I don't sleep lately...at least not through the night. My brain has begun this sick habit of waking up around 3 am and decided that this is the perfect time of day to do deep thinking.
Why? I have no stinkin' idea.
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What does a twentysomething-senior-in-college-not-quite-independent-adult-but-almost-there individual do to find and fulfill her God-given life purpose? It’s a mouthful, but its something that’s been on my mind everyday since I realized I am a twentysomething-senior-in-college-not-quite-independent-adult-but-almost-there individual. At first I thought the answer would be clear-cut, like a math equation or a hairstyle (because we all know what does and does not work). However the more digging and questioning and praying I did, the less clear the answers became and instead I found myself in a twisty, tangled web of truth and confusion.
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Have you ever tried holding your breath for a really long time?
When my sister and I were younger and our family was driving to the cabin, we would have a contest. When we reached a tunnel we would try and see who could hold their breath the longest. She would usually win because somewhere in the middle the silence and lack of air became too much for me to handle.
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I was recently inspired to start writing again. Needless to say its been a while. It’s been hard to find inspiration and the words to accurately portray the different thoughts and ideas bouncing around in my head. I haven’t processed as much as I wanted, or created any clear and contrite plan for the rest of my life. But today, in honor of being back from India for 3 months, I decided to write again. It’s time to get back on the horse.
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Today was fat Tuesday, or Faschnaut Day for those of you with a German/Polish/Pennsylvania Dutch background. The word Fasch means "fast" and naught means "night". Fat Tuesday, which takes place just before Ash Wednesday, is traditionally the day where people would clean out their kitchens of foods that they would be abstaining from for the time of Lent. They would take the sugar, lard, butter, and other “unhealthy” elements in the kitchen and from those things create hot, delicious, and tasty doughnuts.
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I promised myself that this time it would be different. That my transition back from India wouldn’t mimic my transition from Ghana. I told myself that I would be different and thought that through self-discipline and determination I could escape the ramifications of culture shock. No one would feel the rockiness of my return home and everything would go smoothly.
I promised myself that I would internalize my cultural experience different than before. I told myself that I would not take the weight of the world on my shoulders and that I would not claim sole responsibility for the poverty and hurt that inflicted many living in India.
I determined to come back a new person. More confident, more spiritual, with a clearer understanding of where her life was headed during the end of schooling and post-graduation.
But I have a confession to make…India wrecked me.
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