Tuesday, February 27, 2007

What to do?

The hard thing about coming back to Portland is that it's all a waiting game. I'm here waiting for calls or emails about people who want to rent the house. Then I'm waiting for them to get me their applications. Then I'm waiting for the 1st of the month so I can exchange keys and checks. Between all that I have to amuse myself somehow.

So far I've gone to a few restaurants, a few coffee houses, and Powell's. I've seen some friends. I took a yoga class with my mom. But all this still leaves me a lot of down time. So I get antsy. I want to have something to do. It's very frustrating.

Monday, February 26, 2007

The world out there....

The night before I headed north to "el otro lado" (the US) I was talking to Cynthia. I said that I had a friend in Portland who was from El Salvador, so I would be able to practice my Spanish while I was in the States. I told her this friend used to be my Spanish teacher and would probably (hopefully!) be impressed by how much I have learned in this past year.

"So he speaks Spanish?" she asked.

"Yeah. He teaches Spanish." To me, being able to teach your native language is pretty impressive, so I thought this would impress upon her just how smart Walter is.

"So he speaks it pretty well."

"Yeah, it's his native tongue." I thought maybe I hadn't used the correct Spanish to explain where Walter was from. But it's really easy to say: "Walter es de El Salvador". I knew I had said that correctly.

"Oh yeah?"

I didn't show it then but I was really shocked. Somehow I just assumed that she would know that El Salvador is a Spanish-speaking country. I mean, pretty much everything south of the US is Spanish-speaking. Wouldn't she have learned that in school?

I told Luis about this the next day and he just laughed. Said he wished I had told him while we were still in Tuxpan so he could have made fun of Cynthia.

I wasn't sure if it was funny or sad. I told my mom about this incident too and she suggested that the people there just aren't curious about the world outside of Tuxpan. And that was it. It's not that they aren't educated - everyone in Luis' family has been through high school at least - it's just that they aren't aware of the world outside of their own little lives. If something happens in northern Mexico, they might hear about it on the news. But if something happens in China, that information might not get to them, and even if it does they won't care. They are much more interested in the gossip of Tuxpan. They are isolated in their little town and they like it that way.

So different from me. I'm curious about other people, other cultures, other worlds. I've travelled to ten other countries, I've lived in five major cities in the States, my favorite tv show is "Globe Trekker". And here I am, surrounded by people who have travelled only to the little towns around them, who have lived in the same small town their whole lives, who's favorite tv show is "Bailando por un Sueno" - something akin to "American Idol". No wonder I don't have any friends I can relate to.

stuff

So I really don't know what it is I want. I'm watching some movie and one of the characters is talking to someone about the girl he is in love with. He says "how can I be there for her if I don't have my stuff together?" And at that moment I know that I don't have my stuff together and I don't even know what it is I want in this world.

Mike?

I was just over at Powell's books, milling about and wasting time on a cold rainy evening. I was walking into the Photography section when I casually looked over at someone flipping through a book. I looked away then did a double take. Was that him?

His hair was longer and curly, but he was just as slight physically as he had always been. I kept looking, trying to figure out if it was my old boyfriend from Atlanta. My mind raced. Did I dare keep looking at him to see if it was him? Or do I look away and keep walking?

I looked away. I realized that although I was curious in a "where are they now" sort of way, I really didn't have anything to say to him, and a conversation would just be awkward. We had split up poorly, and even now, almost 12 years later, I'm not sure those feelings are completely gone. So I looked away and kept walking.

But afterwards I looked around the store to see if I might catch a glance of this person who might have been someone who was once in my life. Maybe the shock of seeing him after so many years scared me too much to talk to him. And really, I'm not sure what I would have said, but there is that sort of voyuristic curiosity, that wondering of what he looks like, what he is doing now, but not wanting to interact with him that kept me looking.

In the end I didn't see the guy again, so I'll never know.

So Mike S., if you're in Portland, Oregon - sorry I didn't want to talk. But I hope your life is treating you well.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Anxiety, phobias and change

The older I get, or maybe it is the longer I'm in a relationship with Luis, the more often I get glimpses of the life attitude I have so many problems fitting into my own life. Luis has a fabulous ability to just let life happen. He doesn't necessarily plan too far in advance, but deals with things as they come along. I, on the other hand, feel the need to plan, to predict, to control everything I can in life.

But I am trying to change this, and being with Luis is a perfect place to do this.

I bought a National Geographic magazine in Mexico with an article on two different expeditions to the North Pole. One expedition was comprised of a veteran explorer and one newbie to that region of the world. The newbie had problems sleeping while the veteran didn't. The newbie asked him how his companion did it, wasn't he worried about the million different things that could go wrong - a bear attack, falling through thin ice, getting snowed in? The veteran answered: "If you worry, you die. If you don't worry, you die. So why worry?"

Although this brings up visions of Alfred E. Neuman's gap toothed smile and catch phrase "What, me worry?", that statement really hit me. At the time I was having anxiety attacks in the middle of the night. I would get up to use the bathroom and not be able to fall back to sleep. My head instantly started a monologue of "you should worry about this or that", and it was hard to shut it off.

I still have those anxiety attacks. I've had two of them since I got back to Portland. But every once in a while, while I'm thinking about my big "should I stay or should I go" decision, I think, "it doesn't really matter which choice I make, it will all work out one way or the other". And at times I can stay with that feeling for a while. But it doesn't last. The pragmatic part of my personality jumps in and takes over. That part of my personality doesn't leave any space in the world for adventure and risk.

Right now I'm listening to a Fresh Air podcast. Terry Gross is interviewing author Allan Shawn who is plagued with phobias. He speaks of those moments when our phobias are brought up by whatever triggers them, and how we think we are having an appropriate response to them. We think, "this is bad, this is actually bad. We don't think 'Oh i'm having a neurotic response, how silly of me'." That has happened to me. And at times I can look back at the experience and realize I was being neurotic, but most times I think I'm being rational.

This is all brought up by my desire to control things around me. If I can control things, I can be safe. This is how my family works. My mom is very logical, practical, rational. These are her strengths and her weaknesses. She seems a bit trapped by them, unable to break out of those thought patterns. And I guess I am like that as well. But living with Luis is a direct challenge to that mode of thinking. I'm not against change or trying new things, but change is always scary, and when you try to change something so basic in your personality, it is even more scary. "If I alter this cornerstone of my personality, what will happen to the structure of my being?"

People around me see me as being adventurous - I've been to a number of different countries, I've moved across the country a few times, now I've even lived in a foreign country - and maybe I am more adventurous than the average bear. But I never feel that way about myself. I tend to think I'm too safe. And this question of going back to Mexico pushes me to change that impression too. Why not throw caution to the wind and go back to Mexico? What's the worst that could happen? Luis and I have to come back to the US and take shitty jobs somewhere other than Portland because the house is rented out, waiting out the end of the lease.

I guess that's not the worst that could happen. I could die down there for any of a million different reasons. I could lose my mind and become worse emotionally than I think I am now. Luis could die and I'd have to deal with living without him.

Ok, going down that line of thought is just depressing me more. Must stop.

So why not just go? Learn better how to let go of the controlling aspect of my personality by throwing myself into a situation where I will obviously have to work on the spot.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Unfinished

So it's been over a month since I posted last. The reason is that I am really depressed and confused.

I am currently back in Portland to rent my house - again. The last tenants decided they couldn't afford to rent it any more. Quite frustratingly, this was my one concern about renting to them when they first applied. But they gave convincing testimony at that time so I figured they would work it out. Apparently they didn't. All of this doesn't matter too much, I suppose, as I was going to have to drive from Tuxpan to the border to update my visa and the permit to have my car in Mexico anyway. This side trip to Portland just added a mere 2000 miles to that trip.

But back to this depressed and confused thing.

The depression thing is pretty easy to explain. I'm living in a different culture, in a small town, with no support system. I speak some Spanish, but am by no means fluent. I have no female friends because it is difficult for me to connect with the women down there. Their lives consist of their children, their family, and the local gossip. They wonder why I don't have kids and why I don't want to have any. They can't seem to comprehend childlessness as an option. What else are women to do with their lives? I don't have any male friends either, because in my small town friendship between men and women is usually perceived as "they are having an affair". Besides, the social expectations for men and women are different - men don't do the things women do, and women certainly don't do what the men do in social situations. The two genders basically lead seperate social lives, each with their own gender.

So that leaves Luis as my only option for support. But he has different reasons to be in Mexico. He has lived more than half his life in the States, and doesn't really know his family the way he wishes he did. So one of his biggest goals in living in Tuxpan is to get to know his family. Which means spending tons of time with them. This isn't really a problem, and is quite normal in Mexican life. But that essentially takes him away from me. Not physically, as I usually spend time with him and his family too, but mentally and emotionally. He is sure of my presence (I am less so of his). He knows I will still be there at the end of the day, we will sleep in the same bed, hence we will have time together. He wants to talk with his family and friends while he has time with them, which is mostly during the day. So I tag along and listen in on what Spanish I can understand, and participate when I can, but I feel like I am a side dish, on the side lines, a secondary actor in this play. Whether I am there or not is of little consequence. If I don't feel like going to hang out with them, that is fine, I can go do whatever I want to do. The trouble is, there is little in Tuxpan that I want to do, and what there is to do I don't want to do without companionship. And, as we've established, that means Luis.

So depression has set in, and in a bad way.

As for the confusion thing, I am not really sure why I am in Mexico still. I went down to spend time with Luis and meet his family. We ran a bar for a few months and dropped it when it turned out to be a money pit. Then we opened a carpinteria to build cabinets and furniture. Unfortuantely, the people of Tuxpan are all codo (cheap, stingy). They want the lowest price at all times. Quality is not an issue for them. If they can buy a generic queen size bedframe for $3000 pesos ($300 USD) instead of buying a custom made, completely finshed one for $10000 pesos ($1000 USD), they will buy the cheaper one. Never mind that the $3000 peso bed will fall apart within a year or two, has drawers that don't work, and is unfinished so they have to paint or stain it. It is considered the best option because it is cheap. We are surrounded by the wrong clientelle.

So business at the carpinteria is ok. Not great. One option is to move to a different city (Guzman or Colima being the most obvious choices), but that will take capital to get re-started. And capital we do not have. And it will take time to get established. And I'm not sure I have any more Mexican-time in me right now.

So while I am up here re-renting the house, I have to consider whether to rent it out or to move back in. And this is a huge scary thought for me. I feel out of balance here, even though I feel more comfortable than in Mexico. How do I fit in here now? I know how I fit in (or, as is usually the case, don't fit in) down there. But for some reason, I'm not sure how to handle being here. I guess it is all due to the "rent or move in" question that is unanswered. If I knew which way I wanted to go on that, I would know what I had to do.

So what is so scary about moving back?

  • Higher bills to cover, for one. We are low on money, and although I have enough to float on for a few months, I have a long, painful history of freaking out over money. But I could deal with this. I'll get a job, refinance my house, trade my car in for a lower payment, whatever it takes.
  • Leaving Luis down there. I don't think he is ready to come back to the States, so I would be here alone. At the moment being alone doesn't seem to be the usual scary thing it usually is to me. Not that I want to be alone, I would much prefer to have Luis here with me, but if I have to leave him down there for the moment, I can deal with that.
  • Feeling like a bit of a failure for not being able to survive down there. But how could I have? I know on some level that I am being too hard on myself, but I also have thoughts like "I didn't try hard enough", "I didn't make enough of an effort to find things that I wanted to do, even if I had to do them alone", and "a better, more adventurous person could have made this work." I'm not sure how to cure myself of this. It's a deep rooted feeling and not one that can be smoothed over with a layer of "be easier on yourself, you did your best". I don't think I did my best. I think I failed.
  • I really don't want to leave Mexico with negative feelings about my experience. I wouldn't mind feeling like I had some hard times but in the end it all worked out. But to leave now would leave the impression in my own head that things sucked while I was there, that maybe it wasn't worth it to have gone in the first place.

So what to do? At the moment I am still showing the house to anyone who is interested in renting it. If I get someone who wants to rent it, I'll have to make a decision - rent to them and go back to Mexico, or tell them it's all been a cruel joke and they will have to look for somewhere else to live because I'm keeping this place for myself.

Even though there may seem to be a pretty cut-and-dry argument for moving back here -- you own a house, your renters are moving out, your mental health could use a little loving tender care, your financial situation is still good enough to support you for a bit of time -- it's oddly not that clear to me. What would 6 more months in Mexico do for or to me? Would I lose it altogether and come back a basket case? Or would I fight through it and come out a stronger person? Can I go back and change the things I don't like (the ones that I have some control over, that is)? Or do I have so little control that what I can change might be insignificant? Do I miss the US, and specifically Portland, so much that I need to come back? Am I giving up on an opportunity to live in a foreign country that I might not have again?

I need to get clear on what kind of life I want to be living, and what is the best way to achieve that life. That is why this whole question is scary.