Benadryl-Induced Emo Binge

Taking Benadryl almost made me want to early terminate my Peace Corps service. I’m told that every volunteer has those what am I doing here? moments where he or she suddenly pauses and questions everything.

As I squat to take a cold bucket bath every morning, I have that moment. As I stuff the ends of my mosquito net underneath my mattress every night, I have that moment. As my Ibu stares me down every lunch to eat rice with a spoon instead of a fork, I have that moment.

What am I doing here? I could be having a hot shower in America right now. I could be concentrating on more productive things in America rather than on my chances of catching malaria right now. I could be given the choice of ANY other carbohydrate in America and be eating it with any damn utensil I choose right now.

I thought I’ve been keeping good pace with the pre-service training schedule. But on our way home from visiting another volunteer, I had another what am I doing here? moment while my body was wearing off the effects of the Benadryl I took earlier that day.

The pace was finally starting to take a toll on my mental and physical health. As for many people, my tolerance threshold is low when I’m tired. I said things I didn’t mean. I lashed out on angkot drivers and fellow trainees and was all kinds of crazy.

Basically, things got emotional fast. I really wanted to go back home to California. I missed certain people and certain privileges. Maybe I wasn’t really happy here. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this kind of commitment. Maybe Peace Corps isn’t for everyone. Maybe I should lay off the emo.

Eventually, the Benadryl wore off and my perspective came back into focus. I can’t turn away from an experience I’ve wanted since high school. This unfortunate Benadryl incident may be the first of many obstacles that may potentially prevent my finishing service. And although those trainees I lashed out on no longer reply to my texts, I better get used to these obstacles. It’s going to take more than some Benadryl-induced emo binge to get me to go home.

Ibu Network

One aspect of Indonesian life I struggle acclimating to is the Ibu Network. For example, my Ibu (host mother) knows about my day before I have the chance to tell her about my day. News – not even exciting news – travels faster than my legs. So I’m not surprised when I come home from training and am immediately victim to a recap of everything I did and ate that day.

That’s insane to me. How does she know everything?

Furthermore, it makes me uncomfortable when people who aren’t in charge of making my schedule know about my schedule before I do. But I guess that’s a cultural thing I have to accept? It’s my Ibu’s way of showing that she cares. She invades my privacy only because she wants what’s best for me. Privacy is a foreign concept to my Ibu. It doesn’t exist the same way it exists in the States. Therefore, her presence and influence is ubiquitous.

Although it can often be a pain to have that constant attention, it can sometimes be pleasant. For example, one of my favorite things to do is to watch people iron clothes. I’ve yet to discover why it relaxes me, but it’s one of the coping strategies I rely on while in country. And since ironing is an important activity in my Ibu’s daily schedule, I take the time to watch her iron clothes because it triggers both nostalgia and relaxation.

In addition, my Ibu can be the sweetest person. She surprised me one morning with my favorite sandwich: grilled cheese, banana, and peanut butter. She’s convinced that I can’t be well fed without rice, yet she still made the sandwich for me because I said it was my favorite. She sure knows how to pull at them heart strings. It meant a lot to me despite her trying to force rice down my throat immediately afterward.

There are definitely benefits to engaging with this kind of overbearing culture. It may be frustrating sometimes. It may be suffocating. But for the next two years, I’m willing to readjust my definition of privacy to accommodate her cultural needs. I will try to appreciate her methods and what they mean. It’s worth it because I receive so much in return. I will try to appreciate her. And although I’m still unable to stop her from ironing my underwear in front of me, I will try to appreciate her.

Constant Stream of Adrenalin

Watching all the resource volunteers during pre-service training and seeing how much energy they all have is a bit unnerving. I started to wonder if they just put on a show for the trainees and aren’t regularly like that or if being a Peace Corps volunteer offers a constant stream of adrenalin.

My initial adrenalin rush ended a few days ago. I’ve been in country for a month. I’m getting use to the food, the language lessons, and the pre-service training pace. That steady break-neck pace quickly emptied the gung ho adrenalin I’ve been making withdrawals from since leaving the US. So I don’t know how these full-fledged volunteers do it.

Where does this energy come from? Is there some untapped resource I’ve yet to find as a trainee?

They constantly say our Peace Corps lives don’t really start until we arrive at our permanent sites. That’s when we’ll face the real challenges of having no other English speaker in sight and having no real structure. We’ll be bored out of our minds if we don’t create structure for ourselves. So is that process of creating structure when volunteers find that energy? It’s been said that necessity is the mother of invention. Will my need to have meaning give meaning?

Heavy.

Perhaps I shouldn’t worry about this yet. I have nearly two full months to ponder the source of this energy. Maybe it would be a better use of my time to concern myself with the giant pile of pisang and rambutan in front of me. Enak! 

Bad Habits

Along with my smoking, crossing of the legs, and using the left hand, a bad habit that’s been hard to quit is my feelings toward people back home. There’s one person in particular I can’t shake, and every obsessive thought seeps in and overtakes a part of my experience here. Tidak bagus!

I’ve had the great fortune of being introduced to the comic Calvin and Hobbes. The insightful Calvin says to Hobbes:

“There’s never enough time to do all the nothing you want.”

I like to excuse my smoking and my obsessing as doing nothing. I like indulging in doing nothing. But honestly, these bad habits aren’t just nothing. Nothing can be just nothing and can be healthy if done in moderation. However, doing nothing in dollops can be unhealthy.

One aspect of the human condition I try to avoid is sappiness, but my current condition’s got me playing Katy Perry’s “The One That Got Away” on repeat:

“I should have told you what you meant to me 

Cause now I pay the price” 

To be honest, this person meant a lot to me. But I didn’t really do anything about it. I pay the price every day I’m here. I daydream and fantasize and sometimes neglect to see the beauty in front of me. This realization is killer.

Perhaps one of my most self-destructive is the habit of fantasizing future scenarios: confrontations, reunions, and vendettas. I like to think that when I come home from Indonesia, I’d make the opportunity to confront the one that got away. But that honestly won’t happen.

I need to develop good habits of letting go and moving on. Indulging in so much nothing can’t be good for you. They say you are what you eat. I heartily believe you are what you think. I’ve been thinking about a whole lot of nothing lately. And that’s not what I want to be. He may have been the one that got away, but I’m not going to let who I am follow.

Language Barrier

In the circus, acrobats have safety nets to catch them from plummeting to the ground. In Peace Corps Indonesia, I’m starting to believe volunteers are given mosquito nets not only to protect against insects, but also to protect against awkward social interaction.

The first day with my host family was partially spent under my mosquito net in bed under the guise of “settling in.” The mosquito net has become my safety net in a way. I struggle leaving my bedroom because I know I have to play charades just to get a simple thought across. I escape to my safety net to recharge when my tolerance runs low.

I’m basically insecure about my Indonesian language skills and avoid practicing because I can. My host parents are probably experiencing the same emotions about their English language skills, and they are really trying to communicate. They constantly hold a dictionary and pen and paper when talking to me. They’re wonderful. I miss home, but my host parents have made my transition tolerable. The baby still doesn’t talk directly to me, but I count her giggles and smiles toward me as more than welcoming.

Even though my language skills have improved since that first day, I still sometimes hide underneath my mosquito net. But I know I’m going to get over it. I mean I’d still need the net to avoid getting malaria and to hang laundry, but figuratively, I will probably be okay without it.