An Informal Treatise on Apperception and Assimilation - Part II

There is a commercial circulating the TV networks right now that makes me cringe. It is an advertisement for birth control and it implies that having children means you have less choices in life. Or not have a life of your own at all. But that isn't the point I want to make. Put it on mute. The women are walking through a store hand-picking the most major decisions most young adults face. They just reach out, pluck a house, significant other, graduate school diploma,and what not off the shelf and put it in their basket. As if it were all really that easy. I used to cringe whenever it came on but now I've graduated into some entry-level curses instead. I can't be the only person that is bothered by it but I think the fact that I now completely despise it holds a strong link to my re-entry experience.



I've provided an overview of my previous drama with re-entry and shared my first "ah-ha" moment this time around. Now, let's to get down to it. Here are the main components of reverse culture shock:

Feeling alienated. Any experience abroad, any encounter with the world no matter if it is just a glimpse, has an effect on a person's psyche. What one experiences abroad can never be fully relayed to others beyond the surface level. The returner can tell stories and the audience will listen politely, but no matter how genuinely interested they are there will be some sort of barrier. An invisible line separating the returner's experiences from their audience's understanding. It is no one's fault that this happens and of course sometimes it doesn't really matter. But it can also cause some angst. The returner can become easily wrapped up in thinking that no one understands. It is a little bit like being a teenager again. However, on the other side of the coin, this is why I will always have a special relationship with the people I met/befriended abroad. There is an unspoken understanding and connection between us that grew from our encounters and experiences abroad. I think it is human nature to want to connect with people and in terms of re-entry there is only a certain level of connection that can be achieved no matter the medium: picture slideshows, lectures, first-hand accounts, ect.

Frustration. The inability to relate to others upon return can lead to frustration. It can manifest itself in such a way that the returner might not realize it's true cause. It can take any length of time for the realization to occur or it could, in my case, only take a challenging yoga session. Just as I became frustrated at times because I couldn't understand the Dutch culture in certain instances, I now become similarly flustered and confused about things I am re-encountering in my home country. I question myself, second guess myself, and try to understand everything, which could really just be a personality trait but it certainly becomes a heightened issue during my period of adjustment.

Indecisiveness. This is another side effect of the frustration and/or the alienation. If you're confused then making decisions can be very difficult. For me, even the simple choice of which pair of shoes to wear can become overwhelming. If you lack definition then nothing really feels right. So far, what has really helped me in this area has been my close friends and family members. They force me to refocus. Brandy in particular because she knows me so well that in some strange way she has the ability to shift me into the right perspective on life. For others undergoing reverse culture shock I think it is important, despite the alienation that displaces them from those around them, to force oneself to spend time with significant people: a parent or spouse or sibling or best friend or mentor. People change and relationships change so those who have been through thick and thin with you or those who possess life-wisdom provide the ideal context for reorientation. They'll accept the returner and be open to what he/she is going through while providing support at the same time.

“It is paradoxical but true that something that takes you out of yourself also restores you to yourself with a greater freedom.”
—Every Day in Tuscany: Seasons of an Italian Life by Frances Mayes

Additional side effects include: withdrawal, a feeling of rootlessness, negativity, insecurity, and a need for excessive sleep. I had no idea that last one can be attributed to the re-entry experience until I did some reading online but in a way it makes perfect sense. I've been having multiple dreams a night nearly every night for almost a month now. I don't feel well-rested when I wake up even if I've gotten my full quota of sleeping hours. My subconscious is incredibly active, which is a good sign, but when I'm awake I'm still feeling that blankness. That neutral emptiness. It can only disappear with time so patience is one quality that returners need to foster within themselves during their period of adjustment.

Also while reading online, I've come across many suggestions on how to help make the transition easier. Get active in your community. Keep in contact with friends from abroad. Keep yourself busy with projects of varying importance. Some things might work better for certain people. I know what works for me. Journaling. Reading. Meditation. Jogging. I have myself on an easy-to-digest diet of all those things. The tricky part is determining how often and how hard to push myself. I think the returner should be aware of their resistance from the beginning. Embrace the "symptoms" at first so that they're not avoiding the heart of the matter later on.

Now can you see why I feel the way I do about that damn commercial? I know it is not a big deal. It is just a commercial. One minute. Just change the channel. Turn off the TV. I know, I know. The first time I saw it I wished that life really were like that but then I thought about it. The process of making a decision can have just as much (or more) of an effect on one's life than the actual outcome of the decision. Nothing in life is ever easy and that is for a good reason. The more you have to endure and experience, the more you learn. I did my research about becoming an au pair but nothing could have sufficiently prepared me for those six months. I went over there wanting to discover myself. There are probably easier, less costly, ways for me to have done that but it was a one-of-a-kind experience. As cheesy as it sounds, I'm a changed person. I wouldn't be if life was really like that commercial. Yes, it would be nice to just strap a trip to Paris to the roof of my car and be gone but it is the process, the experience, the getting-there that has weight as well. It takes time to build the life you want. It takes time to readjust. I'm still learning things about myself that I don't think I ever would have discovered in any other setting. I'll always have that wanderlust and that thirst for adventure but right now I need to settle into this new life. This new me.

If you go when the snowflakes storm

Last night I got down to business and started packing. Right now I have designated areas for each suitcase, which means my room is messier than usual. I found a pile of used train tickets and some cash in three different currencies. That made me laugh. I also went through all the letters, cards, and postcards people have sent me. That made me smile.




I'm making lists again. I have two sets: an inventory of gifts for people and things to-do/pack. They're hanging from one of the desk shelves, right below the National Geographic picture-a-day calender. Botswana, Bermuda, Sicily, and other places around the world. It has been on July 1st this whole time because it is a picture of Minnesota.



My original plan for today was to go to Den Haag but Holland was hit with some major snow yesterday. So, not all the trains are running today. Plan B - continue packing, fill out applications online, update Shutterfly, clean out iTunes, and make a music playlist for the plane ride home. In the meantime, here are a few videos from my two most recent adventures in Amsterdam.

"Kids" Dam Square 12/11/10 from missemalise on Vimeo.

Dam Square clips 12/11/10 from missemalise on Vimeo.

Funky Monkeys from missemalise on Vimeo.

A wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure.

When I woke up this morning I did not feel like P. Diddy. I had Bruno Mars' "Just the Way You Are" stuck in my head, which is a wonderful way to start one's day. On the way to pick the children up for lunch the flawless Dutch radio played Cyndi Lauper blended into "I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight." Its been a great day so far and, with eight days left until I leave, I'm trying to savor all these moments. I'm already starting to sense how much I'm going to miss the children. I spent Saturday in Amsterdam (adventure post pending) and felt the first wave of what it will be like to say good-bye. But, if you read on, you'll see that my adventures will not end when I leave Holland.

Less than 24 hours after I land in Atlanta my dad and I are flying up to Minnesota to join my mom and brothers, who fly up on the 21st, for Christmas. My time will be split between our hotel suite and both grandma's houses. Guess who else is coming up?



Brandy is taking a Greyhound bus up from Kansas City to join me for New Year's in the "Land of 10,000 Lakes." (Thanks, Mom!) As you can see, we're incredibly excited. To celebrate the fact that we'll see each other for the first time in person since New Year's 2008, we danced around to "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and quoted a good portion of Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

But that isn't all. I'm roadtripping back to Atlanta with Erica when she drives down to Florida to start her internship in January. The big open road, excellent company, and more great music? Yes, please.



I'll have a lot on my plate when I get back to the States. School loan payments and unemployment. I'll have a lot to figure out. And there are some other special people I want to see and spend some quality time with. So much to do and think about. But Holland has definitely helped me transition from being a "thinker" to a "doer." I'm sniffing out opportunities, savoring my last week here, and looking forward to the next chapter in my life. Now, instead of Bruno Mars, I have Ferris stuck in my head.

Old Saint Nick is older than you think

Last weekend when I returned from Amsterdam I found that the Christmas tree was up in the living room and remnants of Sinterklaas' and Zwarte Piet's surprises stored in my room.



I've been doing some research about how the Dutch celebrate Christmas and I really like what I discovered. I hope you're ready for a little history lesson because this particular holiday is a wonderful blend of Holland and the United States...

Sinterklaas. Saint Nicholas. Nicolas of Myra. Patron saint of children, sailors, and Amsterdam.
He was born in Patara (part of modern Turkey) during the third century. He came from a wealthy family but he gave his time and money to helping the poor. He died on December 6th, 347 A.D. He is commemorated on that date. He lives in Spain and comes to the Netherlands by boat in mid-November. Between then and December 6th he makes appearances throughout the country with his helper(s), Zwarte Piet(en). He keeps a very clean schedule so as not to appear in two places at once. Then, on the eve of his death, children put out their shoes with a carrot for his white horse. Sinterklaas leaves treats and gifts behind for the children. However, he kidnaps those who have had bad behavior.

Although the Dutch adapted the saint and created a tradition based on the legend, Sinterklaas isn't entirely a Dutch invention. Many elements of the story and celebration can be traced to pagan aspects. The Germanic pagan god, Wolden/Odin, rode a white horse and was honored during the Winter Solstice. Children originally left carrots for his steed near the chimney. Odin rewarded their kindness by leaving fruit or treats.

Sinterklaas was brought to America before it was officially the United States. Dutch settlers established a town called New Amsterdam in 1626. Although the city was founded by Protestants it awarded its inhabitants the freedom of religion. Catholics and Protestants alike adopted Saint Nicholas as the city's patron. In 1664, when it was captured by the English, the celebration of Nicholas was mentioned in the Articles of Capitulation. New Amsterdam became New York and for awhile the religious rights were only celebrated in the Dutch communities. In order to promote New York as a unique city with a unique identity, Washington Irving presented Sinterklaas as the patron saint of the city in his 1809 publication, The History of New York. The influence of Dutch culture in New York set it apart from other American cities.

While the United States continued to establish it's own identity, Clement Clarke Moore wrote the poem "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" in 1823. Sinterklaas became Saint Nick. He traveled by a reindeer drawn sleigh (not on a white horse), carried a bag of toys (not full of sweets), and slid down chimneys. He resembled an elf but forty years later his "Old World" appearance was shed for the figure we know today. In 1863 the political cartoonist Thomas Nast presented him as Santa Claus, a large and bearded old man from the North Pole who wears a fur-trimmed hat and red suit. At first Santa made the toys himself in his workshop with the help of his elves but as the U.S. became industrialized so did he. And as the U.S. became more capitalized, Santa was brought along for the ride. During the Great Depression, Coca Cola created an advertising campaign based on Santa. He continued to transform with American popular culture. Gene Autry released the song "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" in 1948 and so a niche in the music industry was created for songs revolving around Santa. At some point after WWII, with the baby boom and rise of the nuclear family, someone invented Mrs. Claus - a pleasant housewife - to take care of Santa and keep him from being lonely. It certainly helped promote him as a grandfather-like icon. A hardworking man who thoroughly enjoyed his leisure time by smoking his pipe and eating. But Santa never takes life too seriously. He is young at heart and loves all the little children. Instead of kidnapping misbehaved boys and girls like his Dutch ancestor, Santa Claus leaves lumps of coal which could actually be somewhat useful. Instead of leaving treats in shoes, his gifts go in stockings pinned to the fireplace.

In November, when Sinterklaas arrived here in the village on his boat from Spain my first impression was mixed. He looks very dignified in his bishop's robes and he carries himself in a very noble manner, but I couldn't get the image of the fat and funny Santa Claus out of my mind. Zwarte Piet, though much more approachable and happy, put me off a little too because the costume consists of black face paint, an afro wig, and red lips. And he, not Sinerklaas, is the one who does all the work. Like a slave. I instantly thought of American "blackface" theater, the Jim Crow era, and terrible slurs such as "darky" and "coon." I tried not to be offended, remembering that cultural offenses are often rooted in misunderstanding, so I waited to pass judgement based on my American outlook. It turns out I'm not the only one to have this sort of reaction.


Video originally seen on Clogs and Tulips: Six to Eight Black Men. Go to the post for more about Zwarte Piet.

Most American tourists feel the exact same culture shock. I mean, I don't think I've used the phrase "culture shock" once when talking about my experiences in Holland. And I was in no way surprised to discover that Santa Claus comes from Sinterklaas. In the past ten years or so the character of Zwarte Piet has received criticism from the Dutch and in 2006 the Dutch Programme Foundation proposed that Zwarte Piet (which literally means "black Pete") be changed to rainbow-colored Pieten. The experiment only lasted one year. I also read that his skin-color was due to the fact that he spent most of his time going up and down chimneys so he was covered in soot. But I don't buy it.

When my friend Caitlynn visited, she had the same reaction when I explained the story of the Dutch Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet. The last day I was able to stay with her in Amsterdam was December 5th so there were Zwarte Pieten all over. She was eager to take pictures, only to bring it back as proof that the Dutch really do paint themselves black and dance around passing out candy for Christmas. But at this record store near Dam Square they were handing out coffee, which I much prefer.




Also, I must admit that I prefer the American Santa Claus to the Dutch Sinterklaas. But, I truly have enjoyed celebrating and learning about this particular Dutch tradition. Who doesn't like getting free chocolate? All of this is not to say that Santa Claus is perfect. He can be weird and somewhat unsettling. I know it is friendly to sit on his lap and tell him what you want for Christmas when you're a kid but that is a bit strange. Just see this collection of pictures as proof.




Sources: Saint Nicholas, Sinterklaas, Santa Claus - From Sinterklaas to Santa Claus - American Santa Claus: Santa’s USA Timeline - Wikipedia: Zwarte Piet

Out on the wiley, windy moors...

Today I was going to post about Christmas (again) because Sinterklass came this weekend and left gifts for the children. I still plan on putting that entry up on the blog but for today I have something completely different to share with you.

Music. It would be an understatement to say that it is one of my most favorite things. I could go on and on about how music is a powerful force in my life and my travels. I could tell you about all the songs that have made it onto my "Life in Holland" playlist and which will forever remind me of my time here. I could, I probably will, but let's go in a slightly different direction...

During my senior year of high school I had to read Wuthering Heights for AP Literature. I think it was the only book that I didn't read. (Sorry, Mr. Roper!) After maybe 50 pages or so I just couldn't go any further. The way I remember it, I made it pretty clear to everyone in my class that I was not a fan. At all. Still, it was a required part of the curriculum so I tried to find a way to like it. That is when I found the following:



Wuthering Heights is a classic. Kate Bush is a classic. Both points can be argued but this video is epic and hilarious at the same time. I convinced our teacher to pull it up on his computer one day so we could all watch it on the projector. It became a running joke among me and my classmates/friends. It still is. If that is how people from high school remember me I think I am okay with that.

How many times have I watched this video? Too many. Does it ever get old? Nope. How is this relevant? Today it came on the radio while I was picking the children up from school. It made my day. I love the variety of music Dutch radio stations provide. Katy Perry, Elvis, Seal, Queen, Bob Dylan, Lil' Wayne, Prince, Nina Simone, and those are just the ones I remember. They play everything you can imagine. But to hear this song was the deal maker. Dutch radio is the best. And this song never gets old. I know every word and if you ask me (read: bribe me) I'll break out some of the dance moves too.

A Lesson in Independence - Part II

I've already touched on how important my family is to me and how I have amazing friends. I have already tried to explain that I like being independent but I have a new realization I would like to share with you.

When I was a kid I viewed holidays, specifically Christmas, very differently than I do now. Back then it was all about believing in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. It was about holidays being the special time of the year where magic was real. Now it is all about believing in love. It is about the real things in life that feel magical, like the time spent with family and friends.

I never realized how blessed I am to have such supportive parents and such unique little brothers until I moved away to college. In my teenage years I can't remember how many times I told my mom that as soon as I turned 18 I was going to move out. I couldn't wait to get away from her and have my own life. It was my hormones that made me say those things then but now when I tell her that I can't wait to come home again it is my heart speaking. At the beginning of my freshman year of college I told my family not to buy me anything for Christmas. They were paying for my school, that was enough. I told them that all I wanted was to just be with them for Christmas. Every year since I've had the same request. They always disobey and buy me the most thoughtful and meaningful gifts. I thought I knew the true meaning of Christmas.


Christmas in Georgia 2009

This year I was distraught over the possibility that I would return from Holland in a Christmas-time-crunch. My late arrival would mean that my parents would have to reschedule their plans of driving from Georgia to Minnesota to spend my brothers' school break with our extended family. Since my family moved to Georgia three years ago they haven't spent one Christmas with either side of their own families. I felt so guilty and sobbed on the phone to my dad telling him I was so sorry I was messing everything up. "I'll tell Grandma not to take down the Christmas tree until you get there. We don't have to celebrate Christmas on the 25th of December. We will celebrate it whenever we are together," he told me on the phone a few weeks back when I gushed about how awful I felt about not being able to come home even a day earlier. That was the reassurance I needed but it made me cry even harder.

I don't consider myself to be a humble person but I think I have some sort of complex where I don't feel like I deserve all the wonderful things I have. I tried to explain it to Brandy a few weeks ago. I know I can be very selfish sometimes but I never like asking for help. I always feel guilty when someone has to do something for me. Give me a ride somewhere. Wait for me. Even little things like hold the door for me if my hands are full. I don't know why but I just feel bad when people have to take time out of their day for me or have to change their plans for me. I hate being dependent on anyone, even the slightest bit. But I have learned now that depending on others doesn't make you weak. It gives you strength. Even on good days here I am homesick. I have stayed strong enough to this point because I have the support of others. Depending on their love doesn't mean I'm not strong and independent. It just means that I am wise enough to know that love is the most important thing you can ever give and ever receive.



So, I've learned a lot since I was a teenager. I've learned a lot since the days before I ever spent time abroad, immersed in a different culture. I think my experiences overseas have solidified my beliefs and have strengthened the most important relationships in my life. The perfect example happened about a month ago: I received a surprise package from a very good friend of mine that contained a framed picture of me and my friends on Halloween two years ago, before I left for my semester in Italy. The changes that have taken place for all of us since that crazy night are pretty momentous. However, when I look at that picture I still feel that one thing is the same - our bond. We still love spending time together. We still have the same sense of humor. We still have dreams and hopes and each other. I can't wait to see them again. I can't wait to go home. I can't wait to be able to properly reflect on my experiences here. I know that this is going to be the best Christmas of my entire life.

Adventure in Amsterdam - 11.27.2010

This was a very brief adventure to Amsterdam. It started snowing in the morning but I hopped on my bike, determined to brave the cold and get into the city. I had plans to meet with a friend and go shopping. I scouted some souvenirs to bring back for friends and family. I wanted to get an idea what to get each person and see the prices. A new H&M store opened in Dam Square so I popped in and bought myself a scarf. At the check-out I also received a booklet of coupons and a little OV-chipkaart holder that I'm using for my ID and debit card. When I stepped out of the store I heard music blaring, which isn't unusual in Dam Square. Then I noticed a big crowd so I pushed my way to the front and saw people dancing. I witnessed my first ever flashmob in person.

Dam Square Flash Mob 11/27/10 from missemalise on Vimeo.

So, I missed the beginning which is the fun part. Everyone is just standing around and then out of nowhere comes music. The passersby are confused at first. A few people come together and start dancing. The dancers grow and grow until it is a mass of synchronized bodies. A crowd gathers. People take out their phones and cameras. At the end of the song the dancers disperse, back into the crowd and life carries on. I wondered when I'd see one in Amsterdam. I mentioned the Stockholm flash mob once before in this post. Here are some other great flash mobs:

Happy Thanksgiving!

During my four years of college I often escaped to my Grandma Helen's condo in Edina on the weekends when I needed a break from school. It is only a fifty minute drive so I'd pack a little bag and drive off campus blasting good music, ready to get away and relax for a few days. She's lived in the same condo my whole life so it was always the perfect home away from home. We'd go out to dinner or I'd cook. Sometimes we'd catch a movie after my afternoon walk/jog around Lake Harriet, but mostly I'd just sit around watching TV. If I felt up to it I'd actually do some schoolwork. When I was working on my honor's thesis senior year I used her card to check out books from the Hennepin County Library and spread out on the table she uses for her jigsaw puzzles. She got me started on crosswords and we'd always go to bed late because we'd stay up talking. Now that I'm in Holland we write letters to each other. I call her with my Skype credit every once in awhile. Hopefully, this year my family and I will make it to her place for Christmas but either way I still miss her a lot.


Christmas with the cousins on my dad's side of the family at Grandma Helen's. I'm assuming this picture was taken before Owen was born in 1998. From left to right: Andrew, Seth (in the headlock), Colin in Grandma's lap, and me.

Sometime in October of last year, during one of my weekend sleepovers, I mentioned how I hadn't spent Thanksgiving with my family in Georgia since they moved there. The year before I stayed with my Grandma Sue and had Thanksgiving with my cousins at their other grandparent's house. So, Grandma Helen suggested I fly home and surprise my family. She booked me a flight and I only told my dad and Seth. They picked me up from the airport late at night and around midnight I walked into the house. My mother was in the kitchen heating up some food for the boys and when she saw me she almost collapsed. She immediately started crying after she recovered from the shock. My youngest brother, Owen, was asleep on the couch and I tried to wake him up but he thought he was dreaming when he saw me hovering over him. Usually, Thanksgiving is a tense time for my family because everyone gets stressed out. My mom gets stuck with all the cooking and by the time we sit down to eat none of us feel very grateful. But after we say grace we take turns going around the table saying at least one thing we're thankful for. One year my dad said indoor plumbing and another year he said MTV. But last year was perfect because we were all thankful for the same thing - that we were all together.

Old Family Film Thanksgiving 2009 from missemalise on Vimeo.

This year I have so much to be thankful for. I also have a different appreciation for Thanksgiving because I understand better what it is like to move to a foreign land and try to build a life. Granted the obstacles I've had to face here in Holland were very different than those the first settlers in America had to overcome, but I still feel a connection. Even more so now that I know the story of my ancestors who immigrated from Sweden. I've seen what they left and I grew up in the legacy they built in the Land of Freedom. I don't have plans to celebrate today but tonight I'm going to try to watch the live stream of the Thanksgiving Day Parade online. Then I'll turn on some Christmas music because it is a bit of a tradition in my family to turn it on as soon as we finish eating. No one wants to do the dishes but at least with Christmas on our minds already we get excited for the rest of winter to pass until we can all be together (and stressed out) again.

A Lesson on Independence

Aside from staying in contact with friends and family back in the States I try to curb my homesickness and get my American culture fix by watching TV. There are a lot of shows here imported from the US. Most are pretty shameless. I completely understand why, generally speaking, the US has a reputation abroad for being materialistic, greedy, and ignorant. That stereotype is enhanced by the the so-called "reality" shows that air overseas. The population of America is not split between living like the cast of the Jersey Shore and the cast of Laguna Beach, The Hills, and The City. My shows of choice over here are Law & Order, House, and Oprah but lately I have been watching The City. I'll admit it, I like the imagined reality of a girl my age living a glamourous life in New York City. With a job in the fashion industry, a trendy apartment, and an amazing wardrobe. Yes, it is ridiculously fake but the illusion is entertaining.

Well, something from the show actually landed with some weight a few weeks ago. It was a rerun, of course, and probably scripted but when Diane von Furstenburg approached Whitney amidst their busy fashion week party I felt like her message was meant for me.
"The most important relationship you have in your life is the relationship you have with yourself. Because no matter what happens you will always be with yourself."

The circumstances of my life and Whitney's are completely different. Not even comparable. But when a woman as accomplished and intelligent as Diane says something like that it echoes. This is what it meant to me:

It is important for an au pair to have a good relationship with the children and the family but it is just as important to have a great relationship with oneself throughout the entire experience. Otherwise it wouldn't be an experience at all. It would just be something that happened. Just some months in another country.

It also came into mind again when I noticed a few people's reactions after I told them about my short travels so far. They asked with whom I saw these cities. "Why, with myself of course." Whenever people learn that I went alone they seem surprised. For some reason or another doing things by yourself has a negative connotation. Like you're alone because you're a loser. Or if you're alone then you're surely depressed. Then a friend of mine posted the following video. So, this is my reply to those who seem taken aback when they learn all the things I've done with no one but me.
"Perhaps in the interest of loving oneself, perhaps all those sappy slogans from preschool over to high school's groaning were tokens for holding the lonely at bay. Cuz if you're happy in your head than solitude is blessed and alone is okay."



Sometimes I feel like I'm loosing my mind because I still miss home so much. Or because I'm not really sure where home is now that I've graduated from Gustavus. So, I have to keep reminding myself about the saying "home is where the heart is." Because it is true. I love many people and many places but my heart is right here with me. In me. Beating in my chest. As long as I can feel it there, safe behind my ribs, then I am home no matter how far I am from those I love. Because I love myself. Because I am my own best friend.