Friday, March 30, 2012
Day 303: Cassie Comes Back
A good friend of mine from back during my first stint in Haiti recently returned for an uber-quick trip to do some filming for All Hands. It was great to see her. A quick summary of her time here, including a fun early AM run to the beach (along with some kick ass photos, as to be expected) here:
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Day 302: The End Game
And so, as my time in Haiti comes to a close, it seems my blogging slows down, which I should probably make an effort to counter, but I don't seem to have the same drive (or perhaps energy) to share as I once did. Now that I have a proper bedroom I really must admit, coming back from the office, hitting the bed, and grabbing a book is pretty much heaven for me. I tend to repeat that pattern quite frequently.
That said, this seems an appropriate time to write, as some big changes have happened in terms of my immediate future, and while some are frustrating, I am, more than anything, excited at what is to come.
First things first, Project Leogane is coming to an early close. Without going into too many details, All Hands finds itself in a situation right now where continuing to fund Haiti - now over two years after the quake - is proving to be an exercise in futility. A decision had to be made, which balanced Project Leogane against the overall financial health of the organization, and, unsurprisingly, the AHV board decided Project Legoane had to finish so All Hands can continue. I'd imagine this is a decision that many small organizations have found themselves having to make, as, afterall, this isn't a business. We depend on outside funding. When that goes away, we go away. Funding can be fickle. Haiti fell out of the news a long time ago. The funding tends to follow suit. So here we stand: the final day of work for almost everyone on the ground in Haiti is April 27th, 2012. A few people will stay on, myself and Paddy being the two who will effectively be the last All Hands members to leave Haiti (more on that below), but as it stands now, nearly all local and international staff leave Project Leogane the 27th.
The news took the wind out of our sails for a while, but, regardless of the reasons for it happening, it makes sense when I step back and look at it from the perspective of the higher ups. Yes, there are elements at play that do frustrate me, as many of us on the ground here feel our programs, which could be argued are the best programs the organization has ever run, are being cut due to decisions made above us that didn't have the desired outcome and have thus forced this hand. That may or may not be true, but I realize that it is easy to play the blame game, and to me, that seems pointless right about now. At the end of the day, I know what is happening on the ground in Haiti, and I know a bit of what is happening in the circles above, but I'd be wrong to assume I know the details behind the decision to close the project, and as such pointing fingers seems a base thing to do.
So we'll keep it at this: I'm sad to see the project close early, mostly due to the impact it could have on our local staff, but I was and remain incredibly thankful that I got to be a part of it. I don't think that what I've been lucky enough to help do here could have happened for me in any other organization. And yes, while Project Leogane is closing early, we can still be incredibly proud of the work we did, and the many thousands of people we helped. As an organization, All Hands stretched itself further than it had ever dared to before in doing what it did here, and once the current financial hurdles are (hopefully) cleared, I believe the lessons learned and experienced gained as a result of Project Leogane will be a major stepping stone toward future growth and improvement within the organization. When it's all said and done, I can't see how anyone could argue Project Leogane was anything but a success. We did what we came here to do: help people help people. That's a beautiful thing.
So what's next? Well, as mentioned above, while most everyone else will be leaving Haiti at the end of April, Paddy and myself will not. We recently finalized a partnership with GOAL, the large Irish NGO, to build and install 400 biosand filters for their beneficiaries in and around Gressier. While we plan on finishing the installations before April 27th, we do need to conduct two months of follow-ups with the families to make sure they have the support they need to use the filters over the long run. As such, Paddy, myself, and a few of our local staff will remain in Haiti until the end of June to see that through. We'll likely be staying at the base of a friend of ours, while still working for All Hands. Should be interesting. It will be strange to be the final two, but I do like the idea of being able to finish (or ideally, hand off to another organization) the program we helped start back in July 2010. I like the completeness of it - from beginning to end.
After June? Two potential options as of right now. The first involves staying in Haiti for another month working, temporarily, for a larger NGO on a specific project they want me to do, then heading out to Spain in August to spend a month with a friend of mine I've not seen in ten years before heading to London and graduate school in September. The second would be to leave Haiti in July, head to Spain for two months instead of one, potentially work for the NGO from there, and then head to the UK come September. Nothing set in stone yet, and both of those largely depend on my ability to secure the funding I need to pay for grad school. London, and King's College, are not cheap.
Much more to write about (Carnaval in Les Cayes, a trip to Haiti's northern coast, learning the hard way not to put everything you value in the back of a truck in PAP, a reconnection with old friends, etc.) but at the moment I'm in Santo Domingo, and the little restaurant across the way beckons with good food and cold beer.
In the interim, watch this, it's cool:
Hasta pronto.
That said, this seems an appropriate time to write, as some big changes have happened in terms of my immediate future, and while some are frustrating, I am, more than anything, excited at what is to come.
First things first, Project Leogane is coming to an early close. Without going into too many details, All Hands finds itself in a situation right now where continuing to fund Haiti - now over two years after the quake - is proving to be an exercise in futility. A decision had to be made, which balanced Project Leogane against the overall financial health of the organization, and, unsurprisingly, the AHV board decided Project Legoane had to finish so All Hands can continue. I'd imagine this is a decision that many small organizations have found themselves having to make, as, afterall, this isn't a business. We depend on outside funding. When that goes away, we go away. Funding can be fickle. Haiti fell out of the news a long time ago. The funding tends to follow suit. So here we stand: the final day of work for almost everyone on the ground in Haiti is April 27th, 2012. A few people will stay on, myself and Paddy being the two who will effectively be the last All Hands members to leave Haiti (more on that below), but as it stands now, nearly all local and international staff leave Project Leogane the 27th.
The news took the wind out of our sails for a while, but, regardless of the reasons for it happening, it makes sense when I step back and look at it from the perspective of the higher ups. Yes, there are elements at play that do frustrate me, as many of us on the ground here feel our programs, which could be argued are the best programs the organization has ever run, are being cut due to decisions made above us that didn't have the desired outcome and have thus forced this hand. That may or may not be true, but I realize that it is easy to play the blame game, and to me, that seems pointless right about now. At the end of the day, I know what is happening on the ground in Haiti, and I know a bit of what is happening in the circles above, but I'd be wrong to assume I know the details behind the decision to close the project, and as such pointing fingers seems a base thing to do.
So we'll keep it at this: I'm sad to see the project close early, mostly due to the impact it could have on our local staff, but I was and remain incredibly thankful that I got to be a part of it. I don't think that what I've been lucky enough to help do here could have happened for me in any other organization. And yes, while Project Leogane is closing early, we can still be incredibly proud of the work we did, and the many thousands of people we helped. As an organization, All Hands stretched itself further than it had ever dared to before in doing what it did here, and once the current financial hurdles are (hopefully) cleared, I believe the lessons learned and experienced gained as a result of Project Leogane will be a major stepping stone toward future growth and improvement within the organization. When it's all said and done, I can't see how anyone could argue Project Leogane was anything but a success. We did what we came here to do: help people help people. That's a beautiful thing.
So what's next? Well, as mentioned above, while most everyone else will be leaving Haiti at the end of April, Paddy and myself will not. We recently finalized a partnership with GOAL, the large Irish NGO, to build and install 400 biosand filters for their beneficiaries in and around Gressier. While we plan on finishing the installations before April 27th, we do need to conduct two months of follow-ups with the families to make sure they have the support they need to use the filters over the long run. As such, Paddy, myself, and a few of our local staff will remain in Haiti until the end of June to see that through. We'll likely be staying at the base of a friend of ours, while still working for All Hands. Should be interesting. It will be strange to be the final two, but I do like the idea of being able to finish (or ideally, hand off to another organization) the program we helped start back in July 2010. I like the completeness of it - from beginning to end.
After June? Two potential options as of right now. The first involves staying in Haiti for another month working, temporarily, for a larger NGO on a specific project they want me to do, then heading out to Spain in August to spend a month with a friend of mine I've not seen in ten years before heading to London and graduate school in September. The second would be to leave Haiti in July, head to Spain for two months instead of one, potentially work for the NGO from there, and then head to the UK come September. Nothing set in stone yet, and both of those largely depend on my ability to secure the funding I need to pay for grad school. London, and King's College, are not cheap.
Much more to write about (Carnaval in Les Cayes, a trip to Haiti's northern coast, learning the hard way not to put everything you value in the back of a truck in PAP, a reconnection with old friends, etc.) but at the moment I'm in Santo Domingo, and the little restaurant across the way beckons with good food and cold beer.
In the interim, watch this, it's cool:
Hasta pronto.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Day 258: Thoughts On A Perspective
A few weeks ago a girl I met and spent some time with shortly after my returning to Haiti in June of last year returned to Haiti herself, and spent four days with me here in Leogane before heading north for a project. I enjoyed the time we spent together, but it was certainly different than before. That was OK with me, but I think it bothered her somewhat, and being a talented and candid writer, she wrote an entry on her blog sparked by the change she saw in our interaction. It is a good entry, and certainly deals with one of the most difficult elements of being here in Haiti for a longer period of time, in which you start to lose faith in the people you're here trying to help, but it missed the mark when it attributed that to the change in me. I don't think that's what caused the shift in me, but it got me thinking nonetheless, so I'd like to take a bit of time to address her entry with an entry of my own.
To start, she was and is right in saying I've changed. I have. I have in respects to how I engaged with her, as I have in respects to how I engage with most everyone and everything. That has been an ongoing process since arriving here for the first time in July of 2010, but it's become most apparent the last few months. Whereas before I tended to lean toward being social and goofy and a bit debaucherous during particularly inspired moments, I now opt to spend the majority of my non-working hours by myself. Whereas before I'd likely visit the local watering hole to drink a few beers with friends, or chat up a pretty volunteer for the simple fun of flirting, I now keep the company of my books more than most other company, and choose to sleep early and often for the simple joy of sleeping. If you didn't know me well, really well, you'd assume something would be amiss there - to those that don't know me that well, and therefore never get an insight into the more quiet, sensitive and uncertain parts of myself, there tends to be the assumption that I am always and forever the loud, charismatic half-man half-boy that takes the external stage. That is certainly part of who I am, but it isn't the whole. It is the half that gets the attention, because it is the half that is seen. There is an internal stage as well, with an entirely different player on it. Very few people here in Haiti have seen that player. I can count them on my fingers: Paddy, Mathilde, Jenni, Leslie, Simon, James, Cassie, Joe, Mariana, Paul. All of them, save Paddy and James, are gone.
Pulling into myself, "shutting down" as she called it, isn't so much a change in my character as it is a change in what parts of my character I'm choosing to engage. Is that a result of Haiti? Yes, in some ways, and no in others. Haiti can certainly be a difficult place to be for a long period of time. By the nature of being foreign here, a blan, there is attention heaped on me constantly by the people - the strangers in the streets calling out to me, the kids with their ribboned hair smiling and waving (which always makes me smile in return), the young men shouting from their motos, the pretty girls quick to tell me they love me in their funny half-English, still unsure of my name, trying to secure a different future. Some of those interactions are light, some fun, some interesting, but most simply fired quickly and without any real substance - repetitions that, taken alone make no impact, but strung together day after day begin to wear. Becoming conversant in Creole is both a blessing and a curse in regards to them. Yes, I like that I can now understand what people say when they talk to (or at) me, but often what they say is frustrating, and stale. "I'm hungry." Yea, I know. At this point, I mask the annoyance with humor. "You're hungry? Me too! Have any food?" That usually surprises them, and sends any others within ear shot into hysterics. "Blan pale Kreyol! Blan grangou!" Yes, I do speak Creole, but no, I'm not actually hungry.
If anything, Haiti has resulted in me seeking my own company for the simple fact that not doing so results in fatigue. That isn't a negative reflection of the country, but rather who I am in the country, and also the conditions I've lived in for the last two years. Remove Haiti entirely and I probably would still have chosen the more removed path as a result of living in Belval Plaza for eighteen months - everything shared, nothing save a tent (which wasn't accessible during the day given the heat) to call your own, to retreat to. There's precious little balance there. Now that I'm in a house, with my own room, with a lock on the door, I'm not surprised in the least that I'm opting to spend the majority of my time there, with the door locked.
Outside of that, I also now have post-Haiti ponderings crashing around in my head daily. My focus, when not on the program I'm here helping to run, is on what is coming next. I've been accepted to study at a great university in London. London holds a lot of significance for me, not simply for the fact that it is a big, busy, modern city (and therefore certainly a dramatic switch-up from Leogane) with a lot of opportunity should I apply myself well, but also because there is someone of special importance to me there. A part of myself has remained reserved for her, and while I have no idea what will come of it, I do know that that too has often given people the wrong impression about my state of mind, about me and where I'm at. I've had many moments since my time with her where I found myself unable to cross a certain level of connection with others. It isn't something I feel embarrassed or ashamed of, if anything it is quite the opposite - I am totally comfortable talking about it, when questions are asked. It seems wrong not to. I appreciate candidness. Besides, it doesn't have anything to do with those others I might find myself with. Indeed, I've met and gotten close to some people that, had the situation been different, I could easily see myself going further with. But it hasn't played out that way yet, and I can see how that limitation could be interpreted as some general malaise - the byproduct of being in this environment, sad (and sometimes hopeless) that it often is.
But the truth is, I'm not lost in some malaise. I'm not shut down. I'm not burned out. I'm simply quiet. I'm still. I'm thinking. I'm reading and writing letters and driving unknown roads on the weekends for the simple joy of going somewhere new, and for the simple joy of driving itself. I'm contemplating my future. I'm saving my energy for when it is needed. I'm saving my money for when it is needed. Am I a hermit? Perhaps a bit, but I assure you, if you put on a great drum and bass track with some volume behind it, you'll soon find me bouncing around, smiling. That isn't something a shut down, shuttered person would do. The broken don't dance. I'm not broken. Not yet any way. And you know what? If I do break, there's something in that I'm OK with. Breaking allows you time and space to examine the now-scattered aspects of who you are, of what kind of life you are living. It allows vision to see parts otherwise hidden. There's a lot of beauty in that, because, blessed with that opportunity, and the clarity it often brings to those who see it for what it is, a life can be remade to resemble something closer to authentic. I've broken before. I wouldn't change those experiences for anything. If Haiti does end up breaking me, not opening me, not shifting me, but truly breaking me, well, we'll see what comes of it eh? But that hasn't happened yet, and I don't see it happening before I leave. I'm at home here now. I'm used to this. It's a strange home, but it is my home. I've had moments of weakness, and those moments have certainly exposed and allowed parts of myself often overlooked to take a larger role in defining who I am, but I haven't broken. Haiti has made me stronger than it has weak.
To start, she was and is right in saying I've changed. I have. I have in respects to how I engaged with her, as I have in respects to how I engage with most everyone and everything. That has been an ongoing process since arriving here for the first time in July of 2010, but it's become most apparent the last few months. Whereas before I tended to lean toward being social and goofy and a bit debaucherous during particularly inspired moments, I now opt to spend the majority of my non-working hours by myself. Whereas before I'd likely visit the local watering hole to drink a few beers with friends, or chat up a pretty volunteer for the simple fun of flirting, I now keep the company of my books more than most other company, and choose to sleep early and often for the simple joy of sleeping. If you didn't know me well, really well, you'd assume something would be amiss there - to those that don't know me that well, and therefore never get an insight into the more quiet, sensitive and uncertain parts of myself, there tends to be the assumption that I am always and forever the loud, charismatic half-man half-boy that takes the external stage. That is certainly part of who I am, but it isn't the whole. It is the half that gets the attention, because it is the half that is seen. There is an internal stage as well, with an entirely different player on it. Very few people here in Haiti have seen that player. I can count them on my fingers: Paddy, Mathilde, Jenni, Leslie, Simon, James, Cassie, Joe, Mariana, Paul. All of them, save Paddy and James, are gone.
Pulling into myself, "shutting down" as she called it, isn't so much a change in my character as it is a change in what parts of my character I'm choosing to engage. Is that a result of Haiti? Yes, in some ways, and no in others. Haiti can certainly be a difficult place to be for a long period of time. By the nature of being foreign here, a blan, there is attention heaped on me constantly by the people - the strangers in the streets calling out to me, the kids with their ribboned hair smiling and waving (which always makes me smile in return), the young men shouting from their motos, the pretty girls quick to tell me they love me in their funny half-English, still unsure of my name, trying to secure a different future. Some of those interactions are light, some fun, some interesting, but most simply fired quickly and without any real substance - repetitions that, taken alone make no impact, but strung together day after day begin to wear. Becoming conversant in Creole is both a blessing and a curse in regards to them. Yes, I like that I can now understand what people say when they talk to (or at) me, but often what they say is frustrating, and stale. "I'm hungry." Yea, I know. At this point, I mask the annoyance with humor. "You're hungry? Me too! Have any food?" That usually surprises them, and sends any others within ear shot into hysterics. "Blan pale Kreyol! Blan grangou!" Yes, I do speak Creole, but no, I'm not actually hungry.
If anything, Haiti has resulted in me seeking my own company for the simple fact that not doing so results in fatigue. That isn't a negative reflection of the country, but rather who I am in the country, and also the conditions I've lived in for the last two years. Remove Haiti entirely and I probably would still have chosen the more removed path as a result of living in Belval Plaza for eighteen months - everything shared, nothing save a tent (which wasn't accessible during the day given the heat) to call your own, to retreat to. There's precious little balance there. Now that I'm in a house, with my own room, with a lock on the door, I'm not surprised in the least that I'm opting to spend the majority of my time there, with the door locked.
Outside of that, I also now have post-Haiti ponderings crashing around in my head daily. My focus, when not on the program I'm here helping to run, is on what is coming next. I've been accepted to study at a great university in London. London holds a lot of significance for me, not simply for the fact that it is a big, busy, modern city (and therefore certainly a dramatic switch-up from Leogane) with a lot of opportunity should I apply myself well, but also because there is someone of special importance to me there. A part of myself has remained reserved for her, and while I have no idea what will come of it, I do know that that too has often given people the wrong impression about my state of mind, about me and where I'm at. I've had many moments since my time with her where I found myself unable to cross a certain level of connection with others. It isn't something I feel embarrassed or ashamed of, if anything it is quite the opposite - I am totally comfortable talking about it, when questions are asked. It seems wrong not to. I appreciate candidness. Besides, it doesn't have anything to do with those others I might find myself with. Indeed, I've met and gotten close to some people that, had the situation been different, I could easily see myself going further with. But it hasn't played out that way yet, and I can see how that limitation could be interpreted as some general malaise - the byproduct of being in this environment, sad (and sometimes hopeless) that it often is.
But the truth is, I'm not lost in some malaise. I'm not shut down. I'm not burned out. I'm simply quiet. I'm still. I'm thinking. I'm reading and writing letters and driving unknown roads on the weekends for the simple joy of going somewhere new, and for the simple joy of driving itself. I'm contemplating my future. I'm saving my energy for when it is needed. I'm saving my money for when it is needed. Am I a hermit? Perhaps a bit, but I assure you, if you put on a great drum and bass track with some volume behind it, you'll soon find me bouncing around, smiling. That isn't something a shut down, shuttered person would do. The broken don't dance. I'm not broken. Not yet any way. And you know what? If I do break, there's something in that I'm OK with. Breaking allows you time and space to examine the now-scattered aspects of who you are, of what kind of life you are living. It allows vision to see parts otherwise hidden. There's a lot of beauty in that, because, blessed with that opportunity, and the clarity it often brings to those who see it for what it is, a life can be remade to resemble something closer to authentic. I've broken before. I wouldn't change those experiences for anything. If Haiti does end up breaking me, not opening me, not shifting me, but truly breaking me, well, we'll see what comes of it eh? But that hasn't happened yet, and I don't see it happening before I leave. I'm at home here now. I'm used to this. It's a strange home, but it is my home. I've had moments of weakness, and those moments have certainly exposed and allowed parts of myself often overlooked to take a larger role in defining who I am, but I haven't broken. Haiti has made me stronger than it has weak.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Day 251: Community Engagement Is The Name Of The Game
Our current biosand filter beneficiary community, Jean Jean, is the furthest one we've yet worked in, and comes with a few logistical challenges. Besides the distance, Jean Jean is at the end of a long, narrow dirt road, which dead ends into the "center" of the community, if it can be called that. Most of the people who live there, however, live away from the road, either up the side of the mountain, or across the river in a subsection of Jean Jean known as Jean Jean Two (keep it simple stupid!). Normally, our installation teams can get close enough to the homes we'll be installing the filters into that getting the filters from our truck to the homes isn't a problem but that isn't the case in here. Problem.
Solution? Community engagement! We've asked all families that want to get a filter to help us in moving them from our truck to their homes, and it's worked great. Now, when our installation team arrives with the filters, we have the beneficiaries at the drop spot, ready with donkeys and motos to take their filters to their homes. In exchange, we lower the contribution amount we ask for their filter, so it's a win-win for everyone. Sure, it's minor in the grand scheme of things, but small victories should be celebrated. So, on that note, a few photos from the field...
 |
| Filters are unloaded from Kepler's tap-tap and loaded onto local motos. |
 |
| This lady handles her filter like a pro. |
 |
| Another delivery set for take-off. |
 |
| Making it look easy. |
 |
| Google Maps view of Jean Jean. |
 |
| Some of the kids decided to hang out during an install. |
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Day 241: Not Dead Yet
Nope, not dead yet. Apologize for the lack of updates, been a very busy re-entry into Haiti and the BSF program. No time at the moment for a proper update, but a few things have happened.
1. Belval Plaza is gone. I'm writing this from my room in the new house in the neighborhood of Chatulet. My OWN room. Yes. I even have a bed. With a mattress. Life is good.
2. New office too. In theory this keeps work / life balance. Doesn't work that way, but the new office is a much improved version of the old one.
3. Break in the Dominican was alright. Las Terrenas wasn't really my cup of tea, but I was with good people. Think next time I travel though I'll go solo. I find when I do have downtime, I want to be alone.
4. The biosand filter program is looking at a big year ahead. Lots of interest from other NGOs and even the Haitian government in potentially partnering with us, so that's cool. Lots of work though. LOTS of work (hence no updates).
5. I got into grad school in the UK. King's College London - MA in Disasters, Adaptation & Development. Not decided on whether or not I'm going to that specific program, but King's interests me. It is in the heart of London, one of the top schools in the UK, and everyone I've spoken to that's been there tells me it's great. So that's cool. Now to figure out how to pay for it...
6. Post-Haiti ponderings. I've got a lot on my mind around that. The next steps following Haiti could be some of the most life-defining. So many key aspect of a life are in play post-Haiti: love, education, career. It could all come together in some beautiful way, or it could all fall apart. I need to get my head in the post-Haiti game, but at the moment I truly can't. I'm too busy. Going to have to carve out some balance. At the moment I've got none. I've been OK with that for a while, but that is changing now. The last thing I want is to leave Haiti with everything to come half-figured out. I've given a lot of myself to this country, this organization and this program, and that was something I chose to do, something I wanted to do, but I'm at the point now where I know if I don't draw a line in the sand, I'll resent it later. All of this will end in August. My life won't. I need to take the time now to make sure I continue in a way that I'm proud of, and moves me closer to what I want. I'm by no means done here - this is where I want to be - but I do need to create the space I need to start to get ready for what's coming next as well.
1. Belval Plaza is gone. I'm writing this from my room in the new house in the neighborhood of Chatulet. My OWN room. Yes. I even have a bed. With a mattress. Life is good.
2. New office too. In theory this keeps work / life balance. Doesn't work that way, but the new office is a much improved version of the old one.
3. Break in the Dominican was alright. Las Terrenas wasn't really my cup of tea, but I was with good people. Think next time I travel though I'll go solo. I find when I do have downtime, I want to be alone.
4. The biosand filter program is looking at a big year ahead. Lots of interest from other NGOs and even the Haitian government in potentially partnering with us, so that's cool. Lots of work though. LOTS of work (hence no updates).
5. I got into grad school in the UK. King's College London - MA in Disasters, Adaptation & Development. Not decided on whether or not I'm going to that specific program, but King's interests me. It is in the heart of London, one of the top schools in the UK, and everyone I've spoken to that's been there tells me it's great. So that's cool. Now to figure out how to pay for it...
6. Post-Haiti ponderings. I've got a lot on my mind around that. The next steps following Haiti could be some of the most life-defining. So many key aspect of a life are in play post-Haiti: love, education, career. It could all come together in some beautiful way, or it could all fall apart. I need to get my head in the post-Haiti game, but at the moment I truly can't. I'm too busy. Going to have to carve out some balance. At the moment I've got none. I've been OK with that for a while, but that is changing now. The last thing I want is to leave Haiti with everything to come half-figured out. I've given a lot of myself to this country, this organization and this program, and that was something I chose to do, something I wanted to do, but I'm at the point now where I know if I don't draw a line in the sand, I'll resent it later. All of this will end in August. My life won't. I need to take the time now to make sure I continue in a way that I'm proud of, and moves me closer to what I want. I'm by no means done here - this is where I want to be - but I do need to create the space I need to start to get ready for what's coming next as well.
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