Strangers Like Me

I’ve put off writing this post for awhile now. I’ve been thinking about what I want to say pretty much since I decided to take a repatriation flight home, but actually sitting and writing it has felt too hard. For at least a few weeks before the flight was announced, I felt like I would be ready to go at the next chance; I was still happy and loving being with the chimps, but I missed home and was having a hard time constantly sitting in so much uncertainty so far from home. But when I first got the email about the repatriation flight, my first reaction so much sadness. I knew pretty much right away that taking it was probably my best bet, but that stung way more than I thought it would. The thought of leaving the chimps, especially Nelio, was really painful and broke my heart a little bit.

Once I committed to taking the flight, I put everything else aside and spent pretty much all my time with the chimps. I wanted to give them tons of attention and love, make some more memories to leave with, and also help Mama P as much as possible since me leaving meant one fewer person to do things like clean the cages and wash bottles. Those few days where I wasn’t focused on anything except playing with and caring for Nelio, Julius, Longlife, and Celia were probably the highlight of my time in Sierra Leone. Sure I was sad, but I was also so much less distracted and stressed because I wanted to make our time together special.

My last day almost broke me. I almost lost my nerve and changed my mind about leaving. That morning, Nelio sat on my lap for the first time. I’m pretty sure it was at least partially an accident, but it was still amazing. One of the other chimps made a loud, scared noise, so Julius jumped into my lap for a hug. That was normal. If I was with him, he would seek me out for comfort. Nelio, on the other hand, never really had. He would run to the other chimps, but still showed a lot of uncertainty about approaching people in that way. So when this noise started, I think Nelio was going for Julius. Julius, meanwhile, was on my lap. In the past when this had happened, Nelio would just run off into the corner making scared noises until another chimp came to comfort him. This time, though, he also jumped right up on my lap and hugged Julius. I was stunned and afraid to even breathe in case it shattered the moment. They both stayed there for a few minutes, then calmly got down and went back to playing.

As special as that moment was, I kind of thought it was a fluke and wasn’t expecting it to happen again. But then I went back to hang out with them after lunch and Nelio was acting so much more comfortable around me. He climbed all over me, ended up in my lap a few more times, grabbed my arms and wrapped them around himself, and laughed when I tickled him. Julius started to get jealous of the attention and tugged on my braid several times. And each time I said “ouch”, Nelio ran over and gave me a hug.

I’d been trying so hard to hide how sad and guilty I felt about leaving the chimps, but that moment almost broke me down. I felt like the Grinch when his heart grew three size; mine felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. I thought about how far Nelio had come. I mean, he had transformed from a sick, scared, exhausted, underweight little guy into a sweet, playful, confident chimp. And I thought about how far our relationship in particular had come. Helping him make these changes and get to a point where he felt that comfortable was one of the single most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had. Before that day, I’d thought about how proud I was of Nelio and how grateful I was to have formed a bond with him, but I’d also accepted that we weren’t going to get to the point where he would really seek me out of feel comfortable physically engaging with me, so when that happened, it meant the world to me and also caught me completely off guard. I could never have imagined a more special and powerful way to wrap up my time at Tacugama.

I’ve always acknowledged and understood the power of words. They have the ability to connect people, to bring faraway lands to live, to wound, to heal, and to create change. But the more I’ve started to like and engage in writing, the more I’ve realized that sometimes words are inadequate. This is one of those times. The perfect words to describe my time in Sierra Leone do not exist. I’ve searched and searched for them, spent hours thinking of the best way to describe my experiences and what they meant to me, but I’ve always come up short. Words can’t capture the feeling I had when Nelio first let me groom him. They can’t explain how stressful it was to not know the next time I’d come home. They’re not enough to describe the pain and sadness I felt leaving those baby chimps or what it’s been like to have a piece of my heart still there with them. So I try my best, try to rearrange those 26 letters of the alphabet into the right combinations in the hope that they can convey the emotional rollercoaster that has been the past few weeks. But I always want to add a disclaimer that there’s so much more to it than what I write.

Promise me you’ll never forget me because if I thought you would I’d never leave.

When I decided to come to Sierra Leone, I had no idea that this incredible country would hold such an intense, deeper meaning for me. I had no idea it would gently push me to look at my past and connect me to pieces of it that I’ve tried so hard to hold at arms’ length and contain for two thirds of my life. I had no idea that a place I have fallen in love with would hold such a deep significance to much younger, very wounded parts of me.

Backtracking almost two decades, when I was 8 years-old, one of my closest friends from preschool died suddenly in a car accident. We had somewhat grown apart at this point because of distance and new schools, but Lindsay-Grace’s death still shook me to my core. I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that someone so young, kind, energetic, and full of life could be gone, just like that. Seventeen years later, it still doesn’t make sense.

There are lots of little ways I’ve stayed connected to Lindsay-Grace over the years. January 18^th, the anniversary of the day she died, is burned into my brain. Her memorial playground is 5 minutes from my house in Maryland and I still go there in the evenings sometimes if I want space to be outside and think on my own, but not be totally alone. I still listen to the song her dad’s band played at her funeral, which is where I pulled the title of this post from. And finally, I reconnected with her parents on Facebook a few years ago. Her mom and I message occasionally and when she found out that I was here doing my master’s research, she told me that one of the ways they chose to remember Lindsay-Grace after she died was to start a relief fund for children in Sierra Leone.

That stopped me dead in my tracks. Of all the countries in the world, what were the odds? I mean, it’s not like Sierra Leone is that high up on the list of most visited countries in the world. Upon hearing my plans, I’d say 75% of people responded with something like, “that sounds super cool, but what’s Sierra Leone?”. And yet, I somehow found myself 3,500 miles from home, sitting in the middle of the rainforest in a country that had a very real connection to the beautiful friend I lost in 2003.

Naturally, I’ve thought a lot about her since learning about that connection. In a way, it’s been really cathartic and oddly calming, probably even more so given the current chaos of the world. Feeling close to her has been somewhat of a source of stabilization, which has really helped me navigate being in a foreign country, still unsure of when I get to go home, in the midst of a global pandemic.

Some days thinking about and feeling Lindsay-Grace has hit me harder than others. The past few days, for instance, I’ve thought about her pretty much nonstop. Early this week, her mom sent me a digital copy of the book she and Lindsay-Grace’s dad wrote a few years ago. I read it in one sitting, stopping only to go to the bathroom once or twice. Then I just sat with the memories that came up for a little while. Most of these were very brief snapshots, like the coat my dad wore to the funeral or the pattern of the couch I refused to look away from after my parents told me. They weren’t really new memories either; they were little glimpses I’d revisited a lot. But something about sitting there thinking about them in Sierra Leone felt a little different.

I think part of power of this place might be that it’s a fresh connection to her, one that I had no idea existed. Like I said, the memories I have, both of her and things that link me to her, are old and I’ve spent years poring over them. But I think learning that there are still new ways, new corners of the world that have her touch makes my relationship with her feel more real and dynamic. It’s a different way of feeling her presence and a very powerful one at that.

The ones that love us never truly leave us.

J.K. Rowling

Spoiler alert: I don’t think sensitivity is a bad thing. It’s actually served me very well in nannying, working with animals, and leading students on outdoor and international trips. When I’ve used it well, sensitivity has helped me create incredibly meaningful and significant connections in relationships. I’m still working on managing it, but I have no desire to tamper it down.

Emotions have never been easy for me. Even as a child, I didn’t know what to do with them. I’ve always struggled with black and white thinking, so like so many other things in my life, whatever I was feeling had to be all or nothing. I was perfectly composed, not letting anything big or small break through my carefully constructed wall. OR I had completely lost control and my emotions (usually) came out sideways. There was no in between. When I feel emotions, I feel them BIG. Part of this experience has to do with the fact that I am and have always been a highly empathetic person. I pick up on subtle emotional cues from others and often have trouble distinguishing my own experience from what I am sensing in others. It’s really easy for me to drown in other people’s emotions, so for a long time my only protection against that was completely shutting down to numb them.

Slowly and with a lot of help, I have started to be able to challenge this mindset and not demonize my emotions or stuff them down. I am now starting to be able to accept that I do not need to have it all together all of the time and that doing so would not be normal or healthy. I’m still willing to give other people a lot more grace and wiggle room in imperfection. I think that’s actually pretty common- too demand more from yourself that others. They say you’re your own worst critic and it’s very true. It’s a work in progress for sure, but I’m trying.

However, most of this growth took place in a kind of bubble, where I was surrounded by people who agreed with, endorsed, and supported my process of learning to understand that allowing yourself to have off days and to feel negative emotions is not only ok, but necessary. It was a lot simpler to accept these ideas somewhat hidden away from the real world because, as I’m learning, there are plenty of people who will endorse the opposite ideas, the ones I spent the past 20 years believing. It’s confusing to try and hold onto what I know to be appropriate to expect of myself and what I can give myself grace with while also encountering somewhat blatant messages about needing to manage emotions better and be grateful about where I am and what I am getting to do. And don’t get me wrong, I am EXTREMELY grateful for this opportunity, I love what I’m doing, and I adore the chimps, but that doesn’t mean I need to be over the moon excited (or even just happy) about it 24/7. I’m learning that that isn’t realistic or healthy.

And also that I don’t have any responsibility to shape my personality to be what is most convenient and pleasant for other people. Of course, that doesn’t mean it’s ok to just say “screw it” and disregard how my words and actions can affect people. It’s not a get out of jail free card. Hurting people, intentionally or not, is one of my biggest fears and I like to think that will stay constant because of what I value. But unmasking is freedom in a sense because it means that it’s ok to be authentic, to not play roles for people because the “real” me (whatever that means) isn’t good enough.

I think that right now is weirdly somehow simultaneously the best and worst possible time to be examining who I am, what I want to be, and why. I can’t help feeling pressure to put my existential crises off a little bit, mostly to be able to get stuff done for the sanctuary and for school, but also a little bit because procrastination in this case would allow me to function more in survival mode to just get through this. But I’m tired of survival mode. It has its time and place, but it’s not sustainable in the long run. So I’m working on choosing to focus instead on how now, of all times, is when we should all be a little kinder and more understanding to both ourselves and others. There is a literal global pandemic going on right now, so we all deserve space to cope in healthy ways and to have times where we let ourselves feel the anxiety, frustration, helplessness, and whatever else comes up around that. Those feelings are real and valid and pretending they aren’t there isn’t doing anyone any favors. As someone very dear to me once told me, when we block out the bad, we also block out the good.

As of Saturday night, we are on lockdown round 2. This time, we are planning to go for at least 2 weeks, meaning that there is still over a week to go at minimum. This time has come with new challenges, anxieties, and stressors. I’ve still been struggling with accepting that I don’t know when I get to come home. I’ve also been missing familiar faces and creature comforts like hot showers and washing machines. And I’m trying to hold space to let myself acknowledge and experience those, while also feeling grateful to be in an amazing place with tons of amazing opportunities. I can love my time with Nelio and the other babies AND also dread cleaning up their poop. I can feel grateful to be living somewhere secluded and rural AND frustrated when my phone dies and there’s no power to charge it. I can be motivated to work hard on many different projects here AND feel really tired. That whole holding both thing.

Since most of the staff are once again living at the sanctuary, there are lots of people around all. the. time. As someone who is very much an introvert, this is very draining and difficult. Fortunately, I moved down to the lodges last week, which means I have some more space and privacy than where I did where I was. Plus, the lodges are super nice. Usually when the sanctuary is open, that’s where paying visitors stay. They’re big, I have a double bed, and they have insane views. Sitting in our balcony hammock feels like being in some gorgeous forest oasis. I don’t have a ton of spare time to enjoy it since we’re all working our butts off keeping the chimps healthy, raising funds to keep the sanctuary running, and creating conservation awareness campaigns.

Speaking of chimps, Nelio is still amazing and progressing all of the time. We moved him in with two other babies about a week ago and it’s been so good for him. He lets them groom him, comfort him, and sometimes steal his bananas. I’ve seen how they’ve helped his confidence grow too. Julius, one of his new roommates, is a super playful goon. One of his favorite activities is swinging recklessly on a rope, knocking into walls, me, the other chimps, anything in his path. I always think of “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus when he does it. Anyway, all of his playing has interested Nelio. It took a few days of him awkwardly trying to insert himself into our play, getting scared, and running away, but the other day he finally let me tickle him and even laughed. That is HUGE. It shows so much growth, so much trust, and so much tolerance of letting his guard down. I’m so, so proud of this beautiful boy.

Unfortunately, though, Nelio and many of the other babies have come down with colds. We’ve had a couple rainy days and apparently that’s all it takes to get these guys sick. I can’t help but feel really worried about him. He just got healthy and comfortable here, so it really sucks to see him back with the sniffles and laying around listlessly. But at least this time he is accepting a little more comfort. I’ve spent a lot of time in his enclosure rubbing his back and head while he lays in his hammock, which seems to lull him to sleep. Once again, I feel gratitude and awe that he has slowly been trusting me more and more. A few weeks ago, he never would have felt ok with the vulnerability of laying down and closing his eyes while I was in his enclosure touching him. And it feels so, so good to be able to give him some comfort.

My interactions with wildlife over the past few days have not all been positive though. I’m covered in bruises from being bitten by baby chimps I’m still forming relationships with (which, side note, hurts like hell), have been peed and pooped on, and was completely swarmed by biting ants. That last one was a particularly rough night, although I’m sure it looked pretty comical from the outside. Basically, I was walking on the path by my lodge and felt a bite on my foot. I bent down to look at it and immediately started feeling little pinches up and down my legs, on my stomach, up my shirt, and pretty much everywhere else. Since my shoes were full of ants that just kept biting, I kicked them off and ran home barefoot. Luckily I was close to my house. I then also ripped off my pants because the little bastards just kept biting. All I could think to do was jump in the shower, so that’s what I did even though I was fully clothed apart from my pants. Once I got them all off of me, I tossed my pants outside because I just couldn’t deal with them. When I got them back the next day, there were still a few dead ants latched on, which meant I really got to see just how hard they bite down and why each bite had hurt so much. Needless to say, I’m still a little traumatized and have stumbled on the path multiple times because I am more focused on making sure I don’t accidentally walk across those ants again.

So, overall it is a mixed bag right now. There is good, bad, frustrating, amazing, tedious, and fascinating. And like I said, I’m working on being ok with the fact that those can all be true at the same time. I’m also working on being honest about that. I think I have a tendency to brush aside the bad and only tell people about the good. Having conversations where I only talk about how amazing is here does lead to feeling this weird disconnect from the other person because I’m not expressing the full story. The truth is, being here is hard. It’s not all adorable Instagram posts and chimp cuddles (although that is part of it and it’s AMAZING). And that’s ok. I’m working on accepting that I don’t have to love every minute of being here and that doesn’t mean I don’t feel grateful, love Nelio, or feel engaged and passionate what I’m working on.

As happens more often than not, the internet is not cooperating enough to let me post pictures, but I’ll try to throw some up later.

Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses

Lao Tzu

I seriously feel like a million years go by between posts. So much happens on any given day that I guess that makes sense. First of all (and probably most interesting): Nelio is doing incredibly. He amazes me every time I go see him and every day he makes stunning progress. Every day, I try and spend as much time with him as possible. I sit with him in his cage, give him toilet paper rolls filled with peanut butter and popcorn, and let him try to catch the flies that land on me. Today, he let me groom him and rub his back. We also played peekaboo, which for whatever reason was a huge hit. I don’t even have the words for how amazing those few minutes were. I stood there like a complete idiot, with a massive grin on my face and tears of happiness pouring down my cheeks, completely overwhelmed by gratitude and awe for this incredible, resilient, beautiful little being sitting in front of me. It was easily one of the happiest moments of my life. All the hours of sitting in his cage, handing him pieces of popcorn one by one, singing to him, spoon feeding him applesauce, and constant worry about him and whether he was doing ok and whether I was doing enough for him paid off in those incredibly special 15 minutes we had. This experience also left me with so much hope that Nelio will be ok. More than that, I know he can thrive as long as we give him the time and love that he needs and deserves. At this point I think I’m just gushing, but I really do feel so proud of how hard he has worked and how far he has come. And I also feel so privileged and grateful to have earned even a little bit of his trust. AND I am so excited to keep working with him and watching him grow.

On a less happy note, Sierra Leone now has three cases of COVID-19. As of tomorrow, Tacugama is going on lockdown, meaning no one is allowed to come and go. They made the call late afternoon today, so we all scrambled to do a last minute grocery shopping trip and move around to make room for staff to stay and sleep at the sanctuary. For now, the lockdown is only scheduled to last until Tuesday, but who knows how long it will actually go for. I’ve somewhat adjusted to the idea of not knowing how long I’ll be here, but I do still have a good amount of anxiety about that. It’s especially hard not knowing the next time I’ll see JoJo. I miss her every moment of every day and am already so jazzed about our reunion. I am so, so grateful to my parents for taking such good care of her and giving her so much love and attention. I do feel better knowing she’s in good hands, even if I’m not the one showering her in kisses and cuddles.

Other than that, it’s been pretty much business as usual around here. Nelio had his first health check yesterday, which went well. He is underweight and has some skin lesions, but his flu is way better. He had to be under anesthesia for his health check and I got to be with him and hold him as he woke up, which was off the charts special. He would wake up a little, climb out of my lap, start falling asleep standing up, let me pick him up, and crash in my lap again. It was so stinking cute and felt so incredible to finally be able to hold him and give him some physical comfort. It didn’t completely count, though, because he was drugged. Today, on the other hand, was very much the real thing. I have to stop myself from gushing more because I could go on and on about how much I love him and how amazing he is. Just know that he is the best and is working so, so hard to overcome his horrific start to life.

Since Nelio’s flu has been better, I’ve been able to start helping with some of the other babies in quarantine. They are also absolutely incredible and learning about each of them and seeing their different personalities come out has been so cool. First, of course, there is Nelio, who is timid and scared, but gaining his confidence. He loves swinging upside down and watching everything that happens. He’s a bit of a wallflower. Then you have Long Life, who is somewhat reserved, but not exactly afraid. She loves holding hands and trying to remove earrings. She is also pretty mercurial. She will steal fruit and throw a big fit if she doesn’t get everything she wants. And finally, there is Julius. Julius jumped right into Tacugama life. He likes being held and snuggled and bounces up and down whenever he is remotely excited (which is pretty often). He is amazing and makes me smile all the time. I am so grateful to get to know each one of these unique and special beings and love all of my time with them.

AND shameless plug: because Tacugama has had to close to visitors, most of the sanctuary’s income has stopped, but there are still massive costs associated with caring for 96 chimpanzees. So please, if you can, think about making a donation to help ensure that chimps like Nelio continue to get everything they need!

https://www.justgiving.com/campaign/helpthechimps

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Don’t forget that every single one of you makes a difference every single day and that you have a choice in what kind of difference that is.

Jane Goodall

I think my feelings about this week can be summed up with some random tweet I saw awhile back: “what a year this week has been”. This week feels like it’s gone on forever and the world has completely descended into chaos. I know I personally have been on quite a roller coaster ride the past few days. I had been taking things very day by day as far as my comfort level with staying here, figuring that I would at least get a little bit of a warning if it was looking like I’d have to leave. I was kind of right. Thursday afternoon, we were notified that Sierra Leone was closing its borders for 90 days (at least) and all commercial flights after Saturday night were canceled. Later that day, I found out that the State Department had issued a Level 4 Travel Advisory. Needless to say, it was a lot of scrambling, phone calls with my school, advisor, and parents, and watching flight prices steadily increase.

After lots of thinking and said phone calls, I decided to stay. It seemed silly to leave a country that has no cases to spend two days traveling, being exposed to god knows what, and then returning home where cases are increasing every day and the medical system is stretched thin. That, and I’ve worked so hard and gone through so much to be here that I didn’t have the heart to leave (again). I think I would have taken that really hard. SO I’m sticking it out, even though the fact that I don’t know the next time I’ll be allowed to come home (and therefore the next time I’ll be able to see my dog) does give me a pretty good amount of anxiety.

Like I said, the past week or so has been absolutely insane. I spent a few days running around trying to get as many interviews done as possible before things around here started to shut down. I talked to people on the street, more Tacugama staff, and teachers at a few of the schools the sanctuary works with. It was a decent variety of people, and I walked away from every single interview awed by the kindness, friendliness, and authenticity of the people here. Every person was so willing to talk and so gracious about answering questions, even if they knew what they were saying probably wasn’t what I personally thought. Some of the people even strongly emphasized how grateful they were to talk to me. Others asked for my phone number so we could be pen pals (their words, not mine) when I went back home and asked me to not forget them. Still others wanted to make sure that when I went back to the US, I would speak highly of Sierra Leone and Tacugama. The conversations I have been lucky enough to be a part of have left me feeling humbled, enlightened, and hopeful. Every single person supported the idea of protecting wildlife, even if they had also mentioned not liking animals or not having experiences with them.

But, after a few days of this, we decided that going out and interviewing people is too risky right now because it increases the chances that I’ll pick something up and bring it back to the chimps. So, in the meantime, they asked me if I would be up for rehabilitating, socializing, and bonding with a new baby chimp that arrived at the sanctuary a few days ago. The head vet assured me that it would be hard, require A LOT of patience, and mean sacrificing helping out with the other chimps, but it was still a no-brainer yes. I mean, how many people are lucky enough to get an opportunity like that?!

I met my new “child”, Cornelio (Nelio for short), Saturday afternoon. We’ve been going really slowly because the poor guy is very traumatized, has a flu, and is definitely going through an adjustment period. The first day, I just sat outside his enclosure. He reached out for my hand a few times, but other than that we mostly kept to ourselves. I went in briefly at the end of the day to help clean his area and that was it. I went back to him yesterday morning and when I raised the tarps we put over his sleeping area for the night, he was still fast asleep in his hammock. It definitely tugged at the heartstrings. We started off the day with me trying (and failing) to get him to drink some milk. I also had to try and give him some medicine for his cough, which didn’t go well and I think broke some of the trust we’d established on Saturday. I spent a good part of the rest of the day just sitting with him reading a book and playing with leaves, but ignoring him. The idea is to let him come to me, which he’ll hopefully do once he gets more comfortable with me. Today has been a lot more of that, which will hopefully give him a chance to build some confidence and more trust.

Not going to lie, it’s been a pretty emotional experience. I’ve started tearing up more than once because I can’t imagine hurting and mistreating this little guy. He’s just a baby. He should be out in the wild and with his mother all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad he’s here, but I wish he didn’t have to be. The empath in me really feels his pain and fear and I wish I could do more to help him than I already am. He deserved so much better than being tied up in someone’s house as a pet, but all we can do now is try to move forward and give him the love and care that he needs and deserves. And I plan on doing everything in my power to help him heal.

Also, I found out that while “Slone” isn’t a thing, “Salone” is! But shout out to everyone that has been using it in normal conversation with me.

It’s now been over 2 weeks since I arrived back in Sierra Leone and I have finally, FINALLY been released from quarantine. The past few days have been my first chance to just be a normal, fully functioning person here and it’s been so so great. But it’s also felt a little weird that I’m finally getting to explore and do all these things while the world is in such chaos. But, for now, things are pretty status quo in Slone. There is some concern about Coronavirus and people are talking about it, but there haven’t been any cases in the country. It is getting closer, though, so I’m feeling a lot of pressure to get as many of my interviews done as soon as possible in case things start getting closed or cancelled here too.

I’ve done a few interviews so far and have learned A LOT. It’s given me the chance to sit and talk with people I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. I think just the few conversations I’ve had have really helped me understand Slone and some of the different views on conservation and wildlife. They’ve also brought along some great connection and laughs. For instance, after I interviewed a woman today we were just kind of talking and she asked me how I was managing in the sun with my skin. I just laughed and said lots of sunscreen. Needless to say, I really can’t predict how each interview is going to go, so I’m just staying open and rolling with it.

It’s been nice to also get out and explore beyond Tacugama and to learn more about and bond with people working at the sanctuary in a more relaxed setting. I went out for drinks with some other volunteers and staff last night, then got to experience my first KK ride. KK’s are kind of like these 3 wheeled motorbikes/smart cars that have backseats, no doors, and no seatbelts. They’re definitely an experience, especially as someone who tends to have some anxiety around cars. But like I said, staying open and rolling with it (within reason; don’t worry, Mom).

Then today we went to the Big Market and the beach. The market was interesting and I bought some good stuff, but it was definitely overstimulating. It was hot, loud, and crowded and hard to know where to look at any given time. Over the course of the hour or so we spent there, I think I was grabbed by venders and wrapped in skirts they were trying to sell me at least 4 times. But seeing all the colors and patterns and the beautiful wood carvings was a pretty nice way to spend the morning and I definitely want to go again. My haggling skills have improved over the years, but they’re still not as good as I’d like them to be. So, I need more practice.

After my friends and I were laden down with purchases, we grabbed lunch and then went to the beach. I was just happy to be near the ocean; water for me is safe and associated with so many good memories, so even just being close to it has a really positive effect on me. We mostly sat in chairs on the sand talking and watching this incredible church group have the time of their lives. They played everything from musical chairs to tug-of-war. They also did a race with eggs on spoons, and this one woman ran like she and that egg were one. I’m serious; I’ve never seen anything like it. She flat out sprinted and didn’t even come close to dropping her egg. I’m still in awe just thinking about it. A few of them were even nice enough to let me interview them, which was a big help. Other highlights from the past few days include a mojito that I think was mostly just rum and sugar, absolutely ZERO ankle soreness even after all the activity the past few days, and finally seeing the famous Cotton Tree. Oh, and a KK driver stopping his car and ominously yelling “5 days” to me. I still have no idea what he was talking about or what’s happening on Thursday, but I’m definitely intrigued. Once again, internet is being a little unreliable so I’ll try to add some pictures later.

This post comes to you straight from the same room I’ve been in almost exclusively for the past ~4 days. I’m also writing more out of boredom rather than having something to write about, so apologies. Basically, I came down with a cold almost immediately after I got back to the sanctuary. I’ve been pretty isolated since last Saturday and they had me change rooms on Monday to be further away from the other volunteers. They don’t want anything spreading to the chimps, which is super understandable. There’s also an extra layer of anxiety because of all the Coronavirus panic that’s everywhere right now. While I’m more than happy to do whatever is deemed necessary to protect the chimps, it has been pretty hard to be trapped inside on my own for close to a week now. When I was having trouble with my ankle, I was definitely feeling worse physically, but I still got to be around people in the volunteer house. So, boredom has really started to kick in the past couple days. My stir-crazy brain is all over the place, I guess trying to keep myself entertained. On that note, I’ve decided to try and get calling Sierra Leone “Slone” to catch on. I’m almost certain it will not become a thing and this is my version of Gretchen Weiners trying to make “fetch” happen, but thinking of it kept me busy for a little bit and made me laugh. So if I text you or write about “Slone”, just go with it. Yes, I am talking about Sierra Leone and no, it is 100% not something people other than me actually say.

Joking aside, I am pretty frustrated that I came back and immediately had another obstacle thrown at me. I’m glad it’s just a cold, don’t get me wrong, but it feels like adding insult to injury, almost literally. And if this was the first bump in the road it probably wouldn’t be as frustrating, but I had to delay this trip THREE times and already came out once and wasn’t really able to be here because of my ankle and nerve pain. This project has been like swimming upstream for over a year now and I almost wish I was a little less stubborn and had chosen something a little less logistically difficult. Almost, but not quite. There has also been a hint of sadness because usually one of the only good things about being sick is extra snuggles and lazy days with my JoJo and she’s obviously not here. That’s probably been one of the hardest parts of this whole fiasco. No matter what, I know I’d be missing her like crazy because it’s not very often that we’re apart and I’m slightly obsessed with her, but since I don’t really have many distractions right now she’s been on my mind a little extra.

That being said, I’ve been in pretty good spirits this whole time. I let myself have some moments of just feeling frustrated and like things just keep going wrong, but I’ve been able to get that out of my system and then switch back to focusing on the fact that I’m almost completely better and will be set free soon. Each day feels better than the last and I’m so, so grateful it didn’t turn into bronchitis like my colds usually do. That probably has something to do with the Z-pack I took prophylactically, but either way I’m thanking my lucky stars because that really would have been brutal. It’s also not lost on my that I’m here for 9 weeks, so I still have a really good chunk of time to explore this amazing place and also get my work done. I’m also still here, with a once in a lifetime opportunity to do a project I wouldn’t even have dared to dream up. I’m usually pretty good at being patient, so in the grand scheme of things, sitting tight for another few days is 100% manageable. I still have a few things I can work on for my project, so I’m focusing on getting those done while I’m sitting around anyway so that once I’m better I can really jump right in.

Written yesterday in a moment of really missing my girl

The Girl with the Patchwork Face

She is kisses and light 
And lazy Sunday mornings
She wears her heart on her tail
And never holds back her joy

She is gentle and forgiving, but also cautious
Because she came with a history
Full of pain and fear
Although sometimes you'd never know

Her posture is horrible and unique
Her paws always in white tube socks
Her golden eyes bright and curious
(Unless she's fight off a nap)

She is my rock, my whole heart, my constant
Her love is everything
My home and my happy place
Begin and end with her

With her, I drown
In awe and gratitude
For a love like nothing
I have ever known

I don't know where I'd be with out her
My highest high
And best friend
My girl with the patchwork face

I never thought I could be one of those people that posts extremely vulnerable, personal content on social media. I never thought I would want to be that person either. I have held on so tightly to my eating disorder, been so private about it for years and been so, so selective in choosing the people that I let know about it. But yesterday that changed. Yesterday, one of our neighbors brought some friends to our house to say hi to our dogs. Somehow, it came up that I was vegan. The girls asked some questions, and somewhere along the way they started talking about diets. They talked about diets their moms were on or had tried, what diets entailed, and if they were a good idea. Then one of the girls talked about how she had tried to diet and then had stopped. I felt completely floored. This kind, smart, funny, beautiful 9-year-old girl talking about wanting to diet broke my heart into a million pieces.

I wish I could say that I handled the experience perfectly. That I found the magic words to help her accept and love her body just the way it is. To show her that changing her body is not the answer to feeling sad or overwhelmed or insecure. That she is incredible just the way she is. And that I knew all this from experience. But instead I failed her. I was so shell shocked by the conversation and so afraid of unintentionally shaming her that the words I wanted to say got lost on the way to my mouth. I have replayed this conversation over and over in my head for the past 24 hours, thinking of what I should have said, how I could have helped. Because this conversation represented one of my deepest fears: that the way I have struggled with my body and my own experience with an eating disorder would negatively affect the wonderful, amazing children that I care so much about.

That has always been one of my biggest motivators for getting better. I want so badly to be a good example for the children I nanny, my little cousins, and all other kids I interact with. I don’t even know if I could live with myself if I passed on any of my unhealthy relationship with food and my body and the dangerous habits that come along with my anorexia. That’s why I’m choosing to say something and open up. Because these kids deserve healthy role models and unending support around all of the pressures they will face.

Coincidentally, this experience happened on the eve of NEDA week, a time of year that has always brought a ton of anxiety for me as people from all over come forward and speak about their eating disorders. I don’t know if this was a little extra push for me to write about the conversation I was a part of yesterday and how that affected me, but it’s definitely not making it easier. I’m sitting in the family room of my parents’ house typing and literally shaking at the thought of clicking “post”. But I also feel resolute that I am doing the right thing and that I want to take a more active part in being a role model for the kids I love. I’m not naïve. I know that this post in and of itself probably won’t change much. But taking this step feels empowering and is helping me open the door to have hard conversations and to be honest and to just really be there. And so that feels like something has changed in me and I think I like it.

“The universe is not trying to break you, my dear, it’s trying to find a way to wake you up, so that you will see what is real, and worth fighting for. It takes time to heal, but it also takes courage.”

Mark Anthony

When I was in treatment over the summer, one of the assignments that I was given was to write a letter to either my younger self or to a child I care deeply about. I was tasked with writing about the pressures that accompany growing up and advice I would give for dealing with them. I chose to write to one of my little cousins who I have always had a special bond with. I haven’t had the courage to send her the letter yet. I’ve had a lot of fear around being that vulnerable and of starting this conversation with her too young and of trying to have this conversation and failing her. But the reality is, she’s probably not too young. Those pressures start so early, so this is probably the window of time where she would most benefit from learning how to contradict all of the messages society sends around what a body should look like, which foods are “good” to eat and which are “bad”, and all of that untrue, brain-washing crap. So I decided to include the letter here and hopefully soon I’ll work up to actually sending it to her.

Dear _____,

Someone I know recently challenged me to write a letter to a child who is an important part of my life, so I chose you. The focus of the letter is supposed to be on what I wished someone had told me about the world I would grow up in and the messages our society sends to women in particular.

I want to be perfectly honest and open with you and tell you that I am not 100% sure how to have this conversation with you. But it is a conversation that I think is extremely important and something I always want to support you in. I want to start by saying that I love you endlessly and accept you for who you are. I think you are smart, kind, strong, brave, funny, and important. Whether you’ve already experienced this or not, this world will try and send you other messages and make you doubt these truths. It will tell you that you are not enough and that you need to change things about yourself. And it will be sneaky. It will plant ideas in your head and make you doubt yourself.

But I want you to know that the messages you receive are not truths. Believe me, I understand how convincing they can be and I am in no way saying that it is easy to work against them. It’s definitely a trap I’ve gotten stuck in. And while I don’t have the answers, I will always be by your side so we can try and figure them out together.

My hope for you is that you accept yourself and stay true to who you are. Recognize what you are grateful for and what you want out of life. Talk about your passions and what you feel. You will have moments of insecurity, sadness, hurt, loneliness, and shame. And that’s totally ok; everyone does. Connect with people, but don’t drown in that. No one else gets to change you or shape who you are, so be unapologetically you. You are not responsible for what other people think of you or how they feel. You deserve support and love as much as anyone else and you deserve to ask for that. Set goals, but don’t let them become the end all be all. The world will not end if you get a bad grade or make a mistake. Honor your body and practice recognizing and giving it what it needs to feel strong, healthy, and safe.

You are enough, and you always will be. Watching you grow up so far has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I can’t even tell you how much our relationship means to me and how important our bond has been. The love, laughter, and connection you have brought to me and bring to the world as a whole are powerful gifts. I am so grateful to have you in my life in the way you are now and in all the ways you will continue to grow. Thank you for being such a bright light in my life. Whenever you doubt yourself or need someone, know that you have a cousin who will always have your back and will do anything and everything to support and help you.

All my love,

Tori

“My sweet darling, all these tears, this hurt, the pain in your heart, do not fight it anymore, it is a gift, you see, to feel this much and even thought it’s hard it means you’re alive with each of these tearful breaths gasped your soul awakens, more alive in the pain than you were in the numb, you are coming back to me now, my love, lucid in this darkness – so cry aloud, yell, and fall, and I will be here waiting to catch you when the waking up is done.”