Me, Myself, and I

Back in February, when this whole coming to Russia scheme was in its embryonic stages, my motive seemed pretty clear to me: improve my Russian. This was, and still is, my weakest area in terms of my desirability as a candidate for a master’s program in Russian studies at competitive institutions like Harvard or Georgetown. The plan was pretty cut and dry: go to Moscow for a year, apply for graduate school from here, go to graduate school for two years, apply for a job at the State Department or a think tank or some government institute, then live happily ever after.

Having had lots of time to myself over the past three weeks, other, more subconscious motives have arisen. It even seems to me that, in terms of personal growth, these motives might hold more weight than the original motive. I mean, who knows, I might completely change my mind about my career path anyway.

I have an irrational fear of sounding or being cliché, but here goes: I think one of my primary motives in coming to Moscow was to figure myself out. Ugh, god, just reading over that sentence makes me cringe. How many Americans, and I guess people in general, go to other countries to “find themselves”? WTF does that even mean? And wasn’t Eat, Pray, Love a pretty big failure in literary circles and in theatres? Good god, I’m pretty embarrassed right now.

All right, getting over my initial self-disgust, I’m going to delve a little more into this subject of self-realization. I’m not actually sure if we all need or feel the need to “discover ourselves", whatever that means. One of the fundamental problems with being human is that I can’t possibly know what it’s like to be the next person, or the next; I only know what it’s like to be me. I don’t know if other people feel the same way I do, if we all are pretty much alike, or if we’re all truly unique in our emotions. I don’t know if other people feel as complicated, confused, self-disgusted, dependent, desperate, manic, depressed, or sometimes giddy as I do. I don’t know if it’s just me, if I’m alone in the world in feeling this way. I’ve been told that I’m not alone, that almost everyone feels like I do. Then why do I always feel so alone, like nobody gets it? I feel so incredibly self-aware, that it’s uncomfortable. I feel that, if I had stayed in Ark City, I would wither away into nothing out of depression and inertia. Entropy, I guess. In Ark City I have so many people acting as emotional crutches, holding me up and giving me a false sense of greatness, that I think I could life my entire life never actually knowing what lies beneath my everyday thought process. I can’t imagine that.

For one thing, as all of my readers will know and probably get sick of hearing (sorry, everyone!), I am depressed as hell most of the time. For this reason, I feel an invisible but undeniable pull toward the unknown. I believe that, the more I see of the world, the more I will see of myself, until I eventually reach the core of my depression and figure out just WTF is causing it. Once I find the root, maybe I can eradicate it. And if that’s not an option, then at least I can gain enough experience and spend enough time surviving on my own that I eventually learn to cope with that it in a more effective way than I already do. At this point in my life, I let the depression control me. I cater to it like it’s my effing child. When I’m feeling depressed, I like to stay home under the covers in bed. I like to eat comfort foods. I like to listen to Radiohead and feel oh so sorry for myself. That barrier between my depression and a good day just seems too exhausting to climb. So I just nurse the depression like it’s a poor little pathetic creature in need of love and care. Gah.

Okay, wow, I’m really going off on a tangent here. I sat down to write this blog post with the intention of compiling a list of the things I have learned about myself these past few weeks in Moscow. Because, really, all of this time alone has revealed, in stark detail, a lot about myself that either a) I didn’t ever notice or b) I prefer to not notice. So, here’s a by no means exhaustive list:

1. I am flaky. If I don’t want to talk to someone, I screen my phone calls. I often make up excuses to get out of doing social things. I often say I will do something, then I back out. Usually this happens when I am too grumpy to go out and find social situations exhausting. I hate that I am flaky, and I know other people hate it. I am very, very uncomfortable with this aspect of myself.

2. I don’t take very good care of myself, physically or mentally. I always forget to take my pills, I don’t eat healthily, and sometimes, if food is not readily available, I just don’t eat. I almost never take my contacts out; in fact, I have gone days and even weeks without taking them out. Don’t get me wrong; I am very clean and hygienic. I just don’t go above and beyond the call of duty to keep myself healthy or happy. I think maybe this lack of personal care stems from my low self-esteem.

3. I am not a picky eater. I will generally eat anything that is put in front of my face. I found a caterpillar in my soup the other day, and although of course I didn’t eat the caterpillar, I was back again the next day eating the same soup from the same cauldron. I will eat mystery meat. I will eat things I’ve never seen before that I can’t quite identify. I have no food preferences in Moscow. If it’s food, I’ll eat it.

4. I’m a lot more of an introvert than I thought I was. Like I said before, I often avoid social situations, mostly because I get tired trying to put on an act in front of people. Usually I am in a pissy mood (bah humbug, I know) and don’t feel like dealing with people.

5. I’m moody.

6. I am kinder than the average person (at least the average Russian). Whenever I see an old lady on the metro, I let her have my seat. I open doors for people. I let a stranger use my computer when he was freaking out about not having Internet. I always greet people. I know this is kind of a stupid thing to notice about myself, but I’m putting forth an extra effort to say at least one positive thing.

7. I curse… a lot.

8. I laugh really loudly.

9. I am often broody and silent in social situations, especially if it’s with people I just met. This is not so when I’m around my friends, usually.

10. I’m pretty funny. At least I like to think so.

11. I like animals way more than I should. So much so, that when I told my Russian professor that I have five cats, she accused me of being mentally ill.

12. I have very progressive values. I am a feminist (see previous blog post), very un-racist (after witnessing Russian racism, I know that there is a huge difference between minor prejudices and racism), liberal in my views on sex and marriage, etc.

13. I really suck at speaking Russian. I mean, really suck.

14. I am emotionally dependent on other people for my self-esteem. When I am alone, without anyone to hold me up, I feel like shit. This is one of my biggest problems, and I hope to make some progress during my time here.

15. I prefer solitude.

16. I like coffee.

That is a pretty effing long list. I could definitely think of more, and I’m sure I will have more self-realizations as time goes on. I think my time here will be well spent, as long as I continue to pay close attention to my behavior in all kinds of situations. It’s like I’m having a date night with myself, only it lasts a year. I sure do get sick of myself, though. Let me tell you. I have about had it with myself, and it’s only been three weeks. I bet you guys are getting sick of me, too. You're probably thinking, "does this girl ever have anything positive to say? She's like Eyeore, for godsakes." I'm sorry, man. I really am. I am hoping that, over time, this will improve. But I've got to continue being true to myself, or the blog will lose its authenticity. Please bear with me...