in the blink of an eye

We've all heard the idiom 'in the blink of any eye'. Usually it's stated in an effort to portray the speed or quickness with which something happens. For example, "Life can change in the blink of an eye". I've heard this phrase used and have thrown it around myself for as long as I can remember. And until now, I had absolutely no idea what the hell it really meant. I was forever changed yesterday and it happened in the a blink of an eye...a literal blink.

I was able to spend the entire day at the refugee camp yesterday. I usually only have the afternoons to spend there, so I was looking forward to observing what a full day of life the camp entails. I arrived as the children were taking their morning porridge and immediately spotted a group of older boys (aged 9-14), whom I have come to know well over the past month. These boys speak English and like most people, I find comfort in the familiar, so I've found myself hanging with this crew a lot.  I had taken with me several remote control helicopters for them to try out. They were SO pumped about the 'flying machines' and immediately started experimenting with them.

There is one boy in particular, Ivan, who I find myself drawn to. This is mostly down to the fact that he has the most incredible laugh. Seriously, it's the best laugh I have ever heard. I want to bottle it up and carry it around with me everyday for the rest of my life. He has 'just made 10 years' and while his story isn't mine to tell, I will say that he has lost both of his parents in this war, in a manner which makes me wonder how he even laughs anymore at all. He was especially thrilled about the helicopters and at one point he pointed to the sky and said, "I see the helicopters flying just there...they go to fight the bad guys".  He finished his turn with the helicopter and happily handed it over so that his friend could give it a go. As he did so, he looked at me with a HUGE smile on his face, one reserved especially for a child, during a moment like that. With a beautiful smile and that infectious laugh he said to me, "That was so cool. I'm going to ask my dad to buy for me...." and then his voice trailed off and he blinked his eyes. I watched as that blink brought with it the harsh realization that his father was no longer alive. In all of his excitement over the flying toy, he had somehow forgotten. I witnessed the look on his face transform from one of pure elation to one of utter devastation--and it literally happened in the blink of an eye. To say it was a sobering moment would be the understatement of my life. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach and it took all I had to keep my emotions in check (and, if we're being honest, to not throw up). I had no idea how to comfort this child. The look on his face was one I had never seen before, and one that should NEVER ever be present on the face of a 10 year old child. The feelings he must have been experiencing at that moment far surpass my realm of understanding. So I did the only thing I knew to do--I hugged him and asked him if he wanted go somewhere to talk. He shook his head no. I gave him one last hug, told him I was leaving the helicopters with him and his friends, and he was off to play again. I immediately found my colleague who had accompanied me there and told him that I needed it to be time for us to go.

If you know me, then you know that emotion regulation is not one of my strong suits. I have a tendency to react, rather than respond. I knew that I had to leave. I was teetering on the edge, about to break down and it wouldn't have done anyone a bit of good for me to do it there. I am a self confessed chronic crier. I cry when I'm happy, sad, angry, excited, nervous, anxious, confused, concerned--you name the emotion, and you can be sure that it will bring tears to my eyes. However, I haven't cried since arriving in Congo and yesterday, I finally realized why. I refrained from crying because I was worried that if I allowed myself to start, there was a damn good chance I wouldn't be able to stop.

This first month in Congo has brought with it several instances where I questioned whether or not I was actually cut out for this type of work; all of these moments have taken place during my time at the refugee camp. But it wasn't until the drive back home yesterday that I looked at my colleague through tear-filled eyes and said, "I really don't think I can do this". I was finally having my 'you-are-not-tough-enough-to-handle-this' moment and I was almost certain that I would succumb to it.

Upon arriving home, I immediately sought refuge in my little office and tried to pull myself together. I was able to stop crying long enough to turn on my computer, in hopes of finding that my mom or one of my two best friends were awake and online. The first thing I saw was that my friend Kim, had tagged me in a post. I clicked on the post and found myself face-to-screen with THIS article. I read the first couple of paragraphs andddd, cue the waterworks. As I continued reading, those tears turned to sobs and pretty soon I could no longer see the words on the screen. I was eager to finish the article, so I began frantically trying to blink back my tears. And for the second time that day, my life was changing with the blink of an eye.

This woman was writing all of the words that have eluded me over the past month. She was expressing everything that I wanted to say; everything that I knew I SHOULD be saying. She explained some of the forces which are driving the conflict here. She told of the 6 million lives that have been lost during the course of the war. She wrote about the MILLIONS of Congolese displaced as a result of this war. Those whose lives have been disrupted to the extent that they now call a refugee camp home. She did an excellent job of condensing into one article many of the reasons and effects of a war that can't possibly be fully explained or understood. Most importantly, she told the world of the strength of the Congolese people; the courage that those who are living through this war display in the face of the most dire circumstances.

Yesterday was, to put it mildly, one of the most emotional days of my life. I went to bed with a million thoughts and questions running through my mind--the loudest of them being whether I have what it takes to do this type of work. The work that I have known I was meant to do since I was 10 years old and read a Time Magazine article about the war affected youth in Bosnia. This is my passion; my heart and soul. I truly believe that working with children who have been exposed to and affected by armed conflict is the very reason I was put on this Earth. So, as you can imagine, the idea that I might not have what it takes to do that was terrifying. Had I not spent the better part of the day crying, I probably wouldn't have been able to sleep at all. However, emotional and physical exhaustion lends itself well to sleep and I woke up this morning to two realizations--

1.) It's not about whether or not I'm tough enough to handle this. Because truth be told, I'm not and I never will be. I will ALWAYS come home from a day like yesterday and sob uncontrollably until my head hurts so badly that I have to take a hot shower and go to bed at 6pm. That's just how I'm made. I didn't move to Africa to work on becoming tough enough to deal with life here. This isn't about my strength or my feelings. I'll find the what it takes to deal with the tough parts of this life because they pale in comparison to those around me. I'm here to help make sure that the children who are living through this war and will be left to deal with its devastating consequences are empowered enough to rise above it. To ensure they have the tools necessary to overcome what seem to be insurmountable obstacles. The reason I'm here has absolutely nothing to do with the hardships(if you can even call them that) of my life. But it has everything to do with theirs.

2.) My story isn't the one I want to tell. Up to now, this blog has been used as a means of keeping you all updated on the daily, weekly, monthly happenings of my life here. But, that's exactly what it is now...it's just my life. I've only been here for a month but I can already say, without any hesitation or reservation, that I have finally found EXACTLY where I belong.  I didn't move here to spend a year, have a great experience and then go back to the states. I'm here for the long haul. With each passing day, I become more and more certain that I will never leave. So, at some point, I'm going to have to stop writing about what my life here looks like. Because it looks like just that. It's no more extraordinary or interesting than anyone else's. And there are far more pertinent stories to be told than my own.

I'm going to speak very candidly here and say it can be quite discouraging to see the number of 'likes' that a photo of a cute African child, or a post about a funny incident will receive, but when I post something of real consequence, like THE ARTICLE I shared yesterday, it garners very little interest. It is endlessly frustrating and incredibly disheartening. But it only fuels my fire and gives me the motivation needed to keep at it. So, that's what this blog will be now. It won't be all sunshine and rainbows, but it will be significantly more personal and real. It will serve as a source of information. I will write about the heavy stuff. The stuff that nobody wants to hear about, but everybody NEEDS to hear about. I'll only write about my life and my experiences here, insofar as they pertain to lives of those around me.

I can't stress enough how much I want you all to be involved in every aspect of my life here. But after yesterday, my life will be devoted solely to serving the population and informing others about what is happening in eastern DR Congo. People need to know what is happening in this part of the world; it's the only way they will be moved to act.  I've said it before, the Congolese people deserve to have their story told. Telling of the unimaginable hardships they face and the courage, dignity and super-human strength with which they face it, is a story well worth telling. More importantly, it's a story worth listening to. It is the most personal and significant part of who I am. It's the very reason my heart beats in my chest. I am in complete awe of this place that I get to call home and the people I'm lucky enough to live amongst...and I want nothing more than to share my good fortune with you.

Thank you so much for reading and I do hope you'll continue to do so. And please share this blog with anyone and everyone who will listen

If you haven't had the chance to read THIS ARTICLE (yes this makes the 3rd time I've linked it), I can't encourage you enough to do so. You won't regret it, I promise.

all of my love and happiness,
Bliss xxxx