I was on my bike riding home from the subway station after work tonight. I love the moment when I get off at Tiananmen East station, turn left into the red gate, and I enter my neighborhood of former emperors. The weeping willows, the street lamps, the old hutong rooftops, and little to no traffic. Sometimes, I forget I live in Beijing, until my neighborhood reminds me again. I was on my bike and I felt the need to treat myself after a long day at work. I stopped in at a small spa near the east gate of the Forbidden City, just 5 minutes from my house.

I often like to get a foot massage, as I find I sleep really well after one. I took of my shoes, and let them do their thing. I had the strangest reaction...as soon as the lady started massaging my feet...I started to weep. Tears, and more tears streamed down my face. I've never had this happen before. The girl wasn't massaging very hard at all...its just...well, I don't know. Like, this whole summer of lessons learned, emotional turmoil, questioning, adjustments, frustration, a temporary road block in my research, wondering about my time in China...all of it...just coming to a head. The pillow behind my head...soaked.

I felt myself trying to hold back the tears, but I knew that they needed to just fall. Its good to allow yourself this. To be broken. There is a kind of freedom in brokenness. I've been learning these past few days, that the stronger I try to be...the weaker I am.