ups, downs, and the hike in between

Dear reader, follower, and friend,

Hi. I know it’s been a while. Ok, so it’s been a long while, and to be honest, I’ve been avoiding you. Sorry. Not to say that I haven’t been thinking about you, or hoping that you know that I’m ok, that I’m still here. But there was something stopping me from writing, something stopping me from being present and from wanting to let you in; I guess you could say I was pushing you away, giving myself more of a buffer, allowing whatever is going on inside my head to take over. (For better or for worse.)

You want to know what’s going on in my life. Well, how long do you have? Sure, there has been stuff: art class, another round of exams, oh yeah, and before any of that the New Year. I went back to Bamako for a little training, got sick again, and here I am, writing from the office because the house doesn’t have internet right now (shocker) and fighting with my computer (shocker again!).

But this isn’t about the stuff.

Of course, you know that already seeing how if you know me at all, you have come to the conclusion that with me, there is always something underneath the surface.

Which brings us to the problems.

Whoever said misery loves company was wrong. My misery is scary. It’s dormant, lying just close enough to the surface that it craws out at very inconvenient moments, but there in high enough alert to fester in my head when I go to sleep at night. It’s there and it’s not going away.

So I’ve been fighting.

Well, some days I fight. Some days I let it win. Some days I go through the motions hoping that the day will close and I will find myself back in bed where I can close my eyes and no one will judge me for anything, it will be just the fan and me.

It’s an uphill climb. A constant. And for me, it’s all about how I deal with it. Who I talk to, what I say, how much understanding I get and the results.

I started this Peace Corps journey hoping to start over somewhat. Hoping I would find a group of people who didn’t have to know about my past or my demons, I was hoping for magic, some sort of clean slate. But clean slates don’t exist. People remember. People figure things out. And demons, well they have no care for geography or job; they will follow you wherever.

I will share my story. Some people will get it, others will flee from it, but it will come. And the walls will come down. I can’t hide behind taking care of everyone else, of being there for everyone else, of listening to everyone else. It’s time for me. I need someone to look after me, to make sure I’m ok, to listen to me.

I’ll get there. I’ll start asking the right questions. I’ll start putting myself first.

Just because it’s been bad doesn’t mean it won’t end. Or I hope.

It all starts right here. Right now. It starts by saying no, it starts by going on vacation, and it starts by painting my nails red and watching bad romance movies.

I’m not 100%. But, I’m going to be ok. It’s my new priority.