I heard a story on a podcast once about a man in India who had been declared dead but was actually still very much alive. It was a true story filled with all the elements of a hilariously tragic Shakespearian tale. Police corruption. A jealous kinsman. It took years for this man to prove he was actually alive. Walking around, trying to prove to people that you’re alive while they willfully and knowingly disagree with you. I’m not sure how he didn’t kill himself in the process. But! Never fear – he prevailed.
Today I thought about what it might be like to walk about knowing who you are with everyone you come into contact with saying, “Nope.” Sorry ‘boutcha. I imagine one would start going all crazy like: self-doubt would start to creep into every available orifice (I know, that was a weird word choice, but I made it.) Manic states would be swiftly followed by depressive ones.
Tomorrow marks one year since I returned to America from Ukraine. While America has been grand in these twelve months, sometimes I get the odd sensation that I’m mistaken for someone I’m not. When I enter a bathroom stall and see the seat covers hanging next to the directions on ways to stay extra sanitary and healthy, I feel dirty reverting to the trusty squat. When I’m in line at the checkout stand and I don’t know 90% of the people on the magazine covers, I feel shamed that I don’t have a smartphone…or a TV. When I’ve worn the same outfit to work twice in one week, I feel embarrassed that I hoped no one would notice.
Then I think of that Indian man and I realize how stupid all of those feelings are and I try to be more like him (I’m pretty sure he’s out there advocating for the thousands of other Indians this has also happened to, not feeling dirty/shameful/embarrassed.) I know who I am – I’m the only one who really does. If I forget, it’d be all too easy for the world around me to get it wrong, too.
So, a year back in, I’m still a nice girl who likes germs, sometimes eats her fruits and veggies without washing them, and doesn’t see the sense in washing clothes after every wear. I still sing almost more than I talk, smile at strangers in close proximity, and talk to kids I don’t know.
Wherever you were a year ago and wherever you find yourself today, I hope you still remember who you are, too.
Tags: anniversaries, indian man, peace corps
lovely, Monica!