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Joiwyn 2.0

The other day, I was standing in Bethany’s living room putting moisturizer on my face at 1:30 in the morning. Bethany was just sitting there staring at me for like ten minutes while I did my evening routine and finally she just blurts out “Do you ever think you’re a completely different person than you were two years ago?” Of course, as the crazy detail oriented person I am, I replied “You haven’t even known me two years.” I got the point though. I clarified that she was talking directly about me and not using a universal you to apply to all PCVs or something. But when she told me she meant me specifically, it sent me into a bit of a tail spin. And my answer is, yeah, I guess I am a very different person.

Of course, I don’t think I’ve lost my core values or anything. I don’t look like a completely different person. I still have many of the same mannerisms and ideals, but overall, more has changed than stayed the same.

At first that scared me. I thought I was losing parts of myself, but then I embraced the change and realized that I was just letting myself actually be myself. I was dropping my defense mechanisms, fears, and insecurities and realizing my potential. I’ll never be done learning, growing, changing, or evolving, but I’ve made an exponential amount of progress from that Joiwyn that moved to Botswana 17 long months ago.

I think I can attribute a lot of this to a big growth spurt in my prefrontal cortex, but I also can attribute a ton of it to my hard work and effort. I came here with a huge focus on wanting to change and learn about myself and I’m so glad I’ve done that.

I turn 23 in an hour and a half (yeah, I still have no chill about my birthday) and as usual, my birthday makes me think of all I want to accomplish this year. But there is something that’s different, I’m not anxious or stressed about these goals. I’m not worried about them not happening or something massive getting in the way, because I’ve learned that it doesn’t really matter. I shoot for the moon and land in the stars (Is that accurate? Isn’t the moon closer than the stars? This makes me feel a little stupid, but hey, I don’t know everything). If I only accomplish half my goals, I’ll still accomplish a whole hell of a lot. And I’ve learned that I can’t control everything.

This year was filled with things out of my control. I couldn’t control having to move to a new village. I couldn’t control my weight loss plateau. I couldn’t control my work situation. I couldn’t control my gallstones. I couldn’t control my depression that came with that isolation. I couldn’t control the things that happened back home that made me wish I was there. But I learned that when I release that need to control, I also release so much of my anxiety and stress. Life happens TO us a lot of the time and yes, we play a part in that, but in the end, we don’t control it.

On the other hand, I learned that there’s a lot I can control when I’m not a giant ball of anxiety and stress trying to juggle more than I should have ever tried to juggle. I learned to stop focusing on the reasons and excuses I had made in the past and to start focusing on the now and the how. I made so many healthy changes this year that I thought were impossible for me to figure out in the past. I learned to enjoy the things I couldn’t change and make the most out of experiences. I learned that my challenges don’t make me that much more interesting than my triumphs. I still need to work through them, but I don’t need to devote so much energy to them. I’ve learned that I can handle so much and that I should give myself a lot more credit, respect, and trust. I learned that even though I can handle a giant plate full of things, it’s OK to not fill that plate full and it’s OK to take downtime or time for myself. I learned that I will never be perfect, and no one is. I learned that fear can be helpful, but also harmful. And I learned that I really like who I am and I love who I’m becoming.

I’ve changed the way I think about myself, the way I treat myself, the way I think about others, my career plans, my attitude, and view of the world around me. I’m still recognizable, don’t worry. But I’m not as likely to take people’s shit. I’m not as focused on what other people think of me. I no longer feel like everyone’s feelings or opinions are more important than my own. I’m not willing to suppress my feelings anymore. I’m not willing to keep a wall around myself for protection anymore. I’m not willing to focus all my thoughts on the negatives and the things getting in the way. I still love to plan and think about the future, but now I recognize the importance of the present as well. I’m no longer tired and anxious all the time. I’m no longer worried about letting people in. I’m not as scared that I’m going to have a debilitating mental illness. I recognize that I’m enough in most cases, more than enough in many, and a little too much in a few. I’m not going to try to take up less space anymore or remain neutral to make everyone around me happy. I’m more comfortable in my own skin, less focused on the number on the scale, and more focused on being healthy and respectful toward my body. And Bethany says that I used to have a resting bitch face, but now I seem much more open and happy.

One of my biggest fears is that I will lose all this progress and growth when I get back to the states, but I’m learning that that would take a lot of work. I don’t think I can ever go back to the old Joiwyn; too much has changed in too many good ways. I love myself in a way that I was never able to find before from myself or others. I respect myself in a way that I’ve never felt before. I am learning to trust myself (that one is hard for me from years of gaslighting, but I’m getting there). I’m learning to stand up for myself and say no, in the big situations and small. I’m learning that I can be a good person, a thoughtful and kind friend, and a dedicated worker without treating myself poorly. I’ve learned that often times what I think others are thinking about me is my insecurities projecting on them and no where near their actual thoughts. Most of all, I’ve learned to be proud of myself. I’m proud of all that I’ve accomplished and all that I know I will accomplish. And I’ve learned that my pride and acknowledgement is the only one I really need. I’m tired of trying to prove myself to others. If they can’t see the great things about me, that’s their loss.

In the past, I would have joked about how arrogant I sound in this post. But now I recognize this as confidence and self-love. I hope we all can find that, because life is way too hard when you don’t like yourself. Trust me, I spent the first 21.5 years of my life there. It’s a pretty short time period compared to some others, and I know that I still have a long way to go and am still extremely young, but it’s never too early or late to recognize who you really are. I’m excited to see all the ways I learn, change, grow, evolve etc in this next chapter of my life. Here’s to a great year as a 23 year old.

Holiday Cheer

I’m to the point in my blog that I no longer remember what I’ve already talked about. So forgive me if I repeat myself!

It’s that time of the year again! Which means it’s simultaneously so hot I ask myself if I’ve died and gone to hell, while also being the holiday season. If you’ve seen me in from mid-October to mid-January (really everything stops after my birthday), you know that I take this shit seriously. While in Grad school, I planned a huge, but wildly under attended Halloween party, wore a Turkey sweater (his name is Gobble Gobble or Gobs for short) every day in November, made Thanksgiving dinner for my mom and brother all in dishes shaped like pumpkins, started the Christmas/Yule music and jewelry wearing as soon as Thanksgiving was over, and broke out my Santa sweater on December 1st. Those pumpkin dishes and Turkey sweater are some of the only things I left in America to be stored (besides 6 boxes of books). Priorities, people!

So, this may come as a surprise to you, but I care a little bit about the holidays. It does shame me to say that I do let the consumerism of the holidays take over, but it brings me great joy and happiness in a time of year that could otherwise be really challenging and depressing. So I’m writing it off as a good mental health practice.

It probably doesn’t come as a surprise to you that the holidays are not treated quite the same here. Botswana society is definitely not as consumerist and we also don’t share all the same holidays. They don’t celebrate Halloween (because, like people who have tattoos, people who celebrate Halloween must be satanists or witches). It’s a scary idea for people. They don’t celebrate Thanksgiving for obvious reasons and Christmas is celebrated, but it’s celebrated in churches and village gatherings, not under a tree and with presents. Although, all of these are generalizations; I’m sure there are some families who celebrate Halloween or have a Christmas tree. So their holiday season doesn’t start as early, but I was surprised to hear Christmas carols in the grocery store on November 1st.

Last year, the holidays really stressed me and made me homesick. At first, it was because they were my first major American holidays in Botswana and then it was because I was evicted and dealing with that stress while trying to celebrate Yule/Christmas. This year, it doesn’t feel as stressful, partly because they’re my last major holidays in Botswana (I should be in Australia for Halloween next year and back in WA by Thanksgiving.), but also, now that it’s been so long since I celebrated the holidays in true Joiwyn fashion, I don’t miss it as much. Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean I’m not going all out this Thanksgiving and Christmas, but all out is going to look a little different.

This year, I’m hosting Thanksgiving for seven of my friends. I’m making a big Thanksgiving feast and we’re going to watch the Gilmore Girls Revival (again, priorities). I’m also going to be subjected to a football game because Bethany must watch it and I’m going to try to convince my friends to make Christmas/Yule decorations with me. I won’t have Gobs with me or my pumpkin shaped dishes, but I’ll have my Peace Corps family and some amazing food and that’s what really matters. I wish I could say that I’ll be able to bring back this non-consumerist attitude when I’m back in the States, but I make no promises. I doubt I’ll be as consumerist as before, but I think I’ll just have to find a happy medium between the two. Happy Holiday Season, Everyone!

Hope You Didn’t Miss Me, Too Much

Hey-yo! It’s been a long and intense few months and I have not been in the head space to write. My muse had run away, but now she’s back (she being my muse, Henrietta. She’s gender fluid, goes by Henri, but prefers the female pronouns.) I highly recommend getting to first name basis with your muses. It really helps the creative process. Anyway, things got a little too intense for her and she just needed a breather. I totally understand, but now she and I are back, bitches! And ready to tell you all about what’s going on! We’re back with a vengeance, so you’ll likely see a plethora of blog entries this week.

This blog entry will be more of an update and the following entries will be topic specific. So where to start.

Honestly, I haven’t really updated you all much since my brother’s visit. I wrote a blog about his and my vacation, but we were going to attach pictures and sorting through the over 2000 pictures we took got us a little distracted. Now I’ll just give you the highlights. Having Nick here was amazing. I loved being able to share my village with him, show him my home and school, and give him a glimpse of what daily life is like here. He’s the person I share the most with back home (besides mom, of course), so it was really fun for him to actually experience all the things I talk to him relentlessly about. We even stopped by my old village. It was my first time back since being evicted, so it was really nice to see all my friends and the kids. Kids would run behind the car yelling my Setswana name, “Kesaobaka, Kesaobaka!”. It was adorable.

We then went on my first vacation here! We went to Namibia where I got to see the ocean for the first time in a year. I didn’t realize how much living near the water keeps me centered until I lived in a landlocked state and then a landlocked country. I’m very excited to live so near the ocean again. We had amazing food. Nick spoiled me with food because he’s the bomb.com. Before we even went on our vacation we had dinner with my PC person, Bethany and ate strawberries that made us cry since we hadn’t had them in so long. While on vacation, I got delicious German food that reminded me of my mom, burgers upon burgers, delicious seafood (again landlocked places just don’t do it for me) and the most mouthwatering steak I’ve ever had. In retrospect, all of this amazing food is probably what sent my gallbladder over the edge, but it was already almost there. I’m just glad I didn’t have a huge attack while on vacation and I wouldn’t change a thing about the way I spent my vacation. We can’t live our lives on what ifs. And even though I’m an amazing cook, the food I eat here is nothing compared to what’s available in the states.

After Namibia, we headed up into the more north western part of Botswana, Maun. Maun is on the Okavango Delta. We went on a Mokoro boat trip and a bushwalk on what they call Tortoise Island. We saw lots of animals including an elephant that was only about 20 yards from us. It was my first time seeing any animals here since I live in the dry south. It was really amazing to see the animals in their natural habitat and to learn all the intricacies of the habitat.

Nick rented a car, and he drove us the whole time. It was very nice to be in a private car, but also a little challenging to get around in some of the sandier areas. Although the drives were long, I love road trips. I always feel really relaxed on the open road and I get a lot of great thinking time in. Nick and I are both pretty introverted and not really small talkers. So we would have hours of just silence and listening to music, or we would get into these great long and interesting conversations. I’ve always really loved our road trips together. I’ve never felt as comfortable on a long trip with anyone but him.

Even though having Nick here made me more homesick, it also made me re-look at where I am. It’s so amazing that I’ve already been here over a year and having him here helped me to see how much more I want to do here before I get home! It was so great to have him here and to hear his perspectives. The only thing that would have made it better was if my mom could have come as well.

After Nick left, my gallbladder flared up dramatically. I was in so much pain and so sick that it got to the point where I had to cut out eggs, dairy, gluten, fats, and most fruit. I was only really able to keep down oatmeal, carrots, and potatoes without being in more pain or feeling even sicker. I went in to Peace Corps about it a little over a week after Nick left. We immediately did an ultrasound and found stones, but then had to jump through the bureaucratic hoops. They sent me to a surgeon who said that yes, I had chronic cholecystitis and I needed surgery. Regional medical wasn’t convinced. They were so sure there must be something else wrong with me since I’m so young, but they didn’t put all the pieces together until I was in South Africa and talking to them directly. So it was over a month of me laying at home, unable to eat, work, or sleep because of the pain before they sent me to SA to take care of it.

Once in SA, I met with a surgeon one week, had surgery the next week, and was sent back to Bots a week and a half later. I immediately felt better. I was able to eat, I slept for days, and I just felt physically healthier. But I was still dealing with the emotional stress of being isolated in my house sick for over a month and then being isolated in guest house for 3 weeks. I felt so alone, stressed and frustrated that I had had to advocate so much for myself when it was clear what needed to be done. All I wanted was to come home, and get back to a more normal routine, (that honestly, I’ve never been able to achieve here with all the crap my service has thrown at me) and feel like a productive person again. I hate feeling unproductive and like I’m wasting my time and that’s what those two months felt like. I was so excited to be back in Bots and I thought that I would immediately be able to shift my mental state to a healthier place.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, I had two friends from America come visit me as soon as I got back. They actually arrived in Bots the same day that I did. I’ve known them since the end of my first year of community college, so five years. One of them and I have stayed in contact since then and the other ran in similar circles, but not quite the same. We have many mutual friends, but never really got to know each other. We’re like a Venn Diagram where our friend groups are the overlapping part, but we’re divide on the aides. Anyway, they are traveling the world together as a couple and I was a stop off for them. Originally, the plan was just for the friend I’ve stayed in contact with to come and another friend of ours was going to join him. I think things shifted when his girlfriend joined him and the time table moved up four months. This was a little inconvenient because A.) I had just had surgery and was in recovery and a slightly unstable mental state, and B.) I didn’t have the same kind of vacation time that I would have had in December. I was also only expecting them to stay a week or two. They stayed for a month.

It was great to catch up with them, but I’m the kind of person who shuts down emotionally around people I’m not extremely close with and so instead of processing all the emotions I had been battling with my surgery, I repressed them. We did have some great times though. I took them on a vacation with me and 5 other PCV’s to a place called Tuli Block. It’s on the mid-Eastern tip of Botswana and has a lot of wildlife. We went on three game drives (although I had to opt out of one because it involved a 5 K walk and I was still very much in recovery), and saw many animals including a giraffe, tons of elephants, lions, wildebeest, impala, zebra, kudu, etc. and a leopard that almost attacked our car. It was a really great vacation and a good time for me to not feel so isolated. Also, while my friends were here, I had a Peace Corps trainee shadow me for a few days. She’s really great and now lives just about 20 minutes from me. She attended my classes with me and we got to know each other a bit.

I’ve gotten very used to living alone, so it was strange having people in my space for so long. I expected that they might go out and explore some, but they really just stayed here and hung out. It kind of felt like I was married because I would wake up and eat breakfast with them, then go to work, and when I got back lunch would be ready. It had many benefits and many drawbacks. When they left to head to New Zealand, I had a group of PCV’s come over for brunch for the weekend, and then I had my house to myself for the first time in months for four days. After that, I went to visit Bethany the following weekend because she was heading to America for a vacation a few days later.

After Bethany’s house, I had to make another medical appointment because I’ve been having chest pains. I went in last Thursday and my doctor told me it sounds like I have a viral infection in my lungs. So now we’re waiting to see if it resolves itself and I’m trying to support my immune system as best as possible. Over the weekend, I met with a ton of new PCV’s and then Ashley stayed the weekend. So needless to say, I haven’t had a lot of time to myself lately. I’m still struggling to figure out my emotions right now because so much has been happening, but I’m doing a lot better then I was even a week ago. This post is kind of a testament to that because I am not good at blogging when I’m in a bad headspace. This coming up weekend will be my first weekend completely alone since before my surgery. I am so ready for a good introvert weekend and hopefully I can kick this virus out of my body.

So there you go, that’s what’s been going on with me.

The Reflections and Ramblings of an Anxious PCV

What do you think of when you think of Peace Corps Service?

It’s been so long since I first thought of Peace Corps, I don’t really remember the reason I wanted it so bad. I was 16 when I first started looking into Peace Corps. I was taking a sustainable foods class and I wanted to change the world. Maybe that’s where it started, my naive God complex. I wanted people to care about sustainability and protecting the earth. I was even thinking of being an agriculture volunteer because you only needed an associates degree and agriculture experience. Getting that experience was a little harder than I thought, so I went back to pursuing my psych degree. I put Peace Corps on the back burner thinking it wouldn’t fit into my life path again easily, but it was still interesting.

When I was applying to graduate school, I was thinking I might want a break. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go straight to school for another 4 years, because at the time I was planning to go straight to a doctorate in clinical psych. What could I do that had a succinct timeline to ensure I went back to school and didn’t just get sucked into a job? Oh, Peace Corps. So I started looking into it again. In the process, I found my Masters’ degree. I had no plans with this Masters’ degree. It was literally just my way of getting a Masters’ with my Peace Corps Service.

At this point, I really had no notion that I was doing Peace Corps for anyone but myself. I didn’t think that I would somehow be able to impart some great knowledge to this other population. I don’t think that highly of myself, really. What do I as a 20 year old (at the time) with a psych degree and odd job experience have that is going to somehow change the world? No, I mainly was thinking about what Peace Corps could do for me. It was a way to travel for free, learn about another culture, become more open minded and culturally understanding, challenge myself, and maybe help some people in the process. It was a way of getting away from American society to put it into perspective. I really was cynical and depressed by what I saw in the U.S. and I wanted to see how other countries did things differently. I didn’t see myself as brave for traveling to a foreign country (especially the big scary continent of Africa, as a lot of people viewed it) by myself. I didn’t see myself as an inspiration. I just felt like I needed to get away; to view things from afar in order to put them into focus. I didn’t have a picture in my mind of all the change I was going to make in this country, but I had an idea of all the change I was going to make in myself.

Even to me, this sounds a bit selfish. I’m using all your tax dollars to move to another country for two years and my main motive isn’t to “save” people? Why didn’t I just do some magic mushrooms and get back to life like everyone else? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to help people if I can here, but I think there are enough white people who think they can somehow solve the worlds problems; I don’t need to add myself to those ranks.

Peace Corps is everything you expect, while being nothing like you expect. My Masters’ program and RPCV friends really taught me not to have many expectations when it came to my service, but of course I did. I expected to not have electricity, running water, or even a tin roof. I thought I’d be living in a mud hut, have to send letters home that would take months, only be able to talk to my mom once a week and everyone else rarely, and be shopping in a local market instead of a grocery store. I thought I’d rarely hear English, and have all these Batswana friends. I thought that I’d have these big PC projects that would make some difference in my community. I absolutely did not think that I would be teaching because that’s not a sustainable project. What happens when I leave? None of those expectations panned out.

A lot of people would say that that makes my service easier. I get to speak my mother tongue, I have all the internet and electricity I can afford, I rarely have to send letters, and I occasionally have running water. I’m living the lap of luxury. “Posh Corps” as some call it. Every PC service has its challenges though. It doesn’t matter what amenities you have in the end. And at this point, there are very few “traditional” PC services because the world is changing. Botswana is not at all what America portrays “Africa” to be in its poverty porn. Of course, I got more of a “traditional” PC experience in my first village, but that was cut short. In fact, most of my service has been interrupted by one thing or another. I don’t even feel like I’ve really gotten started on my service.

We’re about halfway through our service now and this is the time when our cycle of vulnerability chart says we should be going through our mid-service crisis or MSC as I call it. This is the time where people freak out because they feel like time is going too fast or too slow, they aren’t accomplishing enough, or they don’t know why they’re here. It finally hits that we’re in another country and we’re actually supposed to be doing something. I do understand why people feel like they have an MSC on the one hand, but I think for other people, it can be a self-fulfilling prophecy. We’re given this cycle of vulnerability chart when we first get here and people expect it to be true. Nothing about my service has followed this chart. But my service has been a strange one.

During PST, I dealt with my first unimaginable loss. My friend Sarah died relatively unexpectedly. Before that, the only losses I had experienced were grandparents when we had months if not years to prepare. Luckily, I received some great support from my fellow PCVs and I managed to grieve pretty well.

Fast forward a couple months. I’ve been at site for 2 months and I get evicted. Not many people have to leave their site and when they do it’s frequently by choice. PC is an isolating experience and frequently our homes are the only places we feel truly comfortable. It’s the only place we can be 100% ourselves and not have to bridge cultural differences or explain our behavior. Being kicked out of the one place that is your sanctuary in a foreign country is very unnerving. I came very close to packing my bags at that point. I felt like I had gone to so much work to integrate in my village and to really determine what Ralekgetho needed, I didn’t feel like I could do that in another village. That’s when the last expectation of doing huge projects and making giant differences evaporated.

I realized then that just being here; being a strong, independent, young woman; breaking stereotypes and expectations; and showing youth that that’s OK is enough. I don’t need to do some big fancy project to help people. I don’t need to build a preschool, or run a ton of glow camps. I just need to be me, to be open and honest, and to be willing to have open discussions with youth that aren’t very open here normally. So that’s when I decided that it was more acceptable for me to embrace the selfishness of my service. It’s OK for me to focus on my personal growth and myself, because otherwise, I was going to go crazy here. And also because that sets a great example of individuation and autonomy that isn’t normally seen here. I didn’t feel like I could completely commit to another project and have it yanked from my grasp again. So I had to distance myself a little more and also recognize that sometimes the small things can have even bigger impacts.

Moving to Kanye was very hard. I struggled a lot with the new village, the tight role that they tried to force me into, the expectations that were held, but not shared by my counterparts, and the fact that I was back to the beginning of my service while all of my friends were getting into the nitty gritty of theirs. I felt even more isolated and confined. Again, I started questioning why I was here and if I should keep trying so hard. It really wasn’t until May that I finally felt like I was settling in and finding my place. I had one great month of teaching and then we went into a month of exams where I had nothing to do. Then came July when we had the entire month off for winter break.

Unfortunately, after my brother went home the second week of July, I got really sick. I had been having symptoms of gallstones for months, but just trying to live with them. I really don’t like asking for help or seeing doctors. I consulted with my dad to make sure they wouldn’t kill me and then just tried to ignore it. However, it became apparent near the end of July that I needed to get them dealt with. I was so sick and in so much pain that I couldn’t even go to work when the next term started in August. It’s been a month now of very little symptom management and tests as PC decided what to do with me. They’ve finally decided to send me down to South Africa, where PC medical HQ is, to consult a surgeon and likely have surgery.

Yet again, I’ve had to put a hold on my service. It feels like one step forward and ten steps back. But this is the first challenge where I’ve had no thoughts of going home. Yes, it feels like I’ve done nothing tangible, but I’ve grown so much personally. And that’s what keeps me here. That’s what gets me through my service. Every day I become more of the person that I want to be. I learn more about myself and fall more in love with who I am. I’m becoming stronger, more resilient, braver, more understanding, and happier everyday. And I know that knowing myself is only going to help me understand other people better. I can’t even begin to help others until I can help myself.

So you don’t hear me talk much about my Peace Corps projects, or my Batswana friends, because I don’t have many. But I don’t have a lot of friends anywhere that I am. And I think it’s much more important for me to figure out how to be my own friend here. Maybe I should be trying harder to do creative projects like music videos with my kids or do GLOW camps, but I’m doing the best with the cards I’ve been dealt so far. My students and I have already had many great discussions about personal development, sex, and growth and if that’s all I accomplish outwardly, it’s enough. Especially since my inward growth game is so strong.

This still may sound selfish, but I think one of the most important lessons I’ve learned in PC is that you have to know yourself and take care of yourself. You can’t be an effective volunteer at all if you aren’t taking care of yourself, because Peace Corps is the hardest job you’ll ever love.

I’m lucky in how much I’ve learned in this first year and I still have another year to go. I know that I have even greater things ahead of me and maybe they’ll include more outward accomplishments as well.

Peace Corps cycle of vulnerability and adjustment

My Brother Is Coming!!!

This is going to be the last blog post until mid-July because my brother is coming to visit!!! It’s also a bit unfocused and short because I can’t think about it too much without going crazy with excitement and homesickness.

I cannot tell you how excited I am to see him. It has been almost a whole year since I have seen any of my family. I fully expect to burst into tears when he arrives. I also plan on smothering him in enough hugs to give everyone I miss back home at least 5. I don’t think he’s as excited for that part as I am.

Let me tell you a little bit about my brother. If you don’t know me too well, you probably don’t know that I have 6 siblings. I have an older sister, two older brothers, a younger half-sister, and two step-sisters. With that big a family, the large age differences, and the crazy different family dynamics, we have some strange sibling relationships. I love all of my siblings. There was a time that I chose favorites, but as I have grown up, I’ve realized the value in each of my relationships with my siblings and I’m happy to have relationships with them all. I’m sure I will find a reason to talk about my other siblings in the future, but this post will just be about Nick.

Nick and I have always just clicked (at least I think so). I don’t remember a time where we fought or a time where I didn’t feel like he respected me and was fully there to support me. He has been the most helpful when it came to college. We would sit in his living room for hours talking about different paths I could take, different colleges to transfer to, and different degrees and jobs that I’d be good at. I still think he would love it if I switched to engineering and I’m positive we would have great discussions about math, but I also never felt like he didn’t support the paths that I chose.

He didn’t blink an eye when I asked him to be my power of attorney and take care of all of my crazy stuff at home (and I asked him right after he spent 12 hours driving to pick me and all my shit up from Montana). He also spent as much time and probably more money than I did preparing to come here last summer. I’m pretty sure I will owe him like $10,000 by then end of this. He’s the first person I called when I got evicted and the person who will call me when I’m having crazy emotional episodes of homesickness. He has heard me cry more than anyone besides my mom at this point and I’m pretty sure that that’s just been in the last year. But he’s been so helpful when I feel lost here. He helps me put everything in perspective and realize that I still have lots that I can accomplish here.

Since Nick is 13 years older than me and was the one watching me while my mom worked crazy hours when I was little, I grew up thinking of him more like a dad, than a brother. I remember him teaching me to ride a bike, and watching Saved by the Bell with me. We had great times. For a while, I even thought I would ask him to walk me down the aisle at my future wedding. Now I don’t want someone giving me away at my wedding. What am I? A piece of meat to be handed off to another male who will then own me? But anyway, that’s a tangent. Then he got busy with his own life and when we started spending more time together I felt like our relationship just gradually changed to being really great friends. I feel like I can tell him anything (and do) and I have no fear that he will judge me or react in a way I don’t expect because I know that he loves, respects, and supports me in everything I do. I couldn’t have a better person cheering me on from my corner.

So, naturally, I am SO SO SO excited to see him and spend two glorious weeks hanging out, exploring a bit of Namibia, and a bit of Botswana. Of course, preparing for his trip, I’ve gotten even more homesick since this is such a tangible bridge between my two lives. I’m also sure that I will be even more homesick once he leaves, but I’m OK with that, because I get to see my big brother in a week!!!

Yule decorations on shelf

Your Pagan is Showing

Tomorrow is June 21st! Do you know what that means? It’s Yule. Yule is the pagan version of Christmas. It falls on the winter solstice, which in America is usually the 21st of December, but in Botswana, its the 21st of June this year. As a pagan, I usually celebrate Yule by lighting a candle a day for twelve days on a Yule log, celebrating the twelve days as the sun god grows a year older each day until he reaches adulthood at 12, decorating the Yule tree and house, having a Yule feast, listening to Christmas/Yule music, and watching Christmas/Yule movies (which include the Harry Potter movies, duh!). This year, I have my friend Ashley celebrating with me. I’ve had some family drama, so I haven’t been able to fully immerse myself in it until today, but it’s happening. I have a little Christmas tree and some other decorations a previous volunteer left behind, so we decorated the house last Thursday. I have over 1000+ Christmas songs on my computer, so we’ve been plugging through those. We’re going to watch Scrooge tonight and hopefully another movie tomorrow (probably Ashley’s Christmas tradition of Love Actually). I made spiced cider tonight and tomorrow we’re making the poor man’s Yule feast. We bought a small chicken for roasting, some broccoli, and potatoes for mashing. I don’t have a Yule log, but I’m making do without. It’s a beautiful time of year (albeit a chilly one) and my weather here is very similar to winter in Washington during the mornings and evenings.

Having been raised with some Pagan traditions, I really only have secondhand knowledge. Also, paganism is one of those things that people either have no ideas about or know everything about, there’s not much middle ground. So I have been trying to do more research on my own. I haven’t done much research surrounding Yule yet, but I have heard that many of the Christian traditions surrounding Christmas are borrowed from Yule traditions which is why they are so similar. What I’ve been mainly focusing my research on is the Full Moon.

I have loved the Full Moon and Full Moon ceremonies for as long as I can remember. I have very fond memories of sitting by candlelight, reading a ritual, putting cleansing water on my face, drinking milk and eating moon cookies (good old chocolate chip cookies), and doing Tarot. Unfortunately, my mom lost the book with the rituals (her book of shadows) when we moved to Startup, 14 years ago, so since then we have basically just done tarot every once in a while on the full moon when we remember. I wanted to change that when I got here though. I have been making a great effort to celebrate the Full Moon every month. My ritual hasn’t really changed much. I recite something, light the moon candle, write about something I want to release, burn that, cleanse myself, and recite the last part. I follow all of that up with some great tarot readings. I love it. I have felt more connected to myself and the earth. Each releasing ceremony has helped me stop obsessing about something and let that blocked energy flow. It also brings me some nostalgia of times when my mom could sit down and share a piece of herself with me.

My mom is not very open about her religion. She was raised Christian and instilled with Christian values, but didn’t feel like they fit her. She never pushed religion on us and I think that I am really the only one trying to maintain Pagan rituals, but I always felt like it brought my mom and I closer together. I have also always been fascinated by the flow of energy, the elements, and the earth. When I was a teenager, I was obsessed with the pentagram symbol. I drew it everywhere, I had jewelry with it and even a purse. I decided that that would be my first tattoo when I turned 18. I got a pentagram with an illustration of each of the elements in each point with the word pagan in the center. Paganism is a large part of my being that I have not let myself be closed off by, but also not been very open about.

I have many religious friends and even more religious parents of friends. I had one of my friend’s moms say that I should get a tattoo of a rosary around the pentagram to save myself (as a joke) and another one say that she hopes God doesn’t know what I got tattooed on me. The pentagram is a risky symbol because people in America connect it with witchcraft and satanism. It’s a misunderstood symbol, but it simply represents the intersecting of the five elements: earth, wind, fire, water, and spirit. I don’t know why I was always drawn to this symbol above all others, but I was. Once I had it tattooed, I actually stopped wearing my ring, carrying my bag, and drawing it everywhere though; I didn’t need to, I finally had it expressed on my skin.

I don’t hide my tattoo, or that I’m pagan, but I also don’t sing it loud. I think of religion as very personal. I’m not looking to convert you, so I expect the same from you. It’s all just about how you need to reconcile those big philosophical concepts anyway. This is how I reconcile mine. So, happy Full Moon and Yule’s Eve tonight (June 20th), and Happy Yule tomorrow.

Love Can Conquer All

I found out about the Orlando shooting around 5pm my time yesterday. As soon as I found out, I was horrified. My stomach knotted up, I felt nauseous and I was filled with anger. I don’t get truly angry often and very rarely to the point of nausea and crying, but I was outraged. How could someone enter a place of joy, community, and acceptance and butcher over 50 people leaving another over 50 harmed? How is it even possible for one man to do that? I was so angry and hurt and I didn’t know what to do with that anger. I called my mom because I just didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t stop the tears and I couldn’t relinquish the anger. We talked for about an hour. We talked about how that could have happened anywhere and it could still happen anywhere. We talked about how I could be in a gay bar one day and another shooting could happen. We talked about my decision to finally come out to Facebook as pansexual (instead of just the five people who read this blog). She congratulated me and concurred that now, more than ever, is a time to stand proud for who I am. Most importantly, we talked about anger, hate, and discrimination. I told her that more than anything else, I wish I was in America right now to stand proud with my LGBTQ+ community and rally and fight for our rights and lives. But in the end, it’s not about fighting, it’s about loving. Finally, my anger started to ebb.

A man who can mentally make the decision to walk into a bar with semi-automatic weapons with the intent to kill people who’s lifestyles were not the same as his, obviously has something going on in his brain that I can’t understand. Maybe he had a past trauma that has affected him, maybe he was born with some gene for bigotry, or maybe he had an influence pushing these ignorant beliefs at him until he succumbed to them. I will never know, but what I do know is that I would never want to live a life with that much hate in my heart. For that reason, I feel sorry for him. I wish his life had been filled with joy and love for all of humanity, because, I can assure you, it’s a much easier and lovelier existence. I, in no way, am condoning what he did. He committed a horrible, outrageous act of hate, but for me to turn that hate around on him, would only hurt me, not him. So instead, I am going to extend love to him and his family, and everyone who was affected by this tragedy, because that is the only way this kind of change can come.

This was a horrible act of violence toward the LGBTQ+ community, but it was more than that. It was an act of violence towards humanity. People do not choose their sexual orientation. I did not wake up one day and say, “Oh, I think I’d really love to be pansexual and feel the need to hide any romantic relationships I’ve had with women so that I don’t get judged by my religious and ignorant extended family and society.” Why would I choose that? And more importantly, why should it matter? My being pansexual has not affected anyone else besides the people that I have been romantically involved with. I have tons of female friends who are not worried about me pushing unwanted sexual advances on them, because not being heterosexual, or in other cases not being cisgender, does not make us rapists. First and foremost, we are human beings. We don’t decide what race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, sex, gender, or even religion to be. I think that we are born into this world with our brain thinking one thing, and maybe our body doesn’t match that. We can choose some things, like to change our gender or religion, but those choices are what we really are in our brains not something that we just decide on a whim. We find the things in life that fit us best. I didn’t grow up thinking I was pansexual, but through years of exploring who I am, I discovered a term that fit me better than anything else. Because that is what these things are, they’re labels. We label ourselves and are labeled by others to fit into categories. But first and foremost, we’re human beings. We all have that in common and we are all just trying to live the best lives we can live. So why is there so much hatred? Why do these labels matter?

Trump is stirring up this hatred toward “the other”. What is “the other”? If we’re fighting against everything that makes us different, we’re fighting against everyone. No one has the exact same opinions, thoughts, feelings, history, etc… as you. We should be embracing our differences and learning from each other instead of trying to make everyone conform to one set of ideals. I can understand wanting to be like other people. I can understand envying someones body type, or their social class, but I would never want to be straight just to fit into someones outdated beliefs. I would never want to be a man, just so that I wouldn’t have to face the misogyny and sexism that I do. I would never want to have been raised in an affluent family, just so that I could have never struggled with money. I wouldn’t even want someone else’s body type at this point. I love who I am and I love the things that make me different from others. Life would be so boring if we all had the exact same skin tone, eye color, sexual orientation, job, religion, etc… Why is that a world people want to live in? Unfortunately, with the way America is going, wanting to be who you are can also lead to fear. Fear that someone is going to bring a semi-automatic to a concert, church, night club, school, movie theater, really any place with a large amount of people being who they are. We are being taught to fear who we are or others who don’t fit a mold, and that isn’t OK.

The United States of America is based off of immigration. We should be celebrating that we are the country of freedom that people want to, or wanted to as the case may be at this point, live in. We are supposed to be a United People with individual rights, responsibilities, and freedoms. Now I know that the right to bear arms is one of those rights we were founded on, but when someone has the ability to extinguish 50 people’s right to live, that’s no longer promoting freedom. Our country has gone from one of freedom and liberty, to one of fear and hatred. We fear and hate what we do not know. This goes both ways. People who are being oppressed and attacked fear and hate their perpetrators and people who are oppressing and attacking, fear and hate their victims. How do we stop fear and hate? By educating ourselves and others. By getting to know people who possess a trait that you don’t understand. By listening to our children, siblings, friends, neighbors, and communities speak about the love they possess for another human being instead of listening to hate speech or choosing passages from an outdated and very subjective book that fit the hate you want to spread. We should all be embracing our whole identities, but more than that, we should be embracing our humanity.

I know that bigotry, ignorance, and hate are not that easy to extinguish. Definitely not as easy as the 50 lives that were taken yesterday, but we have to try. We have to try to spread the love that we have and show that “the other” is not something to fear, but instead something to learn from and get to know. We can’t accomplish this through hate or fear; you can’t eliminate a flood with more water. We have to fight hate with love. I love all human beings, but I would love them even more if they took the time to educate themselves and those around them. Love can win.

Something else that we can do that may have more immediate effects, is to work on policy change. We need to make gun safety our biggest priority. We are only half way through the year and we have had 173 shootings. 173! This is insanity to me. We are not safe anywhere with semi-automatic weapons on the streets. How is this acceptable? I don’t know a lot about politics and I don’t know a lot about policy change. Even still, I have hope and enough knowledge to know that this can change. We can be the change that we want to see in the world if enough people stand up and make it happen. I am going to educate myself on politics, policy, and everything else I can get my hands on surrounding this issue. This is not just an issue of LGBTQ+ rights; this is an issue of human rights and gun reform. I hope you decide to take action as well, even if that is just you educating yourself further and those around you. Don’t just say “praying for Orlando” and forget about it a week later. MAKE CHANGE!

Let’s talk about sex, baby. Let’s talk about you and me.

I’m a little disappointed in you if you don’t now have that song stuck in your head.

I love sushi; everyone should know that. So I go to this place in Gabs called Ocean Basket whenever I get the chance. I’ve been there 3 times. The first time, I had this great time flirting with our waiter and from then on out, I would look for him when I went in. Recently I went in with two friends who are a couple. We were seated by THE waiter; I’ll call him T in this. T sat us, but he wasn’t technically our waiter. We were sitting outside, right by the door, so T had to walk by our table to get to his tables and then to get back to the register. Every time he would walk by, he would stare right into my eyes. It was the most intense eye contact I’ve ever had. I couldn’t ever keep it up as long as he could, so I would shy away with a little blush. When I would look up, he would still be looking at me. When I wasn’t completely distracted looking into T’s eyes, I was completely distracted talking to my friend about what she thought I should do.

Her boyfriend ended up leaving before the food came to go play rugby. Since I love sushi, I had ordered enough food for about 3 people and my friends had ordered about the same amount between the two of them. T must have talked to our waiter because he was the one that brought us our food. Once all the food was out and our table was completely covered in sushi, he asked if he should sit down and join us since we had so much food. At this point, I decided I had to give him my number, but was freaking out. So I texted Bethany who had been with me each of the other times I had been there. I told her that the waiter from before and I were having this intense eye contact session and I needed her help. The friend I was with said that calling it intense eye contact wasn’t enough and she could only describe it as eye fucking. She thought she was really clever, and still thinks she’s really clever, when she said that my eyes were no longer virgins. So, anyway, I took a clean napkin and started to write my info with sharpie. As I was writing it, another waiter came up to ask if he should sit with us because we had so much food. I scrambled to hide the napkin. The sharpie bled so much, I decided it was unreadable. So I crumpled that napkin and tossed it in my purse. I proceeded to rewrite it with a pen. I was annoyed because the pen stopped working part way through, so my J got an extra little loop at the bottom.

Now came the hard part of figuring out how to give it to him. What do you say when you’re sober and you’re handing someone your number. “Here, I wanted you to have this.” “I thought you might like this.” “Call me.” They all felt awkward and forced. I was still thinking about it as we packed up our leftovers. T asked if we were leaving and I told him soon. “Not too soon, I hope,” was his response. My friend and I sat waiting for our check; we had been there nearly two hours and all of our plates and everything had been taken away. It still took about a half hour before we finally asked for the check. T asked me if I would be swiping because then he could get my name and number from the receipt. I said yes, but I tucked the napkin in with my card anyway.

My friend went to the bathroom and while she was gone, T came out with the card reader. I told him he could keep the napkin in the most awkward way possible (my memory is a little fuzzy there as I’ve tried to block it out). I told him my Setswana name, that I live in Kanye and teach at the senior secondary school. He seemed a little shocked by the distance; it’s about two hours away. “Do you have to go back tonight?” T asked. I told him I did because I had to go back and take care of a dog. He laughed at that and asked what her name was. Then he turned to me and said he would call and that I was pretty cute. I told him that I’d like that and he was, too. Then he walked off forgetting my friends cash. He came back with a little flush saying he forgot. My friend and I got ready to leave as T went back to stand at the entrance with the other waiters. As I was leaving, we locked eyes once more. I turned around to find him still looking, turned back to my friend and giggled nervously. I looked back again and he was still looking and then we turned the corner…

He called an hour later when he was off his shift to give me his number and say he would call again. It was four days later when he sent me a “Morning beautiful” text. I was long since off my sexual tension high. I had realized that I didn’t want too much to come of this because not much could come of it. I would be returning to America next year and I’m not really someone to start something when I don’t see much future for it. Why go through all of that anxiety and complication for it all to end anyway? I responded asking how he was. He replied that he was good and said he wanted to see me. I didn’t respond. Ten minutes later, he texted again asking when I was free because he really wanted to spend time with me. Again, I didn’t respond.

I hated the idea of cutting it short because I really didn’t have any idea where it would go, but on the other hand, I’m not really interested in a relationship right now, especially one without sex and having sex in this country is extremely risky with the prevalence of HIV. So, I waited. I didn’t want to make a rash decision that I would regret. I really have only been asked out once before and at the time, I agreed at first only to later cancel the date after giving it more thought. I decided that this was a situation where I needed some advice from my big sister. After talking to her, my big brother, and everyone else that I know. I finally decided that the best plan was to turn him down. I hated it. I felt anxious all day thinking that was likely what I would be doing. I finally decided on the “you’re really sweet, but I have no time. I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression. I hope we see each other around.” He responded minutes later, “Cold…!!! But I can’t say I didn’t c dat coming… It was going to b fun… I love fun… but thanx. C u beautiful lady.” I laughed out loud.

As you probably could guess, if you didn’t already know, I don’t have a lot of experience with relationships. I have been on three real dates and quite a few things that could appear as dates, but later turned out to just be hanging out with a good friend. My first date was when I was 18. I had just started at Evergreen and all my friends were in relationships, so I felt like I should try it. I started online dating with OKCupid. My profile said that I was straight because at the time I had only ever had crushes on guys, so I figured I must be straight. A girl messaged me and said that she knew my profile said I was hetero, but if I ever wanted to experiment, she thought I was really cute and would love to go out with me. I thought she was cute, so I said what the hell. We went on two dates, the second ending with my first kiss and then some. She fell off the face of the planet after that and I didn’t hear from her for nearly a year.

In the mean time, I had my third date. Again, I met someone through online dating, this time a man. We went on a very awkward and long date. In the end, he asked if he could come in, I said I was just going to call it a day. He then asked if we could go out again, and I said very awkwardly, “maybe” and jumped out of the car. After that, I decided that online dating wasn’t really getting me anywhere and life started to get a little hectic, so I deleted my profile. During that time, I discovered that I had a huge crush on a coworker. I told him how I felt, which led to most of my friends talking about how big my balls were. He told me that he didn’t reciprocate those feelings (I later found out he had a giant crush on my best friend) and we went on to just be really flirty friends who all our coworkers thought were secretly sleeping together. The women I went out with contacted me the summer before my senior year saying that she was sorry she had disappeared and she would like to go out again. At first I agreed, but then realized that I was nearly done with school and starting something seemed stupid. It wasn’t something I was looking for at the time.

Of course, I was still envious of all of my friends who would just meet someone at some function, or through a friend, and start this great relationship. I wanted something to just pop up for me and I felt like the reason no one was showing interest in me was because I was fat. I felt like I had to lose weight to get a date. I left Olympia and moved to Montana. At that point, it felt stupid to try to pursue anything because I was yet again leaving in just a year. I also was the heaviest I had ever been and the most insecure I have ever felt. I was going through intense episodes of depression and anxiety and was in no state to start a relationship. I did have my first kiss with a man though. I was out drinking and dancing with some friends. A semi-androgynous, Asian man-boy (he looked like he was 12), danced with me and then pushed me against a pillar to kiss me. He stabbed my closed lips with his tongue and when I opened my mouth, he told me to close it again and proceeded to stab me with his tongue again. It was a very strange experience, but it makes for a funny memory. But back to the point, I, yet again, just sat back and envied the people in relationships. But in the back of my mind, I kept thinking that it was only going to get harder as I got older.

My siblings have all gotten married in age order. My sister when she was 24, my oldest brother when he was 23, my other brother when he was 21 and then my step-sister when she was 22. My step-mom made a joke when my step-sister got married that I should be the next one, since I’m the next oldest. My other step-sister and half-sister have to wait for me. In my mind, a relationship is a given. When I was a kid and going into my early teen years, I was terrified of being alone. I hated being left alone in my house, especially after dark. I thought that I would never want to live alone and I didn’t even want to spend any time alone. I wanted to constantly be with someone. So, that kind of meant that I had to get married. Then there was the whole idea that I would be a great mom, so I had to have kids. Which then turns me to marriage, because it’s not societally acceptable to have kids out of wedlock. Then as a teenager, I wanted to be in a relationship mainly so that I would have someone to bring with me to my dad’s holidays because I hated those events. I never fell into a group to converse with, so I was frequently just floating around or reading a book. After that, I was in college, so now was the time to meet the one and get married because my older siblings were all already married and I was nearing the age my parents got married (they were 19 and 20). But this was also an easy time to not date because I was frequently taking over full time credits and working more than full time. Also, no one was asking me out and it’s not like I had the time to hang out in places to meet people. So then I turned to online dating. When that turned out to be a terrible time, I decided I would just let fate decide. I had enough going on, I didn’t need a relationship, except, time was ticking away. I was getting older and all of my siblings had at least started dating their partners by this age.

Choosing to do the Peace Corps, was essentially choosing to not be married by the time I’m 23. It was me choosing me instead of a relationship, which honestly is what I have always done. Yes, in the past, I was scared to be in a relationship. I was scared of rejection, I was scared that no one would find me attractive, and I was scared that I would open myself up too wide and never be able to put myself back together. Honestly, I was barely holding on without the added anxiety and stress of a relationship. I was filling my time so that I didn’t have to face everything that I had been holding in. When I got to Montana and I no longer had the support system I was used to, my grip started to slip further. I knew that I was going to go to the Peace Corps though, and I was finally going to take the time to work on me. At the time, I thought that meant losing all of the weight and that that was going to be the thing that changed my life. And sure, losing weight has contributed to it, but I also have just undergone so much personal and introspective growth, I don’t feel the need to grip myself so tightly. So, yes, I was afraid of relationships, mainly because I didn’t think I was good enough for anyone to love me. I don’t think that anymore. In fact, I’m getting a little full of myself these days.

But now, I also don’t think I need a relationship. And I also don’t see relationships the way I used to. I have never seen a real life marriage that I would want. I’m not saying that my siblings don’t have great marriages that work well for them, but I wouldn’t want those relationships. I don’t know that what I would want in a marriage can exist, but instead of settling for something I don’t want, I’d prefer to not get married. I honestly don’t see why I need to. I’m not even sure if I believe in marriage. Why do we celebrate and try so hard to emulate something so random as two people deciding that they like each other more than the other people in their lives? Why can’t we celebrate awesome things like getting a PhD? Or becoming the first female president? Or breaking the record for the number of cats living in a one bedroom apartment? Oh, wait, that doesn’t fit with my other points. The point is that I want to be a strong independent woman and I’m OK if that means no marriage. I’ve realized that I don’t really see biological children in my future either, so I could honestly live my entire life without a relationship. I’m not saying that I’m going to. And honestly, what does it even matter right now? I’m 22. I have so much time left to do something as mundane as marriage. I’ve got a lot of extraordinary things I want to do before that.

So yeah, I didn’t go on a date even though this was the first time I had had this kind of mutual attraction with someone. I’m sure my friends who have told me that I’m going to find some great relationship soon are disappointed in me, but honestly, I have too much of my own stuff going on right now to want a relationship and I’m glad I figured that out. Doesn’t change how horny this isolation makes me though. 😉

F.L.Y. (First Love Yourself)

Since finally writing openly and honestly about my struggles with weight, I’ve opened the flood gates to my emotion and vulnerability and I really hope that there is no going back. I never really realized the wall I had up until I got to the Peace Corps and finally discovered that I had built this giant barrier to keep myself from becoming vulnerable. Maybe this seems like a surprise to people because I’ve often been told that I seem very open and honest, but I haven’t been. I’ve thought about emotional issues until they’ve turned into unrecognizable mush that no longer contains the emotional vulnerability which allowed me to talk about them impassively. I went through the skeletons in my closet and sucked the emotional marrow out of the bones so that I didn’t feel like I needed to hide them anymore. I didn’t need a closet, I could just leave the skeletons laying out for all to see because I could no longer be affected by them. And on the outside they still look like these crazy situations, but all the vulnerability was gone. I wrongfully thought that I was empowering myself by being emotionally disconnected. I was repressing who I was to fit the bill of what others wanted me to be. The opposite of empowerment. I did this because I was taught that vulnerability was weakness. Emotion was weakness. Sensitivity was weakness.

It wasn’t just the people around me telling me this, although, that often hurt the worst. It was society. To be a girl is weak because we’re emotional. “Oh, it must be that time of the month because you’re being an emotional bitch.” “You’re taking everything so personally.” “You’ll never be taken seriously if you’re so emotional.” We’re taught that emotions are to be kept private. I kept them private and I stuck them behind a wall to fester and grow until I realized that I was hurting myself trying to tuck them all away. I hid the hurt and insecurities that stemmed from years of being told that I was selfish, needy, attention-seeking, fat, emotional, sensitive, a bitch, controlling, loud, and annoying. I hid the hurt and insecurities of constantly feeling like I wasn’t good enough. I thought that there must be something terribly wrong with me to have this many faults. There couldn’t be anyone to love me because I was so flawed and also so fat (because only skinny women are attractive, of course). I was so caught up in all of these negative ideas about myself that I let them shape who I was. I let them seep into my very core and change how I perceived myself and the world. I stopped trusting myself because I didn’t think I was selfish, needy, attention-seeking, fat, emotional, sensitive, a bitch, controlling, loud, or annoying, but the people around me did, so I must not be able to see it in myself. I have trouble making the smallest decisions because I’m so worried about what other people would think of those decisions. Sometimes, I’ll even reach out to get input about a decision and then feel like I must be annoying someone with such a trivial concern and then I’m riddled with guilt for being such a selfish pest. It didn’t matter that most of these things were told to me by the same 2 or 3 people. What mattered is how much influence those people had and how often they would say negative things with very rare positives.

I didn’t want to share how I felt about it because it would confirm that I was selfish, needy, attention-seeking, emotional, sensitive, and annoying. I also never wanted to put anyone else in an openly bad light. I didn’t want the people that hurt me to know that they had hurt me because that vulnerability would be a weakness with them and they would poke and prod that soft spot in my armor until I bled out. They wouldn’t reevaluate themselves and see where they hurt me or were insensitive, they would just react defensively and I would be in an even worse place. I have tried to just learn how to roll with it when I get a fat shaming comment on Facebook or a message that picks at those old scabs. I try to just ignore the new hurt that they inflict because I honestly don’t think that they see what they’re doing. I don’t think they see that what they’ve said and how they’ve acted has affected me and I don’t think that they would be open to reevaluating themselves. Change can only happen if you accept it and want it.

So I’ll keep trying to ignore the comments. I’ll keep reminding myself that their actions reflect them and not me. They often come from a place of insecurity in themselves when they make these insensitive and judgmental remarks and I am sure that I have also been guilty of doing that on occasion. It’s hard to not lash out at others when we’re not feeling safe in ourselves. I’ll keep ignoring the comments and I’ll keep working on breaking apart my wall and not letting myself retreat back into a shell when I feel vulnerable. That’s only hurting me.

It’s no longer about the comments that other people make, now it’s about the comments I make. As they say, you’re your own worst enemy. There is nothing that anyone else can say to me that will be worse than what I’ve told myself. I have beaten myself down countless times and I’m done. I’ve grown, learned, and worked fucking hard. I now can look at all of those negative comments and see the amazing positives in them. I’m selfish because I recognize that the only person who will be with me my entire life is me and I have to be happy with the decisions I make. I’m needy because I recognize that I have needs and I go out to try to fulfill them. I’m not sitting around waiting for a shining white knight to save me, I’m taking care of myself. I seek attention when I need companionship. I’m fat, so what? When did the size of my pants become anyone’s business? All it measures is the vessel I’m living in, not who I am or my self worth. It’s a fucking number for god’s sake. I’m emotional and sensitive because I’m human and I have empathy and I care. I think that is a beautiful thing and I wish everyone could say that. I’m a bitch, controlling, and annoying because I’m a strong, opinionated female who isn’t willing to crumble to societal norms. I think that being motivated, driven, and knowledgeable of what’s needed in a situation should be praised, not belittled. I’m loud because I know that my voice deserves to be heard as much as any other. I also know that I am not alone in this. I’m not the only human trying to figure this whole life thing out and I take comfort in that. I never wish bad experiences on people, but if you’re trying to work through negative experiences, remember you aren’t alone. There are people all around you trying to find themselves as well and we can and should all support each other.

I’m angry that I have had to fight for this. I’m angry that we still have such discrimination and negative judgments towards others. I’m angry that we haven’t figured out how to live in a world of authenticity and acceptance of all. But more than that, I’m happy and proud. Despite all of the negative things life has thrown at me I can finally say that I love myself. I love my body for all the beautiful things it can do even if it’s not a size 2. I love my mind because I have been able to learn and grow in such amazing ways and I know that that will never stop. I love my personality because it makes me someone that I want to interact with and it attracts some of the most beautiful people in this world. I love me because I am a person deserving and worthy of love. I am enough.

Clouds and trees

What I Wish I Had Known (Part 3): Weather

Coming from Washington, I’m really used to one type of weather: rainy. When I lived in Montana, I got to experience a hotter Summer and a much colder Winter, but I was fully prepared for that and I had access and money to make apparel edits when needed. Unfortunately, I was not as prepared for weather here.

When we arrived in Molepolole, Botswana, it was pretty warm for most of the day, but colder at night. That was OK because I was coming from Washington Summer which was rather hot last year, but still not as hot as it gets here. I was also 280 pounds and had clothes that fit me well. I wore a zip-up hoodie almost every day and long pants or skirts. When I arrived in Ralekgetho in mid September for site visit, it was rather cold and windy for the whole two weeks. Ralekgetho is more desert than Molepolole though, so there was less of a wind shield and fewer things to retain heat. When I arrived at site officially in October, it was full Summer. Very hot and dry. We had many rain and lightening storms, but mostly just very hot days. I didn’t have electricity, so I didn’t have a fan. I spent most of my days in as little clothing as possible or in wet clothing. By November, I was also down to 240 pounds. My record high for Ralekgetho was 110°F.

I got evicted from my house in late December and I stayed with my best friend in Otse for 3 weeks. She lives in what we call Narnia. Her house is surrounded by orange and mango trees and grape vines, so she has a lot of shade. Her house was much cooler for those three weeks which were also in the high 90s/low 100s. In the beginning of January, it became apparent I couldn’t stay in Ralekgetho and I was put up in a hotel in Gabs until our In Service Training (IST). So I got to stay in an air conditioned hotel for two weeks before IST and the four weeks of IST. I really lucked out on not having to endure those six weeks of crazy heat.

When I got moved to Kanye in mid February it was already cooling down and I also have electricity, so I was able to immediately invest in a fan. I only used the fan for about a month before I no longer felt like I needed it. I also was down to 220 pounds at that point and my body had far less insulation than previously. It has been a nice couple months of being in the 70s and 80s, but these past two weeks have chilled considerably. Kanye is also a much different terrain than Ralekgetho. We’re in and on many hills here and it gets much colder apparently. The mornings have been in the mid 40s and the afternoons have barely gotten to the low 70s.

I am not handling the cold as well as I thought I would. I’m at around 210 pounds now and still losing, so I have lost 70 pounds of fat insulation and will be losing more. I also didn’t have a fan for most of the summer, so I had to endure the heat a little differently and I think I acclimated a little more. I also no longer have any clothes that fit me well. All my warm clothes are far too big, and I also didn’t bring a lot of clothes because I knew I was going to lose weight. Our houses are also made of cement and have no insulation, so they are often times colder than it is outside. Luckily, Peace Corps provided us with large and warm blankets, so I stay warm at night, but have the worst time getting out of bed in the morning. And this isn’t even fully winter yet. July is supposed to be the worst. My brother will most likely be visiting in July and my plan is to do awesome things with him, but otherwise spend the rest of July in bed or working out since the school takes all of July off.

Clouds and trees
Storm in Ralekgetho, Botswana