Fantasies of a Treadmill Enthusiast . . . Or Attempted Enthusiast

I started going to the gym again. Since I’m a part-time tutor, I thought I should work on goals I gave less priority to before, especially in the transition to starting the toughest job I’ll ever love. Physical improvement seemed like the most practical goal to work on since I assume physical fitness and strength would make it easier living without all my coveted amenities. But I’ve been having trouble staying motivated on the treadmill, so I’ve compiled a list of fantasies that help get me going.

The standard fantasy of anyone chasing me is guaranteed to get my butt moving. For example:

1. I’m a piece of chocolate cake and that large boy from Matilda is coming at me with his already chocolate-greased fingers.

I think this is a healthy scenario because it’s not only entertaining, but also it forces me to improve my running gait because it’s a life or death situation.

2. I’m the guitarist in Lady Gaga’s band, and she yells out, “Come on!” while swinging her Christmas tree clad arm for me to keep my pace. 

I love Lady Gaga. So I would, of course, love her alternatively clad arm beckoning me to rhythm.

Then there are the more unhealthy ones:

3. My best friend hits on the guy I like.

I think this is an unhealthy one because it puts me in a position to be in competition with my best friend who is a girl. Girls have been raised to be in competition with other girls for other boys, jobs, or opportunities. Only when I’m really aching for a good run do I indulge in my jealousy. But the great run typically ends with a bitter taste in my mouth. So only if your moral compass is lax would I suggest this one.

4. Having my imaginary boyfriend break up with me because he thinks I’m too fat.

Again, this is an unhealthy fantasy but also kind of empowering because the burst of energy I’d get from his declaration would go toward telling him off rather than working hard on the treadmill to please him. I typically don’t tell people off or curse, so once I finally find the appropriate turn of phrase and mix of obscenity, the result can be quite empowering.

Overall, I think all energy can be channeled in a positive way. Whether it comes from positive or negative thinking, energy is what you make of it. 

On Healthy Boundaries

I’ve worked therapist jobs for at-risk pregnant women and autistic children. These were emotionally demanding positions. Sometimes I have a Messiah complex where I feel obligated to help someone, but the way to do that can be healthy or unhealthy. I often overstep my boundaries and take on the issues of other people to the point of feeling so confused at the end of a workday. I’ve been criticized for being a doormat and not taking enough of a leadership role in helping my clients fix their issues without over-relying on me. I’ve been told that:

“Clients need pushing, not patting.”

By taking on their problems, I’m enabling them; I'm patting them. I’m letting them rely on me to fix their problems rather than directing them to different resources where they’d be in the position to fix their problems independently. So the best advice I’ve received to combat my Messiah complex is to set boundaries. In other words, it’s not my responsibility to take on other people’s problems and solve them. We set these boundaries so people can be more independent. People will discover what's expected of them and, I hope, rely less on other people and more on their own potential.

Furthermore, the flip side to setting boundaries is creating a zone where I'm comfortable sharing parts of my life. The challenge with these types of therapist jobs is how to balance between being a friend and mentor, balance between what I'm comfortable giving and what I'm comfortable receiving. I've noticed that these positions are less effective when the therapist practices from an objective standpoint, so my challenge has been:

How do I stay objective while still be an active participant in the conversation?

This concept extends beyond the workplace. I’ve set my mom boundaries, too. She’s the one person with whom I thought I couldn’t establish boundaries, but I’m trying. I understand now that I don't need to share every detail with her to maintain our close bond. And I can give the best parts of me more happily knowing that she's not worrying about the things she doesn't necessarily need to know about.

It’s always hard to do it with people you love. Maybe you assume because they’re providing unconditional love that means you should give everything you are. But that’s just not true or healthy. Part of taking care of yourself is establishing these boundaries with the people around you: seeing what’s necessary to disclose and what’s not. At first it can be hard to see people in terms of how strong of a boundary you need to maintain a healthy relationship, but once you figure out the expectations people have of you, I think you can plan accordingly.

Once I serve in Indonesia, I will have to implement these same boundaries for the people in my community. I’m there to be a part of the community and culture, but I need to set boundaries between what I’m comfortable learning and what I’m comfortable teaching. Not everything in my culture will easily translate to Indonesian culture and vice versa. But I hope getting to know the people and seeing what's appropriate would help set healthy boundaries in hopes of providing everyone, including myself, the opportunity to discover ways to improve lives.

On Embracing Distraction

I have three more months until I leave for Indonesia. I feel much more emotionally prepared than I was for Kenya for some reason. I left my real job and am working a part-time retail job with lots of time on my hands. I feel guilty for having all that time though. I’ve been taught to build a life of meaning, but what I’m building now is a life of distraction.

Distractions can be good for you, too. They teach you what’s really important because they serve as a palette cleanser. Distractions can range from taking long and aimless walks through the town you grew up to sharing a meaningful night with a guy you barely knew a week ago. I typically do not subscribe to a life fulfilling all the basic and curious needs I’ve convinced myself I don’t need. It’s indulgent to live like that. I should feel guilty but can’t help but feel energized. Maybe living a life of distraction is what everyone needs to replenish a life that revolves around a proverbial work-hard-and-limit-pleasure ethic.

Basically, I think allowing yourself to enjoy life’s distractions can revive your love for life. And that love is meaning in itself.

Talk is Cheap

Since leaving my job tutoring autistic children, I’ve been looking for work. So I called my friend at Macy’s and now work in the jewelry section (in case anyone wants to buy some shiny, plastic thingamabobs). During one of my shift breaks I smoke in my favorite spot since first working here in college. The mall security comes up to me and tells me not to smoke in this now non-smoking section. I’m a little annoyed because this spot is secluded and I’ve probably worked here longer than this security guard. But I can’t be mad because he calls me “miss” instead of the “sir” I’ve expected since getting a pixie haircut. In a way, it’s kinda FTW! because I’ve been called “sir” so many times with this haircut.

But it also kinda bums me out because I must have put on enough make-up that day to prove I was a woman. The thing is I wasn’t going to cut my hair until I saw what was acceptable for women in Indonesia. I don’t want to offend anyone there by challenging gender norms. Because it's my job as a Peace Corps volunteer to not offend anyone. It’s not my job to change their way of thinking. It’s not to appear aggressive or intimidating. Instead, my job is to become a part of the community and to facilitate improvements in the community members’ lifestyle.

Typically, being called “sir” wouldn’t bother me. My main concern is not offending anyone in Indonesia. Maybe I give that concern too much meaning. The liberal American in me says: 

“What does it matter what I look like? As long as I do my job well, my appearance shouldn’t matter.” 

But not everyone in the world shares that perspective.

In some ways, I think this short haircut will make my adjustment extra hard because now I have to convince them I’m woman enough to be treated as a woman. But the same kinda applies here, too. Right after getting my haircut, I immediately bought eyeliner and lipstick to somehow prove to everyone here that I’m in fact a woman.

I know true in my heart that it’s right to think I don’t have to prove myself to anyone but me, yet I still do. How do I recondition that thinking? One of the things I learned at a seminar called “Millionaire Mind Intensive” this past weekend in Anaheim is:

“Your actions are so loud I can barely hear a word you’re saying.”

Basically, talk is cheap. And my talk is cheap every morning when I apply that eyeliner. I think Indonesia will be a good test to see what I’m made of and what I want to be made of afterward. We all need to reconcile the contradictions that rule our lives. It’s all about taking the first step. My first step is to step away from the mirror and put down the eyeliner. 

But I'll take that first step after my stint with Macy's. Retail is already hard enough. Since my favorite smoke spot is now taken over by non-smokers, don't I deserve to put off actualizing my potential a few months?

Light A Candle

I’m reassigned as an English teacher in Indonesia starting March 2014. Since I gave up my real job a month ago because I expected to leave for Kenya in October, I’ve been looking for seasonal and part-time work to keep me busy. So I applied for an activity aide position at a nursing home where my sister works, and I was basically hired. The job seemed super cool with lots of interaction with different kinds of people. I’d be leading BINGO games and doing sensory exercises with the residents. It all seemed like a productive use of my time for the next four months. The Activities Director approved of my choice to serve in the Peace Corps. She also really needed the help so didn’t mind my four-month stay. But when the HR manager found out how long I planned to stay, I was un-hired. 

In this unfortunate situation, I could do two things: move on or dwell.

I could have considered lying to the HR manager, saying I’d stay longer then quit when I eventually leave for Indonesia. But that would weigh on my conscience. I could have damned the whole facility and stayed angry for not being given the opportunity to grace its residents with my charisma. But would that solve anything?

A proverb:

“Look at what you’ve got and make the best of it. It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness.”

But sometimes I pride myself for writing down every thought and emotion I have that I think it’s self-reflection when I'm really just over thinking. Ranting is not self-reflection. Dwelling on the past is not self-reflection. Looking to the past can be helpful if you're using those mistakes as a jumping off point to start negotiations with yourself. Is it time to change my behavior? What does this mistake mean for me in the long-run? 

It can be hard to spot the over thinking when emotions run high. I always thought it was a good thing to be aggressive when it came to expressing how I feel, but perhaps the aggression should be redirected in a positive way. Instead of plotting some grand revenge, I should be using that energy to thinking about the next opportunity. 

I’m still bummed I didn’t officially get the job, but it's no use letting the bitterness rule my life. Time to move on. Time to learn from my mistakes. Time to tweak my resume a bit more for the next interview. 

Afterward, I enjoyed some retail therapy. I went rogue and bought very trendy pants (I think they’re pants) from Forever 21. I typically wouldn’t buy pants there but until Indonesia, I will try to be more stylish. We all need roles to play to make life more interesting. And please take note that “try” is the keyword. I just hope I don’t look like I’m trying too hard.

Added Pressure

Our trip to Kenya has been indefinitely postponed. And all the volunteers who were supposed to go will be reassigned to different countries with different assignments. This process may take several months, so I’m sure I’m not the only one who is feeling the pressure to figure out what to do for the next several months. I keep telling myself:

“You have to let the added pressure move you forward, not drown you.”

But the setback has me drowning in pity for myself because I feel stuck. I should easily move on to the next leg of my career goal, which is graduate school. But I want to do the Peace Corps before graduate school because I expect the experience to mentally and emotionally prepare me for the new level of academic rigor that graduate school demands. Basically, I feel unproductive, which is a feeling I do not welcome.

To drag out this pity party, I still feel like a kid and I need to get over that by drastically changing how I live my life. But I can't really do that until I start this Peace Corps journey. I need to transform into a person who is ready to accept adulthood because I currently do not.

At my current mental state, I’m reminded by Robert Frost’s poem,

"Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"

Whose woods these are I think I know. 

His house is in the village though; 

He will not see me stopping here 

To watch his woods fill up with snow. 

My little horse must think it queer 

To stop without a farmhouse near 

Between the woods and frozen lake 

The darkest evening of the year. 

He gives his harness bells a shake 

To ask if there is some mistake. 

The only other sound’s the sweep 

Of easy wind and downy flake. 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep. 

But I have promises to keep, 

And miles to go before I sleep, 

And miles to go before I sleep. 

I’m still committed to serve because I know Peace Corps will be worth the wait. And I expect the journey to be "dark and deep." I expect Peace Corps to challenge me in unexpected ways. I expect to develop new skills that could only develop from overcoming adversity. 

The only thing I wasn't expecting was the journey to the start of the real journey.

The Next Four Weeks

The Westgate Mall shooting delayed my trip to Kenya six weeks for security reasons. A terrible thing happened in the capital and I can’t help thinking:

“I just want to start my awesome Peace Corps adventure now!”

But I’m so thankful to have friends who give me reality checks. Some say:

“Everything happens for a reason.” While others say:

“You can still have meaningful experiences here before Kenya.”

They both hold some truth, but what are those meaningful experiences? I’ve already put my head in the Peace Corps game and now I need a new game plan for the next few weeks. How can I hope for meaning when I feel like I’m in limbo?

A friend sent me an article about meaning and happiness. Meaning and happiness seem exclusive from one another, but at the same time affect each other. For example, I’ve a lot of eggs in this Peace Corps basket. I want this experience to develop a lot of meaning in my life to the point where I feel comfortable seeking out experiences that make me happy.

This thinking may seem too linear and there’s obviously some overlap between meaning and happiness, but overall I see meaning as a requirement to finding happiness because having experiences that have meaning, like public service jobs, define who we are. Once we are defined, we’re able to stand on our own two feet, to make sound decisions by weighing the pros and cons, to practice empathy, and to know when to listen and when to talk.

How can we find happiness and do the things we really want if we don’t even know who we are first?

How can we seek out happiness if we first don’t know our own abilities and limits?

These meaningful experiences test our boundaries and let us know how well we function in different situations. And once we establish those boundaries, then we are able to stretch those boundaries with things that make us happy. We test our resiliency and expand our perspectives in hopes of widening those boundaries. We can’t test the strength of our resiliency if we’ve yet to establish the boundaries first.

So perhaps this waiting period is yet another meaningful link in the chain that defines who I am. Waiting requires flexibility and resilience. And if I want to widen my boundaries with things that make my happy as I hope to do, I have to practice these skills now. So yes, I can acknowledge that I’m impatient with the wait, but I also have to practice against the urge.

Supporting Unconditionally

Parents may love unconditionally, but that’s not the same as supporting unconditionally.

It was difficult to get my parents to understand my decision to serve in the Peace Corps. I was actually surprised when they asked me not to do it at first. They had always been on my side, cheering me on. But suddenly, they weren’t. It reminded me of that scene in the movie 10 Things I Hate About You where Mr. Stratford struggles with accepting his daughter’s college choice. Mr. Stratford says to his daughter, Kat:

“Fathers don't like to admit it when their daughters are capable of running their own lives. It means we've become spectators. [Your sister] still lets me play a few innings. You've had me on the bench for years. When you go to [college], I won't even be able to watch the game.” 

Maybe my parents just want to be part of the game. And when I’m in Kenya, they won’t even be able to watch the game. It’s hard to choose what I want when I know my parents may not approve. Yet they still love me.

Once the initial stage of apprehension wore off, my parents transformed into the rooting cheerleaders I remember them to be. They want to be a part of my life whether or not they agree with what they see. I always assumed it was an arduous and dreadful process to forgo personal expectations for the sake of maintaining good relationships, but they’ve showed that it is possible. It’s true they may not support all my decisions. Instead, they support me. So I just wanted to say thanks to my Mom and Dad, the heroes in my life. 

Thanks.

Mental Beasts

I will work at my current job tutoring autistic children for one more month. Although I am very excited to end this chapter of my life, some part of me doesn’t want to leave the job until I’ve transformed into some sort of mental beast. What I’ve learned from tutoring autistic children:

• I am no longer fazed by a crying child
• I’m pretty adept at figuring out why a child is crying (i.e. for attention or to escape a task) 
• Learning how to organize the world of chaos, according to a child, and figuring out what needs to be done, has helped organize my less chaotic life in more meaningful ways 

I used to think children were the scariest kinds of people because they often act on their instincts and sometimes act aggressively when an effective form of communication has not presented itself in times of deep emotion. We are taught to deal with our frustration and anxiety by using our words to express how we feel. Children are still learning how to do this and are, therefore, more prone to reacting physically to their emotions. Learning to interpret physical action as a cry for help or for something else proved challenging my first months on the job. But it did get easier as I learned to understand emotions in terms of pictures, rather than words. Then it was easier to respond to the children once I understood what they were trying to express in their own way.

I would imagine that mental beasts break communication barriers and easily find an access point to channel both what the person is trying to convey and what the mental beast chooses to respond. Though I haven’t yet donned the coveted role of mental beast, I do respond less negatively in times of crisis. But I wonder how much better I’d understand children that have an everyday struggle with expressing themselves if I stayed longer.

Regardless, maybe it’s time for a new struggle. Maybe moving to Kenya will provide me with another awesome opportunity to accept different forms of communication and learn to communicate in response.

Starting Over

I am so excited to start this adventure in Kenya. I want to dive right in. It’s a chance to start over. Many people like the idea of starting over. It’s a chance to redefine who you are and to allow people to define you based on what you choose to convey.

But the downside to the novelty of starting over is chronic dissatisfaction. My biggest fear is getting bored with my job and wanting to escape it. While I think dissatisfaction can be completely normal, chronic dissatisfaction and wanting to escape, instead of fixing the problem, is not.

If the thing to which we’ve committed is not the right fit, that’s one thing. But if we foster this “more, more, more” mentality to infect everyday life, we’d be allowing the loss of novelty to justify our moving on.

So how can I limit my exposure to this disease in Kenya? How can I decrease the probability of burn out when all I want is a different adventure? A friend suggested that every project completed should be celebrated in a big way. Celebrate its success and finality. Basically, she’s saying I should celebrate life, a skill I’ve yet to perfect.

I believe the reward for hard work is more work. But I’ve yet to learn how to do that without experiencing burn out. I fear that more than I fear the unexpected from living in a foreign land. Learning how to incorporate the “more, more, more” curiosity and seeing novelty in perspective rather than in things or places will be my biggest adventure yet.

Three More Months

I have three more months until I leave for Kenya. I’m trying not to get too excited. Sometimes I daydream about potential adventures and notice I’ve already wasted 20 minutes of the day. I have to remember to keep my excitement at bay. Words to live by when faced with new prospects:

It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

If I expend too much energy daydreaming about the Peace Corps, I won’t have any energy left to actually prepare for it. The same goes for any eventuality. If you waste valuable time being anxious or too excited for an upcoming event, you lose the opportunity to live in the present and take advantage of what’s happening now.

I recently met a returned volunteer that served in Africa. Some useful advice:

• Buy a head light to watch out for snakes hiding in the toilet 
• Take prenatal pills (super pills for the undernourished) 
• Avoid a type of malaria medication that induces hallucinations 
• Don’t be an easy target 

And most importantly,

• Your job as a volunteer isn’t to change anyone or anything. Your job is to understand. It is the hope that with mutual understanding and trust, you can eventually help the community you serve.

In A Jane Austen Education, William Deresiewicz says:

“The job of a teacher, I now understood, is neither to affirm your students’ notions nor to fill them with your own. The job is to free them from both.”

Wise words, Mr. D. I hope to overcome the community members’ skepticism of my seemingly neo-colonialist attitude to eventually build a rapport with them. I can’t attempt to serve the community if I don’t understand first. And from experience, mutual understanding often begets mutual trust. And I think that is a pretty good basis for teaching well. 

Nostalgia

I’m a nostalgic person. And ever since I was officially invited, I’ve had many dreams of people from my past. We’ve all made a bunch of mistakes and have learned from them. And I consider myself a relatively emotionally healthy person. So what accounts for the nostalgia? I’ve never thought much about it, but the dreams prompted the questioning of my chronic nostalgia.

There are pros and cons to being nostalgic.

Pros: Reflecting on the past can be healthy. It’s a review of my life. If I’m unhappy about an aspect of my life, I’m given the opportunity to reflect and possibly fix the problem by seeking closure. 

Cons: The con to being nostalgic is the probability of never looking forward. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But perhaps looking back at all those mistakes won’t always offer an opportunity to learn because I may continually make those same mistakes.

So I’ve categorized my nostalgia in two forms: 

1. Reflecting for closure

2. Dwelling for self-pity

I don’t mean to put all my eggs in one basket, but I hope my Peace Corps experience can help reduce my frequency for self-pity by teaching me how to increase my capacity for resilience and for frankly, getting over myself.

Four More Months

I was officially invited to serve as a Deaf Education Volunteer. If I pass further legal and medical reviews, I’ll depart for Kenya in four months. That means I have four months to start learning Kenyan Sign Language (KSL).

I’m actually quite intimidated to learn KSL because first of all, I’m not even fluent in American Sign Language (ASL). So I sometimes lack the natural flow and grace that fluent signers seem to have. I once saw two deaf people get into an argument, and the way they signed reminded me of an intricate, modern dance. Second, I’m not taking up KSL to simply converse and get around. I have to teach in KSL. But I’m hopeful for an easy assimilation and confident that YouTube will again serve as the makeshift teacher I could always rely on.

So here’s to the next four months! Perhaps I should also brush up on modern dance fundamentals.

Understanding and Experiencing

This was my second time applying to the Peace Corps and first time being nominated.

I first applied Summer 2011. I was a year before graduating. I was idealistic about the Peace Corps but terribly ill-prepared. I had heard horror stories about Volunteers using their two-year service in another country as a type of vacation and not taking the role seriously. In a way, I started out as one of those people.

I meant for my Peace Corps Experience to sort of buffer the presumed dissatisfaction I’d experience when deciding what to do for the rest of my life. So I made a sorry attempt to become a Volunteer with the limited experience I had and of course, failed.

Reflecting on the failure and finally understanding why I wasn’t nominated didn’t lesson the blow, unfortunately. Instead, I became a little bitter.

So as habit, instead of screaming “F*** the World!” I ignored my feelings and poured myself into a book. Robertson Davies wrote a fantastic trilogy called the Deptford Trilogy that’s centered on a thrown rock hidden in a snowball and goes on to explore how the symbolism of that rock affects a family and community for a generation. I drew the inspiration to apply again from the second book of the trilogy, The Manticore. I learned:

“Understanding and experiencing are not interchangeable. Any theologian understands martyrdom, but only the martyr experiences the fire.” 

I wasn’t above taking on the role of the martyr, in a sense. After all, I wanted to be a Volunteer. It wasn’t enough to just understand by reading blogs of current Volunteers and pamphlets or attending informational meetings. I needed to acquire the experience that would demonstrate what the “fire” meant to the “martyr.” I may not have taken on positions that are comparable to being completely away from support systems and overall familiarity and comfort. But I did find appropriate alternates that provided my second application the competitive edge it needed for nomination.

Two years later, I saw the Peace Corps Experience differently. Instead of buffering the presumed dissatisfaction of adulthood, I saw it as a stepping stone to an actual career. And for Peace Corps Volunteer hopefuls out there, that said verbatim secured my nomination, according to my recruiter ;)

As for the career, I’m still on the fence deciding between two related, but different professions. Perhaps I see another humbling failure in the horizon that’ll help facilitate the decision-making process. In the meantime, I hope to accomplish every goal with the confidence to experience in hopes of better understanding my choices. And to quote Indiana Jones:

“If you want to be a good archaeologist, you gotta get out of the library!”

No Longer a Peter Pan Romantic

It was such a relief to have come home last Friday from a hard day's work and find that I was nominated.  Wanting this experience for the past five years, I thought it wise to record the attitudes and emotions I've harbored to get to this point.

It all started with a childhood obsession.

The decision to apply to the Peace Corps was confronted with my long-term obsession comparing myself to the captivating children’s figure, Peter Pan.

 
My favorite children’s figure is Peter Pan because he’s all knowing, confident, daring, and independent. The greatness of his character relies on his ability to address any situation with confidence. And if he doesn’t have a solution, he’s willing to improvise. That’s the kind of person you want serving in the Peace Corps.

That’s not exactly the type of person I am. I can be confident and resourceful, but I’m not willing to improvise all the time, especially with a topic I know nothing about.

Furthermore, tackling every opportunity is not a skill I’ve chosen to cultivate. If there’s a definite positive outcome to my actions, I’m on board. But to jump on the boat in case I learn something or meet someone on the off chance that might lead to something promising, I typically decline.

But there are cons about Peter Pan. He’s forgetful and lacks follow through. While those attributes may seem insignificant to a little boy who wants only new adventures, they’re important as a Peace Corps Volunteer to build strong foundations with other people in the community and to enact meaningful solutions to real-world situations.

In the novelized Peter Pan, Peter lacks heart. All he has is adrenalin. So although that kind of drive might take him farther than I could ever go, his lack of heart would have him running around in circles.

The same Peter that lacked heart captured my heart so long ago. But this infatuation doesn’t serve me well. After much reflection on what I need to mentally prepare for the Peace Corps, Peter Pan no longer serves as my role model because he lacks the motivation to balance between adrenalin and heart. 

But he does serve as a reminder to establish boundaries around what I can do and what I’m willing to do in hopes of someday acknowledging my ability to overcome them.

XOXO,

No longer a Peter Pan romantic