Purging

For the last couple of months I have been living back home with my parents in Babylon, NY. This week the roof was being entirely re-done, so last week we had to get the attic prepared for the 'demolition' (as the contractor and my mother were so very fond of saying). Most people accumulate a lot of objects that over time pile up in their attics. I often feel like we have a excessive amount of 'things'. I love her dearly and mean no harm when I say this, but my mother has trouble getting rid of objects with sentimental value and she could give a penny sentimental value. A good amount of the boxes were from my brother's and my childhood. I took the opportunity to go through all the keepsakes that have been collecting dust and purge a great majority of them.

It took some time getting through everything I had, because (and I hate to admit this) I too, have some trouble letting go of things. This is partly because I fascinate myself. I have written in journals for as long as I could put sentences together and hate to part with them. When I was packing for college, I brought with me journals from the last couple years. I say some pretty profound shit, if you hadn't realized that yet. I will often read old entries and can find humor in my omniscient attitude or downright absurd notions about life. Journal writing is such a constant, that I have at least one notebook and several pens on my person at all times. 

Saying that I am introspective is an understatement, obsessive is probably closer to the truth. I have been reflective my entire life, examining my feelings and trying to understand or 'figure out' those I'm surrounded by. This annoys most, especially if I hit the nail on the head. Over the weekend a close friend of mine, that is friends with not only myself but my brothers as well (and has been dating one of my very good friends for the last 8 or 9 years),  told me that I did this to him once. I (apparently) pointed out that he was depressed, or unsatisfied, with his current day to day. I don't recall this particular conversation, but it was significant enough to him that it's become a sort of emotional landmark. When recalling it, he explained that at the time it had seriously pissed him off. Who was I to make such a judgment? Now, he views it as the verbal wake up slap that was the beginning of a purposeful change. As you might imagine, I was ego-tripping on this piece of information for a solid 24 hrs. 

It is so easy to unconsciously slip into a routine that is seemingly not, but still unsatisfying. Even though depression is no longer the taboo that it once was, it's still not entirely acceptable or understood. Sometimes, you need to be told you are depressed before you consider it a possibility. Men in particular have trouble admitting or owning depression, as it's seen as being weak willed. Also, many people think being depressed means staying in bed all day, not spending time with friends, moping around twenty four seven and in general being a Debbie Downer. This is not always the case. My friend wasn't having this expected experience of depression. He was still spending time with friends, his girlfriend, doing the same old. Yet, he wasn't being challenged intellectually, and as an intelligent man, it was a necessary part of the equation. There was something missing and it kept him from feeling like his most complete self. His experience was not that everything seemed dull or that life wasn't worth living, but that there was a vacancy. This is often how I see or experience depression, which is probably why I recognized it in him.  

Case in point, the last year of my life. So much happened and changed in the course of one week last April, that the very overwhelming nature of it caused parts of myself to hibernate. My introspective self, the knowing voice that makes good decisions and is most authentic, was so deeply hurt that I simply ignored it. I went on auto-pilot, I wasn't sad, I didn't cry, I laughed with friends and went about my life. But I had nightmares, gained weight that I'd dutifully kept off for several years and developed pain in my body. It wasn't until I came home that there was no escaping the truth of how I was affected. At first, all that meant was stepping on the scale and looking in the mirror. The first step was seeing and then admitting it. I become so absorbed by the discomfort within my body, the pain was getting worse and I wasn't working out regularly. I had stomach pains for a month straight until I decided it was time to address these issues. It is only in the last two months that I've had the courage and strength to feel anything besides physical pain.

I started therapy again, started seeing a chiropractor with a holistic approach and getting acupuncture. Five weeks later and I am feeling so much lighter, seeing more clearly and crying like a baby regularly. 

But hey, how else am I supposed to purge? 

Back to the attic for a moment: While going through my boxes I found a notebook from 5th or 6th grade. As part of an exploration unit, we were asked to name people we thought would make good explorers and a reason why. Of course, I put myself on that list because, "No matter how far away from home, I will never be homesick". Oh Peace Corps, my love, my destiny! I await you eagerly!! 

Cold Feet

Yep, it's already happening, I might as well confront it. There has always been a part of me unsure if going into the Peace Corps is what's best for me. Eventually though, the voice that got me to apply in the first place gets back on the loud speaker. It says, "Are you for real? You're going to pass up this opportunity for a world you are already familiar and bored with? It's time. Go."

The very first time the icy tendrils crept up my toes was after I got nominated. I was with my family in Lake George for Labor Day weekend. My brother, cousin, their ladies and I were all camping on an island for the night. My conflicting feelings of joy and sorrow kept running through my head, so I decided to stay behind while the rest of the group went fishing. It was my duty to get a fire started before the sun went down and the chill set in. Something so simple as building a fire can be a needed ego gratifying experience. "I can provide this very important need for myself and others. I am skilled." But my somber mood persisted. I was beginning to realize what it would mean in reality to make the commitment. It left me feeling despondent in a way. I wouldn't get to watch my niece, Soleil, continually develop into a little girl. I would be alone and removed from things that are dear and precious to me, whether they be one noun or another. (Though, there a only a few 'things' that are dear and precious to me).

We had taken a radio with us and at some point the frequency had changed or cut out, leaving an oppressive silence. It was completely dark at this point; the fire and stillness of the lake had put me in a sort of trance. Then out of nowhere, the radio picked up a station again. Clear as a bell, Bob Dylan's whiny voice pierced the silence. It just so happened to be at the beginning of the last verse of "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue". The lyrics hit me with such force, it felt like he was speaking to me directly. I was unfamiliar with the tune before then, but now it has become a personal mantra. The lyrics of the last verse are:

Leave your stepping stones behind now, something it calls for you

Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you

The vagabond who's rapping at your door

 Is standing in the clothes that you once wore

Strike another match, go start anew

And it's all over now, baby blue

 I have no idea what my life will be like in Armenia. The things I know of here,  are all I can truly have feelings about. In a perfect world, while in the Peace Corps, I could go visit friends and family whenever my heart desired, spend a weekend in Lake George, call a friend, or go to happy hour. But, the convenience and luxury of these things will need to be sacrificed for the experience. There are moments when wonder if I'm making the right choice. Thinking that maybe I should go the average route; start a career oriented job, settle into a place of my own. Finally get that kitten and puppy duo I've been dreaming of, and call it a day. I don't know, maybe I should. Yet, if I don't even try, there will always be the 'what if's' and regrets. I definitely do not want to live a life of regrets.

Things I Will Take With Me

A lot of people have been asking me what I plan to bring with me to Armenia. They ask, "Is there a list?" And I chuckle, saying, "Well, if there is I haven't really gotten around to checking items off". I'm pretty sure there is a suggested list. I should start looking into that...

In my opinion (and they are ever so prevalent) what is most important to bring with me to Armenia is myself. If I forget my underwear, which is a possibility -I have done this- at first I may be upset. But I will find some new small clothes and life will go on. But if I forget to bring me, and all my brain tools, then I'm in trouble.

BRAIN TOOLS?! That's right. The tools in my brain, that have supported me throughout trials and tribulations, are my most important item. And luckily they won't take up room in my luggage. Yay! Yoga and meditation are my greatest brain tools. For those of you sitting there thinking, uh Carolyn- yoga is not in your brain, well I beg to differ. Yoga has been one of the most important healing tools in my life. Anyone that has experienced true yoga is a practitioner and believer for life, whether they are devout or not. I'm sure there are those reading this who think I'm out of my fucking mind at the moment. Poo-poo I say to you. Knock not what you have yet to experience, young blood.

There is something sacred and spiritual that happens during personal yoga practice that is often hard to achieve inside a studio class, and even more specifically inside of a general gym yoga class. Then you come across those teachers that have the innate ability to quite your mind, if only for an hour or so. And if you're really special, you will be fortunate enough to find a mentor. (One dear friend of mine is of this fortune and I had the opportunity to practice with them both, it was splendid). The wild thing about the practice and the teacher who succeeds in getting their students past themselves, is that you only realize it after. The ancient healing practice is meant to open, stretch, heal and warm not only our bodies but our minds as well.

So, this I plan to take with me. And essential oils lavender and eucalyptus, because they bring me to a state of comfort and euphoria within a few minutes of deep inhalations. One thing I will say though, not having a bathtub in my life, and the privacy/time to lounge in one, will be a lack of luxury that I know will sting.

Another brain tool is my optimism and faith in people. Some may see this as a weakness, that another more shrewd individual will take advantage of this naivete. This is not entirely untrue. Some folks must always search for a way to have the upper hand, so that they feel powerful, important, etc. Unfortunately for them, the majority of their life meaning lies within digital numbers on a computer screen or unnecessary material objects. I am making an informed decision to approach life otherwise. Living a life of fear is not one at all. Fear takes on a lot of shapes and colors. And there are certainly things I fear, but getting hurt or duped is not one of them. It turns out that when you open yourself to others, they sense this intuitively and will often do the same. Sadly, once this has happened there is a labyrinth of emotional sensitivity to navigate afterwards. Things can, and will, get messy and uncomfortable when you engage with others; thus is life.

I would so much rather have truly known a person, even in their ugliness, than to not understand their life experience for fear of getting hurt.

These things I will take with me to Armenia.

Plan B

Happy Super Bowl! Yay for the great American past-time, eating and drinking in excess!! But, really Nicki Minaj and M.I.A.? Performing with Madonna for the halftime show? Oh and yes, go New York!


To be clear, I am an officially registered JETS fan - but I'll always root for my home state.


Anywho, Plan B. If you've been following my musings since the get-go, or if you have the great pleasure and privilege of my intimate friendship, you would know I had some not-so-realistic hopes for life after Peace Corps. But before opening that can of worms let's back up some. I may have mentioned my self-proclaimed romanticism before, I'm not too sure, but I'll state it again. I am a proud romantic. I care not if you think I am foolish, I think you're boring. I recently discovered the scientific term 'right-brained' to further explain my tendencies. Here is a sweet depiction. Needless to say, I am in love with the idea of love. Not the 'find someone manageable, make babies and graduate into a new tax bracket' type of deal. I mean that silly shit you see in the movies. I know, I know. I should be a Big Girl now and get over it. Yea... I'll have to get back to you on that.


What was Plan A, you ask? It went something like this "I'll go into the Peace Corps in 2011, meet Mr. Right because I'm SO over Mr. Right Now (kill me for using that terminology). He will hopefully be a down-to-earth, good natured, trust fund baby (ha!) that falls truly, madly, deeply in love with me and I with him. Upon our return we will move in with one another and by then, my 26 year old ring finger will be ripe for some financial commitment. Graduate school, wedding, career, and babies to follow in that exact order." Now for my male audience let this be a warning. There are always exceptions to the rule, but after 25, most straight women are on a baby mission. Whether that means having a baby soon or securing the inevitable seed. It's evolutionary biology for godsakes. Also, we LOVE to plan for the future. Put that under the same label.


Now here's the dilemma - the silly shit you see in the movies love part came before the Peace Corps. I tried, gosh danggit did I try, to hold out for that good-natured trust fund baby. We can all dream. As Shakespeare said "Love is merely a madness... and deserves a dark house and whip as madmen do." In my madness I cooked up some fantastic hopes for my beloved and I. But, as with all dreaming you soon awake. Maintaining a relationship while in separate countries for nearly three years is a far cry from realistic. Awaken we did and, as romantically as our circumstance allows, we agreed to approach our lives more sanely. Not unexpectedly, I've been feeling some self pity. Then one afternoon about two weeks later, I realized how to cure my madness.


All this time I thought I would find love in the Peace Corps. After Dan and I got together, that plan got squashed. Then, I had an epiphany in the bathtub (where all of my most important realizations occur). I needed a Plan B. Instead of trying to fall out of love, I would simply transfer the focus. Plan B = falling in love with Peace Corps. All of my romantic energy is now going to be concentrated into the experience and mission itself - not another person.  What that will actually mean, I'm not entirely sure.  But, I am already beginning to have hot sexy dreams about Armenia.






Just kidding.

In Recent News

From here on out, I intend to post at least once a week. I'm trying my damnedest to daily be in the Peace Corps/Armenia mindset. 


Recently, my Armenian study time has been gradually increasing. I make a point to surf the internet for any Armenian news and visit Armenia news outlets. In my limited free time, I also have been trudging through a very dense history of the 1915 genocide. 


'A Shameful Act' written by Taner Akcam is a detailed account of the years leading up to, events of, and aftermath of the Armenian genocide. He was the first Turkish historian to publicly acknowledge the genocide and is considered an international expert on the subject. It's most likely he was very pleased this past week. The French Senate approved a law that criminalizes the denial of genocides that are  officially recognized by France, including the Armenian genocide. Thus was Akcam's reaction: 


"If we want to prevent genocides and mass crimes; if we want to increase the awareness against the crimes of Genocide and crimes against humanity, we should not allow the denialist regimes to bully the democratic nations in the international arena...Turkey must understand that bullying and threatening others is not the behavior of an international actor."


Turkey's feathers are quite ruffled and they have stated that there will be serious trade consequences due to this 'betrayal'. Interestingly, some of Turkey's founding fathers played major roles in the genocide. It is the Turkish belief that the mass deportation and Armenian deaths of 1915 were not a 'genocide'. I was surprised to learn that the American government has yet to officially recognize the genocide.


With this weeks news I find my eventual departure becoming a greater reality. Who could have predicted that in all this time, as the days to my departure dwindle, Armenia is finally getting some international recognition. But, like all politics, it is hard to predict what this will mean for the lives of everyday Armenian citizens. Or even what it might mean for international relations (i.e. Peace Corps). The communities which Peace Corps works in are undereducated and there's a high probability that the average citizen is somewhat oblivious to current events. (This is true in my country, as well). 


But that will just have to be one more thing to wait and see about. 

In The Meantime

Please accept my apologies for the length of time between postings. Life, as we all know too well, tends to get in the way of pontification far too often. Also, there's been very little Peace Corps updates recently. I'll share what's been going on.


Sometime in December, I got yet another Dental package in the mail. It asked that I go get another check up, as the one that originally cleared me was going to expire before departure. Meanwhile, one of my wisdom teeth had been slowly coming in. The initial exam required a full jaw x-ray (I'm blanking on the formal term, but these are not routinely performed). It was then that the dentist informed me it was possible Peace Corps might request that I have all four wisdom teeth removed prior to departure. Fingers crossed and breath held while I waited for dental clearance, because wisdom tooth extraction is f-ing expensive when you are not covered for dental!


Anywho, I tried my hardest denial-like-self to pretend that the now visible tooth was a non-issue. It didn't bother me, so why bother it? My dentist thought otherwise. I made the appointment and two weeks later sat awake Novocained up the wazoo, doing yogic breathing while the doc drilled and sliced away. It was a most glorious afternoon. Being a female in the hormonal height of my cycle, the healing process was incredibly slow. It took two full weeks for recovery.  I had to return to the office because the discomfort was so extreme in the beginning. One of those weeks I was on a pain killer and wine diet = fat cow Carolyn.


Interestingly, they gave me the dry socket natural medicine - Clove. I injected the sticky brown goo into the gaping hole for about a week. Every application I thought, this is what cigarettes and clove cigarettes do over time - numb the area.  And I would feel proud to have (nearly) kicked the bad habit. I never thought I'd have to fight the urge to smoke cigarettes. I had my first drag when I was 18. But, because of my family's history with cancer and my childhood disgust with the smell (I would refuse to eat in restaurants that had smoking sections to the bane of my parents and brothers) it took three years of living and going out with smokers before I felt compelled to buy a pack of yellow American Spirits on my 21st birthday. Now, don't go thinking I bought packs in succession from there on out. Like I said, the relationship is a complicated one. There is only a small part of me that finds smoking acceptable. And with every glass of wine and emotional situation, that part grows until it's larger than the rational parts of my brain. It's then that I find a cigarette. And unfortunately, many of my loved ones smoke. They also tend to confide upsetting things to me, and then offer me a cigarette. It's a very vicious cycle. 


Why am I talking about this at all? I haven't bought a pack of cigarettes since September and haven't smoked more than one cigarette in a 24hr pd in over a month. But occasionally, the urge is still there and being that I was asked to sign a waiver by the Peace Corps proclaiming I understood the organization highly discouraged smoking, I want it to be irrelevant by the time I leave. Also, when comparing a 50 yr old life-long smoker to a 50 yr old that smoked but quit a good 20 yrs ago, it's obvious which side you want to be on. 


To sum things up: I'm vain and like a good buzz. Two things that I'm hoping will lessen over time while in Armenia. Oh, and I have one less tooth to worry about. 

Things We're Not Taught

     The list could go on forever. So much of what makes us individuals comes from things we learn outside the classroom. Yet, what we are not exposed to in the classroom can be a disadvantage. Today, the term 'disadvantaged' is often used in conjunction with 'youth', commonly referring to large groups of black and latino low-income families. Their disadvantage lies not in their color or household income, but rather the lack of education they've received.
     I had the privilege of working with such a group of about ten teens whom qualify for this label over the summer in Providence, RI at Goodwill Industries. My work as an AmeriCorps VISTA contributed to the education and betterment of this group. At YouthBuild, the goal is to strengthen both the character and skills of individuals. Most are high school dropouts seeking their GED or high school diploma and job skills. They all dropped out for their particular personal reasons, but generally (in my opinion) it is because with their life experience and knowledge they could not see the value of staying in school. Essentially, they didn't know what they were missing out on.
     Lacking the opportunity and encouragement to gain a college degree, my mother raised my brothers and I to value our intelligence and pursue whatever we chose. My father did the same, and with their combined support we all think we're the greatest thing on planet earth. Just kidding... but not really. My point is, I can in no possible way be considered a disadvantaged youth and yet, when I commenced reading about Armenia ( beginning with a book entitled "A Shameful Act" focusing on the genocide) I was embarrassed to realize I know jack shit about everything outside of Western Civilization.
     The Ottoman Empire. Sounds familiar, right? I, like many people, often pretend I know things that I truly only have a vague idea about. I've learned this is how to get people to like you by impressing them with your worldly knowledge. So, the Ottoman Empire, or the OTEP as in my new marble notebook, was a vast Muslim empire the offered it's protective services in exchange for taxes and discrimination. Non-muslims in the OTEP were treated much like black folks were in America after slavery. They were not equal, made to know and accept this, in return for some semblance of rights. The fall of the OTEP, and emergence of independent states resulted in the modern Middle East.
   
This was all news to me, about a week ago. A college graduate. Pathetic.
   
     Oh, the joy in finding a new reason to despise the Western Civ. program enforced upon all Providence College graduates! When unsupportive professors (because those are really the only ones I cared for) joked that the program was the "history of a bunch of dead, white men", they were spot on. It feels like my fellow classmates and I - in a time of war with Middle Eastern countries, no less- were robbed of a full education. Wouldn't it be beneficial for American youths to understand (or even begin to) that the Christian and Muslim communities have been at odds since the dawn of day? That Hitler was not the only man behind a genocide? Or that the British Empire wasn't the only wide spread Empire? It's almost like anything outside Western culture is deemed of no importance or influence in American public education. Well, that's gotten us really far, hasn't it?