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| Me and my granddad at my 24th Birthday Party one week before I left for Myanmar |
Time moves unusually here. The days are long, hard, hot, and stressful. Yet months can pass so quickly and I’m more aware of just how little time two years can be in the grand scheme of life. I think there are many distractions in America. We cloud our sadness with busyness. Myanmar is different. It throws long tiring days at you when the chores of life are already difficult. Mixed with sadness, loneliness, homesickness, or grief you can become immovable.
The Friday evening I found out my granddad had passed away; I made a plan to do everything on my checklist for Saturday. I went to the market, the bank, bought rice, found spaghetti, worked out, showered, shaved my legs, cooked an awesome meal, filed some notes, went to the school and helped with a project, took my gr 3 neighbor on a date to the lake she had been asking about all week, and watched a movie. By the time my head hit the pillow, I had so many happy moments I could use to mend my grief and piece my heart back together.
I sometimes feel like an emotional wreck. And loving yourself when you are an emotional wreck…well that’s not easy. I’m learning a lot about the depth of patience love demands in my relationships with others. Yet I can still be so impatient when it comes to loving myself. Doing self-care when you feel lonely, homesick, and miserable certainly feels like an impossible task. But you have to manage it, because the person that will always be with you in these times is you. You have to learn how to comfort and love yourself even when you feel the most unlovable person.
I feel so much guilt. I enjoy being here. I like the work I’m doing. I’m being challenged everyday. I’m growing and learning so much. But I miss my family. There are times I need and want to see them. My heart is ripped between guilt, happiness, longing, and sadness. I feel like a walking contradiction and there isn't much room in my heart for anything else. We are also quite alone here. Yes I have friends and loved ones in my community but sometimes I crave the understanding an American friend can bring. A friend where I don’t have to explain my grief, sadness, disappointment. I can just be and they can just get me. The geographically closest volunteer is a 45 min car drive from me but due to difficult bus routes we have yet to figure out how to easily see each other for day trips. My emotionally closest volunteer friends are some of the most southern volunteers while I’m one of the most northern volunteers. And there is a physical mountain range separating me from my boyfriend. So yeah, I can feel pretty isolated and alone.
With the death of my granddad, I only shared with my close friend who is also my language tutor. I didn’t want the fuss of my school family to know. Its funny…I think I told her I call my granddad “Papsy” once last year in a teacher speaking class. And here it was almost a year later and her response when I said My granddad is sick and won’t live much longer she said I’m so sorry to hear about Papsy. We then proceeded to have a long cultural conversation about death and funerals. A topic I may have never learned or discussed had I not shared this with my tutor.
I find Myanmar people to be the most giving. They would give you the shirt off their back if you asked and would think nothing of it. They hold crazy lavish donations for monks. Students give me the most sincere little gifts every day. Teachers share their curries with me at lunch everyday because they know how hard it is to cook curries for one person every morning. They even have a word in their language a na deh that expresses deep sincere guilt that pushes them to donate and give to others. But they are also the most difficult to read their emotions. We Americans are funny. We are expressive, loud, and wear our heart on our sleeves. So much that I sometimes get picked on for sharing too much of my emotions. My kids think I’m this comical being and rarely take me seriously. Myanmar adults rarely show their emotion; however this doesn't mean they are incapable of it. I’ve seen both of my CPs cry. One at a donation for orphans. Another who felt such pressure from her principal she was just utterly defeated. I’ve watched my tutor get teary-eyed telling me how a cat broke into her family’s chicken coop and killed all the baby chicks. I’ve passed a neighbor in tears holding her baby as she stepped out of her house because her struggles in home were too intense and she was tired trying to keep it all together. And I have seen some of my closest teachers at school tear up when they think about me leaving in one short year. I find solace knowing I can be connected emotionally to people who are so different from me.
Being present physically and emotionally 24/7 is exhausting but I know I’m not alone. I have a community that loves me. I have friends that care for me sincerely. I often want to shut my doors and be left alone. But I’m encouraging myself to open my doors to lean into this pain and grow from it. I thought I was this independent and emotionally strong person before I came here but I’m realizing now there is strength in accepting vulnerability. And who says you have to always keep it together?
Create yourself “I need to do this to get better” checklist.
Here’s mine:
Take a walk
Prepare a Good Home Cooked Meal
Open my door and heart to my community
Jumprope Workout
Do one nice thing for my personal appearance: {paint nails, wash my hair even though its not hair washday, shave my legs, moisturize my face. Things I don’t really prioritize here but are so important when I need a boost}
Say yes when I want to be left alone.
Don’t set a deadline to be better.
The Friday evening I found out my granddad had passed away; I made a plan to do everything on my checklist for Saturday. I went to the market, the bank, bought rice, found spaghetti, worked out, showered, shaved my legs, cooked an awesome meal, filed some notes, went to the school and helped with a project, took my gr 3 neighbor on a date to the lake she had been asking about all week, and watched a movie. By the time my head hit the pillow, I had so many happy moments I could use to mend my grief and piece my heart back together.
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| Me and my neighbor, Su Myat Sandar Linn, on our ice cream date at the lake |
Lean into the new feelings that unsurface and love yourself because of it.
I never been a deeply emotional person but this county has stirred up this element of my identity in a whole new way. I’m a thinker. I have control over my emotions. I am not the crybaby in the family. I have a lot of composure and keep my emotions to myself. My family usually doesn’t know when things upset me and I am so calm and steady in stressful situations. But I feel things so deeply here. I cry a lot more. And my frustrations, joys, failures, and successes are seriously heightened.I sometimes feel like an emotional wreck. And loving yourself when you are an emotional wreck…well that’s not easy. I’m learning a lot about the depth of patience love demands in my relationships with others. Yet I can still be so impatient when it comes to loving myself. Doing self-care when you feel lonely, homesick, and miserable certainly feels like an impossible task. But you have to manage it, because the person that will always be with you in these times is you. You have to learn how to comfort and love yourself even when you feel the most unlovable person.
Understand this Peace Corps situation is wildly unique.
When I was homesick after the birth of my nephew, I received really sound advice from another volunteer. Kelly if you were in an expat job you would have the freedom and financial ability to go home and for these things. You don’t have that in Peace Corps. In an expat life, you have more say. In Peace Corps, we make a commitment of service and service is not the same as an expat job. We have more rules, a strict leave policy, local level pay {and in no way am I saving money to make trips home}, and we agreed to a 2 year stint that for many the opportunity to go home is not one even open for entertainment. |
| My sister and my nephew at Christmas |
I feel so much guilt. I enjoy being here. I like the work I’m doing. I’m being challenged everyday. I’m growing and learning so much. But I miss my family. There are times I need and want to see them. My heart is ripped between guilt, happiness, longing, and sadness. I feel like a walking contradiction and there isn't much room in my heart for anything else. We are also quite alone here. Yes I have friends and loved ones in my community but sometimes I crave the understanding an American friend can bring. A friend where I don’t have to explain my grief, sadness, disappointment. I can just be and they can just get me. The geographically closest volunteer is a 45 min car drive from me but due to difficult bus routes we have yet to figure out how to easily see each other for day trips. My emotionally closest volunteer friends are some of the most southern volunteers while I’m one of the most northern volunteers. And there is a physical mountain range separating me from my boyfriend. So yeah, I can feel pretty isolated and alone.
Take your experience and share what you can with your community.
I sometimes forget that births and deaths are a universal truth. I have to remind myself that people here will and can understand and comfort me. Sure not in the way I'm used to but I can still experience the comfort and sympathy they can offer. I saw joy and felt pride when I showed my coteachers pictures of my nephew just after his birth. And I won’t forget how eager they were to keep up with my sister and her pregnancy. Always asking Kelly has she had the baby yet?? What will they name him?With the death of my granddad, I only shared with my close friend who is also my language tutor. I didn’t want the fuss of my school family to know. Its funny…I think I told her I call my granddad “Papsy” once last year in a teacher speaking class. And here it was almost a year later and her response when I said My granddad is sick and won’t live much longer she said I’m so sorry to hear about Papsy. We then proceeded to have a long cultural conversation about death and funerals. A topic I may have never learned or discussed had I not shared this with my tutor.
I find Myanmar people to be the most giving. They would give you the shirt off their back if you asked and would think nothing of it. They hold crazy lavish donations for monks. Students give me the most sincere little gifts every day. Teachers share their curries with me at lunch everyday because they know how hard it is to cook curries for one person every morning. They even have a word in their language a na deh that expresses deep sincere guilt that pushes them to donate and give to others. But they are also the most difficult to read their emotions. We Americans are funny. We are expressive, loud, and wear our heart on our sleeves. So much that I sometimes get picked on for sharing too much of my emotions. My kids think I’m this comical being and rarely take me seriously. Myanmar adults rarely show their emotion; however this doesn't mean they are incapable of it. I’ve seen both of my CPs cry. One at a donation for orphans. Another who felt such pressure from her principal she was just utterly defeated. I’ve watched my tutor get teary-eyed telling me how a cat broke into her family’s chicken coop and killed all the baby chicks. I’ve passed a neighbor in tears holding her baby as she stepped out of her house because her struggles in home were too intense and she was tired trying to keep it all together. And I have seen some of my closest teachers at school tear up when they think about me leaving in one short year. I find solace knowing I can be connected emotionally to people who are so different from me.
Being present physically and emotionally 24/7 is exhausting but I know I’m not alone. I have a community that loves me. I have friends that care for me sincerely. I often want to shut my doors and be left alone. But I’m encouraging myself to open my doors to lean into this pain and grow from it. I thought I was this independent and emotionally strong person before I came here but I’m realizing now there is strength in accepting vulnerability. And who says you have to always keep it together?
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