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Monday, July 26, 2010

the little yellow leaf

Eleanor has a childrens' story, The Little Yellow Leaf, by Carin Berger, that I love to read to her. It's a beautifully illustrated book with a simple yet poignant message about the power of companionship in facing the unknown. It is, of course, way over Eleanor's head. But I read it to her anyway.

Lately I find myself really identifying with the little yellow leaf. To say that Tim has been busy with work in the last two months is a huge understatement. Even when he is physically here, in Arusha or at home, he is often mentally a million miles away- thinking about the last trip or planning for the next. My one real friend here, who has a daughter the same age and whom I communicate with on at least a daily basis, has gone back to the US for a month. I exercise alone. I work alone. My landlords chat, but I can't identify with them. Nor they with me. Eleanor is fantastic company- a pleasure to be around- but she's my child and that's different.

What makes this feeling so palpable lately is the fact that I feel completely lost in the work that's required of me. I have the beginning of ideas of things that I would like to do in the future, but those things are the scary unknown and I don't want to let go of the great oak tree. I can't clearly see the way forward, and that leaves me feeling paralyzed.

I knew there would be times like this; times when Tim was extremely busy and gone for a large portion of any given month; times when Arusha felt the way it did when we first arrived and didn't know anyone; times when work felt heavier than I was able to bear and when I longed for someone to talk with, face-to-face; times when I just wanted, someone to show me the way. I just didn't expect those times to feel like this; to feel so lonely.
-kjd



5 comments:

  1. I love reading such a heartfelt post. I can't say exactly that I know what you mean, but...I know what you mean. Big hugs from all of us.

    And thanks for telling about that book--the illustrations are so beautiful. We'll look for this author at the library.

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  2. Me too. Even with a partner who works regular hours, and work colleagues, the scary unknown of new research projects magnifies a feeling of isolation and lonesomeness in work. I'm the little leaf way over there on the other hemisphere of the oak tree.

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  3. I must take notice of the fact that it's all women who have posted comments here. Not that you men aren't out there sympathizing, I just think it's interesting.

    Thank you all (those who posted or those who wanted to) for your words of support. Even while writing that, I know that I'm not alone in this experience, but it's sure nice to know I have sympathizers out there. Even if they are all the way on the other side of the oak tree.
    -kjd

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  4. I'll break the gender barrier here . . . finally getting around to catching up on posts AND having time to reply! You know, I happen to hate those "times of transition" ... when you know you've got to let go of what's known and comfortable (or sometimes even NOT comfortable, but KNOWN) and trust that the wind will drift you to another new spot that's as good, or EVEN BETTER--but you can't yet see. I'm always wanting to KNOW it'll be okay, that it's the RIGHT decision. Dang thing is . . . I seldom get the reassurance I so desperately seek. Is that why they call it "a growth opportunity?"

    I know you've heard this from us before: Trust your gut. You have great insight, wisdom and knowledge of yourself and those most important to you . . . with that you won't go wrong!

    Try and enjoy the ride. It's the only one we've got.

    G'pa D.

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