The sweet gift of time
A cold Saturday morning here in the village. Deciding last week in an attempt restore the balance between work and play that Saturdays will be a 'no work day'. But what does one do with this new gift of time? All I have managed to do this morning is sleep in till 8am, attempt to stomach unpalatable porridge when there is no milk left (the gods punishing me for sleeping in), check my emails - no one loves me, and now suffering the fate of my third cup of tea this morning. Honestly!
So with nothing better to do I am compelled to write... I am almost certain that no one views this blog, and that suits me. I like the idea of writing publicly for no one in particular. But what to report? There is so much to tell. So many stories. There is so much happening every day that I don't know where to start. Maybe the quandary for every avid blogger. I am not much of a story teller and historically my blog could be viewed as petty ramblings, the mental inner workings of a traveling nurse. Nothing has changed. My mind still functions primarily with emotion. Feelings before thought. This is how it has always been...
So the comment I hear most is 'it must be so hard over there'. And to be honest I have to reply 'No, it really isn't that hard!'. Certainly challenging at times, but the image of a skeletal, fly blown, sad child's face that some of the aid agencies use to help you part with your money does not really exist here, well not to the extent that one might think. Sure there is people living without access to clean water or food. Without access to a health care (and even the ones that do this service continues to fail them-but that's another post). But on a whole I would have to say that the local people I meet everyday are generally happy. Happy with their lives, happy with their families and content with what they have. For sure they have to struggle at times to make ends meet but who doesn't. Most don't know any different. I'm not saying that they don't deserve a better life. They do just as much as anyone. I'm just saying that it is not 'hard' to interact with local people who are generally happy and consider themselves fortunate to have what they have.
The most difficult element to this year so far for me would have to be living with the people you work with. You never escape them. You can never have a bad day at the office without it spilling into a bad evening at home. You go to bed tense and wake with sore shoulders and a stiff neck only to have to face it again over breakfast. I don't mean to whine. The other volunteers are mostly decent people. It's just that the smallest of things can never be aired, never be shared with friends or your partner over dinner. It just sits there, unprocessed and unresolved. Festering in the nucleus of your mind waiting for an opportune (or inopportune) moment to burst free from the cell membrane. Hoping to self that when it does- and it always does, the carnage will be slight leaving very little trail of debris for damage control to sweep up.
Maybe this blog will become the play ground for the impending massacre. Pole (sorry) in advance.
So it's 1145am and I have effectively wasted a morning. Not feeling entirely rested or ready to tackle another week of work. I might go read a book in bed and wait for my beloveds return.
Till next Saturday...
So with nothing better to do I am compelled to write... I am almost certain that no one views this blog, and that suits me. I like the idea of writing publicly for no one in particular. But what to report? There is so much to tell. So many stories. There is so much happening every day that I don't know where to start. Maybe the quandary for every avid blogger. I am not much of a story teller and historically my blog could be viewed as petty ramblings, the mental inner workings of a traveling nurse. Nothing has changed. My mind still functions primarily with emotion. Feelings before thought. This is how it has always been...
So the comment I hear most is 'it must be so hard over there'. And to be honest I have to reply 'No, it really isn't that hard!'. Certainly challenging at times, but the image of a skeletal, fly blown, sad child's face that some of the aid agencies use to help you part with your money does not really exist here, well not to the extent that one might think. Sure there is people living without access to clean water or food. Without access to a health care (and even the ones that do this service continues to fail them-but that's another post). But on a whole I would have to say that the local people I meet everyday are generally happy. Happy with their lives, happy with their families and content with what they have. For sure they have to struggle at times to make ends meet but who doesn't. Most don't know any different. I'm not saying that they don't deserve a better life. They do just as much as anyone. I'm just saying that it is not 'hard' to interact with local people who are generally happy and consider themselves fortunate to have what they have.
The most difficult element to this year so far for me would have to be living with the people you work with. You never escape them. You can never have a bad day at the office without it spilling into a bad evening at home. You go to bed tense and wake with sore shoulders and a stiff neck only to have to face it again over breakfast. I don't mean to whine. The other volunteers are mostly decent people. It's just that the smallest of things can never be aired, never be shared with friends or your partner over dinner. It just sits there, unprocessed and unresolved. Festering in the nucleus of your mind waiting for an opportune (or inopportune) moment to burst free from the cell membrane. Hoping to self that when it does- and it always does, the carnage will be slight leaving very little trail of debris for damage control to sweep up.
Maybe this blog will become the play ground for the impending massacre. Pole (sorry) in advance.
So it's 1145am and I have effectively wasted a morning. Not feeling entirely rested or ready to tackle another week of work. I might go read a book in bed and wait for my beloveds return.
Till next Saturday...
posted by Heather at
10:18
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