It may come as a surprise to some of you that I suffer from a moderate to severe guilt complex, instilled in my sub-conscience sometime between the childhood phases of, "Lying to your mother puts black spots on your heart," and, "Those tiny wooden elves are watching you and they will rat you out". And, I mean, I don't know, I guess the persistent phase of, "There are poor, suffering children in China who would really appreciate that food you just threw away," might have played some role as well, but it's really hard to say in hindsight.
This complex results in deeply-rooted feelings of guilt. Sometimes it's legitimate: White lies, ex-boyfriends, divorces, people dying. Sometimes it's not. I used the choke chain on my Dad's dog Isabelle. God, she loved to chase squirrels and I just couldn't stop her unless I really pulled hard and then I would get really irritated (!!!! anger problem, next post maybe !!!!) and then she was choking and coughing and people were staring and oh God why did I do that to her?!? I'm sorry Isabelle. I miss you quite a lot and I'm sorry for using that choke chain, but I didn't know what else to do.
With so much free time on my hands, guilt that I've been carefully harboring for a half decade-ish, pruning and shaping it just so, carefully tweaking the edges and gripping tight-tight-tightly to the bulk of it (ooo, my knuckles are turning white), just pops up again! These feelings... they come bubbling up to the surface like a dreaded case of heart burn that you stupidly brought on yourself- it was a double-fried cheese stick, you idiot. But it looked so good! Now you have to suffer. But, wait- it gets worse. In addition to the physical shame- a burning in your chest, the inability to open your mouth without embarrassing yourself and a rumbly- you're also kicking yourself for doing it in the first place. What the hell?! You knew this would happen!
Double whammy.
The sudden excessive free time is to blame here. Look. I'm considered a 'busy' person in the context of this culture: I teach 12-24 classes a week; I organize/take home/'grade' one big project for my students every week; I visit at least two families a day; I help out with an exercise group and I'm starting a project with the regional hospital to teach pregnant yoga to teenage mothers-to-be (which will hopefully develop into a don't-get-pregnant class). And yet- with all of this- I have an average of 8 hours a day where I. Am. Doing. Nothing. As you can imagine, the mind wanders.
I have to thank my lucky stars (thank you, lucky stars, thank you) that I have the network of friends and family that I do. They not only keep me sane during these mental meanderings, but they are helping me to become a better person through the tiring, frightening task of facing my emotions. Emotions- woah. Hang on a second. Let me introduce you to my emotions: These days, they are my constant companions and although they demonstrate definite signs of Multiple Personality Disorder and/or bipolarity/manic depression, they are not to be under-estimated as sources of personal growth and development, okay? Be careful not to insult my emotions: They're very sensitive. Highly explosive, even. What? Oh, well, yeah, it's true that they have a rebound rate of approximately 16 seconds but that doesn't mean you should go tromping all over them like an abandoned garden project. They have potential. I'm serious.
What do I do with all of these emotions? Well, we enjoy long walks on the beach (stumbling lost through the campo), firelit talks that last until the wee hours of the morning (mate by the brasero) and just relaxing and having a good time (crying)! You know!
No really, while those things are true (I don't cry, don't worry, Dad- I'm just making my readers feel better about how much they cry into their pillows made of other people's moldy old t-shirts stuffed into a ripped and re-sewn sack that gives them rampant, almost painful and certainly embarrassing allergies every night and morning), my emotions take part in much more constructive activities lately. It's called: Talking It Out.
Talking it out goes like this. I find a friend. Their name might be Emery, or Herre, or Anna, or Taylor or Kendrick. Sometimes they have more exotic names like Matchi. It just depends on the day or the tema. Then I hit them with a, "What's up?", "How's work?" or "Mbaecha'pa". It just depends on the person. I follow with something that will hopefully steer us in the direction of my most current guilty feeling. It sounds something like, "I've been thinking," or, "Dude I. Am. Freaking. Out." or, "Ay, mama, che corazopohyi!" It just depends. And then, you know, I just have to drop the bomb. I gotta let it out. The last couple of times I've done this it has resulted in this gush of emotions comparable to the levees after Katrina, and we all know they were not built to withstand storms of that magnitude. Well, neither was my heart y'all. This shit (sorry) is getting serious.
My fellow volunteers will agree that throughout most of our previous lives (pre-Paraguay lives, that is) we were not conditioned to withstand such a barrage of emotions in such a short period of time. Was anyone? We don't know what to do with them. What resources do we have to handle this? We're sitting here in the middle of some strangely-half-way developed third-world country looking at people pooping in holes in the ground while they facebook their brother-in-law from their Blackberry being told to 'help the people' and do the 'sustainable development' and hey, here's a stick a paperback book to do it and by the way, we forgot to tell you, you're about to experience the ultimate mind-f*ck. Our resources are each other and some God-bless-you-thank-you-Lord-in-Heaven-for-existing friends and family and, if we can dig it out from the rubble, our own inner-strength. That's the hardest one to find. Dig past the guilt, the self-doubt, the confusion, the loneliness- pull that one out because the others are no good without it.
Whew, I got pesada on myself! Revelations! Confessions! Forgiveness! I am not in church, I am just preaching my life! Hallelujah, brothers and sisters!
To leave you with a heavy lightness, it is my pleasure to give, you once, the genius himself: Dr. Seuss.
- "I'm afraid that sometimes you'll play lonely games too. Games you can't win 'cause you'll play against you."
- "Be who you are and say what you feel. because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."
