as i get further and further away from my issues related to Peace Corps [namely my issues related to PTSD], the closer i find myself being able to handle the memories, both good and bad, untainted by the shock, by the pain, by the tug of remorse.
as i get more and more emails from soon-to-be Peace Corps Volunteers, who find my blog, my name, on a some website, the more i look into the events of the past, the events leading up to those events and everything in between.
the breakups. the breakdowns. the broken bones and broken memories. shattered by distraught Nigerians, by poor bus drivers, by women anticipating forgiveness whilst grappling with remorse, by people pushing for changes in a changeless circumstance. the good, the bad, the glorious, the horrific.
with these inquiries, which range from questions specific to my experiences to those more general to life in Peace Corps itself, i find myself being forced further and further into the depths of some of my darkest nights. both the beautiful, magical, loving dark nights, like the night of the meteor shower that lit up a love life; mid December 2007, and dark, dreadful experiences of one solo night in early March 2009.
in light of the darkness revisited - thanks to those questioning my experiences in Mali, as a PCV, as an engaged female in West Africa, as a believer in the spirit but not in the action of the Peace Corps - i’ve found myself sitting on a lot of well documented, tragic and terrific experiences and information. also, i’ve found myself more inclined to justify what’s happened since the attacks…
since my hope and my spark were beaten out of me,
since i lost the love of my life,
since i let some bullies run me around,
out of town, down down down.
since i let my life slip away…
i've been through a lot. some of the events of my recent past i don't even remember… until i go through my journal [and eventually to my blog wherein i can actually decipher the scratch that i call script] to rediscover the truth, the depth and the awe that was.
i am forever grateful to those who’ve been with me [and against me] along this path, for it is because of those and my reaction to their efforts, for good or evil, that i am who i am today and who i will become tomorrow.
sitting on this mound of emotion, of photography, of memory, of righteous pain and prospect, i find myself seeking those i’ve lost. Dabi. Ryan. Fisher. Tati. Skittles. Wurdia.
to name a few. in light of the darkness of loss there is a lesson; i hope my lessons show their light soon. i hope dampened sparks are reignited; i hope forgiveness and compassion and laughter and love come back to my life.
i hope i quit having these thoughts and conversations and revelations by myself.
i hope i quit having these thoughts and conversations and revelations by myself.
2 comments:
i stumbled upon your blog the other day and i wanted to say hello. your story is both heartbreaking and uplifting. and though i don't know you, i am proud of you somehow. thanks for sharing your story with me (though unknowingly).
i'm proud of you too! i'm proud of the woman you were, the woman you are, and the woman you are becoming. though your spark may have been diminished, it was never extinguished. you're amazing, syd, in more ways than i can count.
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