Epic Posts

From some of the responses I’ve gotten to this journal, and some of the personal emails I’ve received I realized that maybe my writing hasn’t accomplished what I wanted it to… I read things like “we are so proud of you”, “my problems seem so small compared your problems” and the like. I am deeply touched by both the effort to write, and the sentiments that are conveyed (especially considering some of the people who write to me are the ones I respect and love most in the world). I am also just so appreciative and glad to be thought of because I want to make people proud, and to do some sort of justice to the luck I have had in my life by choosing this experience. But one of the major reason I never liked these online BLOG things is that so many just seemed to be created to tout experiences and thoughts as if to say “look how great my life is, and how deep I am, wallow in your lack of vision.” It suddenly struck me that that is maybe what mine might come off as? Not good.

Because yes, I find a great many things to keep me motivated and loving parts of what I am doing. But at the same time, I am not without doubts, errors, and just being childish at times. The remoteness and isolation that are giving me many positives like the language mastery and cultural emersion have also given me some rough times. I have always considered myself an independent person, but I am OUT there and solitude is given a whole new definition when language and cultural barriers meet geographical remoteness. Can’t really be described appropriately…Also the pace of life is completely different than in the States. Not necessarily a bad way, just extremely different. As one staffer told me “you can just sit and stare at a flower for an hour if you want.” And how! This is compounded by the fact that Khmer New Year was a major holiday, and no one was in school… so the outside structure we might otherwise have isn’t there. Thank goodness I am a laid back person, because I have literally had times where I go out running, shower, play guitar until my fingers can’t take it anymore, sit in my hammock, study Khmer, doze, read, talk with my family, eat lunch… rinse repeat until bed. My mind, in all its tangential glory, has been having an absolute FIELD day with ideas, philosophies, memories, dreams, hopes, depressions, etc and there are times where I feel 90 years old and others when I feel 9… I won’t go into all that here, but wow.

My medical officer was calling me regularly and giving me some really good feedback (as well as sending me a book on anxiety, and generally continuing to be fantastic). However, she can also do a number on my brain with the language she uses. She has talked about how what I am going through is “almost like dying.” She encouraged me to write some about my experiences, and then had me read it to her over the phone so she could type it up for our in-country news letter… intense. She would talk about how so much of what I used to be was going to “melt away to leave the caring, solid guy you are underneath it all.” She is an amazing woman, but I sort of wanted to laugh and say “thank you, and that’s awesome, but what do I do while I’m melting?!?” My fellow volunteers are totally great as well, but we don’t have a lot of money for phone communication and also everyone’s site is providing different challenges that even those of us in the same country can’t entirely relate to. I am very far away from friends, and family, and the people I would bounce ideas off of (though I am of course meeting new great people). As I step out on my dusty path each morning, I know ultimately it is really just my legs and head that I have to face the day.

So the POINT is that while what I’m doing is unique, it isn’t all optimism and roses. It’s a Peace Corps cliché, but you seriously think about going home every day. I try to do my best and face the many things that come to mind and body in this chapter of my life. Even my fellow volunteers are telling me “if anyone can handle that site its you” and “you will definitely be the one fluent volunteer in two years”… people think more of me than I do of myself frankly and while it means so much to have the love and support, I don’t want to ever come off as a preacher. I never wanted my writings to become so epic that it seems like I am somehow boasting that what I am doing is better (however that is defined) than everything that is going on in the billions of other corners of the world. Including the very important ones in which my family and friends live.

If I were to ever become one of those holier-than-thou thinkers, writers, or people in general, please slap me across the face.