Halted

I feel halted. In a weird place of haltedness. Projects have started, things are going more or less according to "the plan", a.k.a. work is getting done. But I am halted. And a little bit feeling-less. I think it's the pressure in me for movement. Physical, emotional, geographic movement. Routines though often comforting, make me bored. I need to leave, to get up, to go home, to come back, to go to a new country, to dance, to take a vacation, to play hooky one day. I need to feel anxiety, the pounding heart ready to sing in front of a crowd. Everything is too familiar, and in a way I am growing uncomfortable with. By this I mean I am sick of being so categorically different that "me" becomes an irrelevancy--I am seen only as that difference, unique insides forgotten or ignored. I am sick of that loud brazenness I once found so endearing in the "uneducated country women". It's still endearing, but today I want a break.

I think what is scaring me is the unknown. I am most comforted when I can pretend I know what the future holds, at least to a miniscule degree of certainty. That miniscule degree seems to be erasing itself. I no longer know where I will be in 6 months, no longer am certain of a thing to look forward to. It might still be there, but the feigned certainty is gone. Haven't heard from Gambia in a month, despite repeated emails. Does that mean it's not an option? I know staying here would be logistically easy, but I can't bring myself to do it. And I can't explain why. I just don't want to right now. And maybe a month in the US would change all that, but how can I make a decision based on a loose "maybe"? If I go back to the States I have no clear prospect of what I would do, where I would even begin looking for a job I could enjoy. Not ready for it yet.

So it leaves me halted, wordless. So often in all aspects of my life here I feel as though my hands are tied behind my back, so much lack of control, so much waiting for other people to do their part, so much playing the part and not feeling satisfied. And this is the moody bi-polar in me, shifting seamlessly from the garrish trumpeter proclaiming the wonders of here, of my work, to the weary mute unable to put forth the cheerful confidence expected by others.

I start getting sick of these attitudes I see in myself, this whining, the constant "I'm so sick of..."s that get sprinkled around like useless seeds.

So I'll stop for now. Focus on work, forget all else. Erase the dream you had last night of going home. Continue with your projects, hoping that the money you think will come in actually does.

Too much that is halting me.