Breaking point

My brother said to me once that I made Ethiopia out to be a some kind of prison.  As if I’m serving a sentence.  Just over the past week, I’ve come to realize this is true. 

I struggle to know what to say about it.  I could make some cute comparison to my life as a “prison”.  But the truth is I’m fed up.  My life has entirely revolved around my husband and subsequently our lovely girls.  It’s not so terrible a thing – but I’m lost. 

My friend lent me “The Unbearable Lightness of Being” last week – a timely read.  “Being in a foreign country means walking a tightrope high above the ground without the net afforded a person by the country where [s]he has family, colleagues, and friends, and where [s]he can easily say what [s]he has to say in a language  [s]he has known from childhood…What would happen to her here if he abandoned her? Would she have to live her whole life in fear of losing him?”  I don’t fear abandonment as much as I fear something perfectly terrible will happen.  To him.  To me.  To us.  Whether it’s our own undoing or not.

I don’t want to spend my days and nights alone.  I want ye selam fikir.  I deserve.  I’ve served my sentence.

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One thought on “Breaking point

  1. Just catching up on your blog and found this particularly interesting. Because I’ve been finding myself getting quite panicky sometimes lately and I realised it’s because I’m so dependent on Dylan here. Aside from him paying the bills, I don’t have a network yet. I can only imagine how much more you must feel it being so far from home, in such a different culture and with two kids to take care of!

    The girls are gorgeous btw!

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