I haven't blogged since getting back to the States, mostly because I have no idea what to say. I've changed, but I can't really say how, and it's hard to sum up what I've taken away or learned from the experience.
I am finding that my PC-related learning probably hasn't stopped yet, but I'm not sure how to explain it without sounding terribly selfish. Here it goes: I think PC taught me to pay more attention to me before I try to fix anything else.
On the surface, PC volunteers have an incredible amount of freedom to work on what we want to work on and do what we want to do, but the boundaries are there, and, in retrospect, were a lot more confined than I realized at the time. I had to work with community partners who mostly didn't want to do much with me, within a cultural context, within my program's goals. This had the result of both overwhelming me with the possibilities of what I could do ("Where do I even start?!") and also underwhelming me to the point of extreme frustration when I found myself stuck in a corner against community issues and my own limitations as one human being who is only capable of so much. Like moving a mountain with a spoon.
In that confusion, how often do volunteers end up having a spare moment to think about what is best for them, the volunteer? PC is humbling and limit-testing, and I'm not disputing how awesome that is, but the difficulty for me coming back to the States was to realize that putting so many other factors before myself and my own interests for so long was actually a terrible way to live. I slowed my thinking down to fit with my site's slower pace, but now I need to apply that kind of patience to where I'm going next, what I want, what I'm interested in. I don't know what I'm interested in, and it's terrifying!
Which is, of course, horribly ironic, since didn't I join the Peace Corps in the first place in order to "find myself"?
Well, I didn't.
But I might have learned how. I think the answer is to try stuff--any kind of stuff. And most importantly, the answer is to be OK with failing and quitting.
So far I haven't encountered anyone who noticeably thinks less of me for having left before my 2 years were up--from what I can read, if they know, they are generally impressed that I even tried it in the first place. Joining the Peace Corps, packing and moving halfway around the world, sounds so impressively difficult, no matter how long you actually remain there. Well, sorry to disappoint, but that was actually the easiest part for me. It was a grand adventure, it was a way to avoid searching for a career path, it was patriotic and selfless in a way that makes people go, "Hey, you're pretty neat." Patting myself on the back and strapping on my Chacos, I had no idea what I was getting in to, but that was the whole point--I was positively dreamy-eyed at the prospect of encountering something magically different.
And then I couldn't do it.
Don't get me wrong, I met and enjoyed and sometimes loved some incredible people, I traveled and saw things I never dreamed I'd see, and I put up with things I never thought I could handle--it was messy and sexy and all kinds of experience. But I'm not writing about the good parts today.
The style of work when it came down to working--totally unstructured, almost totally without support from my community or the PC office--was something that I could not handle. After my trash management project fell apart, I couldn't deal with being crushed by another failed attempt. I couldn't fill my time--and it turns out I'm someone who needs to stick to a schedule and stay busy to avoid going crazy. I couldn't stand the way my face started to get stuck in a permanent unapproachable "bitch mode" as success came to be defined as making it from point A to point B without being cat-called or otherwise harassed. I also gained 15 pounds and my self-esteem plummeted, along with my motivation.
Looking back at all of the problems I had, the reasons to leave are absurdly easy to spot. But at the time, I had no idea. I was a mess and I didn't know why. Mostly I thought something must be wrong with me. Leaving the US to join the Peace Corps had been so easy, but admitting defeat was truly the most difficult part of the entire experience. It took me months to even admit to myself that I was unhappy. Giving up went against everything I thought about myself and my capabilities, and argued strongly against my inner determination to do something meaningful with my life. It was terrifying.
So if you're going to be impressed by anything that I have done, be impressed that I survived quitting.
I think I'm on the right track now--I have a somewhat boring job as a paralegal, and maybe I'll find out law is for me. Attention to detail, writing, arguing--that's all right up my alley. But maybe it won't be. Who knows. But what I do know is that I've grown, and I've learned that it's OK to fail because I'm strong enough to get back on I'm feet.
Learning to be me, however, is a process that is just beginning.
