The third week of the community development internship is known by my predecessors under a number of affectionate titles: "third-week freakout," "misery," "the week I cried every day." I'm not sure what to call it, but I'm glad it's over.
About a week ago, Hayden began to ask me rapid-fire questions about how things were going with work, at home, at church, with my experience in the community. I answered with bland positivity until I realized the truth: I was overwhelmed by new faces, freaked out by my research, homesick for Michigan, and just plain crabby. Suddenly I kind of wanted to cry. I guess that's what Hayden was looking for.
It was so good to have Hayden remind me of the normalcy of what I was feeling that week. I looked back over some school notes on culture shock and realized that's exactly what was represented in my glum thoughts: "Why don't you pronounce your vowels like 'normal' people? Dress like 'normal' people? Have a 'normal' fresh body of water instead of this stupid, salty ocean?!"
I think that the worst has passed, although my birthday on Thursday made it a little better and a little worse at the same time. It was awesome to have people here who cared that it was my birthday and to Skype with my family and get emails or letters from my friends, but it was not awesome to also know that I'm still very much a newcomer-- there's nobody here who can recall celebrating any other birthdays with me.
After a perfect Sunday, biking through the Great Dismal Swamp and chatting with Jay and Lizzie, plunging into the 3 feet of murky black water that is Lake Drummond (is it odd that this is an element in my definition of a "perfect Sunday"?), and coming back to a terrific Skype conversation with close friends, I feel just about ready for a new week. Now I'm going to join the family and some neighbors out by the fire pit to close out the day. Here's to Week 4.
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