Morose

            Becca was feeling morose and perhaps a bit deflated. Maybe it was the holidays, or the lack of snow, or maybe it was receiving communication from some one at home she wasn’t yet quite ready to talk to, or the heat, or the language barrier, or illness that had persistently ravaged her digestive system for over a week. The Peace Corps doctors had a theory that with all of the factors of daily life in the campo, it was nearly impossible to figure out what exactly made you sick. Becca was beginning to think that applied to her mental health as well.

            She could already feel herself burning out hard; feeling that she couldn’t get anything accomplished, that she’d never learn Spanish, that she wasn’t going to be a good volunteer. How could this all be hitting her during month four...when she still had 23 more to go? Rationally, she knew it was likely normal, that nothing she was feeling was new, but the rational part of her was tired.

            She resigned herself to creating a new work plan, talking to more people, finally running in the mornings, talking to other volunteers, and remembering that time is all relative. It wasn’t a total fix but it was going to have to work. And in those moments when she really struggled she remembered the words of another volunteer; that everything passes in a few days, if you’re sad for a few days, wait, it’ll get better. She believed it would.