So I know I said this was going to be an intense piece on love, and as much as I hate to disappoint my 13 constituents, it’s just not ready yet. What I have written is honest and at times both heartbreaking and heartening… but it lacks cohesiveness and closure, and I just don’t think I have the emotional wherewithal yet to really tie it together the way I’d like to.
So what you get instead is another banal update from the jungle.
We’re wrapping up another week at elephant camp and the excitement of vacation has long since been replaced by the exhaustion of work. This, my second week living in the jungle amongst the quiet villagers, erratic students and docile elephants, has proven to be an emotionally stirring experience.
The isolation of elephant camp has its ups and downs. Two weeks here has forced me to really tap into the centerpiece of my soul wherein I’m comfortable truly being alone. I’ve gotten to know myself and tested the boundaries of my strength (weakness?) in ways never otherwise possible. Although I am physically, emotionally and spiritually drained after another week in the jungle, I know I am a better person as a result of this experience.
Within moments of arriving back at the camp this week, I knew the group dynamic would be different this time around. This time, I’m the only American counselor on the island, and the group is smaller, only girls, and much more… delicate, to boot.
Upon arrival, one girl had a total emotional meltdown. She felt left out by the group and threw one of the most turbulent tantrums I’ve ever borne witness to. She kicked and screamed that she wanted to talk to her mother, that she wanted to go home, that she hated the world… stopping just short of announcing that the apocalypse was en route and that she was the second coming of Satan herself.
Long story short, she ends up deciding that she’s going to stay after all, and I have the lovely fortune of having to share a hut with her (counselors typically have their own living quarters or share with other counselors)… lucky me. Turns out she has bipolar disorder (amongst other obvious emotional and personality issues), which ultimately means in the context of this experience that she turns on and off like a light switch.
Other incidences of note this week have included my being called on on several occasions to ambush the spiders, roaches and preying manti that invade our huts, cleaning and bandaging a wound that required stitches, tending to severe heat and elephant rashes, and generally serving a position of much greater maintenance than I had to the first time around.
So I reiterate, elephant camp, week two, represents both the turning point in which vacation became work, and the awakening that was oh-so necessary in the physical-emotional-spiritual growth process that I came here to seek.
Now that my last week at elephant camp is coming to a close, and I’m embarking on my final week in southeast Asia, I find myself reflecting on some more pragmatic issues, too. Namely, my return to the states and where my life will pick up after this month-long traverse into a fantasy.
My life in the states picks up with the end of a lease, the nearly 100 percent likelihood of a move, the search for new employment, and the pursuit of passion.
I return home on August 13, my lease expires August 31, and I have a one-way ticket to New York City on September 1. From there, so many things are possible.
I’ve never been a sound decision maker. Not that I make bad decisions, I’m just really bad at making decisions. Nutella or peanut butter on my crepes?! Rush Street or Café Boogaloo for happy hour?! Spend $200 on that to-die-for Bebe dress or $30 on the ehhh Forever 21 dress?! Settle down with Him forever or gamble it all away on a shot at _______ (I have no I idea what I was shooting for, really)?! Stay in LA for the foreseeable future or move to NYC/DC/SF?! Keep teaching or chase some bigger dream?!
From the mindless to the life-altering, I’ve struggled with the decision-making process my entire life. Only recently has it dawned on me that this all stems from my inability to really commit to… anything.
I changed majors three times… only to go to graduate school in a fourth discipline… then become a teacher in a fifth. I’ve pursued at least four careers since 2006. I’ve moved eight times in the past eight years. I left a perfectly functioning, loving, happy relationship for basically no reason.
I recognized my commitment issues awhile ago, which some might say is a magnificent achievement. But now what? Should I attempt to address the causes of my neurosis or just move forward toward recovery and rehabilitation? In this case, is the effect dependent on the cause?
Running out of time at the internet café. Until next time folks…
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