Elle

Mental Health in the Peace Corps

November 30, 2024 Elle Peace Corps

As a psychiatric nurse practitioner in training (circa 2024), I am *somewhat* qualified to talk on this topic. Even back while I was in the Peace Corps, I had some experience working in mental health as a psychiatric RN having graduated in 2017 with my Bachelors of Science in Nursing. So professionally, I had a clue. Personally, however, I had never experienced anything more than “stage fright” aka performance anxiety related to public speaking/ giving presentations/ drama club, etc., Who I am to talk about mental health in the Peace Corps.

So statistically speaking, mental health disorders affect a shit ton of people each year, and as you can imagine some of those people are Peace Corps Volunteers. I’ve wanted to talk about this issue for some time now, but until I’d been in the Peace Corps, and more importantly OUT of the Peace Corps, I didn’t really feel qualified to speak on the topic. But here I am, 6 months shy of having a whole-ass doctorate degree in Psychiatric Mental Health. I can confidently say I’ve learned some things.

WHAT IS MENTAL HEALTH?

According to MentalHealth.gov, “Mental health includes our emotional, psychological, and social well-being. It affects how we think, feel, and act. It also helps determine how we handle stress, relate to others, and make choices.” The Mayo Clinic says that mental health illnesses include depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, eating disorders, and addictive behaviors (to name a few). However, psychiatric disorders are not the same as medical diseases. Some doctors argue that the term ‘mental illness’ may be misleading because mental disorders are simply descriptions of observations as opposed to physical illnesses. Anxiety doesn’t show up on a blood test. An x-ray of someone with depression looks the same as the x-ray of someone without. There is no urine test that can diagnose anorexia, and someone with alcoholism doesn’t have a brain tumor to explain his or her addiction. Mental health rarely leaves physical signs, but that is why it is so sneaky. And it’s just as dangerous as a physical illness.

MY HISTORY WITH MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS

I have never been clinically diagnosed or taken medications for any mental health problems which means on PC forms I’m not lying when I say ‘I’ve never been diagnosed with ________”. However, I do have a reasonably traumatic personal history from earlier in life which I dealt with most of my life by avoiding it <——– [not the best way in life or in Peace Corps]. I’m reasonably self-aware so I’ve been able to straight up avoid a lot of situations that would cause me personal distress.

I’ve never been one to suffer with depression or anxiety –other than in situational circumstances.

My emotional support #notaPCpet rodent control some times house mate

PEACE CORPS’ APPROACH TO MENTAL HEALTH

Mental Health is something that PCVs become very aware of during their service. If not because of PC staff constantly reminding us, then because we deal with struggles in-country that we never faced in the States. Living in isolation from friends and family, in a village without constant electricity, running water, indoor plumbing, and Internet, where you most likely don’t speak the language of those around you, and witnessing racism, poverty, and abuse (and sometimes being subject to those things), can all take a toll on the psyche. Without proper coping mechanisms, PCVs can develop anxiety, depression, and other mental health issues. Some volunteers even develop addictions to cigarettes or alcohol as a way to cope with these newfound struggles.

Apparently, Peace Corps’ approach to mental health as changed a lot in the 21^st century. PC staff is now very hands-on in ensuring that every volunteer is mentally healthy and stable. During PST, PC medical staff holds sessions to teach PCVs warning signs of mental health problems and healthy coping mechanisms. In fact, medical comes to every training, even one year into service, to reiterate these lessons. Peace Corps has a psychiatrist on staff who meets with volunteers who are struggling at site. She also works with PCVs who have experienced assault and/or trauma. The PC psychiatrist serves all Southern African countries (she counsels PCVs over the phone or Skype if they are too far away to meet in person) but luckily for PCSA, she is based out of the Pretoria office. Another way that PCSA helps with the struggles of service is through the Peer Support Network, a committee made up of two currently serving PCVs from each cohort who are available for additional support (much like an RA in college). They are given extra money each month to buy airtime to call other PCVs, and they also help medical staff at our trainings. They also work with diversity in PC, specifically how diversity affects the PC experience (i.e. race, gender, age, sexual orientation, religious beliefs, etc.) During PST, each trainee is assigned a PSA member as his or her “mentor” of sorts, to help with the transition to village life.

Dr. Elite’s wise words or wisdom for mental and physical health

When applying to Peace Corps, PC Medical in Washington goes through your personal medical history with a fine-toothed comb. In addition to a myriad of doctor’s appointments, PC also wants a record of every medicine you’ve ever been prescribed. If you report any history of mental health issues (which you must if you want to continue on medication) they require even more information. Despite PC’s hesitation to accept volunteers with mental health problems, I think having health with some of these things before is a good thing and can enhance a Peace Corps’ experience. The coping mechanisms I developed over the years are easily transferred to coping with my new living and working situation. I cannot tell you how many PCVs have developed anxiety in-country and have been put on anti-anxiety medication by medical staff. Not only are they trying to adjust to life in a rural village, they now have to learn to live with a giant cloud of anxiety over their head.

My only issue with PC’s approach to supporting mental health is the limit on therapy sessions. Med staff only approves 3-6 visits to the PC psychiatrist before they reevaluate your mental health and have to decide if you are mentally fit to serve. In their opinion, if you are still struggling at site after 6 sessions, more sessions aren’t going to help. In my opinion, ongoing therapy sessions aren’t a sign of weakness, but rather, strength. I believe I could see the PC therapist once a month and still be a successful volunteer. I understand their concern that therapy sessions take the volunteer away from their work at site, but I don’t think one meeting a month would be detrimental to success.As someone training in the administration of psychiatric medications and *some* forms of therapy, I wish the PC had the option available for people to have mental health check ins in a totally unbiased manner, but alas that is not the world we live in. Not in the Peace Corps and certainly not in the US Health care system.

Instant serotonin and dopamine booster for me. Ignore that look on my face because this was ice-cold

FAT. BEAR. WEEK. The fattest bears at Katmai

October 13, 2024 Elle Wanderlust

Usually, sometime around the middle of September all I can talk about are the bears of Katmai. Sadly, for all my friends bear talk started in July and never really stopped. Every year since 2014 Katmai National Park and Explore.org has hosted fat bear week. Ok, back in 2014 it was just Fat Bear Tuesday. However, from 2015 on, it’s been a full week of bear bliss.

My sweet Oatie Bear [RIP] is a 4x and lifetime achievement winner, Beadnose [RIP] was massive when she won in 2015 and 2018.. Holly is another fat bear champion [2019]. 747 aka Colbert aka Bear Force One is another gentle giant 2x winner [2020 and 2022]. In reality, it’s a fun contest raising awareness of the Alaskan Coastal Brown Bear. All bears that get fat and survive the winter are fat bear champs in my mind.

The even have fat bear junior bracket for all the little cubbies just learning to be big bears

During an Alaskan winter, these big bears lose up to a third of their mass during hibernation making it crucial for them to fatten. up during the summer. Last year’s salmon run was sort of pathetic leading to a lot of bear fight and some not so plump bears heading in to winter. This year’s salmon run was nothing short of spectacular and we had so many fat bears and even better fat cubs.

Every year, the first Tuesday of October is known as Fat Bear Tuesday. Although this year it fell on October 8th, FBT occurs when Katmai’s fattest bear is crowned. Fans from all over the world vote on Explore.org’s website. And the winner is—GRAZER!!! She’s a two time champ defending her 2023 title this time being the first bear to ever win FBW with a spring cub in tow, Grazer is mama bear personified.

So many fat bears

And since we are humans and we assign human emotions to animals, think on this. Grazer beat Chunk to win the fat bear title. During the summer, Grazer’s smallest spring cub went over the falls and directly in the path of Chuck. Chunk did what bears do and Grazer did what mama bears do. There was a fight. And while Grazer saved her littlest cub that day, it died about a week later. Grazer said ‘Fuck you, Chunky Bear’ and took her remaining cub on a walkabout and both Grazer and the cub got FAT. Fat enough to beat Chunk in a head to head match-up of Fat Bears.

Hell hath no fury like a hurricane named Helene

October 6, 2024 Elle Life

When I went to bed on Thursday, September 27, 2024, I had no idea how much life would change over the next few weeks. As a native South Carolinian, I’m no stranger to wind, an occasional tornado, and lots of rain associated with hurricanes. I’m located approximately 150 miles from the SC coast. Most hurricanes weaken significantly over land and such was expected with Helene.

However, Helene didn’t get the memo to do what she should have done and normally hurricane safe areas like Augusta, GA, Greenville, SC, and Asheville, NC took the brunt of this storm. As of today Sunday, October 6, 2024, a full 9 days after the storm, I still don’t have power. Or running water. Or flushing toilets. In the grand scheme of things, I’m OK, the kitties are OK, and the house is OK. There is a lot of property damage and probably close to 100 trees down, but all the work this summer of tree maintenance really paid off.

It was even worse in North Carolina as all the rain caused mudslides and rock slides in addition to the flooding by rivers overflowing their banks. Interstate 40 between North Carolina and Tennessee is gone. It just fell into the Pigeon River and it’s a universe miracle that no one was actually on the part that fell into the water. Two weeks later, transportation officials are estimating that it *should* be restored by 2028! As someone who drives to Knoxville, on a some-what regular basis, this makes my commute nearly twice as long. So that sucks.

A lot of coworker and friends have made regular trips to Asheville area, myself included. The damage is catastrophic. Words like that are used a lot in the quest for sensational journalism, but actual towns are gone. Rushing water [24 inches in 2 days!} bent sSteel beams holding bridges up got mangled by rushing water.

We’ve gotten a lot of assistance from the National Guard. I’ve seen linemen from Canada working on my road to cut away trees, rebuild substations, and restring. electrical lines. Who knows when the lights will come back on. Despite everything that has happened over the last week, I’m still grateful that it wasn’t worse for me.

International Meet-cute

August 13, 2023 Elle Featured Post Travel

International meet-cute

“Is this seat open?” The handsome stranger asked in accented English. I made an exception to the ‘don’t talk to strangers rule’. I’m a lot better at being open when I’m 8000 miles from home as opposed to being in my own town.

“Yes”. I replied as he sat down.

“Do you know those people?” He was referring to the three people in my group of 7 who pitched a total fit about sleeping arrangements.

“No. I only joined the group this afternoon. I don’t even know their names.”

A scheduling snafu, or perhaps this is how it’s always done, had me sleeping in a tent with two guys. One–from Hong Kong, who barely spoke English, and the second–the handsome stranger with the accented English who was my current dining companion.

We started chatting, the way travelers do when they first meet someone. “Where are you from?” [Me: the United States; Him: Italy, Milan specifcally]. What do you do when you aren’t traveling? [Me: I’m a RN; Him: journalist] Why are you in Kenya [Me: to teach; him: to explore]. Verbal parrying continued, each trying to suss out whether the other person would make an interesting companion past tonight’s dinner.

Dining Companions

Dinner was a simple meal; white rice and a meat stew on top. I’ve learned not to ask what “kind” of meat is in meat stew. Most often, it’s goat, or chola in Kenya, and while I’ll not be eating any goat in the US, when in Kenya….

After dinner we leave the communal dining room together. Despite the long travel day and our early morning start tomorrow, I’m not quite ready to turn in. I notice you following me to the bonfire. I’m a sucker for a bonfire. Any bonfire. Any where.

After the sun sets, it’s surprisingly chilly. After nearly a month in this country, the nighttime chill shouldn’t surprise me. Yet, it does. Every time. “I’m going to run and get my jacket.” I say to no one in particular, but especially to you so that you won’t leave.

I run back to our shared tent, which seems a lot more intimate than it is, and grab my flannel shirt. That’s what’s been serving as a ‘jacket’ these last few chilly days., and run back out to the bonfire. You are writing in your journal as I quietly take a seat opposite from you. I stare into the fire, somewhat lost in thought, when you blurt out, “What do you think of the state of the world right now?”

Borrowing a line from Harry Potter, I reply, ‘The whole world’s gone topsy-turvy.’ I hope that satisfies you, because the truth of it is, I don’t enjoy discussing politics. Or religion. People generally have forgotten how to have intelligent discourse and disagree without resorting to personal attacks.

“Do you know who the prime minister of Italy is?” he asked.

“I do. Her name in Meloni. Georgia, or something like that.” I can tell you’re impressed. I didn’t volunteer that I’d only just learned that recently due to a listening to podcast. “Most Americans don’t know that” you replied.

“Most Americans don’t know who their own representatives are” I countered.

“You’re not like most Americans” you assess with certainty although we’ve only known each other about 3 hours.

“Well, I try”

Things suddenly got serious. “Well, I don’t know many Italians to compare you to. Italian-Americans, maybe, but actual Italians, not so much.”

You laugh. “What is it with Americans claiming to be “something”-American. No other country does that.”

Now, it’s my turn to laugh. ‘I have no idea. My European ancestors literally came over on the Mayflower 400 years ago. And they were from the UK. I don’t go around saying ‘I’m British-American'”

You laugh again.

The Conversation Turns Serious

“Do you have on-line dating in Italy? Like Tinder?” I don’t know why I ask this.

“Yes. Of course. Why? Are you on it?

“Me? No.”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Well, I was in a relationship for a really long time and now I’m not. But picking someone out and ‘adding to cart’ like an Amazon purchase seems like the wrong way to go about meeting a potential partner. Besides people are superficial. Especially online. No one takes the time to get to know anyone anymore.”

“You mean like this” you ask.

“Yes. Exactly like this. No one in America has time for hours long dinners that lead to chatting around a bonfire for two hours. It’s go-go-go. All the time. And, besides, I don’t like small talk.”

“So what do you like to talk about, then”

“oh you know, ones hopes and dreams and fears. Goals in life. And bears”

“Bears?” you ask questioningly.

“Specifically the coastal Alaskan brown bear. And even more specifically, a bear named Otis” I reply.

You laugh.

“Well tell me about Otis” you say.

And I do. At length. At times, I wonder if I’m following the unwritten dating rules. Or is this an exception since this isn’t really a date. I decided to go with exception and talk way too much about Otis. And Pete. I do not mention my ex. No matter the situation, that’s definitely not an exception. You talk about Italy. And Ukraine. And South Sudan, You avoid mentioning other humans.

Somehow it’s midnight and the fire has almost burned out.

“I suppose we should get some sleep. We’ve got an early start.” I say to myself. And you.. As we walk back to our tent, I feel your hand brush against mine.

A Truly Magical Day

Who the fuck puts on make-up for a safari I thought as I carefully applied eyeshadow. Wait scratch that–Who the fuck BRINGS make-up on a safari. Apparently I do. If this isn’t some irony. A person who rarely wears make in the everyday life is putting on make-up to go on a safari.

Safari ready, make-up and all.

Shortly after our breakfast of beans and toast, we loaded up into our (separate) safari jeeps and set off to chase animals around Amboseli National Park.

It was amazing.

So many elephants.

And flamingos.

And some hippos.

I saw hundreds of zebras.

And giraffes.

I even saw the one animal I really wanted to see

After the safari was over we met back at the campsite and compared stories and animal sightings over dinner. You said it was cute how excited I got over seeing a lion for the first time.

“Better than seeing Otis” you joked. “Only because I’ve never actually seen Otis in person I replied”

“Come with me. I want to show you something even better than Otis. And lions.”

We walk outside, and the full moon is rising over snow-capped Mt. Kilimanjaro. It was an awe inspiring sight.

“I know you said you don’t kiss strangers, but I’ll hope you’ll make an exception. Besides we’re not really strangers anymore, are we? We’ve known each other exactly 26 hours.”

And standing there, in the shadow of Kilimanjaro, with the full moon shining overhead, you kiss me. And then we walk hand in hand back to our shared tent.

Finding your way back to Rome

July 19, 2022 Elle Wanderlust

“They” say if you toss a coin in the fountain, you’ll guarantee your return to Rome.

Everything you ever wanted to know about that famous Roman fountain, including a guaranteed way to get back to Rome… and then some

How did that famous fountain get its name?

The Trevi Fountain stands at the junction of three roads, ceremoniously marking the end point of one of Rome’s earliest aqueducts, Aqua Virgo. It’s location led to it’s rather literal name- Fontana di Trevi means Three Street Fountain. It’s believed the name was derived from the Latin word trivium, which as you might have guessed, means three streets.

History and stuff

Trevi fountain has not always been spectacular. In 1629, Pope Urban VIII was unimpressed with the earlier version of the fountain, claiming it lacked drama. The Pope asked prominent architect and artist, Gian Lorenzo Bernini to design possible renovations for the fountain. The renovations were never completed though, as the project was abandoned when Pope Urban died. Fast forward to 1730 when Pope Clement XII organized a contest with the winner of this contest being commissioned to redesign the Trevi Fountain. The original winner was Alessandro Galilei, but Romans were outraged that a Florentine had been chosen. To silence the outcry, the second place contestant, Nicola Salvi, was awarded the commission. [Rome and Florence always seem to be testy with each other].

Salvi soon began designing the new fountain around the theme “Taming of the Waters”. Construction began in 1732, with Palazzo Poli serving as a backdrop. The fountain’s facade and sea reef were made from travertine, a form of limestone deposited by mineral springs. The statues were carved from Carrara marble. Unfortunately Salvi would not live to see completion of his masterpiece. After his death in 1751, Giuseppe Pannini took charge of the project, completing the fountain in 1762. The finished fountain would be the largest Baroque fountain in the city- 26.3 meters high and 49.15 meters wide.

Want to get back to Rome & What happens to all that money?

Legend has it that if you turn around and toss a penny [eurocent?] into the Trevi Fountain, you’ll find your way back to Rome. Who am I to argue with a legend?

When I travel, I like to do all the fun little rituals that promise everything from good luck to falling in love. So like custom dictates, I turned my back to the water and using my right hand, tossed a coin over my left shoulder. There… now I have guaranteed I’ll be finding my way back to Rome at some point in the future! Legend holds, that if you toss in a second coin you’ll fall in love with an Italian. I’ve even heard that throwing in three coins means you will marry an Italian.

Let’s just say I only tossed one coin in the fountain. Falling in love is the last thing I need in my life right now… especially a long distance, international affair.

With all that coin tossing, there is a lot of money that ends up in the fountain! Every night about 3,000 Euros are swept up from the bottom of the basin. The money is donated to Caritas, a catholic charity, who uses the money to provide services for needy families in Rome. Some of the money is used to subsidize a low cost supermarket. So at least you know that Eurocents are going to support a good cause.

Chapter 50: We are never getting back together

May 30, 2021 Elle The Night Shift

I’ve been home for a few weeks now. I’m out on disability. A bruised trachea apparently takes a few weeks to heal. Who knew? The PTSD from being assaulted takes a lot longer. I wonder if I’ll ever feel comfortable seeing patients one-on-one again. I got into psychiatry because of Chris. At the time, I didn’t realize it. But when I was deciding on my speciality, I think subconsciously I thought if I understood Chris better, I could save our relationship. Now, I know that the end wasn’t really about me. Chris had/ has his own demons and until he faces them, he’s never going be able to love someone.

One of the last conversations I had with Chris–when I thought that we still had a chance– was him saying to me “Do you have any idea how much I hate myself?” And I didn’t. How could I? I have moments of self-doubt, low self-esteem, and moments when I question myself, and call myself an idiot, but hate myself? Never.

I try to call out for Lily. My voice is still scratchy and doesn’t sound like me. I refill my mug of hot tea and return to the couch. I resume journaling. What can I say? How do I process this? A patient–a psychotic, methed-out, patient– tried to kill me with his bare hands. Chris also once tried to kill me once with his bare hands. He was in the midst of a PTSD flashback and didn’t really have the strength to do anything. But waking up with an arm across my trachea was a rude awakening. Literally…

My patient, however, had the strength of 1000 humans and if my co-workers hadn’t been there. . . or if I’d been in my office . . . well, I wouldn’t be here at all.

Originally, I had thought to do child and adolescent psychiatry. It was a more natural transition for someone who had always worked in pediatrics. I’ve recently applied for a C&A fellowship. I know I wish I had had someone like me when I was a kid.

I think it’s time to start a new chapter in life. If I get the fellowship I’ve applied for, I’ll move across the country. To Seattle. Far away from Chris. Far away from the memories. I met Chris when I was 23 years old. He’s been a larger than life presence in my life almost my entire adult life. I am 36 years old. I think it’s time for me to move on from Chris. And if I need to move across the country to do it, then I guess that’s what I’ll do. Chris and I are never getting back together and it’s time I close the book on the story of us.

Chapter 49: Breathe

May 23, 2021 Elle The Night Shift

I keep my eyes closed. I think I’m in a hospital bed, but how did I get here? “Eliza, are you awake?”

I try to move my foot. I think it moves, but I have no way to tell

The voice is familiar, but I can’t quite place it. It sounds friendly. Maybe I should open my eyes to see who is calling my name.

I slowly open one eye and then the other. The face with the voice is fuzzy, but the first thing that comes into focus is green eyes. I immediately know who is at my bedside, but I wonder why? Do I have amnesia or something?

“Don’t try to speak. You have a bruised trachea. And you were intubated in the ER. Do you remember what happened?

I wonder what he means. Do I remember why we aren’t together anymore? Oh yeah, I definitely remember walking in on him fucking my co-worker. Do I remember what led me to be in the hospital with a bruised trachea? Not exactly.

I just shake my head no–just to be safe.

“I don’t know all the details as I wasn’t there, but best I can tell is a patient attacked you while you were seeing him. Several of your co-workers saved your life by charging him and pulling him off of you. He had you by the neck and you’d had already gone unconscious”

Huh…that might be why my memory is a little fuzzy on that. It still didn’t answer the question of why Chris was here instead of oh literally anyone else. One thing about us when we were together is that we could read each other like words on a page. I guess he still can.

“Why am I here?” I nodded. “I guess you never changed your emergency contact information and someone from the hospital called me. When I realized how serious it was, I came over. I’m sorry I don’t have your parents number anymore. I tried calling your number hoping I could get into your phone that way, but I guess you’ve changed your number. And password.

Damn straight buddy. I would have been content to never see you again. And you better believe that I’ll get right on that emergency contact update. As soon as I can.

I couldn’t speak and he didn’t speak for what seemed like the longest time.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. You deserve better than what I did. You literally saved my life–more than once– literally and figuratively. I am a piece of shit for doing what I did. But never in my life have I been the popular kid at school and you were so busy with school and.residency. When she started being friendly with me, at first I didn’t know what was happening. It was kinda like when you and I began our friendship. You were dating other people so I didn’t know that you were in to me like that. And by the time I realized what was happening with her, it was too late. I didn’t want you to have to find out like that.”

I just stared up at the ceiling. I’m guessing crying with a bruised trachea is not the best idea, but I know if I look over at him, I’ll start to cry. He may be damn near 50 years old, but he still looks like a little kid I briefly wonder if he’s still with that hussy.

He read that thought too.

“I’m not married. Or dating anyone. I don’t think that’s in the cards for me anymore. I think I missed my chance. With you. You are the one that got away.

Here’s one time I wish I could speak, but I can’t so maybe he can telepathically read my thoughts. You told me about a million times that I was the love of your life. I still have in in cards, emails and texts.. You told me I saved you… I brought you back to life.. You said all the things I wanted to hear, and you made me fall in love with you. You encouraged my dreams and goals like no one ever had. I believed you and you made me believe that we had it all when in fact, you were just like most every one else.

When things got difficult, you got out. You may not have meant to get out. I’m quite certain if I hadn’t caught you, you never would have said anything. Better to not know that you are a cheating SOB or find out by seeing it with my own eyes..

“You really were the love of my life, Eliza, and I’m so incredibly sorry I fucked it all up.

I focused my gaze anywhere but his and remained painfully still because any reaction to this I’m just not sure I could control.

The Killers: Be Still

Chapter 48: You’re losing me

May 16, 2021 Elle The Night Shift

The room starts fading to black.

Voices start to muffle.

I feel the noose tightening around my neck.

Nothing makes sense.

I feel someone tugging at my waist.

I am flying

Then everything fades to black.

*************. ************* ********** *************

It’s hard to swallow Everything hurts. The room is too bright. The incessant beeping is much too loud. I feel like I’m going to vomit. But I can’t. Something is in my mouth. I try to get it out. My hands won’t move.

“She’s awake” I hear.

I hear a bustle of activity. A warm feeling comes over me. Everything fades to black.

**********. ********** **********. **********. **********

I have no idea what time it is–whether it is day or night. I’m unsure of where I am. I don’t want to go unconscious again so I keep my eyes closed. I don’t try to move lest the beeping starts again.

Happy Peace Corps Day

March 1, 2021 Elle Travel

I bet you didn’t even know there was such a thing, did you? I didn’t, at least not until I was actually a PCV.

The beginnings

On this day, 60 years ago, John F. Kennedy established the Peace Corps. All over the world Peace Corps staff and Volunteers celebrate March 1st as Peace Corps Day.

My official start day with Peace Corps was June 4, 2018. The question I get the most is –What is Peace Corps’ Life like?

To be honest, some days drag on forever. I’m convinced that I’m living life in a time warp where time moves in reverse. But surprisingly, the weeks move rather quickly. Often when I’m bogged down in a day, I think to myself ‘just get through the day and it’s one step closer to COS’. Then it’s Friday, and I’m amazed at how quickly the week has passed.

As it turns out, despite the fact that I have a lot of skills, even life-saving skills, these are not necessarily the skills the Peace Corps’ wants nor are they the skills my community wants. Peace Corps’ or at least Peace Corps’ Rwanda is transitioning from the ‘strong backs’ building projects to the PC buzz ward of ‘capacity building.’ However, in a community that has had previous volunteers [at least one since PC returned to Rwanda] build things, many can’t get past the fact that I’m not going to be participating in any building projects which is somewhat ironic considering I spent my time at home ‘building things’]

I applied to Peace Corps because I wanted to be a PCV. If that seems simple, it’s because it is. PCVs are a special breed of people. There is no other organization that does what we do and lives how we live. It’s challenging, and it’s awesome, but sometimes it sucks. I’m awesome for enduring the ‘sucky’ parts when I know I have a complete life waiting for me in America.

Reflections

I’d be more modest, but it’s Peace Corps Day and I’m a PCV even if I am not actively serving. So let me reflect on my life as a Volunteer.

Little by little, I learned another language and spoke it on a daily basis [a language that I’ll most likely never speak again, but still]. I brought new ideas into a rural community. I taught basic first aid to school children and their teachers. I’ve helped combat childhood malnutrition, and a host of other childhood diseases. I made amazing friends. On a more introspective note, I learned to be more patient and to think critically when things did not go as planned [and things rarely go as planned]. I integrated into a new culture, took on new customs, and ate food I never knew existed. In the Peace Corps, I lived a completely different life, and how many people can say they’ve done that? I’m a new person, really. I even changed my name to fit in. It was so damn hard in the beginning, but the Peace Corps wouldn’t be the Peace Corps if it was comfortable or easy.

Next Steps

Oh, and did I mention that I applied for grad school while in the Peace Corps? Because I did. It’s not easy to study for the GRE from underneath a mosquito net while mentally blocking out the screeching of the roosters or the moo-ing of cows, and with the electricity cutting in and out. Or prepare oneself for said program by learning all the ‘common’ medical things’ I’ve forgotten while I’m here. But I did it. One day at a time.

And even more exciting is that I got accepted to a graduate program in a field I am truly interested in.

To be honest, I haven’t done much to celebrate today. After all, I don’t feel much like a PCV these days. Today Iwoke up late with the kitties snuggled by my side. I did a load of laundry in the machine. I went out for pizza with American friends. We drove around the city in my car. I spoke exclusively in English.

Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is something that I wanted to do for a long time. I am glad I did it, but I’m also glad it’s over.

Finally Peace Corps Volunteers at last. My best PC friend and me–at our swearing in ceremony in August.
photo credit Kerong Kelly

Museums of Broken Relationships

February 28, 2021 Elle Wanderlust

2018 Michelle here: This museum I found in Zagreb, Croatia is perhaps one of the more interesting museums I’ve ever been in [The Sex Museum in Naples is another]. While Zagreb is no uber charming city, this museum had me enthralled. The end of a relationship is always a trying time for everyone involved even if it’s just a ‘whew, I dodged that bullet’ thought. But I’ve never thought of putting my relationship detritus in a museum for other to look at. Let this be a reminder that atypical museums can be some of the more educational/informative/pleasurable.

A break-up is like a broken mirror: it’s better to leave it alone than to hurt yourself picking up the pieces.

His name was Michael. Today is his birthday. I shouldn’t remember that, but I do. When we met he was 32, and I was 24. We met at work. I loved his sense of humour and he loved my adventurous spirit. We were friends first. Nearly a year, before anything more than friendly happened. But as is often the case between men and women, something did happen. I practically dared him to kiss me, and when he did, it was as if time stood still. July 19, 2004 …after lunch. The kiss lasted exactly 42 seconds. I know because I had a digital atomic clock on the wall in my office. The kiss touched every neuron in my body, and for the first time in my life, I felt alive.

I named him “Nobody” and he called me “Girl. ” If people asked me who I was dating, and they did because people love to meddle in the affairs of others, I’d say “Nobody.” If people asked him who he was seeing, he’d say “Just some girl.” It was our secret, and it was exciting.

We carried on our secret affair for 18 months –until I moved away… co-workers weren’t supposed to date. And even after moving to a different state, the thought of him was like a drug. We were like addicts addicted to each other; couldn’t stay away, yet couldn’t get enough.

The first step in recovering from an addiction is admitting that there is a problem, and oh boy, there was. Michael was as strong as any drug I’d ever encountered, and willpower alone wasn’t enough to make me quit him. Over time I came to rely on a power greater than myself and contact with Michael became more and more sparse. Withdrawal is a painful master. There was physical pain. There was emotional pain. There were tears.

There were no stuffed worms. No legs were broken in this break-up.

The last conversation I had with him was right before I left for Moscow. He said “you always did want to go places.” and I said “I will always love you, but this will be the last time I tell you that.” And I haven’t had contact with him since. After returning from Moscow, I wanted to call him. I wanted to tell him all the amazing adventures I had. Instead, I got a cat. I named her Lily. She was a sweet cat.

Lily helped me heal.

I still have a post card he gave me. And ticket stubs for various events. And a necklace. And various little notes. What can I say, I’m a sentimental soul.

I knew before I went to Zagreb that I wanted to go to the museum of broken relationships. I find it fascinating to see what people keep as mementos from relationships. Not every relationship ends on a sour note. Some have other obstacles that time just could not overcome. Some just aren’t meant to be. Some exist solely to prepare you for the future. Michael was not my first boyfriend, but he was my first love, and without that relationship, I wouldn’t be where I am today.

I’ve held on to the mementos of the relationship with Michael for 15 years, and karma, good energy, and such being what it is, it’s time to release that energy into the universe. Good bye Michael.

PS...I have a slight confession to make. One time I was dating this guy. His name was James. Now I knew that the relationship with James was never going to be long-term, but he was ummm, fun, and I had recently broken up with a cheating bastard I caught with another woman. I made James brownies for his birthday. I left them on the kitchen table with a ‘Happy Birthday’ note. I came over the next day to find everything in the trash. I was pissed to say the least. Livid. Irate. Incensed. A seething cauldron of raging fumes; you get the idea. He was being such an ass. I went to the local World Market, bought a bottle of cheap $7 Il Bastardo wine, and switched it out for his fancy $200 bottle of French Bordeaux. My friend and I drank the rich, velvet wine while sitting in her hot tub cursing all the shallow men in the world. I still feel no shame in taking Il Bastardo’s prized bottle of red wine.

In retrospect, the Il Bastardo was still probably pretty good. After all it comes from Tuscany and is a Sangiovese so probably still good. I really would have like to have smashed Il Bastardo over the bastard’s head, but I got my revenge in other ways that even though the statute of limitations has passed, I’ll still keep my mouth shut because some things are just better left unsaid [or in this case… things are better left un-typed].

at least no axes were ever involved in any of my break-ups

PPS…Names and dates have been changed to protect the innocent…Except Il Bastardo.

PPPS...If I dated women, I’d totally give every.single.one I ever broke up with this bar of chocolate.

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