today i am wondering, and quite seriously, if it is possible to suffer from PTSD as a result of having served as a PCV?
as january weighs heavily upon us, the reality of who we, collectively and individually, have become as a result of living in this country, in this frame of mind, in this specific brew of negativity for two years, is glaring us in the face. while we may be tougher, harder, colder people, it is not necessarily a very attractive reality.
i, for one, feel like i will need some time to unwind and release a lot of whatever it is i've acquired on this journey when i return to the states. this unspeakable ailment makes 5 months seem like 5 years and has my sanity almost in ruins.
is it fair to say, then, that in our own way, we've suffered from the shock of this environment and should let ourselves off the hook when it comes time to untangle the web of frayed threads of emotions?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
"If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death
Perhaps the world can teach us
as when everything seems dead
but later proves to be alive"
— Pablo Neruda
about keeping our lives moving
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death
Perhaps the world can teach us
as when everything seems dead
but later proves to be alive"
— Pablo Neruda
Friday, January 15, 2010
the water debacle
well.
it's 1 a.m. i just spent an hour attempting to locate the valve required to turn the water in my apartment off. but let me back up a bit.
i returned home from classes today and noticed i heard a small trickling of water coming from somewhere in my tiny closet of a bathroom. it struck me as odd because i never use the sink in this bathroom (i have another one, though i use the toilet in this one because the second toilet leaks when you turn the water on) as it is the size of a small plate and water literally goes everywhere when you turn the faucet on.
i was perplexed.
leaking pipes? from a faucet that gets no traffic? what the hell?
i spent an hour creating a tupperware/ dental floss cradle to hang from the faucet (if only i had taken pictures) to catch the dripping water before it fell to my floor and flooded the place. it was humorous. and frustrating. turns out, dental floss is somewhat difficult to craft cradles with. alas, i made one and the problem was temporarily ignored/solved.
hours of wine sipping passed by.
and i noticed a strange spraying noise emanating from the bathroom. to my horror, i discovered upon entering the bathroom that, indeed water WAS spraying from the faucet. spraying the toilet and the floor. spraying the wall. spraying the entire front side of my body.
super.
i endeavored idiotically for a long 15 minutes to try and readjust the exact location of the leaking- faucet-meets-plastic-water-pipe, where it was clear a crap job of sealing the connection had lead to my mid-night misfortune. nothing came of it.
i spent the next hour scouring the apartment, thanking my lucky stars the thought to hunt down a valve to turn off water had occurred to me. not once in my previous life (i.e. pre-peace corps) did i ever have to think about the arduous task of tracking down water valves in my domicile du jour.
i tore apart closets. and knocked on walls to find potentially hallow spaces. and searched under sinks and inside cupboards. eons of searching later and i discovered i had to slide a panel of my bathroom wall off to uncover the valve. and then, thank you peace corps safety flip charts, i remembered to turn off my water boiler so that i might have a fighting chance at leaving this country alive. i'd hate to end up the tragic victim of a boiler explosion.
my friend matt calculated there are 106 days left of teaching here. for whatever reason, i'm choosing to stay and stick this out, EVEN if it kills me. and when i return home with "experience" and minimal marketable skill sets, i'll be sure to mention to my future employer that not only am i the most stubborn person on the planet for sticking this out, i'm also pretty darn handy, too. it's not every day that someone can boast knowing how to locate removable wall panels to turn off water valves in old communist bloc apartments.
and this is why i'm glad i still have this blog to post on. as my old boss says, "you just can't make this shit up".
it's 1 a.m. i just spent an hour attempting to locate the valve required to turn the water in my apartment off. but let me back up a bit.
i returned home from classes today and noticed i heard a small trickling of water coming from somewhere in my tiny closet of a bathroom. it struck me as odd because i never use the sink in this bathroom (i have another one, though i use the toilet in this one because the second toilet leaks when you turn the water on) as it is the size of a small plate and water literally goes everywhere when you turn the faucet on.
i was perplexed.
leaking pipes? from a faucet that gets no traffic? what the hell?
i spent an hour creating a tupperware/ dental floss cradle to hang from the faucet (if only i had taken pictures) to catch the dripping water before it fell to my floor and flooded the place. it was humorous. and frustrating. turns out, dental floss is somewhat difficult to craft cradles with. alas, i made one and the problem was temporarily ignored/solved.
hours of wine sipping passed by.
and i noticed a strange spraying noise emanating from the bathroom. to my horror, i discovered upon entering the bathroom that, indeed water WAS spraying from the faucet. spraying the toilet and the floor. spraying the wall. spraying the entire front side of my body.
super.
i endeavored idiotically for a long 15 minutes to try and readjust the exact location of the leaking- faucet-meets-plastic-water-pipe, where it was clear a crap job of sealing the connection had lead to my mid-night misfortune. nothing came of it.
i spent the next hour scouring the apartment, thanking my lucky stars the thought to hunt down a valve to turn off water had occurred to me. not once in my previous life (i.e. pre-peace corps) did i ever have to think about the arduous task of tracking down water valves in my domicile du jour.
i tore apart closets. and knocked on walls to find potentially hallow spaces. and searched under sinks and inside cupboards. eons of searching later and i discovered i had to slide a panel of my bathroom wall off to uncover the valve. and then, thank you peace corps safety flip charts, i remembered to turn off my water boiler so that i might have a fighting chance at leaving this country alive. i'd hate to end up the tragic victim of a boiler explosion.
my friend matt calculated there are 106 days left of teaching here. for whatever reason, i'm choosing to stay and stick this out, EVEN if it kills me. and when i return home with "experience" and minimal marketable skill sets, i'll be sure to mention to my future employer that not only am i the most stubborn person on the planet for sticking this out, i'm also pretty darn handy, too. it's not every day that someone can boast knowing how to locate removable wall panels to turn off water valves in old communist bloc apartments.
and this is why i'm glad i still have this blog to post on. as my old boss says, "you just can't make this shit up".
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
blue
a colleague took my face in her hands as i was putting my coat on to leave the teacher's room this morning.
"are you okay?" she asked.
"umm... well..."
"because you've got sadness written across your face," she continued as i tried my hardest to keep from crying.
it took me a few seconds to reply, a few seconds in which i took the requisite time to think through the consequences of being honest. being honest about feeling really heavy and tired and downtrodden... which would mean possibly having to explain why in bulgarian and i'm endlessly fearful "me" doesn't always translate.
"i am sad," i answered honestly, despite being fearful of what she might say to me.
to my delight and surprise, she did not ask me why. i had briefly explained to her last week that people in my life were coming and going quickly and i was having trouble adjusting to it so i suppose she attributed my sadness to that. but she never asked.
she simply smiled into my eyes, hugged me and said everything would be okay.
the interaction has my mind buzzing. why is it so hard for me to just be honest sometimes? why am i ashamed when i am honest and constantly fearful people will not accept me when i'm not my usual happy self? why AM i sad and why does this feel miserable right now?
i am grateful that even when i'm blue and sad, there are people in this town looking out for me. people who, despite my hesitancy to open up, actually see me and get me and notice when i'm not cheery. it reassures me that when i'm feeling most upset at myself for my inability to honestly share "me" sometimes, those around me who are paying attention understand and get "me" anyways.
and today, that's all i needed.
"are you okay?" she asked.
"umm... well..."
"because you've got sadness written across your face," she continued as i tried my hardest to keep from crying.
it took me a few seconds to reply, a few seconds in which i took the requisite time to think through the consequences of being honest. being honest about feeling really heavy and tired and downtrodden... which would mean possibly having to explain why in bulgarian and i'm endlessly fearful "me" doesn't always translate.
"i am sad," i answered honestly, despite being fearful of what she might say to me.
to my delight and surprise, she did not ask me why. i had briefly explained to her last week that people in my life were coming and going quickly and i was having trouble adjusting to it so i suppose she attributed my sadness to that. but she never asked.
she simply smiled into my eyes, hugged me and said everything would be okay.
the interaction has my mind buzzing. why is it so hard for me to just be honest sometimes? why am i ashamed when i am honest and constantly fearful people will not accept me when i'm not my usual happy self? why AM i sad and why does this feel miserable right now?
i am grateful that even when i'm blue and sad, there are people in this town looking out for me. people who, despite my hesitancy to open up, actually see me and get me and notice when i'm not cheery. it reassures me that when i'm feeling most upset at myself for my inability to honestly share "me" sometimes, those around me who are paying attention understand and get "me" anyways.
and today, that's all i needed.
Monday, January 11, 2010
a friend of mine said she was preparing three sentences. concise. poignant. heartfelt, yet light-hearted. convenient sentences.
three sentences to take back home with her. three sentences to fire at will when inquisitive folks wondered aloud where in the hell she'd been for the past two years. three sentences to summarize a rather inconvenient experience. three sentences to bring the intangible within reach.
this got me thinking. what will i say? what if i want 5 minutes? what if people want me to give just three words? the pressure!
here's a post about where these questions directed me today.
i picked all my finger nails off this morning. picked, not chewed. i'm very particular about making this distinction.
people who know me well are aware this is a bad sign.
amanda with long fingernails = generally content / sufficiently convincing in making people believe she's content.
amanda with unkempt hangnails and nails picked so short they hurt = remarkably bored / anxious / discontent.
21 months of...this... and i can confidently say i'm not bored. i've mastered the art of keeping myself just busy enough not to go crazy.
it would not be a stretch to assign culpability for my ruined manicure to anxiety. three hours of sleep last night has left me feeling feisty which, could be translated to me feeling anxiety. i suppose.
more likely is that i'm simply discontent. discontentment, while not the end all of everything wonderful, certainly has my busy brain pondering.
and picking away at my patiently-grown fingernails.
discontent. a word that is decidedly one of my hypothetical three words when it comes to summaries. discontentment has, more or less, been a constant companion of mine throughout this journey. it hasn't always been an obnoxious travel partner, though.
in fact, i attribute most of the gratitude and appreciation i've garnered from being here to exhibiting various levels of discontentment. i will even be so bold as to say that there is a list of general things i would not be grateful for had i not had this opportunity to sit for such lengthy periods of time in sheer discontentment.
a few highlights that made this list:
1. discontentment generally gets me thinking that...i may never get this opportunity again. in fact, i'm quite certain if my conscious, still-intact memory has anything to say about it, i won't be returning to bulgaria any time in the foreseeable future.
2. discontentment reminds me that life here, in many ways, is actually quite comfortable. cases in point:
-i don't pay bills. well, no. that's not true. i pay my 20 dollar internet bill once a month which, when i forget, can be quite taxing.
-umm. oh! i've suffered through so many cultural blunders i feel a sense of "comfort" in being somewhere foreign. yes, this place feels foreign and breathes foreign...right down to the way it expects you to know (through osmosis? mystery!) when your next bus is coming from the non-existent schedule.
-i have oodles...no gaping voids... NO... mountains upon ranges of free time to utilize as i see fit.
-i live alone.
-i know i'll have a job until june 23rd.
-my apartment comes equipped with a sit-down toilet.
-and i can lie on my heated tile floors at any time i want.
-i've made a habit of traveling exclusively by temperature-controlled trains past the huge roma ghetto on my way to and from sofia.
-my kitchen sports a new(ish) washing machine.
-i do not sleep in a taco bed.
3. discontentment aids in clarifying the added bonuses...ya know, bonuses of the variety that relate to the future... of serving in the peace corps. life post-bulgaria has got to be better. eeee! i got excited just writing that.
for example: now, as opposed to 21 long months ago, i can safely draw big fat lines through pages of future careers i'll no longer be needing to research as a result of my recent devotion to "volunteerism" and "international grassroots development". while i may still not have a clue what i'll end up doing next, i am confident in the career paths i will not be pursuing. *happy sigh*
4. discontentment means i'll never (perhaps almost never) complain about gas stations bathrooms. ever. again.
5. discontentment also lends itself to ensuring it will be a long time before i take driving a car, owning a car, or rolling windows down while riding in a car for granted.
6. discontentment reminds me i have good friends who are (lucky them) stuck with me for years to come. there's nothing like commiserating with people who know exactly how miserable it is to travel for hours in dirty, dark, old russian trains across miles of desolation.
7. discontentment does not erase the fact that i have had the rare opportunity to see life in bulgaria on a broad spectrum. during this expansive grouping of months, i have lived:
*in a village of 1000 people
*with a host family
*and three goats
*in a small town of 5000 people
*alone, but with kind neighbors
*in a town of 80,000 people
*on the first floor of a giant block building
*where my neighbors are the trains and cars constantly whirring by
*with a community of almost entirely roma members
*and now with bulgarians
*who speak a very different dialect-language, even-
*than the people i spent all last year with
*who i hopefully taught some bulgarian grammar to, if not any english.
so, you see, being discontent for 21 months isn't actually all bad. it may have caused my head to buzz and swirl on occasion, but it has not killed me.
admittedly, i remain unconvinced this experience can be summarized. but, as i think of ways to fit 2 years into 3 sentences (or maybe wonderful conversations), i'll remember how feeling so discontent for this amount of time has managed to become an indispensable part of my character. truly, there may be no better way to explain something as intangible as a peace corps experience than to describe who i am as a result of it.
and how it enabled me to derive a big, happy, existential conclusion out of a day spent anxiously picking my nails.
=)
three sentences to take back home with her. three sentences to fire at will when inquisitive folks wondered aloud where in the hell she'd been for the past two years. three sentences to summarize a rather inconvenient experience. three sentences to bring the intangible within reach.
this got me thinking. what will i say? what if i want 5 minutes? what if people want me to give just three words? the pressure!
here's a post about where these questions directed me today.
i picked all my finger nails off this morning. picked, not chewed. i'm very particular about making this distinction.
people who know me well are aware this is a bad sign.
amanda with long fingernails = generally content / sufficiently convincing in making people believe she's content.
amanda with unkempt hangnails and nails picked so short they hurt = remarkably bored / anxious / discontent.
21 months of...this... and i can confidently say i'm not bored. i've mastered the art of keeping myself just busy enough not to go crazy.
it would not be a stretch to assign culpability for my ruined manicure to anxiety. three hours of sleep last night has left me feeling feisty which, could be translated to me feeling anxiety. i suppose.
more likely is that i'm simply discontent. discontentment, while not the end all of everything wonderful, certainly has my busy brain pondering.
and picking away at my patiently-grown fingernails.
discontent. a word that is decidedly one of my hypothetical three words when it comes to summaries. discontentment has, more or less, been a constant companion of mine throughout this journey. it hasn't always been an obnoxious travel partner, though.
in fact, i attribute most of the gratitude and appreciation i've garnered from being here to exhibiting various levels of discontentment. i will even be so bold as to say that there is a list of general things i would not be grateful for had i not had this opportunity to sit for such lengthy periods of time in sheer discontentment.
a few highlights that made this list:
1. discontentment generally gets me thinking that...i may never get this opportunity again. in fact, i'm quite certain if my conscious, still-intact memory has anything to say about it, i won't be returning to bulgaria any time in the foreseeable future.
2. discontentment reminds me that life here, in many ways, is actually quite comfortable. cases in point:
-i don't pay bills. well, no. that's not true. i pay my 20 dollar internet bill once a month which, when i forget, can be quite taxing.
-umm. oh! i've suffered through so many cultural blunders i feel a sense of "comfort" in being somewhere foreign. yes, this place feels foreign and breathes foreign...right down to the way it expects you to know (through osmosis? mystery!) when your next bus is coming from the non-existent schedule.
-i have oodles...no gaping voids... NO... mountains upon ranges of free time to utilize as i see fit.
-i live alone.
-i know i'll have a job until june 23rd.
-my apartment comes equipped with a sit-down toilet.
-and i can lie on my heated tile floors at any time i want.
-i've made a habit of traveling exclusively by temperature-controlled trains past the huge roma ghetto on my way to and from sofia.
-my kitchen sports a new(ish) washing machine.
-i do not sleep in a taco bed.
3. discontentment aids in clarifying the added bonuses...ya know, bonuses of the variety that relate to the future... of serving in the peace corps. life post-bulgaria has got to be better. eeee! i got excited just writing that.
for example: now, as opposed to 21 long months ago, i can safely draw big fat lines through pages of future careers i'll no longer be needing to research as a result of my recent devotion to "volunteerism" and "international grassroots development". while i may still not have a clue what i'll end up doing next, i am confident in the career paths i will not be pursuing. *happy sigh*
4. discontentment means i'll never (perhaps almost never) complain about gas stations bathrooms. ever. again.
5. discontentment also lends itself to ensuring it will be a long time before i take driving a car, owning a car, or rolling windows down while riding in a car for granted.
6. discontentment reminds me i have good friends who are (lucky them) stuck with me for years to come. there's nothing like commiserating with people who know exactly how miserable it is to travel for hours in dirty, dark, old russian trains across miles of desolation.
7. discontentment does not erase the fact that i have had the rare opportunity to see life in bulgaria on a broad spectrum. during this expansive grouping of months, i have lived:
*in a village of 1000 people
*with a host family
*and three goats
*in a small town of 5000 people
*alone, but with kind neighbors
*in a town of 80,000 people
*on the first floor of a giant block building
*where my neighbors are the trains and cars constantly whirring by
*with a community of almost entirely roma members
*and now with bulgarians
*who speak a very different dialect-language, even-
*than the people i spent all last year with
*who i hopefully taught some bulgarian grammar to, if not any english.
so, you see, being discontent for 21 months isn't actually all bad. it may have caused my head to buzz and swirl on occasion, but it has not killed me.
admittedly, i remain unconvinced this experience can be summarized. but, as i think of ways to fit 2 years into 3 sentences (or maybe wonderful conversations), i'll remember how feeling so discontent for this amount of time has managed to become an indispensable part of my character. truly, there may be no better way to explain something as intangible as a peace corps experience than to describe who i am as a result of it.
and how it enabled me to derive a big, happy, existential conclusion out of a day spent anxiously picking my nails.
=)
Thursday, January 7, 2010
many things are changing rapidly. for as slow as time seems to be passing, there is little stability to grasp onto or rely on. i suppose this is the nature of this experience, but each passing moment weighs on me in a new way and life, frankly, feels really heavy.
i had a heartwarming and simple conversation with a colleague today about the month of january. she shared stories of how this time of the year brings great sadness and uncertainty to her life and she can never concoct a plan to combat it. all i could say back was that january, for me, is the hardest month.
i imagine this particular january is like mile 20-21 of a 26.2 mile marathon. from january's lap, i can see the end of this 27 months but i can't yet grab it. i can sense that it is getting lighter and warmer, yet there are still bitterly cold and dark days.
i look forward to the benefits that so much reorganization in life brings in moments like this, but i've not reached the point where i can actually reap those benefits. all i can do now is put all my faith into the knowledge that life never stays the same and that moments like this lead way to warm, sunny spaces.
i know this time will pass and i know a more positive place awaits me but for now, wading through the muck and the change and the simultaneous monotony of being here is just where i need to be.
soon, i'll post a few pictures of my christmas trip to paris =)
i had a heartwarming and simple conversation with a colleague today about the month of january. she shared stories of how this time of the year brings great sadness and uncertainty to her life and she can never concoct a plan to combat it. all i could say back was that january, for me, is the hardest month.
i imagine this particular january is like mile 20-21 of a 26.2 mile marathon. from january's lap, i can see the end of this 27 months but i can't yet grab it. i can sense that it is getting lighter and warmer, yet there are still bitterly cold and dark days.
i look forward to the benefits that so much reorganization in life brings in moments like this, but i've not reached the point where i can actually reap those benefits. all i can do now is put all my faith into the knowledge that life never stays the same and that moments like this lead way to warm, sunny spaces.
i know this time will pass and i know a more positive place awaits me but for now, wading through the muck and the change and the simultaneous monotony of being here is just where i need to be.
soon, i'll post a few pictures of my christmas trip to paris =)
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