My year anniversary in South Sudan passed unremarkably, although notably on Mardi Gras Day, of which this irony was not lost on me (and required some serious rechanneling of mental energy not to be consumed by it). For months, I’ve been setting soft deadlines for myself to get through the next snippet of time, the next R&R, the next reprieve from the continued stress that has become the norm here. What I’ve realized recently is that while I may be adapting and adjusting to maintaining some sort of functionality here, the mindset of waiting just doesn’t offer me any comfort or respite from my current life circumstances. Waiting to have more energy to exercise, feel healthier, less exhausted, waiting to drink less and sleep more. None of these things are going to miraculously change in the coming days, weeks or months, so I either need to embrace them, accept them and learn how to manage, or walk away from this place.
And while things are challenging-relentlessly so at times-I am trying to shift my paradigm and recognize and appreciate what I do have here, acknowledge that in some bizarre, fucked up way, I am lucky to be here. I have amazing colleagues-supportive, understanding, patient colleagues that fill my days with hilarity and drama and are able to relate to me in every way imaginable. I have a handful of wonderful friends that provide respite from work and can commiserate over my questions and what choices lay ahead. I have a job that forces me to problem solve, initiate, interact with a variety of different kooky characters, force myself to try and offer up my best self—my most patient and calm and understanding self—and maybe, just maybe, possibly, make a difference in the lives of some people. I need to look at South Sudan as the opportunity many of my peers will never have—the possibility to grow in impossible ways, to discover strength I didn’t know I had, to witness a pocket of the world undergoing incredible hardship and facing unbelievable challenges.
I need to stop mourning the loss of watching my nieces and nephew grow. I need to stop picturing what I’d be doing if I was living in some other city, some other job, stop glancing at the calendar and imagining myself at Jazzfest or the Thanksgiving table or my niece’s birthday party. I need to accept the life choices I’ve made and allow myself to be fully engaged in them—not just focus on the next post, the next trip home, the next job, but really force myself to be here, really be here and take it for what it is. I have to let go of the notions of what path my life could have taken had I done things differently a decade ago, or five years ago, or five months ago. In the simplest of terms, I need to be present. Live fully. And for the love of God, stop questioning myself.
