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.

Breaking The Habit: Part Two

My Ibu (host mom) asked if I smoked. I told her I did in America, but not in Indonesia. It’s true. I’m a different person here. I wouldn’t necessarily say better, but I’m supposed to play a different role here. Five days after I quit in America, I caved in Surabaya. But it was the city, and it’s more lax there. But now that I’m in the desa (village), I have to adhere to more strict gender roles. And one aspect of that role is not smoking. So although I caved in Surabaya, I think it’ll be easier to quit in the desa because everyone is curious to see what the American will do and judge her accordingly.

Every day I weigh the costs of being seen smoking in the desa. What will each puff cost me? Is this puff worth damaging my reputation as a teacher? Does that puff go against Peace Corps expectations of integrating into Indonesian Muslim culture? I’m not trying to force my way into this culture, especially not while blatantly disregarding one of its more important values. But there isn’t a day when my right hand doesn’t beckon the feel of its favorite accessory.

I understand that this is a symptom of withdrawal. When I see men smoking here it feels like they’re mocking me and asserting their manhood. I hope that one day it won’t feel that way. I hope it’ll feel as a reminder that I finally made a good decision about one of the bad choices in my past. Until that clarity comes, I’ll have to live in the smoky shadow of men in front of me, smelling that sweet, sweet smell. Enak!

Boldness

The drivers here are bold. They weave in and out of lanes, sometimes floating in between. I’ve never seen anything like it. And despite the chaos, no driver seems anxious or nervous. I guess weaving in and out of lanes, grazing the shirtsleeves of pedestrians, becomes second nature at an early age. Adding an extra level to their coolness, they don’t seem to worry about losing that control.

It reminds me of the scene in the film American Hustle where Sydney Prosser talks about the boldness that comes from dancing:

“[Dancing in a strip club] can feel kind of sexy sometimes. There was a boldness in it. But where would that boldness take me? I didn’t know, but I was gonna find out.”

Although I have no dancing or performing arts experience, I can relate to the sentiment. Indonesian drivers and Sydney Prosser seem to have that boldness in common. They both seem to know exactly what they’re doing. At the starting point of reflecting if I’m good enough to be a full-fledged volunteer, I ask:

Do situations drive human behavior and attitude or does attitude drive the success of situations?

On one hand, situations can drive attitude. Sometimes people display acts of courage when they have no one else to rely on. When I moved out of my parents’ house, living independently came easier than expected because I stopped relying on my parents to solve my problems. When people are expected to perform, they usually muster up the courage to do so.

On the other hand, attitude can drive situations. One approach to finding the right attitude is through context. Everyone has experiences in which he or she feels bold. Depending on the people or the demands of the situation, I adjust my boldness-meter to fit the needs of the day. But because I’ve never experienced anything quite like living and working in another country, I wonder if that strategy applies here.

In the States, I’m able to turn my boldness-meter up and down based on social cues and rules. However, the rules are different here and hence, strategies will have to be disregarded or modified. In other words, my boldness-meter will need to be recalibrated to appropriately assess an Indonesian social climate.

In Sydney’s case, the opportunity to be a master con artist inspired the courage she needed to perform, and the coping skills attained from past situations enabled the smooth and successful transition. Sydney was able to transfer her boldness from the dancing spotlight to the business arena. Will I be able to strut myself the same way?

Perhaps success of anything requires a bit of both perspectives. A demanding situation could inspire courage, and courage ingrained and practiced from past adverse situations can easily promote success.

Perhaps I need to be more like those Indonesian drivers that weave in and out of lanes. Those drivers let the current of traffic move them as well as actively push through it. They create that balance of waiting to be inspired and using skills to accomplish goals. I’m finally embarking on the adventure I’ve wanted since I was 17. My desire to have this adventure has a boldness in it. But where would that boldness take me? Indonesia, here I am. We’ll see where it takes me . . . and where I take it.

Breaking The Habit

My plan is to put a hold on smoking cigarettes during my 27 months in Indonesia. I’ve smoked habitually since 2008 and have wanted to quit for some time. I remember the last cigarette I had. It was my last day in America. I had just finished on the treadmill at a hotel gym. It was 5am. I went down to the lobby and passed the front desk still in my gym clothes. It was dark and windy outside, but the residual sweat from my workout kept me warm. I sat on a window ledge in front of the hotel and lit that last one.

*Nostalgically close eyes and breathe in and out*

My goodness it was wonderful. I thought I was on top of the world because I was in control of my smoking. I was in control with how I wanted to spend the next 27 months. I put out that cigarette and tried to get ready for the new chapter in my life.

By day four into service in Indonesia, I got major cravings. I had no replacement behavior in mind. I knew I had a lot of Bahasa Indonesian to study, but the cravings wouldn’t go away. And while I’ve never supported my smoking, I considered several different points around my place of residence where I could secretly indulge. I used to always try to find some secret place to smoke, ashamed of what had become my most satisfying habit.

While I harbor these secret plans, I know that if I want to be a successful volunteer in this country, I need to stay away from my treasured cancer sticks. And I need to understand that I’m here for a reason: to explore and help improve the well being of my assigned community. In my current deprived state, I can say with 70% certainty that that reason is worth more than my habit. And I’m sure once I learn more about this country and learn to appreciate my mission here, that percentage will rise until I won’t even need that certainty to know I’m doing the right thing.

At least that’s what I hope.

A Dollop of Desperation - A Walter Mitty Version

I obsess. I over think. I sometimes think I enjoy making myself miserable. I don’t really know why I continue to do this. Perhaps I spend too much time by myself, escaping in the depths of my mind. Robertson Davies writes in his novel, The Manticore:

“So much of this thinking is just mental masturbation, not intended to beget anything.”

And Davies is right. A lot of what I do is bascially dwell on things that are out of my control. And the dwelling isn’t intended to beget anything despite my desperate attempts of convincing myself otherwise.

I’m a fervent advocate for learning through experience. I always have. But once I’ve experienced something, I overanalyze its implications until it has no meaning, the lesson lost in my convoluted inner dialogue.

To add insult to injury, I was recently told my “thoroughness” kills the mood and that I don’t know how to enjoy life. This was an obvious bummer, so I afterward treated myself to the film, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Walter Mitty is a desperate person who is too afraid to stand up for himself and talk to the woman he admires. He’s a regular victim of zoning out into his own little world to the point of completely losing the moment.

I feel something akin to dread when I see how similar he and I act. He’s desperate to change but doesn’t seem to know how. The eventual catalyst to his transformation comes from who I call his alter-ego, Sean O'Connell – the photojournalist who manifests Mitty’s fantasies of adventure and inner strength.

We’ve all got a dash of desperation. However, some have a dollop. The mental wanderings for my purpose in life have left me desperate for any kind of meaning, even attempting with people and in situations that I know are unhealthy for me.

This is why I have such intense wanderlust. Some ask why I have to leave the country to have meaningful, life-affirming experiences. Why can’t I just find what I’m looking for at home? This is a fair question. I subscribe to the notion that having these life-affirming experiences is all about perspective. If I just changed a part of how I view the world, it’s true I don’t have to travel far to discover myself. But perhaps I currently don’t know how to change a part of how I view the world. Maybe this physical exploration will enable a mental exploration. So yeah, it’s true about perspective. And I’m taking this opportunity to travel to figure out just how to do that.

Sean O'Connell beckons my attention, too.

I've only to escape my dream world and enter the real world.

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.