I finished last year just before it finished me off.
Too much work coupled with too much stress and too many parasites that European doctors could not locate left me absolutely shattered. I was happy to cancel my last job, even though it was interesting, even though it meant a loss of money, I honestly could not have done it.
The new year came and with it new resolutions. As always, I promised to do better, try harder, be smarter. My “word” for 2011 is “Balance”.
Yet, it is January 17 and I can’t help it, I am starting to get the jitters, the shakes and having a hard time focusing. I am working hard on finishing my book, but I need my fix. You aid workers know what I am talking about, I don’t care if you refuse to recognize it publicly: we get addicted, and it’s hard to let go of the drug.
I have a job that is coming, I know it’s just around the corner, and I know that once it arrives it’s going to slap me in the face. They will want everything for yesterday, and I will have to start the marathon: setting the dates, getting the flights, hotels, arrangements for the kids, (pant, pant, pant)….. I should just be enjoying this time to write, to take the kids to school, to meet for a lazy coffee…. but I can’t help it, my body is asking for it. I need my adrenalin fix. I need to be handed something unknown, in a place I may or may not have been to before. I need to start deciphering the piles of documents handed to me, putting the puzzle together, trying to guess what is not being said, what I might be missing, and how I’m going to get it (pant, pant, pant). I need to go somewhere exotic where I can take photos of strangers and tell their story, (shake, shake, sweat coming down my forehead), preferably somewhere warm, away from this unbearably grey weather. Even if that means that I will end up pouring water over my face halfway through an interview because I am about to faint from the heat, even though it means exposing myself to parasites yet again, being away from the kids, even though it means working through jet lag.
I need to be out there, I need to go into the airport bathroom with my mommy suit, and come out like superman from his phone booth, transformed into an aid worker: switch my boots for muddied flip flops, the grocery store for the four wheel drive, my cotton sheets for mosquito netting.
I can’t help it.
My name is onSanity, and I’m and aid junkie