9:05pm Start

At the time of writing, I have been in Iraq for 611 days, 17 hours, and 32 minutes. Throughout that time, I have worked in 3 Syrian refugee camps, 1 IDP collective shelter for Assyrian Christians, 5 Yezidi IDP camps, and am now beginning to identify the informal settlements in which I will be working over the next 3 to 6 months. Sadly, I have written only 7 blogs. I barely keep a journal and I can’t remember the half of it. So in the spirit of nurturing my mental health, along with exercising daily, reading, and cutting out tv, I am accepting the 31 Day Blogging Challenge. I am already 4 days late, so this will go into November, if I make it past day 2. The topic of course will be work, because that’s all I know. I will give myself two hours max to complete each day’s writing, and I promise to push “publish” no matter what.

That took me 27 minutes. Ugh.

I guess I should start at the beginning, with how I got into this line of work. It was a fluke, actually. Six months after graduating with a Bachelor’s in International Studies, I was starting to freak out about not finding a job. I had applied to every job in DC, New York, and Los Angeles that had anything remotely to do with something “international.” Ironically, I’d only taken 1 class on global poverty and had zero frame of reference for humanitarian work.

By the time I turned 30 in December of 2011, I was in crisis (or thrisis as I wrote in my blog then – get it?). I felt way too old to be applying for internships and fretting if I didn’t get them. I had applied for a position in South Sudan with Samaritan’s Purse (SP) back in October and still hadn’t heard anything. Samaritan’ Purse is famous for collecting shoeboxes stuffed with toys and other practical gifts at Christmas time for children in need around the world. Strategically, I took a temp job with the organization, training volunteers how to properly scan, tape, and pack the cartons. My uniform was a giant wearable cardboard box decorated in green and red, like the shoe boxes we would be sending to Mongolia and Ecuador (truth, I didn’t have to wear the box, I wanted to). I’d also driven across country in November to visit my mom in Arkansas and help SP rebuild houses damaged by an E5 tornado in Joplin, Missouri (now that’s what I call hustle; all that volunteering had better get someone’s attention).

Finally, I was asked to interview at 6am on December 12th. It was the only time that would work for both the Country Director in Juba and the HR person in North Carolina. We did the interview by Skype and I knew it went well immediately. How did I know, you ask? Well that’s a funny story. After hanging up the call, I breathed a deep a sigh of relief and starting checking Facebook. Then I heard a “ping.” I flipped back over to Skype and the interviewers were typing their feedback about me to each other! I was mortified. But before I could decide whether it was morally wrong for me to eavesdrop and whether I should tell them that I could see their comments, the conversation stopped. I guess it was good I got a sneak peak though, because they didn’t tell me I was hired until January.

10:38pm
It’s probably too late to start over, isn’t it?

I touched down in Juba on the 27th of February 2012. I barely remember those first days. Tragic really. I do, however, remember the first plane ride to Wau. It had six seats and between the time the door closed and the pilot finished explaining the emergency procedures, I was begging for air and staving off a bout of claustrophobia. My fear of crashing before getting to see the Sud was only reinforced when the pilot let another aid worker fly the plane for a while, for kicks.

Well, I did get to see the Sud, but I never flew the plane myself. A five month general internship turned into a 1 year Child Protection position, and then another year in Community Services with another agency. In all that time, and countless flights in and out for R&R and meetings in the capitol, I never had the guts to ask to take the controls.

In a way, I think that describes how I’ve been doing life mostly. Coasting. Last year I attended a conference called Storyline, on how to live a better story. Don’t get me wrong, I’m living a GREAT story (regardless of how my writing makes it sound), but I still want more. I think this 31 Day Challenge is part of that. Because what I want more than anything is to write. To be a writer. And so here’s my ask now: let me be a writer. By being my audience.

11:06pm
BAM!

That’s a lie. Editing til 11:28. Darn.

Day 2: Two Tough Questions on the Refugee Crisis in Europe https://inhardplaces.wordpress.com/?p=73

Day 3: Quitting https://inhardplaces.wordpress.com/2015/10/06/quitting/

Day 4: Mental (Un)health https://inhardplaces.wordpress.com/2015/10/07/mental-unhealth/