Begin the Begin

For those who do not know, life changes and introspection have led me to decide to file for a legal change of name. Today confirmation was received that the judge approved it and I am, in so many ways, not my father's daughter. The rest of the process (an antiquated requirement to make a 'public notice' in a local paper I've never heard of and then changing all personal documents) will take another month and needs to be handled locally. This means I have approximately a month until I am free to move.

Being tied to that process has allowed me to take some pressure off myself to just run and jump into what's next and instead really think about what I want and need. Some days my own thoughts annoy me to no end, other days pieces seem to effortlessly come together allowing me to realize things I should have noted long ago. It's purgatory, but a much needed one. I, finally, took DC and NYC off my possibility list realizing that the friends and would-be life in Chicago have taken a life of their own - a life I eagerly await to live. I've come to fully appreciate the need for like minded friends to be close and to share my life with them. I want to be closer (yet not sooooo close) to my family. I want to pursue my interests and even my non-corporate talents. I want to sail and bike and own a Wrangler that I beat the living shit out of. I want to box again.

The list of things I've had to fret about in the last month has been rather overwhelming, but having one closer to completely finished means I am that much closer to moving my energy down the list. This next month will be, largely, about preparing to tackle my new life by tying up loose ends locally and healing some significant old wounds. When I head to Chicago I'll have a new name and, really, a new me to go with it. I, at least once a day, beat myself up for not moving faster and doing more, yet my days are full and I begin and end each day aware of my center and myself. This itself is tremendous progress. This is the beginning.

The great blogging silence

I've kinda fallen in love with blogs, well, good ones. I love that the artificial distance encourages people to be more open and honest and just put themselves on the line for all to judge. Recently, many blogs (including my own) have been absent of significant new entries. I know some of the people in the blogs I read and I know this is generally not for the lack of news or changes. Most people's lives are actually changing quite rapidly. Call it regaining one's life in the late 20s or early 30s. Call it the response to dealing with a redefining world. Call it the beginning of the returning Age of Aquarius. But whatever you call it, note that it's happening.

My own life these past few weeks has been a whirlwind of monotony, if that's possible. I set the ball rolling to major changes in my life (and was dealt more) and these weeks have been basically about, well, administering those changes. Today, for example, I had not a moment to spare between 10:30am and 9pm. What did I do? Not a lot. Worked out, a meeting, dinner, grocery shopping, online stuff and...that's it. I chip away at the things I need to do. I can only look at my to do list in terms of weeks because there's no way I can finish one of the massive things I need done in a day. So, weeks go by and people asked what I've been up to. A lot and not so much.

Returning from Peace Corps can be quite frustrating. Returning from a rather hellish existence makes one realize what is needed and wanted - and unneeded and surely unwanted. I've returned being less consumed with news and gossip and more concerned about me and my needs and boundaries. Some of this is healthy, some is... well, needed in my current state. I find myself talking about my own issues and concerns more than those of friends. I can only give you vague ideas about what's going on in the lives of the people I know because nearly ounce of me has been dedicated to keeping it together, staying focused and minimizing the breakdowns. I've been a great friend to myself recently, but not such a good one to others.

I'm usually the listener and the rock and the confidant offering empathy and a shoulder. I still have those things to offer, but I offer them less. Yes, of course part is due to my own need for self care, but part is due to something else. It's hard to take steps toward recognizing your life isn't your own, your 'support' is mainly crutches and addictions and that you have a duty to yourself to live up to your potential... it's hard to do these things and not expect the same from others. It is, of course, the other person's choice, but how involved do I want to be with someone who chooses not to? I'm not sure. How does one stop being an addict if one is surrounded by addicts? What's self-righteous and what's pro-actively taking control of one's surroundings? I find myself refusing to engage in old games and negative interactions, creating distance and perhaps even some confusion. For those still in PCVland - you don't just fit back into your old life. But, if you were really so happy with it would you have left it? Probably not. Redefining, or even just finally defining, relations is both troubling and rewarding. Mainly troubling in the beginning...but, still, who among us doesn't need it?

It's difficult to communicate with people who, daily, take great strides in maintaining their lives when I only inch toward changing my own. Disconnect. It causes me to be silent and distant...and sleepless. I chose to walk the reentry path on my own. My silence is because I'm in the process of sorting my ideals, beliefs and internal rhetoric. They are thoughts that never leave my head, and unless you're there for the whole conversation, it's probably just less confusing to be told the ending.

...or perhaps I just need to order the shit enough to convey it. That's a possibility.

The Beginning of the End

The URL, with "bulgaria" in the title, beacons me to abandon this blog at some point and move to a more long term destination. It's been nearly a month since I parted with Bulgaria and it's time to start putting the experience behind me and embracing what's ahead more than I dwell on what's gone.

A few entries ago I included that I wasn't fond of Peace Corps and would comment on that more extensively at some point. Seeing how I'm trying to leave this and move on, I suppose that point is coming. Deciding to leave brought a whirlwind of support and disbelief and even some direct criticisms. I received emails and IMs from close Peace Corps friends, from distant ones, from volunteers I barely knew and even from some former PCVs who wanted to share their stories, opinions and support.

Speaking out against the Peace Corps is not exactly an easy thing to do. See, it's like a secret society and talking badly about it breaks some vow of silence I never promised to observe. Also, my objection isn't a simple one. I don't like the organization, I don't like the way they treat volunteers or host country nationals and I'd even go as far as publicly admitting I don't like most volunteers and generally feel like a large portion are serving for the wrong reasons (and doing the wrong things).

I spoke candidly to an organization I served about Bulgarians and Bulgarian attitudes and how it leads to nothing changing or getting done. We also spoke about organizations and how they function (or don't) and why that happens. Eventually, I realized I was in a group of Americans so completely guilty of what we criticized and found myself in no real position to change it. As one PCV wrote about me and my experience with other PCVs: "Things happen that we can't deal with, but if you let other people take responsibility for your actions, you're going to feel uselsess." I'm not 100% clear what that meant, other than implying I can't "deal," but I assure one and all that I take responsibility for all that I did, including leaving - I did it because it was the healthiest option around.

For the number of people who read this, and those who might stumble upon it in the future, I need to wrap this up as well as I can and to explain myself - my thoughts and feelings - as best as I can. I'll say that I don't regret my decision to join Peace Corps. I learned a lot and met a number of great people. So, take that for what it's worth...because I don't regret leaving either.

I walk the line

Today I saw "Walk the Line". Ah, American theaters... Anyway, I'm in love with Johnny Cash and June Carter's story. The bond that brought them together and was so incredibly dynamic. Two larger-than-life personalities. Two people really trying and daring. Depth. Longevity. Passion. All in the face of adversity.

More than the love story, I was struck by a connection I felt with both characters - the need to move and change and explore coupled with the dedication to family and old friends. There's a profound commitment that has to be made to have both and it's rare to find people who want both; more rare still to find someone who achieves it. In my life as a transplant (first in NYC, then briefly in DC and then in Bulgaria), I've met plenty of other drifters - travelers, movers, dodgers, the lost, the confused, seekers, avoiders. I was once awestricken by people who'd traveled, same as I was by people who went to a good school or did other "noted" things. Then I did them and realized that most people do "noted" things to... be noted. Right thing, wrong reason. Many people who've traveled extensively treated the stops like they were rides at a cultural Disneyland - stopping long enough to say they'd been there, get the stamp, get wasted and then move on. Few self-described travelers talk about the essence of a city or its rhythm, much less its soul. Few talk about what a country or town made them rethink about themselves - priorities, values, identity. Just make the stops, get the trinkets. It's not the act, but the "why?" that matters.

Among the drifters is the tendency to recreate life anew at every port. There's a tendency for people to think of the new as more fascinating and having more potential than the old, until the new slips and shows that it too has limitations (psst, and you do too). Time for new again. Drifters have an odd relationship with history - a tendency to never get over it, but discount it nevertheless. Same thing keep happening? It's the world, not you. Yes, yes. Of course. Much like people in therapists' offices, people in new situations control and spin the versions of their personal history. It's a history that includes, inevitably, being misunderstood or victimized by nearly all. A convincing and well-rehearsed story ...the first twenty times. Those drifting with old, dear friendships are few and far between. Even those with them often do not make them a part of daily life. They are something that will reenter when the time is right, usually when the drifter needs something. Out of sight, out of mind. Taken for granted. Undervalued for the new and shiny. The here and now. The easy and tangible.

In my moves and journeys, I've tried to keep my friends and family close at hand. When I said I was returning to the States, I received countless offers for places to stay and visit. Phone calls. Emails. We didn't even need to catch up, just reconnect. They already knew my details, and I knew theirs. I was already a part of their lives and they mine. I didn't need to start anew or pretend to be shiny and perfect - I didn't expect it of them either. Neither of us wanted it.

Gritty drifter. I guess that's what I am. I like being that way and honoring the connections and people who've helped and inspired me. Those things - their depth, passion and longevity - keep me going. I don't want to stand still because of them, I just want to make sure they come with me. Ideally, I'd like to meet other gritty drifters. In fact, I've tired of the shiny ones. I have no room in my life for perfection. If I was dying on the side of the road and had to sing one last song to express my life, I'd want it to be something closer to 'Folsom Prison Blues' than something about how great I was, how much peace I had or how many friends/things I collected.

Moving on and holding on. I walk the line.

A return to childhood

On one level I'm very lucky. I'm surrounded by people who love and support me and at this time in my life that's so very important. However, at least 5 times a day I have the following thought: I am TWENTY-NINE and living with MY MOM. Ahhhhhh!

Roughly a year ago my parents' divorce was finalized - a 25-year marriage ended. It was long overdue and desperately needed. Both parents remarried quickly, meaning I live with my mom and her husband... using 'stepdad' is beyond me. I think if a parent remarries after you can legally drink whatever they do doesn't change the titles in your life. I'm going with that. The dynamic is strange at best. I've not been home for more than a summer for more than 10 years and even then I showered and slept and left. I never enjoyed just hanging around the house and with a car and an income I didn't have to. Ten years later I am without said car and income and unused to not having a calming cup of tea and a book read before bed...in silence. I do so miss silence.

I'm a daughter, but not a child anymore - yet I've not been home significantly since I lost the latter title and my state of dependency doesn't much help my case. I get chores to do and told the time when something will happen. I'm not consulted about it, just told. Truthfully, I have no transportation or duties, so anytime is good (in theory). It's the principle of the matter though. I've lost my options and I don't even get an allowance for it. I'm close to putting stickers and passwords on all my things. Privacy, I miss that too.

My life state is one of fluxuation. I can't join a gym because I don't know where I'll be next month. I can't afford a car. I could get a temp job (yes, H, I know, I know) but that would mean that I have less time to look for a job... or just regain sanity.

I've returned to hanging out in 'my room' - which, presently, is my mom's husband's office with a daybed in it. Occasionally someone will walk in looking for something. It's beyond feeling like my space is being invaded. It feels like I don't belong. At least I have an incentive not to linger. If it was spring, I'd rent a car and just drive... space, sanity, silence, privacy.

Honesty and Confusion

I've hesitated to write again here because I attempt to be honest in my writing and I'm not quite sure what I'm feeling these days. People ask and I answer, providing the standard "I did the right thing" answer. It's honest, I do think it was time to part, but just because something is right doesn't mean it's easy.

With every major change comes a door opening to new potentials, but it also included a closing of another door - however muted - of experiences and a life that are now... inaccessible. Changing one's life involves both doors and any honest answer from someone who's undergone a major life change should include responses to both. I suppose at this moment I'm still standing still, taking in the changes and not sure what to feel or do about either. It's the overwhelming nature of being momentarily... normal.

I left behind a lot of bad. At a certain point I felt like my life was toxic and that I was surrounded by people, Bulgarians and Americans alike, who were engaged in self-destruction or at the very least actively ignoring the existential calls to take control of their lives. Daily I felt I was enabled and enabling stagnation. Sadness and depression met a dozen virtual shoulders who helped me point to situations causing me to be or do what ever I was, or was not. Negativity was everywhere and I was drowning in it. Positivity seemed to be based on old crutches and habits - enabling and enabled. As I tend to do in my life, when I know I need to get out of a situation and am not sure how to do it gently, I just broke it. Leaving was so amazingly healthy.

This is not to say that I left nothing good. I never got a farewell visit to my host family. I miss my NGO counterparts and know that I'm miss seeing that organization change and flourish. I miss chatting with certain friends daily, sharing the experience with them. We co-occupied the trench and had a camaraderie because of it. I'll doubt my decision everytime someone tells me of a hiking or visiting weekend or traveling adventures. I'll know I'm missing that and wonder what I'm missing it for.

It seems impossible that I'm not in my old blok apartment and living that life. My leaving caused at least a few to think about their own decisions to stay. My old friends have justified why they stay, something that's really a personal choice. My abrupt departure and vocalized discontent made it seem like I was judging why others stay. I'm not. I haven't. Honestly, I don't fully understand it - given what it is - but it's not my judgment call and not my life. No one outside a relationship truly knows what's in it, be that relationship between two people or between a person and aspects of his/her life. I am curious why people stay - curious beyond the standard answers. Curious how people answer the questions I couldn't. Curious about what they are getting from it. People don't give something and expect nothing in return. Handing over one's life is quite a large something... and the return is just as large (not SHOULD be, but IS). I'm curious about those honest answers, though I'm not sure if I'd get them. I'm curious not to make a judgment, but to better understand human motives - one of my deepest pursuits.

The door opening is a door to a new city, a new job, a new name and a new me. I can jump wherever and do whatever. Infinite possibilities. It's startling and terrifying and exhilarating and exhausting. I left because I knew I wasn't in the right place and doing the right thing. I knew the Real Me was elsewhere and that's all I needed to leave. I'd like to know where she is though. I have this nesting dream of finding her and creating a stable, stationary life. It's what I want, or at least what I want to want. A close friend this week called me a rolling stone - something I never really saw myself as, but I think her case is better developed than mine. I move every few years. I get comfortable and then get...out. I don't understand people who "want to be happy" - I've always felt like we don't have much in common. I want to question. To explore. To feed my curiosity. To push. To dare. In my mind, the pursuit of happiness often works against other - greater - pursuits. First step is realizing the next step isn't about where I want to land, but where/how I want to grow. Second step is deciding where/how I want to grow. It seems like it's as simple as getting out a resume and cover letter, but (at least for me) it's a bigger question.

Those stupid bigger questions got me into this mess. They'll get me out of it... and into another. I want to not be that person, but I'm really quite fond of her. She's who I am and most likely who I'll always be. What's the profession for a complicating, over-analyzing, excessive thinking, troublemaker? I hope there are a few answers because I'll probably explore them all in due time, but now I'm just startled by the change in winds... and that I'm the one who caused the change.