I love it in Istanbul

I started to write yesterday evening and after 2 hours I had an entry called “Reasons I’m Determined to Learn Turkish”.  I saved on Blogspot and it’s out there somewhere.  I guess it will never be read or posted or retrieved.  I don’t really care, I enjoy the writing process.

So, I will keep writing.  This time I’m saving on my documents so I don’t have to get so frustrated before going to bed tonight.

I love Istanbul.  I’ve been here since December 19th and I love it.  I have been challenged many times in life(as we all have), but I have NEVER been so challenged as I have been here.  It’s the mental along with the physical difficulty I enjoy.  I feel so proud of myself. I’ve been lost for 2 or 3 hours in Istanbul and I keep walking, keep thinking, keep focusing on what I need to do to find my way.  Many times I’ve walked 8 miles working my way back to my apartment.  I get such a strong determination out of nowhere and it keeps me walking no matter how exhausted I am.  I know I could get a taxi and I tell myself, “No, you can do this, you’re on the right track, don’t give up now.”

I play my thought-games I use to play when I was younger to get through something. (Like scrubbing the tile-floor, weeding the garden, ironing clothes, or listening to Dad explain how to sand a piece of “ship-wreck” wood)  This thinking comes natural and I believe it’s why I enjoy working with children so much. I think like them. It’s been pretty helpful.

I “self-talk”  I think it’s call that in the psychology books.  One of the talks goes, “Do not cry, it’s okay, you’ll be okay, you have all the time in the world and it’s no big deal!”

I don’t think it’s just the “self-talk” that does it.  It’s also being in a foreign country and when you don’t speak the language your body language is all they can go on for signals.  Crying here seems to signal ---Panic---something is wrong, we need to get help for this older woman.  I don’t want that to happen, it would only open itself up for more need of language to get to the bottom of why I’m crying.

It might seem weird when I say how much I love it here in Istanbul and I’ve only told you how difficult it can be sometimes.  My writing will take me to some of the other reasons I love it here.  It will be too much to explain in words before I take more time to process.

I feel freed from being in a rut.  I can honestly say I wouldn’t admit it before.  The following excerpt is from a journal entry of mine a week ago.  Please understand I didn’t edit this journal entry.  I wanted it to be free of my editing to show how I’ve climbed out of the rut.


Journal Entry- Febr. 2012

       My life was like a Rubik’s Cube.  More descriptive than calling it a “rut”.  Except in  `
       calling it a rut I can immediately picture a grave deep, dark and confining.


      And in picturing it as a grave I can see myself so many days and nights wishing 
      someone would toss in the dirt on the sides of the pit while I’m asleep so I don’t have
      to crawl out each day and be done with all of the depression.


      It’s really hard to tell anyone you would like your life to end-abruptly. It’s so taboo in
      our family, in my religion and in my own set of norms.  But, in the last few years the
      trees on the edge of the road on M-32 connecting Gaylord and Atlanta have seemed
      like they were calling me to feel the end, to know no more.


      It’s even harder to admit it wouldn’t be an act of desperation from trauma or incident 
      - just plain, ordinary, “I’m done”, “I can’t do this any more”.  Like when the needle
      keeps staying in the same groove and won’t keep the song going. Blump, blump. 
      blump. blump,  It’s a sound that becomes torture and you either want to press down
      on the arm of the needle or you want to yank it off the record completely and turn off
      the record player.  (Not even mentioning the urge to take the record and throw it like
      a Frisbee as far as I can!)  There, that is peace.


      So, I admit it.  Removing myself from this life has enticed me many times.  Not
      enough to plan it as I would kneading bread an d having time enough for it to rise
      twice (an hour each time), But, enough to fantasize the feeling beyond numb. The
      letting go beyond my power or decision making.


I will keep writing, keep walking, keep opening myself up to new challenges and adventures.  It keeps me sane. (Did you really think I was before?)  Thank you for logging on.