This time last year, the election madness had just wrapped up in Liberia and our travel restriction had been lifted. I journeyed to the "big city" of Monrovia and stayed in a lovely one bedroom apartment with my 3 best friends. We rang in 2018 with sangria and tequila shots while getting down to afro beats in sweat-soaked clothes.
I remember the following day or two, I felt so content. I was in an air conditioned apartment. I had access to fresh fruits and veggies. I could cook and BAKE good food. There was always electricity and hot water. I had amazing companions by my side throughout the days.
I dreaded returning to the bush and to my life there that filled me with anxiety, frustration, and self doubt. Not to mention the fact that the constant heat was driving me mad. I delayed returning for as long as I could as the trepidation of the trip back built up to unbearable levels.
A few weeks later, I was back in my village and everything began to crumble. The projects I'd tried so hard to get started were losing steam with counterparts and fellow leaders cancelling on programs left and right, and sometimes without telling me beforehand.
Dry season heat was miserable. Dust, no release of rain and potential for a cooler evening, and everyday the sun was bright and high in the sun keeping everything steamy.
My closest friends were also struggling and weren't able to offer much advice. The idea of going home seemed more and more plausible, despite my inner fear of giving up and how that would make me feel.
I cried often. Collapsed on my friends in Liberia AND at home for support. Tried desperately to create a routine that would yield me some kind of positive results. I felt like sweat poured out of my body 24 hours a day.
I remember my 28th birthday. My good friend came to my village to be with me. We baked a chocolate cake over the fire - a challenge on its own- and shared popcorn and juice with my Liberian family on their porch (the Liberian birthday tradition) before powering up my small generator. We watched a movie on my laptop as we split a bottle of red wine and ate rice and soup prepared by my neighbors. It was simple but lovely. I went to bed happy.
Well, until I woke up at 3 AM feeling like I was dying because body's intense dehydration in the suffocating heat. I laid awake thinking about the months I'd spent in Liberia, full of anxiety and unhappiness. This was when I realized that I simply couldn't manage to stay in this place much longer.
The next day, my friend and I traveled to the city and booked ourselves a room at the nicest hotel in town. We relished the air conditioning and wifi and barely left our room all weekend. It was the best release I could've imagined but also not like me, at all.
Two weeks later, I had done it. I made the call to the office. The call where I told them, I don't think I can do this anymore. They obviously didn't want me to abandon the position, but they also kept asking if I was "sure."
After a difficult few days of decision-making and discussions with staff, it was time to leave that bush life behind for a more conducive work environment. I was moving into a new apartment in the capital city of Monrovia.
Life in Monrovia was still a challenge. I didn't have any friends in the city, the city is pretty dangerous with armed muggings being somewhat common, daily harassment was enough to make me never want to go outside, and honestly there wasn't much to do. I tried to make the best of the four months I spent there.
By the end of my time in Monrovia, I had:
-established a running routine and route
-formed relationships with staff in our office
-learned some new professional skills
-become acquainted with the hum of Monrovia nightlife and markets
-developed a passion for salsa dancing
-had made a few friends
Success, right?
August. 8 months into 2018. I returned to America again, for the 3rd time in 2.5 years.
On the same day that I returned home to my family, I received an unofficial job offer from Peace Corps Malawi to be the new Communications Specialist. I happily accepted it, relieved that I didn't have to worry about the "job hunt" again, and prepared myself to leave the U.S. again.
During the 6 weeks I was at home, I spent as much time with my family and friends as possible. I still struggled immensely with the cultural readjustment, but I knew that this time I didn't actually have to fully readjust because I would be leaving again soon.
I made attempts to spoil myself though. I ate salad every single day. I pushed myself to be with family even when I needed alone time. I called friends to talk for hours, catching up on our lives, because there was no lag or time difference.
However, I still cried often as I struggled to fight the demons of my traumatic 12 months in Liberia that tore me to shreds mentally. I visited a grad school and spent the entire time battling my inner fears of returning to that world.
September 2018. Back to Malawi.
Leaving America this time was the hardest. My parents drove me to the airport at 4 AM, and the memory of hugging them goodbye and then watching them walk away with red eyes waving until they rounded the last corner still brings tears to my eyes.
I still felt broken. I was scared that I would lose my love for Malawi by returning in such a state. I was afraid that everything would be different now. I worried that I wouldn't make friends. I was anxious that I wouldn't be do well at my first REAL office job.
December 31, 2018. That's a wrap for the year.
It feels like the sun has again risen on the horizon. This year was by far the toughest of my life. Feeling lost is even more disorienting when you're 28 compared to when you're 23, at least for me. But I've found my rhythm again.
Returning to Malawi, to a familiar place where life feels like my new definition of 'normal,' was probably the best thing I could've done for my sanity. Some things are still hard- like harassment on the street, seeing people beg and struggle daily, and feeling inadequate at my job- but overall I feel like I've crossed the transitional phase.
After wandering aimlessly for what seems like years, my life finally feels like it possesses purpose again. And above all else, I have hope. Optimism has returned to my perspective. I am excited about the future.
I'm not sure what 2019 will bring. Well, none of us do. But for myself, I promise to stride toward this new year and new attitude with confidence and refined energy, ready to tackle what comes at me.
I remember the following day or two, I felt so content. I was in an air conditioned apartment. I had access to fresh fruits and veggies. I could cook and BAKE good food. There was always electricity and hot water. I had amazing companions by my side throughout the days.
I dreaded returning to the bush and to my life there that filled me with anxiety, frustration, and self doubt. Not to mention the fact that the constant heat was driving me mad. I delayed returning for as long as I could as the trepidation of the trip back built up to unbearable levels.
A few weeks later, I was back in my village and everything began to crumble. The projects I'd tried so hard to get started were losing steam with counterparts and fellow leaders cancelling on programs left and right, and sometimes without telling me beforehand.
Dry season heat was miserable. Dust, no release of rain and potential for a cooler evening, and everyday the sun was bright and high in the sun keeping everything steamy.
My closest friends were also struggling and weren't able to offer much advice. The idea of going home seemed more and more plausible, despite my inner fear of giving up and how that would make me feel.
I cried often. Collapsed on my friends in Liberia AND at home for support. Tried desperately to create a routine that would yield me some kind of positive results. I felt like sweat poured out of my body 24 hours a day.
I remember my 28th birthday. My good friend came to my village to be with me. We baked a chocolate cake over the fire - a challenge on its own- and shared popcorn and juice with my Liberian family on their porch (the Liberian birthday tradition) before powering up my small generator. We watched a movie on my laptop as we split a bottle of red wine and ate rice and soup prepared by my neighbors. It was simple but lovely. I went to bed happy.
Well, until I woke up at 3 AM feeling like I was dying because body's intense dehydration in the suffocating heat. I laid awake thinking about the months I'd spent in Liberia, full of anxiety and unhappiness. This was when I realized that I simply couldn't manage to stay in this place much longer.
The next day, my friend and I traveled to the city and booked ourselves a room at the nicest hotel in town. We relished the air conditioning and wifi and barely left our room all weekend. It was the best release I could've imagined but also not like me, at all.
Two weeks later, I had done it. I made the call to the office. The call where I told them, I don't think I can do this anymore. They obviously didn't want me to abandon the position, but they also kept asking if I was "sure."
After a difficult few days of decision-making and discussions with staff, it was time to leave that bush life behind for a more conducive work environment. I was moving into a new apartment in the capital city of Monrovia.
Life in Monrovia was still a challenge. I didn't have any friends in the city, the city is pretty dangerous with armed muggings being somewhat common, daily harassment was enough to make me never want to go outside, and honestly there wasn't much to do. I tried to make the best of the four months I spent there.
By the end of my time in Monrovia, I had:
-established a running routine and route
-formed relationships with staff in our office
-learned some new professional skills
-become acquainted with the hum of Monrovia nightlife and markets
-developed a passion for salsa dancing
-had made a few friends
Success, right?
August. 8 months into 2018. I returned to America again, for the 3rd time in 2.5 years.
On the same day that I returned home to my family, I received an unofficial job offer from Peace Corps Malawi to be the new Communications Specialist. I happily accepted it, relieved that I didn't have to worry about the "job hunt" again, and prepared myself to leave the U.S. again.
During the 6 weeks I was at home, I spent as much time with my family and friends as possible. I still struggled immensely with the cultural readjustment, but I knew that this time I didn't actually have to fully readjust because I would be leaving again soon.
I made attempts to spoil myself though. I ate salad every single day. I pushed myself to be with family even when I needed alone time. I called friends to talk for hours, catching up on our lives, because there was no lag or time difference.
However, I still cried often as I struggled to fight the demons of my traumatic 12 months in Liberia that tore me to shreds mentally. I visited a grad school and spent the entire time battling my inner fears of returning to that world.
September 2018. Back to Malawi.
Leaving America this time was the hardest. My parents drove me to the airport at 4 AM, and the memory of hugging them goodbye and then watching them walk away with red eyes waving until they rounded the last corner still brings tears to my eyes.
I still felt broken. I was scared that I would lose my love for Malawi by returning in such a state. I was afraid that everything would be different now. I worried that I wouldn't make friends. I was anxious that I wouldn't be do well at my first REAL office job.
December 31, 2018. That's a wrap for the year.
It feels like the sun has again risen on the horizon. This year was by far the toughest of my life. Feeling lost is even more disorienting when you're 28 compared to when you're 23, at least for me. But I've found my rhythm again.
Returning to Malawi, to a familiar place where life feels like my new definition of 'normal,' was probably the best thing I could've done for my sanity. Some things are still hard- like harassment on the street, seeing people beg and struggle daily, and feeling inadequate at my job- but overall I feel like I've crossed the transitional phase.
After wandering aimlessly for what seems like years, my life finally feels like it possesses purpose again. And above all else, I have hope. Optimism has returned to my perspective. I am excited about the future.
I'm not sure what 2019 will bring. Well, none of us do. But for myself, I promise to stride toward this new year and new attitude with confidence and refined energy, ready to tackle what comes at me.