While I wish I could elaborate on something revelatory interesting or comical in my life here, I’ve got nothing but a little note on my emotional roller coaster I’ve been in the past month or so. I debated writing on it all since it seems a bit personal, but if you are reading with any intention of understanding what the Peace Corps experience is really like, this is pretty insightful (at least in MY experience…).
The past two months I’ve lived in Moshupa, trying to make sense of my life here mentally and socially and all that might entail. In that time I’ve learned to be alone and enjoy my interior dialogue more than I thought possible. I’ve come to appreciate homemade popcorn (almost to the point of idolatry). The greatest accomplishment must be my well-developed skill of learning to motivate myself to do things I just don’t really feel up for it, knowing it's for my own betterment. For instance, there have been plenty of days where I don’t think I have the patience or the heart to interact with one more person in my community. It’s like I know exactly how the conversation will go and I’ll walk away wondering what the hell I’m doing here, like it would be better to be what they expect. This would mean distributing money and clothes to every passing person including the very shoes on my feet. It's a slow process convincing others (and sometimes myself) the worth of myself in their community and sharing my intentions to just be a part of their life, helping them do what they do. I’ve made a few social connections and felt something that resembles the beginning of a couple friendships, but that takes time to fully verify that they want to know me as a person and not as a one man charity organization.
It’s been hard. It’s been challenging in ways I didn’t even imagine and patience and appreciation for things has grown tremendously. In this time, I have missed my sister’s wedding, another sister’s graduation from Physician’s Assistant school and just recently the passing of my grandmother. Because things like the wedding and graduation are foreseen, I thought I had prepared myself mentally and emotionally for missing such occasions, but the reality and real time of the situation didn’t really allow for much consoling. Again, I found myself alone in bed waiting by the phone for a brief, tear-filled conversation with my sister before she walked down the aisle. My family did a good job of keeping me in the loop on the preparations and the celebrations, but sometimes it’s bitter sweet to even have a glimpse of the life you are missing.
There isn’t much I can do to prepare myself for a family member passing, but it becomes a reminder of the distance and time between me and my other world. It’s particularly hard when I don’t have the comfort and solace in the community where I live just yet. I imagine that will happen one day, but I need it now. I see a lot of exciting opportunities and experiences on the horizon, but in the moment I’m still transitioning and trying to justify the worth of this compared to what I am missing half a world away. I have hope that the events in the coming months will bring enough satisfaction to justify my time here. If nothing else, I’m committed to finding that understanding and social foundation that makes moments like these a little less painful.
It’s hard trying to find a balance between building a life here and knowing the alternative life that is so comfortable and familiar. I’ve found it my nature that I feed off the thrill of placing myself in circumstances that might be uncomfortable and new and confusing because the reward of discovering complacency in the pervading chaos is beautiful… Some chase adrenaline, others exercise their emotional capacities. It helps to know that the familiarity of home is always there and it will always be waiting for me. So why not pursue something that is larger than me and really just temporary. I’ve made it a long way, and I’m still slowly making sense of things, but I have had an interesting bout of emotions accompanying these moments.
Reaching the two-month mark in Moshupa (four months in Botswana) means I can now start some occasional travel. A few volunteers and I are planning a couple of trips, and the excitement of such an opportunity revives my spirits, reminding me of a few of the reasons I’m here.
As you can see, some days are really high highs, but some are followed by some low lows. It's all about finding a balance somewhere between the two.
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