Exhaustion

This will be a brief. 

Being in a long distance relationship, and one that includes a 14 hour time difference (he's ahead that far!), 6,000 miles, and an ocean--is EXHAUSTING. 

Throughout the fall and early winter, everything was in the building process ....feelings, desires, possible routes for the future....we were getting to know one another and I seemed to have endless amounts of energy. Messaging and texting at all hours of the night and day....seemed a necessity. It was my new oxygen. 

But now....this second four and a half month stint of being apart......is making me weary. Tired. Frustrated.

My morning is his night. And my night is his midday. He is a night owl which has, thankfully, allowed us to  communicate more than some. But it is incredibly tiring to be in different head spaces when we communicate. When I am sleepy and tired, he is in the middle of his work day. When I am just waking, he is in darkness, perhaps out with friends for food and drink. Even when we are connecting....we are doing completely different things and in opposite moods. Even thinking about this to explain it.....is exhausting. 

.....AND.....I feel as if I'm waiting for my life to begin.....

There is this strangely familiar feeling about it. And today while out for a run, it hit me. This reminds me of the spring/summer of 1998 and waiting to get deployed. My Public Affairs unit was notified in early April of that year that we'd be going to Hungary/Bosnia/Croatia in support of Operation Joint Forge. But we had to wait months.....before we left. Which means it was another 8-9 months from departure before we returned and could resume our lives. I can remember wishing that we'd just deploy....and get going....so that we could begin to get on with our lives. 

Yes, the waiting to depart for Mongolia, for Ulaanbaatar, for Zorig.....feels a little like that. And yet.....far more intense because this is an affair of the heart. And my heart longs to be there.......

......already.

Lost? Found? What about Determining?

On the Arkansas River near Bent's Old Fort (photo by Zorig).

For these last two months of the school year I've taken over two classes of American Literature for a teacher on maternity leave. We are reading and discussing Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko. The novel takes place post WW2 in New Mexico. Our protagonist, Tayo, is a half Laguna (Native American) and half white male who served in the Pacific theater, losing his cousin/best friend while there. Tayo suffers from PTSD while simultaneously fighting to discern where he fits in the world. There are multiple tensions: race, culture, old vs. new, urban vs. nature, tradition vs. science. The list goes on and on. 

As I prepare to move to Asia and consider how I will adapt into an entirely different world, our class discussions have been striking a personal chord with me. 

To be honest, I have moments where fear washes over me. It makes my heart race and I pull a deep breath into my chest, and fight against the tension that wants to pull on my neck and shoulders. While I think.....Can I really do this? My lizard brain causes my physiological system to contract, to tighten. Fear manifests itself in a physical way. 

Do not misunderstand me, my desire for this man, this newly cobbled family, this adventure and opportunity--is strong and sure as ever. But as the date of departure inches closer, those little arrows of doubt and discomfort attempt to poke holes in my resolve. It's one thing to change a job or even a career, to move from one state to another, to go back to school, and so forth. 

But the CHANGE I make on June 30th is HUGE. Though I will yet be me, everything and everyone around me will be different. Will be changed. And I wonder how I will be changed because of that reality. 

I want to share a quote with you from Ceremony. An older Mexican woman tells Tayo the following--in regards to the way some people are reacting to him and to the world at large:

"They are afraid, Tayo. They feel something happening, they can see something happening around them, and it scares them. Indians or Mexicans or whites--most people are afraid of change. They think that if their children have the same color of skin, the same color of eyes, that nothing is changing." She laughed softly. "They are fools. They blame us, the ones who look different. That way they don't have to think about what has happened inside themselves."

Why do we fear change? While we simultaneously crave it because it makes us feel alive? 

And do we really fear it....or is it simply part of our public consciousness....that something that connects us to one another? Does our lizard brain simply cause us to choose the comfortable path--to sit where we always sit, talk to those whom we usually talk to, to wear a path in life spotted with routine and

Dad & Me at the Zaisan Memorial in UB

familiarity? 

I confess, I have begun to picture myself standing on a street in UB and needing to get somewhere.....and being paralyzed because I don't know where to go or what to do. What if the car service doesn't arrive to take me home from school? Whom do I call? And will they know English? And if they don't, then what? 

I know these moments will present themselves--it's part of the process, part of what I'll have to get through to assimilate into UB, into Mongolia, into Asia. It makes my heart race to imagine the moments ahead that I can't anticipate. Everything here in the USA is easy, simple. I know how to navigate our roads and streets, how to call for help when I'm in trouble, and never even think about whether I'll be understood. Life is easy for me now. It won't be in a few months. This is reality. 

And what about the pop culture statements of "finding oneself" or "losing oneself"? In recent years I've struggled to accept the lost and found motif in human life. 

I am always with ME. I know WHERE I am and WHAT I'm doing. I don't need to go off on a backpacking trip to find myself, nor do I need to spend a day at the spa losing myself (both of those activities are great and do provide for the human spirit--I've no doubt). 

I am always WITH myself. I spend more minutes of each day knocking around thoughts and feelings inside my head, than I do most other things. And let me tell you, my skull has been overcrowded these past eight months with many voices, opinions, thoughts, feelings, worries, considerations, suggestions, criticisms. I have moments of clarity and peace. And I have days of unease and uncertainty. But I am yet Heather every one of those moments and days. 

You see, I am not lost. Perhaps I made a choice to spend my life a certain way for a number of months or years, and then opted to change my course. But I wasn't lost. And I didn't finish a degree or earn a job that suddenly made me feel found. 

No. I am determining who I am in each and every moment of my life. I decided to get my degree in English and my Masters in Library Science. I determined at the age of 21 that I wanted to move West, wanted to break out on my own. I joined the Army when I was 17 because I determined it was a way to pay for my college education while simultaneously exposing myself to a larger world. I decided to get married, and then divorced. I choose to reach out and connect with friends that are hurting, hoping to ease their pain. 

Ever evolving, my life has been no one else's but my own. With each word spoken, each target pursued, each path abandoned, I am choosing who I want to become. And the best part--if you don't like the current iteration, the next one is up to you to generate. Now. Or next week. Or next year. You see, there is always a choice. You choose who you want to be in every second of your life. 

The Mexican woman tells us that change affects us all--whether we want it or not. I am scared of the changes ahead of me. And I am excited. I want to keep faith that I will yet be myself in Mongolia, while recognizing that I will be changed by Mongolia. Over the weeks, months, and years to come, I will be determining WHOM I want to become in reaction to my new surroundings, my new family, my new friends, and all the other aspects of what this new life can offer me. This is a thrilling opportunity to grow, develop, and expand in ways I could not if I remained here in the US. But it also scares the hell out of me. 

What is something you could choose that would offer the dark and the light? The yin and the yang? The thrill and the fear?

Thinking about Holidays

Dad & Zorig on New Year's Day

 (Post started last weekend....finished today.) It's Easter here in the US and I'm enjoying a quiet day at home. The sun is shining bright and I expect I'll get outside for a walk at some point. But for now I am sipping coffee and thinking about how my life is going to change in regards to Holidays. There are the national holidays as well as the Christian ones which make it onto calendars, albeit with a politically correct title nowadays (i.e. Winter Break, not Christmas break). I'll be trading in most familiar holidays for entirely new ones. 

Mongolia is predominately a Buddhist country with 80% of the population identifying themselves as so. The remainder is made up of 5% Christian, 5% Islamic, and the final 10% don't affiliate themselves with a particular religion. From what I know so far, the family I'm joining puts itself in that final category. 

As mentioned in a previous post, Mongolia has two major holidays--Tsagaan Sar is the Lunar New Year (changes year to year based on the moon cycle), and Naadam is a sporting festival, celebrating the three manly sports (wrestling, horse racing, and archery) held in July each year. Additionally, they celebrate the New Year (Jan 1), International Women's Day on March 8, Mother and Children's day on June 1, and Independence Day on November 26th. 

Me and Dad on New Years Eve in MI

But beginning this year with my July 2nd arrival into UB, I will no longer be actively celebrating my two favorite holidays: the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving. I wonder if the fellow Americans that I'll be working with at ASU celebrate Thanksgiving together amongst themselves? Or not. Is part of moving to a new country assimilating into their cycle of holidays and leaving one's own behind? Or should one be sure to hold tight to some holidays from their home to maintain their own sense of self and/or connection to where they come from? I really don't know. This is uncharted territory. I've no doubt I'll figure it out--and I have talked with Zorig about my desire to celebrate Christmas--at least with him and Enji. 

And really, as Easter came and went last weekend, I realized that it's not so much about the holiday, but rather about getting together with family and/or friends. Sharing a meal together. Visiting and catching up on one another's lives. Perhaps playing games or sports. Having some fun together. But here in Colorado, I am alone with no family member within driving distance. I found myself a melancholy last Sunday to be so far from everyone. 

With Mary & Dad before returning to CO

On July 4th of this year I'm excited to say that Dad and me and Zorig will be departing UB for Murun in the north of Mongolia where we will take off on a one week fishing adventure on the Shisgid river. Though not America's Independence Day, it will be exciting to be in the open land of Mongolia with my Love and my Father--in search of that illusive taimen which dad is DETERMINED to catch! Then we'll attend Naadam together--Dad and I's first time--and yet another opportunity to make some great memories. 

Next holiday?.....Zorig and I will celebrate the one year anniversary of our first meeting--on July 30th. :) I'm excited about this personal holiday.