This may not come as a shock to anyone (and some of you have heard from me or through the familial grapevine by now anyway, I'm sure) but I am headed home. No, not to glory.To Florida, that place I so badly wanted to escape but that now has some sudden charms. I'll be leaving Hungary the morning of March 4th, and arriving in Orlando that night.
So how did I arrive at this decision? Well, when my mom left a few weeks ago, I had reached the point of deciding that if my emotional state backslid into depression again, I'd be outta here. I have suffered that cursed illness enough of my life. If staying here meant suffering more....no way jose. A week ago this evening, I was at a school function (and was not feeling great emotionally, having to take anxiety pills) and I could tell I was coming down with something. I ended up having bronchitis and having to be off work all week. My emotional state continued to deteriorate and I realized that I had really digressed from where I was a few months ago when I was seeing my BFF pharmacist regularly and felt like myself. Its been so many weeks now since I have felt completely like myself. I don't really know who myself is anymore, but I'd really like to find her. So while the depressed part of my brain was screaming at me that quitting equals failure, the very small rational part of my brain knew that losing all sense of proportion about this endeavor probably meant it was time to be done.
So that's all, really. My health just isn't up for this. Now and in the next few days as I begin packing and cleaning my flat, telling my students I have to leave and saying goodbyes... I'll begin the arduous internal journey of trying to understand what all this meant. I have a lot of questions floating through my mind right now -- questions I've begun to process but that will take a lot of time to find the answers to. If I ever find them. Questions like why did God allow me to come when He knew it wouldn't work out. Could I have done anything differently to make it work out. What does it say about me that I couldn't stay. Certainly, I wonder what people will think about me leaving, both here and at home. But in a better state of mind I know that being at peace with this decision within myself is all that matters. At the risk of sounding cliche, those that mind don't matter and those that matter don't mind.
Ultimately though...I hope ...and I think I can...accept my own limitations, love myself in spite of them, be proud of myself for trying this, and forgive myself for the fact that it didn't work out. I learned through my mom's having to come "rescue" me here that there is freedom in accepting your weaknesses rather than trying to prove that they don't exist. Yeah, I'm weak, and there are things I just can't hack. But here's a pat on my own back for trying. And a bigger one for knowing when to quit.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Being OK is for the Dogs. Really.
I am settling into a routine here in my new life in Tiszaújváros. This was my second week "going it on my own" since Mom and Aunt Mel's departure. I am ok. Just ok. Not in the depths of despair; not loving life. And ready to put my fist through the wall the next time someone tells me this is a great adventure.
I left Florida in pursuit of freedom. Freedom from unpleasant memories of being depressed that haunted me still in certain places (i.e. I remain a devout Gator fan, due in part to the fact that the years I spent at UCF were so hard that it has even been unpleasant at times to drive by the campus). Freedom from old relationship dynamics that I thought needed to change. I dreamed of leaving at least some of my problems and hangups by leaving town. I wasn't naive enough to think I'd really leave ALL my problems behind, but sometimes a change of scenery can do good things for your mind, emotions...everything.
This is not one of those times, as evidenced by the emotional trainwreck I experienced upon first arriving here. If there's anything I've learned in these 23 years, it's that healthy, energizing relationships are built on authenticity. So I have been upfront with many people about my emotional health history. But when I say "I was so depressed when I first arrived here that my mom had to come stay for a couple weeks," people don't get it. They just think I was homesick and having a hard time with the transition. I should say, "No really, the thought of getting a knife out of the drawer did cross my mind." They. don't. get. it. And I am OVER being misunderstood. Now I have taken being misunderstood...abroad. Well yip yip.
I have spent so much time in the wasteland of emotional mediocrity, not really having the capacity to put both feet in and LOVE something. I love school, but at the time I was in it, I was so hung up on doing it perfectly and was stretched so thin (operating on about 20% of the emotional energy of a normal person) that I couldn't enjoy it the way I would now. I am enjoying teaching. In fact, I will probably pursue teaching high or middle school English when I return to the states. But I'm not healthy enough to feel able to pour myself into it here. So many mornings I feel like a zombie doing a half-way job because I don't have the emotional or physical strength to really do a bang-up job of it. Oh, and I'm new at it and have no curriculum to follow soooooo.....
I've got a lot working against me. The stress of a new home, a new job, a new ...country. I came completely off the antidepressant I had previously been taking (one I spent 8 months taking and a year and a half getting off of) in order to start a new one when my mom arrived here. I took the new one for 5 days before deciding no way, jose. It made me feel numb and cranky, and disturbed my sleep considerably. So I decided if this six month stint was going to happen, it would have to be sans medication. But still I am left with the withdrawal symptoms of the previous one, including but not limited to lack of physical energy, blood sugar level upheaval, and emotional indifference. I have supplements to help but...they don't fix it all.
Overall, I'm tired of feeling like this is supposed to be great. It isn't. Yes, there are good things about being here. Certainly, I'm not the same person that left Orlando nearly six weeks ago. But people sometimes make going abroad sound magical. It isn't. I work. I eat. I sleep. And I still have problems. I was ready for magic, for pete's sake. *ahem* God? This is your cue pal....
I left Florida in pursuit of freedom. Freedom from unpleasant memories of being depressed that haunted me still in certain places (i.e. I remain a devout Gator fan, due in part to the fact that the years I spent at UCF were so hard that it has even been unpleasant at times to drive by the campus). Freedom from old relationship dynamics that I thought needed to change. I dreamed of leaving at least some of my problems and hangups by leaving town. I wasn't naive enough to think I'd really leave ALL my problems behind, but sometimes a change of scenery can do good things for your mind, emotions...everything.
This is not one of those times, as evidenced by the emotional trainwreck I experienced upon first arriving here. If there's anything I've learned in these 23 years, it's that healthy, energizing relationships are built on authenticity. So I have been upfront with many people about my emotional health history. But when I say "I was so depressed when I first arrived here that my mom had to come stay for a couple weeks," people don't get it. They just think I was homesick and having a hard time with the transition. I should say, "No really, the thought of getting a knife out of the drawer did cross my mind." They. don't. get. it. And I am OVER being misunderstood. Now I have taken being misunderstood...abroad. Well yip yip.
I have spent so much time in the wasteland of emotional mediocrity, not really having the capacity to put both feet in and LOVE something. I love school, but at the time I was in it, I was so hung up on doing it perfectly and was stretched so thin (operating on about 20% of the emotional energy of a normal person) that I couldn't enjoy it the way I would now. I am enjoying teaching. In fact, I will probably pursue teaching high or middle school English when I return to the states. But I'm not healthy enough to feel able to pour myself into it here. So many mornings I feel like a zombie doing a half-way job because I don't have the emotional or physical strength to really do a bang-up job of it. Oh, and I'm new at it and have no curriculum to follow soooooo.....
I've got a lot working against me. The stress of a new home, a new job, a new ...country. I came completely off the antidepressant I had previously been taking (one I spent 8 months taking and a year and a half getting off of) in order to start a new one when my mom arrived here. I took the new one for 5 days before deciding no way, jose. It made me feel numb and cranky, and disturbed my sleep considerably. So I decided if this six month stint was going to happen, it would have to be sans medication. But still I am left with the withdrawal symptoms of the previous one, including but not limited to lack of physical energy, blood sugar level upheaval, and emotional indifference. I have supplements to help but...they don't fix it all.
Overall, I'm tired of feeling like this is supposed to be great. It isn't. Yes, there are good things about being here. Certainly, I'm not the same person that left Orlando nearly six weeks ago. But people sometimes make going abroad sound magical. It isn't. I work. I eat. I sleep. And I still have problems. I was ready for magic, for pete's sake. *ahem* God? This is your cue pal....
Thursday, February 7, 2013
This whole...language dealio
I have SUCH a new appreciation for people who emigrate to a country where they don't speak the language, particularly if they are older and aren't forced to pick it up in school. Until you live in a place where you don't understand the language, I don't think you can appreciate how isolating it feels to truly be a foreigner. It's like there's an invisible wall around me that I'm constantly aware of. When I'm standing in line and paying at Tesco or just passing someone on the sidewalk, others don't always realize right off the bat that we can't talk to each other, but I am always aware, and that's hard. It's especially ironic considering that, proportionally, there are WAY more white people here than there are in Central Florida. So we all look like we should be able to communicate ;)
I really want to learn Hungarian (well, more of it at least) and I intend to try (currently, I can count to 10, say "I don't speak Hungarian", "Do you speak English?" and "I am an English teacher from Hungary" plus a few other random words and phrases). But with lesson plans and teaching, I have plenty to keep my mind stimulated, so in my down time, learning a language isn't what I ...jump to.
Difficulties aside, the language barrier has created some...interesting and humorous scenarios. Such as: sitting in the teacher's room at my school with all my coworkers speaking Hungarian and hearing them laugh at some joke I am clueless about. Standing up front at a school assembly and being introduced to the entire school and not understanding any of the introduction except "Abigail" and "Angol" (I had to ask the teacher I was standing next to, who speaks English, if the introduction was done...). Having someone try the door when I'm using the "water closet" and realizing that saying "just a minute" will mean nothing (well, except to convey that there is in fact someone inside). Telling my first graders to close their eyes, and having it take about 10 minutes to convey my meaning. Saying to my second graders "Say...such and such" and they repeat me word-for-word...including the "say." Attending a teacher's meeting and leaving the room without the foggiest notion of what was discussed (one of the bi-lingual teachers jokingly told me she was going to give me a quiz on the content of the meeting afterward). And last but not least...today, in one of my second grade classes, I was trying to explain to the kids that we were going to play Pictionary (good game for practicing English vocab...in theory). I wrote the word "dog" on a piece of paper and handed it to the first player. But he didn't seem to grasp the whole "draw don't write" aspect of Pictionary which makes it...Pictionary. Slowly, carefully, and with lovely penmanship he wrote "d-o-g" on the board.
Definitely thinking Pictionary can wait till the 3rd grade....
I really want to learn Hungarian (well, more of it at least) and I intend to try (currently, I can count to 10, say "I don't speak Hungarian", "Do you speak English?" and "I am an English teacher from Hungary" plus a few other random words and phrases). But with lesson plans and teaching, I have plenty to keep my mind stimulated, so in my down time, learning a language isn't what I ...jump to.
Difficulties aside, the language barrier has created some...interesting and humorous scenarios. Such as: sitting in the teacher's room at my school with all my coworkers speaking Hungarian and hearing them laugh at some joke I am clueless about. Standing up front at a school assembly and being introduced to the entire school and not understanding any of the introduction except "Abigail" and "Angol" (I had to ask the teacher I was standing next to, who speaks English, if the introduction was done...). Having someone try the door when I'm using the "water closet" and realizing that saying "just a minute" will mean nothing (well, except to convey that there is in fact someone inside). Telling my first graders to close their eyes, and having it take about 10 minutes to convey my meaning. Saying to my second graders "Say...such and such" and they repeat me word-for-word...including the "say." Attending a teacher's meeting and leaving the room without the foggiest notion of what was discussed (one of the bi-lingual teachers jokingly told me she was going to give me a quiz on the content of the meeting afterward). And last but not least...today, in one of my second grade classes, I was trying to explain to the kids that we were going to play Pictionary (good game for practicing English vocab...in theory). I wrote the word "dog" on a piece of paper and handed it to the first player. But he didn't seem to grasp the whole "draw don't write" aspect of Pictionary which makes it...Pictionary. Slowly, carefully, and with lovely penmanship he wrote "d-o-g" on the board.
Definitely thinking Pictionary can wait till the 3rd grade....
Monday, February 4, 2013
Here, there, or in the (really cold) air
Well, it has been quite some time since I posted here, for which I do apologize. I know that you, my vast audience, have been waiting with baited breath for the next installment in "Abby's Attempt at Living Abroad '13" (or as it would more appropriately have been titled when I first arrived....Down Abbey) Thank goodness, this is not Downton Abbey, with issues going from bad to worse. I have not been thrown in prison for a crime I didn't commit, maimed in a war, or had my fortune (that huge one I have) jeopardized.
My mom and Aunt Mel, dearest angels sent from across the pond, arrived two weeks ago tonight, and left yesterday morning. Truly, they were a God send, and I am doing so much better now than I initially was when I arrived here. Having them come really helped me stabilize emotionally, and they helped me with various odds and ends associated with moving that had me quite overwhelmed (i.e. cooking, getting supplies for my flat, etc). When one is so depressed that one is sans appetite and motivation to cook, one subsists on cheese sandwiches and muesli. One loses weight this way, but I wouldn't recommend it. Instead, I recommend having your mother and aunt travel thousands of miles to cook for you...
I continue to have ups and downs. Tomorrow may be harder than today. But over the last couple weeks, as I have come to a more rational place mentally and emotionally, I have found a great amount of freedom in realizing that if I decide that my health is not up for this, or simply that this situation just isn't right for me, that's ok. I can pack it all up tomorrow if I want to. Till just the last couple days, I had made a huge idol of this experience. I thought it would define my adulthood...fix anything that's wrong with me...make me the person I am to become. I exaggerate to make a point, but I had built this whole six-month ordeal up to be so much bigger than it needs to be. That pressure made my depression all the worse. But thankfully I know a God who doesn't require six month journeys abroad to make me into the person I'm supposed to be, and if it doesn't work out, it's still been a life-changing experience.
So for now, I will stay on here, until 1) the school year ends 2) my health declines again or 3) I turn into a popsicle ....whichever comes first.
My mom and Aunt Mel, dearest angels sent from across the pond, arrived two weeks ago tonight, and left yesterday morning. Truly, they were a God send, and I am doing so much better now than I initially was when I arrived here. Having them come really helped me stabilize emotionally, and they helped me with various odds and ends associated with moving that had me quite overwhelmed (i.e. cooking, getting supplies for my flat, etc). When one is so depressed that one is sans appetite and motivation to cook, one subsists on cheese sandwiches and muesli. One loses weight this way, but I wouldn't recommend it. Instead, I recommend having your mother and aunt travel thousands of miles to cook for you...
I continue to have ups and downs. Tomorrow may be harder than today. But over the last couple weeks, as I have come to a more rational place mentally and emotionally, I have found a great amount of freedom in realizing that if I decide that my health is not up for this, or simply that this situation just isn't right for me, that's ok. I can pack it all up tomorrow if I want to. Till just the last couple days, I had made a huge idol of this experience. I thought it would define my adulthood...fix anything that's wrong with me...make me the person I am to become. I exaggerate to make a point, but I had built this whole six-month ordeal up to be so much bigger than it needs to be. That pressure made my depression all the worse. But thankfully I know a God who doesn't require six month journeys abroad to make me into the person I'm supposed to be, and if it doesn't work out, it's still been a life-changing experience.
So for now, I will stay on here, until 1) the school year ends 2) my health declines again or 3) I turn into a popsicle ....whichever comes first.
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