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.


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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