Well, I guess that really started in September, but most of the realization has come in the last couple of days.
According to official Peace Corps documents all of us A-17s (who are a little more then halfway through, with only about 10 months left) are experiencing what is called a 'mid-service crisis'. Catchy, no? While I would not go so far as calling what I am going through a 'crisis' (at least not compared to my entire first 6 months here, or my first few months back after last Christmas, or various other weeks of hellishness that I have experienced here), I would go as far as saying that it is unsettling and not even close to what I was expecting to feel at this point in my service.
Then again, what am I at this point if not used to watching my expectations fall through the drain? That came out very wrong, but the words work. Expectations here have a way of never really being met, most of us PCVs have come to terms with the fact that what we expect is never really what is going to happen during our service. For example, we came in with all these grand expectations of changing the world and making huge differences in our communities, and quickly realized that the changes would mostly be to small groups of people and largely to ourselves and the way we think about the world. On the other side though, I never expected to gain two new families while I was here, I never really expected to pick up the language, and I never EVER expected (at least not during my first 8 months in country) that I would dread leaving this place. So maybe it is not so much being used to failing to meet expectations, just very used to watching expectations change drastically and go in directions that were never thought of.
Back on task though...what brought about that nice mini rant about expectations is the fact that one of the bigger issues for me during this 'crisis' is that I am not sure that I have lived up to the expectations that my community had for me, that Peace Corps had for me, or that I had for myself. Although I have done a lot here, it doesn't really seem like I have done enough. I have for sure not done everything that I wanted to. I have done more English teaching then Environmental, I have put everything I had into one project and am waiting now for it's inevitable crash and burn, and I have failed in any way shape or form to bring about necessary change in the one organization I work the most with. As I settle in to deal with my last Winter here and start to think about my plans for when I go home, I think of more and more and more things that I would have loved to accomplish while I was here, and am beginning to realize that some of those things are really never going to happen. That hurts a little bit. What saves me from a total collapse is thinking about what I have accomplished here. I love the kids I work with to death, and (on most days) they feel the same way about me. I watched 184 kids go to a Green Camp, and know that while most of them will continue to throw their trash on the ground, 3 or 4 or 5 of them will not, and I had a part in making that happen. I know that a certain 5th form class of kids is waiting patiently for me to return to their English class so the monotony of memorization and ridiculous book reading is broken up with some songs and games and coloring. I know that my host families (Karenis and Dilijan) will genuinely miss me when I am gone. And, if I have failed (and will probably continue to fail) to pass on skills to any adult in my community, at least I will leave knowing that I made an impression the children here. They are the future, right?
During this 'crisis', I constantly weigh the 'accomplished' column against the 'failed' column, and am left to wonder whether I can make up the difference in the short time I have left here. I have just 10 months to make all of these plans that I have up in my head happen for real, 10 months to tip the scale so that I can leave this place knowing that I gave it my absolute all. It puts me into a planning frenzy...lists and lists of things to do and plans to make and meetings to hold. It is more then a little daunting.
During this time of planning and time lines and deadlines for myself, I am of course keeping track of how much time I have left in Armenia. While I am so so so happy when I think about going home and being able to see and hug everyone that I have missed SO much that it physically hurt for months at a time, the small part of my heart that keeps me happy and sane while I am here is getting bigger and bigger and bigger. Imagine that scene at the end of 'The Grinch', where his heart outgrows it's frame, kind of like that. I sat out on the porch with my host mom the other day, and as we watched the sunset on one of the few warm days that we see now, she reminded me that this was my last Fall in Armenia. After that, we sat in silence for a few minutes, and then mutually decided to never bring it up again, since talking about it made us both so sad. I often refer to my time here as 'Peace Corps life' and time in America as 'the real world'. I always imagine my time here as some kind of other world experience, while the real world continues at home without me. While I always talk about, and HAPPILY count down to, the day when I will once again rejoin the real world...it didn't hit me until a few days ago leaving this Peace Corps world is going to break my heart almost as much as when I first left America.
When I watched the last group leave Armenia, and followed their later updates on Facebook, I wondered how people who seemed so unhappy here could possibly mourn the loss of the life that was so aggravating and frustrating as they returned to America, and (while I am nowhere near as unhappy as they seemed to be) I think get it now. As aggravated as I get here sometimes, I remember how aggravated I got at work in the states. The difference here is that my life IS my work. Peace Corps, and everything that comes along with it, is my life. Has been my life for the last 17 months. I eat and sleep and breathe Peace Corps Armenia. I have worked so hard to become integrated here to make changes and get work done, that I have done it...I have made this place my home. After traveling,that familiar sense of ease hits me as my marshutka passes through the tunnel signaling that I am a short 15 minutes away from home. Not away from Dilijan, away from home.
I have two homes now, and while the pull of one far outweighs the other, it is still going to hurt to leave my Armenian home. People say the home is where the heart is, and over the last few weeks I have realized that when I leave THIS home, a small part of my heart will stay here with it.
So, I leave you to get all my stuff together for work, knowing that all of these thoughts and contradictions and emotions will continue to swirl together and pester me. In theory, I will be through this 'mid service crisis' in just about a month, and it will all be pleasant feelings for the 9 months after...I will let you know how that works out.
But, I guess it's a true story, Peace Corps really is 'The hardest job you'll ever love'.
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