Tuesday, May 1, 2012

The Desert Is Only as Lonely as You Make It


After reading through a couple of past blog posts, I realize I apologize a lot for my inability to post regularly. I’m going to stop doing that and just post when I can. Consider this my meta-apology for past and likely impending lapses of regularity.
So, also harking back to a past blog post: Como les explico? How do I explain to all of you what’s been going on with me over the last few months. Well, first off, I have to say it’s a really a beautiful thing to be rewarded for having faith in yourself. That being said, I believe some backstory is in order.
When I made the decision to quit my social work job and join the Peace Corps at age 30, I made that decision with several specific motives in mind, one being very similar to the motive that lead me to take that social work job three and half years earlier: I wanted to put myself through hell in order to grow as an individual.
But let me clarify. I don’t mean to say that my job before was hell. It was by far the most educational and rewarding thing I’d done in my life up until that point. By “hell” I mean I knew that in order to stop holding myself down with self-doubt and fear, I had to put myself in a position where I was not allowed an easy out or a means of avoiding difficult decisions, where I would be subject to uncomfortable situations daily and forced to address them head on or lose my job. I also knew that only by doing this over a prolonged period of time could I grow more into the man I wanted to become and stop relying on avoidant tendencies to keep me from maturing.
That’s not to say that I’m some bastion of maturity. Good lord, no. To this day, I still have trouble not snickering when someone says the word “penis” (not a good problem to have when I’m teaching teenagers about safe sex practices) and I’m certain that I will always think farting is goddamn hilarious.
But what I did want to mature in was my self-reliance, my own ability to be an individual and feel comfortable in my own skin. I think this is a constant struggle for a lot of people. I’ve found for me, the more comfortable I feel as myself, the more ecstatic I feel to be alive and be myself.
So, anyway, that was a major motivator for me wanting to be a Peace Corps volunteer. I also knew it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that would take me to amazing new places with amazing people and allow me the opportunity to finally learn this language that I’d wanted to learn for so long. But most of all, I knew there would come a time (and likely several times) when I would get dragged back down into depression and anxiety and that I would have to struggle with all of that on my own without the comforts of friends and family from back home. And I actually wanted that.
Call me a masochist, but I knew that once I was able to make it through that period on my own without relying on old vices and easy outs, I would come out on the other side a much stronger and happier person.
And so, here I am.
That’s not to say I’m all better and that I don’t still struggle daily with issues of insecurity, self-doubt and frustration with the language. But I can confidently say that after the period of what I will hyperbolically (I think I just made that word up) call “The Summer of my Motherfucking Discontent,” everything seems much more manageable and I feel better with myself as an individual than I ever have.
So, that of course poses the question: “What exactly happened during this hyperbolically titled period of your life?”
Well, thanks for asking.
Basically, to avoid a lengthy and, I feel, unproductive bitch session, let’s just say I was without any substantial work in my site from about December until March. And, apparently as I found out, when I don’t feel that I’m contributing something of substance to the world, I start to get down on myself. And when I get down on myself, I get depressed.
It’s a lot easier to look back on it now and see what happened. Lengthy, sweltering days spent in my house with too much time to think, too many screaming children, no regular work schedule and an ever-decreasing motivation to get out and interact with people. Just thinking about it now makes me want to shudder. As you can imagine, this type of routine lead me to spiral downward until one day I found myself overwhelmed by what I would consider the second worst depression of my life. I had spoken at length with several other volunteer friends about our mutual struggles with depression during this difficult summer period, but the further down I got, the more difficult it got to bother calling or talking to anyone. Luckily for me, a much-needed respite from myself and my site happened literally as I was close to hitting rock bottom (thank you Carnaval in Cajamarca!).
Shortly after returning from Cajamarca, my regional coordinator paid me a surprise visit and unknowingly helped pull me out of what was likely to be another downward spiral. He strongly suggested that I get moving on some of the projects I had agreed to be a part of and gave me a timeline in which I needed to accomplish these tasks. At first, this triggered a couple days of crippling anxiety and self-doubt as a result of three months of what I viewed as personal stagnation. Thankfully, I was able to rely on something I had learned from my first major bout of depression: if I put my mind to accomplishing something, I will accomplish it. Not only that, I’ll kick its fucking ass.
So, with that in mind, I made a lengthy list of things I decided that I would accomplish. This sudden clarity of purpose rapidly filled me with motivation and a sense of purpose. A large part of this sense of purpose was fueled by my desire to do whatever I had to not to return to that place I had just left and that clearly meant keeping myself involved in a meaningful way in my community and with the other volunteers. Apparently all I needed was some shockabuku, “a swift, spiritual kick to the head,” (Gross Pointe Blank anyone?) from a higher-up to get me back on track. It all harkens back to that accountability I knew I would need to keep myself moving forward.
So, from that talk with my regional coordinator to now, I’ve managed to complete the following:
-          Do my community diagnostic presentation in front of a group of about 30 community members
-          Start an increasingly popular nighttime English class focused on educating local school teachers about how to incorporate more interactive teaching methods into their classroom
-          Help write a new chapter to one of the most important manuals we have as youth volunteers, Pasos Adelante
-          Develop two projects for the youth in my site that will be starting later this month (youth health promoters and job training/university prep courses)
-          Hike over 13,000 feet to camp out next to a glacial lake (and a bunch of cows)
-          Help organize and facilitate a week’s worth of HIV/AIDS trainings for two groups of Piura Peace Corps volunteers and their community partners
-          Go to four different departments of Peru in one month (one for the first time)
-          Take a high-speed dune buggy ride through some gigantic sand dunes
-          Slide down said large sand dunes on a snowboard
And apparently I’m becoming more and more recognized as a therapeutic presence among the volunteers as I’ve gotten multiple positive remarks from other volunteers, Peace Corps staff and even our country director, all within the last two weeks.
So, yeah…
Kind of hard to believe where I was just a matter of a few short months ago. But for me, that is what is so important about my having gone through that difficult period: coming out on the other side stronger and reinforcing the concept that no matter how bad it can get, it’s never permanent. And that while I may be the one responsible for pulling myself out of my funks, I’m not alone.
I think often we as Peace Corps volunteers feel compelled to put a happy spin on everything that happens here as a way to avoid looking weak. It’s always easier to talk about all the cool shit we’re doing and post all the wacky pics we’ve taken, but I feel like the struggles we face here are just as important, if not more so, than our vacations and fun times with friends. For me personally, I try to see the difficulties I face as an opportunity to grow (often easier after the fact) and the time with friends and on vacation as a necessary balance to those difficult times. Everything in moderation, I always say (although, not typically on the weekends… or at fiestas… or the discoteca).
Thank you to everyone who has been there for me in the past and continues to be there for me, some of you in ways you might not be aware. Whatever good I’m able to do in this world, I dedicate it to all the ones helping me stay on track with myself.
So, in an effort to end my first (almost) entirely serious blog entry ever, I’d like to share something that my old therapist gave me several years back that I like very much:
A Cherokee grandfather was teaching his grandson about life: “A fight is going on inside of me,” he said to the boy. “It is a terrible fight between two wolves.
One is dark – he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.
The other is light – he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, forgiveness, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.
This same fight is going on inside of you, and inside of every other person, too.”
The grandson thought about it for a moment and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”
The old man simply said, “The one you feed.”

So, with all of that being said, I still can't avoid the temptation to post some cool pics of my adventures. Enjoy and much love!




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                                     Some of the alumnos from my English class.

Matt and I posing in downtown Huaraz, Ancash

The ridiculously beautiful view that distracted me
the entire time during our training in Ancash.

Me finding out that we were only 1/5th
of the way up our 5 hour hike.

Nick and I victouriously arriving at our campsite
beside the glacial lake half-dead and just before dark.

The other glacial lake down the hill from the one
we camped out next to.

Huacachina, the oasis just outside of Ica City.





The dune buggy we took tear-assing through the desert.


The snowbaord I took down the giant
sand dune (but I had to do it laying
down on my stomach).

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