Catch-22

In my writing yesterday I touched on the challenge of modifying friendships. There is more to say...

I am on the mind of several people of importance to me--the continual emails, offers for me to visit, phone calls, and text tell me this much. I know many of them are sincere and willing to listen or discuss anything I want, but I have this impression--it's sincerity until a point. (Although I am aware of what happens when one makes an assumption, there is adequate evidence to validate the statement.) When I don't bring anything up, neither do they. My guess is various friends and even my family are in a rotten situation. They recognize the hurt and messy emotions and see I am stuck in a rut, while assuming I am not ready to talk about it (topics from previous post) with them, and that I may never be. It's a catch-22 I am responsible for placing them in. They can't bring it up and talk about it, but I want them to acknowledge this happened. So both sides act like everything is normal and nothing happened, and just ignore the giant elephant in the room. 

This is the reason very few are let in to see what is actually going on. When I answer phone calls, I give no indication that anything ever occurred. I appear the exact same me from November 2009. But I have changed. How could I possibly be the old me? Shutting out people and putting on an act, especially for my friends, is absurd. Maybe I should open up, like not talk about everything, but also not talk like everything is fine. Few people have seen through the shield I have held up for the last year. This has been a protection mechanism; I am not sure what side I am protecting... odds on them. I would hate to make anyone uncomfortable. Though I have faith, if they ever realized this, several of them would hate themselves... feel like bad friends for "allowing" that. They want to be here for the me I am today. Least of all, they would like a chance to try.

Problem being the root of much of my hurt is my inability to bring it up, not knowing where I would begin or how I could ward off the tears. Hashing out all the emotions to the virtual world has been the best therapy; writing as opposed to vocalizing is the easier route. There is nothing that can be said to amend the reality. I went to Africa and witnessed the unexplainable, from my day-to-day life to the murder. Before I left, and confirmed when I returned, a friend told me she was most worried I would have trouble finding joy in the routine America after living in Africa and being exposed to this unique culture and lifestyle. These extenuating circumstances, no one could have predicted or controlled, brought out a side of humanity I never wanted to experience. The worst of humanity robbing the best of humanity--of life.

I am here as a 24-year old, college educated, adult living at home in a world where everyone, frequently--me included, pretends September 3, 2010 and the incredible months before never existed. My Peace Corps adventure was a dream, and T.C.M. is a long-lost friend.

This past weekend the change was blatantly obvious, and for the first time, everything felt right. 

I relied heavily on many of these friends to get me where I am today. For our time together I am infinitely grateful. At the same time I am confident in my remodeled self and my ability to continue to mold new friendships.

I in no way intend to write off old friends. I want to ask for patience--not hasty emails and voice mails. I want you to acknowledge this time period is part of my history, acknowledge the fact there are nights I still can't sleep because I hear gun shots fired at my closest volunteer friend and me. Ackonwledge your advice is not always merited. And in the meantime, I will understand that no one will ever be able to relate, to comprehend this experience from the grave loss to being a volunteer to the bureaucratic procedures of our government.

The test of time and trials exemplifies which friends are true.