A month won't be long enough to know

A friend recently told me I could do anything, because I was a "strong, independent woman". Now, while I know a lot of you are nodding in agreement with that statement, I'll be honest and tell you that I responded to that notion with the idea that it's usually interpreted to mean "doesn't need anyone". Are you still nodding?

My original plan was to be in Panama for the entire month of November, with the idea that after a month, I'll know whether this place feels right. To know that this is where I might belong. The plan to stay all month still stands, but I've changed my mind as to whether that amount of time will be enough for me to make a definitive decision. It's hard to have to start from nothing and make that kind of decision.

I had to disappear for a moment there. These first two weeks have been a bit of a struggle, not knowing what to do or where to go, but I think, mainly, that I had no one to turn to. Having no friends is lonely.

And so each day crawled by a little slower. I stayed up late watching Spanish episodes of Law and Order. I woke up late because I went to bed late. I wondered what I’d do today. Again. There were days I never left the house, as much as I tried to talk myself into at least walking around the block to get outside. But sometimes your inner depression forces its mighty chokehold upon your will, and so more tv it was. I haven’t had cable tv in over ten years.

I find myself having to cook for...myself. When I used to work in restaurants, I would often come home late, throw on a pot of water and a bag of Korean saimin, slices of Spam or frozen sausage, some kim chee, and an egg at the very end. When my case of saimin ran out, I would usually have to steal part of my mom’s stash because the stores were always closed before I got to work and were still closed by the time I got off.

And not to make excuses, but I never made myself anything that took longer than 10 minutes. I'm too tired and too lazy to care about cooking for myself properly. I don't get hungry while working, and tend not to eat at the restaurant either. So despite popular belief that everyone who works in restaurants must eat really well at home, it’s just not true. We don't cook like we do there. We don’t have time.

Except that now, I have lots of time. So I’m cutting my own fish, and butchering whole chickens, and buying fresh fruits and making my own juices from them. Things I used to do for the restaurant and never for myself. It’s a little weird. I’m sure it tastes fine, but it’s probably not as good as it could be, because I have no one to share my food with. There’s no one to cook for. This goes against every reason why I cook. This is not how I was meant to cook.

Please don't misunderstand me, though. Things are not terrible. I have begun to make friends. I am right between the end of rainy season and summer, which means the weather (for me) is perfect. I am beginning to feel like I live here. And any man who tells me I’m “the most beautiful thing he’s seen all day” is going to get the smile that a man who’s hissing at me will not. But most importantly, I am learning about maybe who I really am, or what it is I want, or need. Moral of the story? I really can do anything.