Temporary Like a Status

There seems to be a great number of commonalities Peace Corps volunteers share. One being an attraction towards impermanence. Another being a desire to feel like an individual, team-player, leader, helper, and many other contradictory adjectives. It’s interesting. It really is.

For one thing, I know, for me, part of the appeal of the Peace Corps was the fact that it was a two-year commitment. I knew it had an end. Even now, while we do try to integrate and be useful, influential participants in our communities we also can’t shake the feeling of “this is only temporary.” Temporary. This isn’t our “lives” – I mean, it’s our lives now, from 2010 until 2012 or maybe even 2013 for some – but it’s not our lives forever like the majority of Bulgarians around us. I assume (and assuming is something I do a lot of despite the idiom) that very few of us have a place that is our “forever.” I certainly don’t. There are so many places I want to call “home.” But only for a little while and then moving on will be absolutely necessary.

Why is that?

I can only answer for myself (though don’t think I haven’t the gall to answer for everyone, cuz I do)… Huh. As it turns out, after sitting here for some minutes trying to find the right way to word my answer, I realize I don’t have one. Whoops. It seems I can answer for no one – not even myself.

Talking to many other volunteers, their “after Peace Corps” plans include:

Going to grad school and then moving on

Touring the globe and then moving on

Visiting family and friends for a bit and then moving on

We just move on and move on. Though, I suppose, it’s age-appropriate for most of us. Young, ready to start our own lives. But I’m not quite as young as everyone else here and yet I can’t seem to picture my life more than a couple years in advance. And even then it’s fuzzy. Maybe I need to up the prescription on my brain.

For months, my dreams were about the US. People from the US. Places from the US. Nothing about Bulgaria. Occasionally some PCV’s would join in with my friends and family from back home in a dream or two, make an appearance. But only recently, and by recently I mean in the past week, have I started to dream of my life here, in Bulgaria. My work colleagues. My students. My friends here. Only recently has my subconscious decided that this is my life – for now. Took long enough.

Is it wrong to want to be with people, help them, and at the same time wait impatiently for the day you can leave them and move on to something new? Maybe. I’m not just talking about Bulgaria either. What makes a person want to stay? I want to know what makes a person say, “this is home, where my life is,” as opposed to, “this is my house, where I keep my stuff.” I wonder what it feels like, what many of my colleagues, students, and neighbors must feel, to know that you’re living the life you’re always going to live. You’re in it and this is it.

I’ve been wondering lately if it’s possible to be overly ambitious. To think you want more than you actually do or are capable of. Grad school. International Studies. NGO’s. New York. Boston. DC. Why can’t I just go home? Get a nice job. Visit my parents once a week. Be still. What’s wrong with that? People do it all the time and they seem perfectly content. At ease. In their element.

What’s my element?

Probably to ponder unanswerable questions until I’m in a nursing home with nothing more to ponder than the paper peeling off the walls. Sorry, I’ve been reading a lot of JD Salinger lately. I’m reading Ernest Hemingway next so hopefully my mood will brighten and I’ll stop being so damn critical. I also have no idea what Ernest’s work is like so it may only get worse.

-Age