Fogginess…

There are so many moments where I feel as if I have lost control of my emotions. I am not sure if it the simple fact that I tend to run a little on the crazy side naturally, or if it the stressful toll living here takes on me. I suspect it is a combination of the both.

Either way, some mornings I wake up and I am full of vigor and lust for life. Other days I wake up and it is all I can do to will myself out of bed to choke down a piece of bread. The scariest part is that on some occasions these days run consecutively with no extreme circumstances in the interim. This is my normal reaction to my everyday life.

As my time here continues to pass, the days representing the latter state of mind are fewer and fewer. I feel less pressure and exhaustion. I am not as beaten down by work, or the culture, or my feeling of isolation and have less cause to wake up with the desperation of wishing I was somewhere else. Those days have almost vanished from my life here. But the key word in that statement is “almost.” There are still moments when I can feel the dark fog of unhappiness overtaking me. Where a feeling of dissatisfaction and complete vulnerability spread through me, and facing the world is more than I can handle.

Because these days are fewer and far between, when they do hit it is a surprise, and much more impacting. When I feel it creep over me in the early morning hours as I toss fitfully trying to shield myself from the breaking day and sleep just a little longer it is that much more brutal in its effect.

I had a day like that yesterday. I hid at home all day. I pulled my quilt up over my head and confined myself to the dark warmth of my bed. I read a book. I idled away hour after hour, minute after slowly passing minute, just waiting until I could finally close my eyes and feel the pressure of the day disappear behind closed eyelids.

And as I was drifting off to sleep finally at the end of a long and unsettling day, I made a silent promise to myself that tomorrow would be better.

This morning I woke up, stood up on the cold tile, stretched the stiffness from my limbs, and inhaled a deep breath let out the anxiety. I  opened up the heavy wood front door of my home to let in the sunlight and found a small gift left for me on the patio. It was nothing really, just a small bundle of fruit someone had cut down in their own yards, and had saved a few pieces for me, but this simple act of kindness, the show of appreciation and friendship, speaks volumes about the rewards of this job. I am cared for. I am something special. What I do is something amazing. These thoughts overtake me as I stand in the morning sun looking out over the sloping coffee fields and volcano peaks spread out for miles in front of me. No fogginess or unrest today; simple joy is all I feel.

There will be other down days. There always are, no matter where you live, or what you do, or who you are.  But, it seems when it is needed the most a tiny spark of kindness can start a fire of happiness and renewed dedication burning through you….

and today, I am on fire.