Emotional Roller Coaster

South Sudan is a roller coaster of emotions for me. There are things I absolutely love, there is a lot of heartbreak, and then there are the things that make me angry and make me wonder why I am still trying to do work here. And I cycle through these emotions every day. I also find myself crying sometimes, whether it is the frustration, or sad. But then there are moments where I am laughing or relaxing and enjoying my time here a lot.

I wouldn't have made it over 5 months here if it wasn't for the things that make me happy here, but some days are just completely hard. I hear so many horrible stories from people here (but I think it is important to realize that some of these stories are not totally different than things in the US). The thing that separates these from the stories in the US is the sheer helplessness and prevalence of some of the tragedies here. I here so many domestic violence issues, traumatic stories, and other hard challenges.

This validates my work and why mental health care is needed here, but it also means that there is still a lot of work to be done. Things here move at their own pace. Despite the fact that I travel to Nzara every Friday, I am still in the office waiting for a ride because they forgot to get a vehicle for me. Meetings fail to accomplish what they were scheduled to do, and the reason is often hard to understand.

After months of witnessing these challenges, I still am unsure why certain things are such a struggle. The only thing I can identify as the main cause is that because this is the way things have been, this is the way that things will remain, until something is able to drastically force a change. With mental health care, baby steps seem to be the way to go. Subtle changes to make improvements over time and not trying to change things quickly. Maybe that is the key for even things like running a meeting.

There are the people who hate my presence here. Maybe that don't understand or like the work I am doing here. Maybe they think that I should be giving them things, like money. Maybe I am unwittingly doing things that upset them and don't realize it. The people here don't always tell you what is upsetting them, but will become mad and you won't know why. Some people don't want things to change, or don't believe in the work I am doing. Honestly, these people exist in the Western world too, so it is not fully unfamiliar to me.

But those moments when I am getting so frustrated or sad about being here and I want to just pack my bags up and fly home, are juxtapose with the moments where I see a patient experience relief in being able to share their story. Or maybe it is when I share a meal with one of the few friends I have here. It is when I run into some of the guys from the UN compound at the bar on Friday and we start joking around and relaxing after a long week.

Or when Sheila runs over to me on the dance floor and pulls me to come dance with her. Maybe it is the random act of kindness from Susan, who bought me a tailor-made dress. Or when the women from work invite me to their house to have lunch and dance. Perhaps it is listening to Dr. Maad speak passionately about mental health care, or another provider showing that they are actually interested in learning about the work I am doing and how they can incorporate it into their work.

Without these moments this work and this environment would be some of the harshest, most devastating ones to be in, where I would have never wanted to spend 6 months. While I know I will be happy to go home, when I fly back to the US, I hope it is those happy moments I hold onto most. I embrace the happy and try to remember them in those moments when I am over being here and missing home. I am still so lucky too. But that doesn't mean that there aren't hard moments or struggles for me too, they just look different. But I am getting through the hard times and enjoying the good moments too.