Thursday, February 6, 2014

tis' the season for some reason

           Being a volunteer has become a lifestyle, I no longer think of it as doing something on the side that makes me feel good. I have literally changed out a conventional lifestyle where job benefits and vacation days concern me. Instead, I worry about future projects, partners for these projects, and how I am impacting the kids in my community. I don’t have days off or weekends, nor a 401K. What I do have is a drive so fierce to do what I love that I am working just to cover housing, food and some travel and it doesn't even cross my mind to be anywhere else. My host sister asked me what I would be doing differently at this age if I could; this came after I asked what she wanted to do by 27, to which she gave me some exceptional answers. But all I could think of, was nothing, I wouldn't change a damn thing. I have had a hell of a couple months thus far, integrating, establishing my role, making friends, finding my purpose. And it’s an on-going process that won’t end until I’m no longer here. 
         I have cried more times than I’d like to admit and have thought about going home because I wasn't quite sure I even knew which end was up. But then when I thought about packing my things and leaving of the next plane, back to familiar faces and expectations, I realized I’m not ready, I’m not even close to being done here. I still have an uphill battle and I will have to be at peace with the things I am away from in the mean time, which is getting harder to do the older I get. But I am here for a reason and although sometimes that reason hides from me or avoids my phone calls, it’s always been there and I have to see it through. Being a volunteer has now been a profession of mine for, going on three years; longer than any job I've had and its part of who I am. 
         Peace Corps attracts like minded people because it’s not like we really know what we’re getting into when we come, but we believe it’ll be worth it. All the struggle and inner conflict and external discomforts, it’s the job that keeps us here, knowing that what we are learning you can’t get anywhere else. Who stays in a job that barely covers room, board and travel where you have to live in sub optimal housing, and are faced with constant emotional and spiritual introspection and questioning because if it… we do. Why? Because it’s more than a job. Just as many moments you question your purpose, you find it again when you are invited to hang out more with a group of neighbors, or the kid you thought considered you the weird foreigner girl, grins ear to ear when they see you on the bus after months. Your job is your life and your life is your job, that’s why you stay, that’s why “it’s the hardest job you’ll ever love” because it becomes part of you and your purpose. I’m willing to bet that it also why so many people feel a deep sense of loss when it’s over and decide not to go back to traditional careers paths or punching time clocks afterwards. So for now, I have taken to living in the moment, now only comes around once so I will remind myself to enjoy this moment for the remaining 80 something weeks while I still have it. 

Wednesday, February 5, 2014

the hopeful upswing

There is this moment, when for a brief minute I feel for sure this is where I should be, but first let me just say, I have had an interesting first couple of months here.


 Here is quick recap. My first month in site was a lot of floundering, figuring out what I was asking from people and why I needed to introduce myself to everyone. I also had to explain why this tica- looking gringa-speaking volunteer was in their community and talking to their kids. I’m still working on an exact answer. The second month I had a schedule of meetings and class times and people that asked for help and I was slowly figuring things out. The third month, December, rolled around, school let out and slowly but surely my daily encounters and routine fizzled out and was replaced with ideas of trips and mini vacations and the holiday season. This sounds like it would be a welcomed change of pace but when you are just getting the hang of your new life as you know it and it switches up on you, things start to unravel before they even came together.

The holidays themselves were a mix because at times it didn’t even feel Christmasy anyway. However, Christmas Eve I was actually really happy. I showed my host family how to make mama’s Christmas cookies and we watched "It’s a Wonderful Life" in Spanish, while I burned some chocolate. Despite a number of interruptions nothing could take my smile away. I got to open presents that were thought out just for me too! (I got slippers cause my extra long sweatpants were getting dirty from mopping the floor with them : ) ). New Years came and went a little different. I spent 4 days with, not my host family but with some teachers and their families, and very nice gesture that made me feel accepted. Unfortunately, I ended up feeling far from anything familiar or comfortable and I was at least a car, ferry and bus ride away from those things. Overall, I was mentally exhausted and had to leave when they suggested another day, as I could not longer wait it out. Despite being at the beach, peace was out of reach. The days that followed included a very difficult break up, a visit from my mom/better half that had it not been for, I would have not made it through this month without, and our IST training. The leaving of a good friend and fellow volunteer and returning from a week long training to no projects and a seemingly small handful of people who care about my return, just rounded out a very long emotional month-ish. The good, the bad, the ugly and all at once.

 December (and this first part of January) has been by far one of the most emotionally precarious periods I have experienced in a long time. It’s very hard to put into words the depths of loneliness that feeling disintegrated can bring. When you don't feel attached to your surrounds you feel detached from everything. It was slow to come about, I never saw it coming. It parallels to nothing I am familiar with. Every time I've moved to a new place by myself, there was always a preexisting system I walked into. Whether it was Tampa for university, Maryland for AmeriCorps or Seattle, I either arrived with clear objectives, direct instructions on my role, or a group of friends I already knew and loved. Here, no previous PCV has served ( so no one else knows what I am doing either), I am still learning the language and the school system in which I am to work, and my job is what I make it, giving me just enough “creative space” to drown in. 

To add insult to injury I've realized the people I have grown to count on for direction and support, besides my own group, will be leaving before we know it, turning their sights on their next big adventures. These are my friends who, above all, understand what I am going through, encourage me, could answer my panicked phones calls, and have been there to reassure me I was doing all the right things. They reminded to have faith in the process and were there when I was at my worst. First to leave is the one person I made my main support, my crutch as the more I needed this connection to someone special, and depended on outside happiness, the harder it was to recuperate or start all over again by myself. I wrapped hope and comfort up in him and felt like there was some level of control I actually had still in my life, not the easiest of good byes. Despite wanting to hang on until the very end, the reality is that we face two very different and separate challenges, and being so much a like, we will ultimately have to do them apart.
It is safe to say that yes, I am going to be fine, this will not last forever. This emotional precipice with the tears already at the surface waiting for a cute picture of a puppy or strong wind to blow for their turn to fall, actually allows for some moments of real clarity. It is through a deeply felt pain that I think we can feel the most ourselves, experiencing all we are capable of. I realize also that I wouldn’t leave now if given the chance, and that must mean something. I am not alone, there are others better and worse off than I, but we have all felt something similar to the stress and pain of integrating, constructing our role within an entire community from the ground up and facing consistent disappointments. The beauty in this, however, is that eventually, when you crawl out of that dark place for some fresh air, go for a walk and see that life is happening for everyone else and you can start to appreciate the freedom you have to create your own dimensions of your world, and yourself.

One of the biggest lessons I have learned through all of this, is it has nothing to do with being alone, but everything to do with what I am doing to take care of myself and that looking to external sources to fill the gaps will only harm me in the end. No one can give you or teach you inner peace; you learn it through practice and relying on yourself to be happy. We can put ourselves out there to make friends, watch comedy, call those who can listen to you, cry if we need to, listen to good outdoor concert bands, learn our limits, leave if we have to, give it our best. But we don’t have to give up.