Censorship of Self

Sometimes I am afraid to write in my blog about being down, depressed and sad. I realize that this is the main venue my parents, relatives and friends use to keep up with my life now that I live half a world away, and I have a tendency to censor my writing as to not worry anybody back home. I feel like every piece of news I share takes on immense weight, and because of communication and time constraints I'm not able to balance out the good and the bad. So I usually choose to write about the good, and limit the bad to tales of culture shock and simple frustrations. It's just easier that way.

Another problem with writing about my dark moments is that I feel they are always interpreted through the filter of "Ali went to Africa and lives in precarious conditions with no stable job and no real support structure." Any depression or frustration or hurt I might experience comes as a consequence of the fact that I live in Mozambique, and the reaction I get from many family members and friends is to simply say, "Ali, you should come home."

I experienced this last July, when I wrote a post venting my frustrations about our living conditions in Chimoio. Ricardo was in Brasil for the month, and I was left to deal with a million problems that cropped up with the company in his absence. I also had an unfortunate incident with one of our maids, who stole some of my clothes to sell in the local bazaar. I wrote about how angry and stressed I was with the situation, and got several comments and e-mails asking why I didn't just come home. I still don't know who made some of the comments as they were anonymous, but the whole thing made me feel even more frustrated and disconnected.

After that incident, I haven't really written about my "down times" here because I don't want to worry people and I don't want to have to deal with the inevitable perception that if I just left this crazy life in Mozambique everything would be fixed. Not that there is anything hugely wrong in my life, I've just realized that I don't share about half the things that happen here because of the desire to avoid people's reactions or spare their feelings.

I suppose with a blog there are certain things you have to censor, especially if you are writing under your own identity (which I do) using the real names of the people in your life (for the most part also true). For instance, I try not to write too much our business dealings because I know that potential partners or clients might come across my blog while searching for Agrolink. This was the case for a person representing the Millenium Challenge Corporation, so I think the no-business-dirt-on-the-blog policy is here to stay.

I also don't like to write about my relationship with Ricardo in detail. I like our relationship to be private, something ours to develop and cherish without our families and friends providing their opinions based on the things I might write. Many times Rico will say beautiful things to me that I'd love to share, but I just don't feel like this is the right venue. The fact that potential business associates might read this blog just reinforces this feeling, because technically speaking Ricardo is my boss and we already have a delicate path to walk without me gushing on and on about how he is the best boyfriend in the world.

But the fact remains that Ricardo is a huge part of my life and we spend literally 24 hours a day together. We live together, work together, have the same activities and, for the most part, share the same friends. It's hard not to write about our relationship when it is so present in my life, but I try and extract my own opinions and feelings to share. I think this is probably quite healthy, because my blog is one of the few things I have right now that MINE and mine alone.

I think that's part of the reason I am so disturbed right now about the fact that one of the few things that is actually MINE I feel compelled to censor. I have a paper journal, but I haven't really been able to write in it since I arrived in Mozambique. One of my current goals is to write in my journal more frequently, but I just can't seem to get motivated.

I find living with another person and sharing nearly every moment makes it hard to find time for myself. I know that I can - it's just a matter of me planning it out. I also find that being with Ricardo 24/7 makes it easy for me to avoid feeling depressed or sad. On the one hand that's really nice - I've got a boyfriend that makes me happy and lighthearted. But I also miss having dark days where I listen to singer-songwriter music, write nonstop and contemplate life.

This weekend Rico has gone back to Chimoio for a really important shareholder's meeting with Agrolink. It is a meeting that will be definitive for our work from this point forward. He is also boxing up all the things we left behind back in January to take back here to Maputo. So I have the flat to myself for a couple of days, and so far it has been an interesting experience.

It's been a LONG time since I've been truly alone for more than 4 or 5 hours. I miss it. I am a loner at heart and realize that for me to lead a balanced and sustainable life with Ricardo, I need to make time for myself. I also have realized just how much I enjoy being with Rico. We are a wonderful match, and I am grateful for the fact that we've found each other...

But this time alone has also been really tough. Because I tend not to dwell on depressing or down thoughts when I'm with Rico, it seems they've all come in a flood now that I'm alone for a bit. Yesterday I spent the entire day feeling like shit. I was depressed, fighting urges to binge on whatever food was in the house, and procrastinating like mad. I think I spent about 9 hours on the internet, visiting people's blogs and desperately hoping that a friend or two would log on to Skype or MSN or Yahoo so that I could have a chat and feel connected to someone.

The thing that was the worst for me yesterday was that I knew I had options to snap out of my depression, but actively chose not to. I knew I could get up off the wicker couch and do a Nia DVD, listen to some music, write a short story or a letter, organize our room, take a walk... A dozen opportunities to turn my day around and I decided I'd rather wallow in my depression and be sedentary.

Yesterday was a real lesson for me about the body versus the mind. My body was screaming out for me to stretch, move, dance and love life. My body felt terrible because I was sitting all day and letting the toxins from my stress and depression stagnate in my muscles and joints. On the other hand, my mind was ablaze with counterproducte (but convincing) thoughts. "Fuck it. I'll work tomorrow on the proposal." Or, "I want to eat something. Anything. Maybe I can go out and buy some chocolate, " when all the while my body was sending a clear message that I was full. My mind said, "I'm too lazy to do Nia," but my muscles and bones pleaded otherwise. My mind conviced me, "Just one beer, just one pita bread, just one piece of cake. Just another hour on the internet." In the end, my mind won out yesterday...

They say there is a silver lining in everything, and I am happy because even though my day yesterday was basically wasted, I got the silver lining: I can choose to listen to my body, or I can choose to listen to my mind. My body will never trick me; my mind often will.

Today is a better day, but I feel really melancholy. I woke up and felt alone and sad, so I decided to download some new music on iTunes. I got Calexico and One Giant Leap because I knew that I'd feel better if I listened to some good songs. I also decided to write. Finally. Write about the fact that I feel down, the fact that I am depressed this weekend, about the fact that I feel lonely and disconnected here in Africa...

I'm glad to be expressing these things. I feel better. I don't want to abandon this experience or this job or this relationship. But sometimes the going gets tough and not feeling free to share (by my impositions) makes it all that much worse.