No one can warn you

I would like to preface this post by saying a few things. I don't want people reading this blog to worry too much about my mental health, but I think that it is important for me to share all parts of my service, not just the shiny happy parts like going to Italy for Christmas. This is something that I have been thinking about for a long time, but I was nervous to write about it because I was afraid that it would make everyone worried. Please don't worry, I am good, but this is part of my experience and I have learned a lot from being alone . . .

During Peace Corps training, they tell you that you will be lonely. This is one of the major dangers of Peace Corps. Sometimes you are the only American or other foreigner in your town or village or maybe one of a few (in Peshkopi there are now 2- me, Dylan. The Canadian guy married to an Albanian has now left). They tell you that there may be times when you don't have a lot of work to do when you will spend a lot of time alone. They tell you to be careful and that making friends and being integrated into the community will help. They tell you that it will be lonely, but no one can really warn you.

A lot of my ideas about Peace Corps came from my parents- I have been hearing their PC stories forever. When I think about the difference between my parent's service and mine, there are many differences; internet and other technology (cell phones, ipods, laptops etc.) but also differences that come from the cultures and positions we have. But the biggest difference I can see between my parent's service and mine is that they had each other and so they couldn't warn me because although I'm sure they felt loneliness, it is very different from the loneliness I feel.

No one can really warn you about the loneliness because it is a different kind of lonely than any I have ever been before. I have lived "alone" for short periods of time in my life, but I have always had a support system in place so that my "alone" was never really alone. When I moved to college, I moved about 2 miles away. I had a roommate. I went home on the weekends and did laundry. The first time I was really away from my parents, I lived for a semester in Prague. For that experience, I also had a roommate and 100 other foreign students. Even though I didn't really know anyone, I made friends fast and only felt really lonely a few times.

Peace Corps is different. It is a different kind of alone than I have ever been. During training, things were kind of similar to when I studied abroad. I saw people every day and I was too busy to really feel too lonely. But once I got to site I had to learn to be alone. A lot. It's not that I haven't made friends, because I have, some great ones. It's not that I don't see people, because I do, all the time. It is not only that you are meeting new people and having to create all new relationships, you also have to do it in another language and another culture. I get up, I go to the office, I have meetings, I have coffee, I have lunch (although, often I go home and eat alone), I say hi to people on the streets, and I go to dinner at friend's houses. But I spend more time alone here than I have ever before. Usually at least a few nights a week (especially in the winter) I am at home alone in the evenings. When I'm not traveling, I'm usually home on the weekends too.

For as long as I can remember, my dad has talked to himself. We all would hear him in his office or darkroom or out back working on the car having full on conversations with himself, sometimes in more than one language. I have finally developed my own running dialogue that would rival my father's. I have started talking to myself. I have always had an internal voice over, but for the first time in my life, I find myself vocalizing all the time. I fill the silence with podcasts I download of news or radio and TV programs. I listen while I wash the dishes and cook dinner. I fill the time with baking and knitting and reading and playing solitare on my computer. I think a lot.

When I see people, for example when I travel to Peace Corps training, it is a treat. In Albania we are lucky because even as one of the most isolated volunteers, I am only 4-5 hours away from the capital and other volunteers. I have made some really strong bonds with some of the other volunteers and I see myself staying friends with some for life. But (except for my wonderful sitemate) they are not here and do not ease the solitude. It can be a very solitary existence and even though they try, no one can really warn you.

Staring at the wall

Last weekend I had two of the new volunteers come and visit me.

At this time last year, I was really happy to get out of my host family for a few nights (not that I don't love my host mom, but it was nice to travel) and finally get a chance to talk to some current volunteers and see what their life was like. One thing that I remember clearly is meeting Winifred in Tirana (and I'm not sure if she told us this or if I just heard it later) but her saying that she liked to spend time in her apartment and stare at the wall. At the time, I thought that Winifred was nuts (I now know that she is a little bit nuts, but in that "fun to watch when she is drunk" kind of way, not in a scary way that I originally thought). Now, the reason that I am bringing this up is this: after this winter, I think I understand what she meant.

I'm not saying that I spent a lot of time in my apartment staring at the wall. But I did spend a lot of time in my apartment- knitting, watching movies, reading, listening to podcasts and music and yes, doing absolutely nothing at all. I've never really been one to do nothing. In fact it is much more likely that you will find me doing more than one thing at a time than nothing (watchin TV while reading or knitting, cooking while reading, listening to music or podcast while writing, reading or doing anything else). My friend Linus has been talking lately about his return to regular meditation. And while I wouldn't call what I'm doing meditation, it is like meditations distant cousin. While I still usually am doing something when I am alone, the fact that I am alone and ok with it is a big step in itself. I have always kind of thought of myself as a really extroverted person who needs to be around people a lot. When I am in Denver, there are usually several options for interaction and entertainment available every day- when I sit at home alone there, I always feel like I am missing something (because I usually am). I still feel that way sometimes, but I have also started to come to terms with those feelings and learn to just enjoy my solitary time.

As spring and summer come around, I will have less time to do nothing as I travel more and hopefully spend time outside. I hope however that when I come back to the US I don't lose my peace in solitude. Don't be surprised if you call and I'm just at home staring at the wall . . .

Going it alone

I am not a loner. Like anyone, I sometimes need time to be alone, but given the choice to be alone or be with someone, I will almost always opt for the company. I would rather watch a movie, watch TV, go to a party, go to a concert or go eat with other people. Going alone into social situations honestly scares me to death. I need a safety net of people I know. . . what if I walk in to the party and I don't know anyone? I don't mind being alone in some situations- sleeping, lounging, working out. I just don't want to be alone all the time.

A few weeks ago, I got free pass for two to see a screening of a movie. I got the pass late on the day before the screening and on the day of the screening I started to look for someone to come with me. I couldn't find a single person to come to the FREE movie with me. My friends were busy, working, out of town. I decided to go to the movie on my own. It was a movie that I really wanted to see (Martian Child with John Cusack) and I didn't want to pass up the chance to see a free movie (I really hate paying for movies- five years working in a theater can spoil a person). I loved the movie, but I hated watching it alone.

Tonight I could have gone to a concert in Boulder. A friend of mine was supposed to go with me, but cancelled at the last minute. I thought of a lot of reasons to not go to the concert- I didn't want to drive to Boulder, I have to get up early for work tomorrow, I don't really have the money. The truth is, I don't want to go alone.

In a few months, I will be leaving for the Peace Corps and living- alone- in a strange new country. If I can't even drive to Boulder alone, how am I going to survive being alone for two years?