Feed on POSTS
Just another brief update to let ya’ll know that I’m still around, but reluctant to blog for a few reasons. I imagine that I might start writing regularly in this space again sometime deep into next year. Instead, I’ve been twittering like a twit, so if you need a fix of my Adoyzieisms in 140 characters or less, that’s the place to go. I’ve also embraced Facebook, for better or worse, where my youngest brother clicks “Like” when my status updates indicate that I’m having a bad period day.
Before the year is over, I’ll be sure to post a bullet-list of some of the stuff that’s happened since I’ve been home. It’ll be a good six months worth of rollercoasterness. Pull that safety belt tight.
In the meantime, here’s a video of my fitful sleepiness in Chittagong, Bangladesh:
It’s been nearly three months since I’ve last updated and I apologize for the lack of words from this end of the fiber optic cables.
Being back home has been beautiful in ways I cannot enumerate. But the business of re-adjusting and re-settling after that year and a half in Chittagong, working for an institution that stripped me of so much, has been daunting and more difficult than I ever could have imagined. And to think that my students are still there. And to think that there are a new batch of wide-eyed, young women that have been brought into a school that is propped up by a bright, but fading, facade. It’s heartbreaking and I continue to have restless nights of sleep, mumbling my way through nightmares where I’m trying to lead my girls out of a winding labyrinth without luck.
A month after the majority of us returned home, we received an e-mail from the school’s founder’s assistant asking us for our contact information. The assistant mentioned that they wanted to have our addresses on file because the founder was thinking of taking us on a retreat. I could imagine vividly how each one of our faces, in different corners of the world, scoffed at our computer screens.
Of course, like all of the other platitudes, there is no retreat. Just frustration and agony and a deep well of resentment.
But I’m trying to come to terms with it all, one day at a time. Some days are brighter than others. Some days are beyond dark. I imagine that I’ll be able to push through this like I did in Bangladesh.
