So 'Sweaty', one of our former NCCC volunteers, came back into town a few nights ago to hang out with Kenda and me for a few hours. Sweaty is somebody I would have been friends with back home. I don't know how to explain this to normal society, but in the crazy - you don't choose your friends. You are friends, by default, with your co-workers, because they're the only people you ever have contact with.
For a year and a half, I've had default friends. Not to bash on them. There's something really challenging and in the end, amazing! about learning to be friends with someone you wouldn't normally give a chance. This social situation has made me a wiser, less judgmental and more forgiving person.
Having said that - I'm tired of being challenged. Everything about my life is challenging. My job is intensely draining; the city I live in is dilapidated and riddled with social problems; every person I come into contact with needs something from me; hanging out with my 'friends' demands a social/professional balancing act that I'm tired of performing; I'm a girl-supervisor in a boys' world of construction projects, and am constantly having to prove my competency; I don't sleep, I don't wash my clothes, I just don't take care of myself much at all; I don't have the energy for phone calls; I don't have the energy for being nice to people anymore... that's right, I said it.
I am sick of challenge. I want to live an easy life. I want to move back home, sleep normal hours, only think about work things between 8 and 5. Have effortless friendships. Watch TV like an idiot for hours on end. Bathe and sleep, and all things similar.
So why am I still here?
A few weeks ago, I was thinking about one of my homeowners, Ms. Rose. I was thinking about her situation and had this epiphany. I realized that -- nobody. not one. single. person. in the whole entire world of people, cared wether or not Rose Maulet from St. Andrews street had a place to live or not... nobody.
except for me.
So now the constant battle... I hate my life - because its non existant. I'm a ghost that only exists for this work. A shell of the old Amy, who used to have a personality and energy and friends, and now has this job.
But what about Ms. Rose? What about Leala Gaines and James Gibson? Linda Sami, Floyd Jackson, George Carter, Keith Mason? Roslyn and Irma Breaux? They can't walk away from their lives. And I don't know if I can walk away from them and still call myself humane.