Facebook is kind of killing me. I joined because one of the volunteers (he was 19, of course) kept telling me I was old because I didn't have an account, grandma jokes were tossed around. I was the oldest 26 year old in the room, so I bit the bullet.
I avoid Facebook like the plague. The photos of volunteers at retreat, the walls full of private jokes, the unanswered messages to me asking about my "return to my old life"...now I'm the oldest 27 year old in New York, as I now have a new life, and an old life, or something.
I'm erasing Chile from my life.
It's no real secret that I was never the biggest fan of the country. It's refreshing to be able to make friends with women again. It's nice to not to have people yell inappropriate things at me (although, now that I work in Harlem I can't say that never happens. In Harlem, people whistle).
I know that I'm making it worse on purpose, and that thinking about how much I miss my kids, and the fact that I can't replace them with the new girls I work with (although I might be able to be part of a book club for the girls! woot!). You'd think that, with the similar backgrounds of abuse and neglect, the focus on positive roles models, and the mission of putting children in charge of their own destiny rather than "saving"them, that the transition would be smooth.
But there was something comforting about living and doing this kind of work without my friends and family looking over my shoulder, being overly interested and making cracks about prostitution. Almost everyone I knew in Chile was involved with the kids in some capacity, aside from the random Chilean men I dated. And I can't say I ever talked to them about anything heavy. I never had to explain myself the way I do now. My conversations weren't all long political statements.
Or maybe they were. I can't remember.
I avoid Facebook like the plague. The photos of volunteers at retreat, the walls full of private jokes, the unanswered messages to me asking about my "return to my old life"...now I'm the oldest 27 year old in New York, as I now have a new life, and an old life, or something.
I'm erasing Chile from my life.
It's no real secret that I was never the biggest fan of the country. It's refreshing to be able to make friends with women again. It's nice to not to have people yell inappropriate things at me (although, now that I work in Harlem I can't say that never happens. In Harlem, people whistle).
I know that I'm making it worse on purpose, and that thinking about how much I miss my kids, and the fact that I can't replace them with the new girls I work with (although I might be able to be part of a book club for the girls! woot!). You'd think that, with the similar backgrounds of abuse and neglect, the focus on positive roles models, and the mission of putting children in charge of their own destiny rather than "saving"them, that the transition would be smooth.
But there was something comforting about living and doing this kind of work without my friends and family looking over my shoulder, being overly interested and making cracks about prostitution. Almost everyone I knew in Chile was involved with the kids in some capacity, aside from the random Chilean men I dated. And I can't say I ever talked to them about anything heavy. I never had to explain myself the way I do now. My conversations weren't all long political statements.
Or maybe they were. I can't remember.
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