Buddha’s Birthday Part 3 will soon follow, but for the time being I couldn’t muster the strength to write about it.
Sometimes there come moments when you’re abroad that you’re just feeling so. stuck. Literally like you’ve locked yourself in a plastic prison and you can’t escape and the air is slowly being sucked out.
There come moments when you feel so far from everything, it’s as if an earthquake has created an un-cross-ible chasm between your feet and the place you want to be most.
For me, right now, that’s Canada. I want to be back on home soil so much I can’t walk fast enough, sleep long enough, or mark my days down with X’s often enough to satisfy myself that time is ticking down on my time in Korea
Everything seems to be going in slow motion, like that old woman who talks too slowly, or wading through thigh-deep water, and it’s driving me fucking bananas. I want to throw a tantrum worthy of one of my students, but conceal don’t feel, right?
I feel so much pent up frustration and claustrophobia being here. Doesn’t matter if I’m inside the apartment or taking a walk or sitting at my desk (although it’s particularly bad during the latter), I’ve just so completely wrung dry my experience from Korea that I’ve got no juice left to keep me going.
I know I have to keep going to work. I know I have to make a summer camp. I know I have to be a patient all-giving teacher, but right now all I want to do is fling myself out a window and hope the breeze carries me home. (I mean this in the least suicidal way possible).
I’m so tired of being here and I just don’t know how much longer I can hold on some days.
In terms of freedom of movement and wandering, moments like these are the ones that you have to use to decide when it’s time to leave a place. Just like ending a relationship with a person, you know when you’ve reached the end of your tether with a place. If I wasn’t bound by contract, I’d be outta here faster than you could say, “FREEDOM!”
Alas, as it is, I’m stuck. But when I finally am able to leave, I’ll know that it’s the decision I’m making for the right reason; that staying here felt like breathing with cling film over my face; that I’d rather have my nails extracted than live in a country I currently feel is no more than a prison; that I’m moving to a better place to be a better person because anywhere is better than here and I neither like who I am nor who I’m becoming while residing in this place.
Anyway sorry for the downbeat post, but like I said in an earlier article, I want to keep this blog honest and that means even indulging in a few days of wallowing.
How about you guys? Any times you were fed up on the road?