I am afraid. I am one of the most worried and anxious people you will meet. I obsess over details, I ask questions endlessly, I try to anticipate pitfalls so as to side-step them. And when I have anticipated all of the potential problems, when I have completed my to-do list, I find more things to be worried about. If I had a power animal, it would be a hummingbird.
I have been trying to pinpoint my elusive and lurking fear. Why am I afraid of Turkey? The basics are covered. I have a place to stay, help with the visa process, peers who will speak English, a job that will allow me to live comfortably. And yet, a fear continues to lurk, dampening my spirits as my departure nears. Why?
I fear that I will disappear. In America I know how to exist--I can shop for food and read the labels on everything, successfully mail letters, call strangers on the phone and discover information. I have friends and family who create a network of expectations for me and I know how to operate comfortably within them. In Turkey, everything will be different. I will struggle to learn Turkish, to make friends, to immerse myself in authenticity and not cop out with English-speakers; shopping will be a challenge; getting to and from work will be different; and I will have a new job--my first job--and my pride will demand excellence to counteract my fear of failure.
Despite this seemingly crippling anxiety, here I am, about to leave myself behind in pursuit of another self. I know that J must exist in Turkey, I just have to find her. Because if I can exist in Turkey, then we all could exist anywhere. We would change, adapt, grow, settle. And I must understand the world beyond America. In theory I know that it exists but I want to be part of it.
When driving down a Canadian highway last week, I noticed that the road signs were different from American ones. Not in a major way--they notify drivers of upcoming exits differently--but it was enough to momentarily cast an alien pall over the world. It took me a few moments to realize that it doesn't matter that it is different because the signs still work. Ours is not the only way. This might seem trivial now, but at the time it struck me rather forcefully. What else is there that works besides the monolithic American Way? It is this curiosity that compels me to leave, no matter my fear.
I'm like a zygot floating in embryonic fluid and America is the womb. It's time to get born.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I never know what to say when comforting someone. I worry I'll say something lame or cliche like "I believe in you!" or end up making them feel worse like "You probably won't be mugged."
It'll be new and scary and exciting and confusing at first, but soon you'll settle into a routine, and that'll become your life, and things will become easier. But first you've got to take the plunge! And that's easy for me to say because I'll be sleeping soundly as you disembark. ;-)
Post a Comment