Jan. 24, 2010 more musings on letting go

This steel-gray Sunday morning I woke up to a few non-spam emails, one of which was carmex to my chapped hide. You see, I'm not happy to be back in the States. Or, I didn't realize I was okay with being home until I read the aforementioned message. Before anyone gets their feathers in disarray, please realize I have only been able to visit a small but meaningful contingent of family and friends to date, a few of whom are walking emotional disasters that have since caused more agitation than almost missing my flight home. Himself is also still abroad and I'm not good at kicking around without much direction. Idle hands and all that. And, most of all, I still feel like an a-hole for leaving CM. Read on...

Before this trip I didn't fully comprehend just how much Maslow was on to something. It really sank in as I sat cross-legged on the floor of a Lao home and faced a proud mother who was scared that her son would lose his job and be forced to move to a neighboring country where so many of her friend's children had disappeared. I reassured her as best I could, but her desire to meet basic needs we often assume as a given in the West wrenched my heart. La mer and others like her furthered my resolve to keep working, despite the difficulties of the environment.

And then I left.

Well, it was actually several months after that, but sooner than expected. Cue soul-gnawing distress and guilt.

This morning's wondrous, glorious email soothed by simply saying things where my old job was located are moving along beautifully. It included a few pats on the back and warm fuzzies, but hearing someone in the know say that what I built upon is moving on without me is a relief. It may sound arrogant of me to fear otherwise, but in a region where needs are great, individuals and smaller projects can slip between the cracks through no one's bad intentions. It just happens.

I do think that the sleepless nights are over, so long as I steer clear of the java after 3:00 and don't choose to indulge in a Friends marathon. It makes a big difference to be able to read into someone's message that the project I worked on is truly sustainable, and that something I've penned may very well bring in real m-o-n-e-y. Maybe, just maybe, I'm now ready to let go of some of the angst I have at leaving early and start handling things head-on over on this side of the world. Like those bins on top of the closet. Eek.