This is me just bitching and whining

I have been sick with food poisoning for the past two days. Sunday night I even shit the bed at 4 am. Twice... My body is so weak it is difficult to get out of bed to go shit again, and it’s times like these when I wish I was back in Seattle tucked in with a pizza and a couple of good friends watching a movie.

Lately, I have been thinking about how I miss being around people my age, I’ve been thinking, is this celibacy out of compulsion or am I enjoying this? Okay, I am getting thinner, but isn't that just because I avoid eating meat that has been left out of the fridge for days at a time? When I’m at my lowest points, emotionally fatigued with too much time to think, I have to admit it’s not my choice. Saturday mornings I dread the most, I wake up at 7 am (or else, no breakfast, house rules) and I have no work, so I start to think about my life choices, or lack thereof. A lot of things about this lifestyle abroad have not been my choice: where I live, what my job is within this organization, my host family, my sex life, and the food I get to eat. My basic human needs are not being met and it’s turning me into a creature that I do not always recognize. The only way to survive is to pretend to be someone I am not for a very, very long while. I have to smile and say hello to every person in the street, make sure my skirts are the right length and I am wearing a bra, shave my armpits, and constantly tell people no, I do not have children or a husband nor do I want any.

I write these thoughts to let them out, in hopes that I can move beyond them and be happy.

And happiness— what does that mean? Does it mean the people I am with? Does it mean what I eat? Yes. Yes, it does. I have always found happiness in the delicious, nutritious foods I cook for myself, in the friendships I have worked on and built over many years, and in the meals I can share with those friends. Happiness is live concerts, watching the sunset, holding hands, taking my shirt off on a warm day in the forest, letting the rays absorb into my chest, and the scent of pine in the air. Happiness is reading a book by a fire and making some tea on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Happiness is not a place, it is the people you love. Right now, I am away from all of those people.

So why did I come to Perú? To see if I could. To see if I could learn another language, to see if I could be sober and celibate and somehow “find” myself through this experience. I came here first and foremost to learn Spanish because I thought that if I did learn Spanish I would be a “real” Mexican girl. Nobody could invalidate me, anymore, if I knew Spanish. But you know what? I don't think it matters now. I am always going to live between worlds with my identity. Even if I speak Spanish, I’ll still be white. And hell, a lot of the white kids in this program speak way better Spanish than me.

Another thing that is concerning me is seasonal depression, because unfortunately, it is "summer" in Peru, but in the place where I live, that just means it is raining a fuck ton and slightly less cold than normal. June, July, and August will be far more cold than it is now, and there is no "hot summer" in sight.

I have to find a mindset to carry me through this next year and ten months. I have to find a way to carry through the yearning to be with my family and friends.