been reflecting so much on the relationship between emotions and language. It’s been an eye-opening, frustrating conversation with myself that I am trying to have from a place of self-love.

I am currently experiencing a HUGE disconnect between my emotions and my language. Here’s an example. I was invited to a churrasco (Brazilian BBQ) last week and I just couldn’t pull it together to go. I’ve been pretty darn good about saying yes to every invitation as I know that’s the only way I’m going to meet people here. But last weekend, I just didn’t want to go meet a bunch of new people. My introvert side caught up with me and even just thinking about putting myself in a social situation put me over the edge. It was nothing against my friend or the nice people I’m sure I would have met. I just didn’t have it in me. And then here’s the frustrating part – the reason I’m writing this post. I just couldn’t find the words to tell my friend who had extended the invite that I just wasn’t up for it. I simply said “I’m sorry, I think I’m going to stay home today.” And that just kills me. I wanted to explain why, I wanted to tell her that I’d still like to be invited to the next barbecue, that sometimes last minute invites are hard for me to accept, that I needed the afternoon to regroup by myself. But I couldn’t find the right words. And that left me feeling a bit empty. Like I wanted to say more – I wanted to explain my emotions.

I’m happy to report that I’ve since redeemed myself and spent this past Saturday afternoon at a churrasco. I even (gasp!) enjoyed myself and I’m proud of myself for getting out there. And then on the topic of emotions – I’m now stuck in a place where I don’t have the words to properly express how appreciative I am of my friend for inviting me into her home to meet people who have been lifelong friends of hers. I don’t have the words to express how fun it is to see how thousands of miles across the world, I can chat with strangers, have shared interests, eat delicious food, and belt out the words to Hey Jude. So I simply said today “Thank you so much for the invite. I had a great time.” It’s just not quite enough.

The best way I can explain this disconnect between my emotions and my current Portuguese language skills is that I feel like a three year old. Full of feelings and emotions and knee deep in experiencing the world and yet short on the actual words to explain all of the waves running through their brain. Have you ever stopped to think about why babies and toddlers cry and laugh so much? It’s because they have not yet developed the language skills to ask for what they need, to process their emotions, to share in their joy with those around them. So that’s how I’ll be here for a while, like a Brazilian toddler, still figuring out all the right words to express myself with those around me.

I know in good time I will have a better ability to process my emotions and share my feelings in Portuguese. Until then, I know there will be more tears (both happy and sad). And for now, I’ll come back here to explore my feelings, I’ll write notes to myself in my phone. I’ll scribble out my feelings on my to-do list. I’ll call those of you at home who have been so supportive and loving and willing to process things with me (in English).

And I will continue to take comfort in knowing that we all, in our own way, are still learning our own language of emotions.

até mais,

mariah

on romanticizing life.

On Monday afternoon, I sat on a bench near a woman practicing tai chi in a relatively secluded corner of Ibirapuera Park (390 acres). On Tuesday afternoon, I passed this same woman on Avenida Liberdade, in the middle of the city’s crowded Japantown, her posture and gait making it clear she was the woman practicing tai chi in Ibirapuera park on Monday afternoon.

On Tuesday afternoon, I spent some time inside of a bookstore in the basement of Sao Paulo’s iconic Edificio Copan, designed by the famous Oscar Niemeyer. In this small bookstore in the heart of the city center, there was a young man browsing the shelves of this bookstore. I noticed him because he, too, appeared to not be from here. Today, I walked into the Museo de Arte São Paulo at the exact same time as this gentleman. We literally walked through two exhibits almost in lock step. Neither of us said anything, but I know it was him.

In both of these encounters, I paused. Chuckled inside. And then thought about how truly crazy these encounters were. 1 in 26 million. I am choosing to believe that these encounters are signs from the universe that I am welcome here. I am choosing to believe that despite the size of this city, the possibilities for connection are endless. I am choosing to believe that each person we come across in this life has an opportunity to impact us, and us, them. And in doing this, I am choosing to romanticize this life.

I’m choosing to smile and laugh and cry at the moments that make my heart swell. Like the brief but fulfilling conversation I had with three older women this afternoon at a coffee shop I stopped at on my way home from the museum. They walked in and couldn’t find a spot for three. “You can use the extra chair from my table, if you need”. They smiled and said thank you as I pulled the extra chair up to the table. “That was so sweet of you” said the woman seated closest to me. I assumed they were in their late seventies and I immediately started eavesdropping. They spoke amongst themselves, wondering what was on the menu. They saw the little QR code on the table and one of the women pulled out her phone. Opened the camera. Took a selfie (or 8) trying to figure out how to pull up the menu. I leaned over and asked if they needed help. She said “Yes, but show me how to do it, I need to learn”. That is something my own grandmother would have said. And something my mom says, frequently. We started chatting and the woman with the phone looked at me and said, “You look so familiar, like someone I know or someone I’ve met before”. I told her I’m new to the city and that was not likely, but that I do get that a lot. I’m choosing to let her comment be a sweet reminder that in each person we come across, we are reminded of someone else in our lives. And we often remind people of loved ones in their lives, too. Isn’t that a beautiful idea? That we are all connected in that simple way – of recognizing someone we care about in everyone we come across. To all of you back home in the US, I see each of you in the people I interact with here on a daily basis and that carries me. Knowing that each of you may be physically far away, but you are also here with me – guiding me in my new journey here in Brazil. 

Some days here are long, some are hard. My language snafus are abundant and my cultural ones, too. But each day has been beautiful in its own special way. In part because I am choosing to romanticize many moments in my new life. And I only wish it didn’t take an international move to do so. But with physical relocation as a catalyst for change, I’m going to romanticize the crap out of each day.

Ate a prossima,

mariah