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In Kabul, I live in a communal guesthouse, i.e. ex-hotel in the pre-conflict days. That means about 30 of my coworkers live and work in the same place. Sure, that sounds a little overwhelming, but really, some people I have never even met yet, and some people I never see regularly. And that’s life, I guess.
As some of you may know, professionally I do investigations. This in itself is an isolating field. You can’t share much about what you do. Generally, I really don’t like to talk about the specifics of what I do anyway, but in the context of investigations and Afghanistan, sometimes there is so much that I need to let out. Over the weekend, I really just wanted to be in a soundproof room and scream at the top of my lungs.
I’m sure blood curdling screams for no reason are frowned upon in Afghanistan, and doing so may unnecessarily raise alarm bells. So obviously, I didn’t.
The last time I lived in a group-living situation was almost exactly 10 years ago, in 2009, when I first moved to Chicago. My dear friend, E, of 22 years invited me to stay with him and his roommates while I got on my feet in this new city. I had just moved back to the US from Thailand. I had no job, no money. And in the whole city of Chicago, I knew him. Even now, 10 years later, I am so thankful for the kindness and the way he and his roommates opened their Lincoln Park home to me. I lived in the living room, on a mattress in the corner. (Also living in the living room, was a man on the futon). This is in addition to the 3 official people living there.
The group living situation in Chicago in many ways is similar to here. There’s always someone cooking food. There’s always someone working out. No matter what, the kitchen is always dirty. The floors are uneven. The house is frigidly cold.
But in stark contrast is the feeling of isolation I feel here. I am surrounded by people who … make plans with me, confirm them, and then don’t show up. And we live in the same house!
Or like over the weekend. I had texted a group of women who regularly do yoga together. I said I was going to head down for some yoga, if anyone wanted to join. They replied saying they had just finished a workout together – would I mind waiting 2 hours for them? They’d be fine by 4 pm for some yoga. 4 rolls around, nothing. By 4:15, I messaged and said I was heading down. And that’s when everyone decided to go grocery shopping. At that exact moment. All of them. So, yoga for one it is.
During the holiday and new year week, when the guesthouse was empty, I did yoga every morning around 6 am by myself. That isolation didn’t bother me. Isolation and being alone go hand in hand and actually gives me strength.
Isolation in a group setting, especially when it’s done like that, does not give me strength. It makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs and never emerge from my room.
But that’s ok. On Saturday morning, Friday night US time, I had an amazing FaceTime hangout with a friend, J, who did normal things while on the phone with me – walking home, cooking dinner, lazing around on the couch, dying laughing at silly stories. I think we were on the phone for an hour or two, just hanging out. And those are friendship goals. Doing nothing, but providing all the support you could ask for.
All life is continual destruction and healing, over and over again.
365 Tao Daily Meditations – Deng Ming-Dao
Lannie is a perpetual wanderer and loves to share her travel adventures and the food she eats along the way with everyone.ย She works during the day while bouncing around the world and dreams about new places and faces at night!ย She has a home on the magical Isle of Islay in Scotland, where the whisky flows freely and happily.
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