Winding down

2/3 loaf of bread.
4 pouches ramen.
2 sausages.

I have one week left in Plovdiv, and I find myself realizing that I'll need to have most of my food gone by the time I leave - anything left over will probably be thrown out, either by me or by the hosts when they clean up and prep for the next guest.

1/2 block of garlic butter.
2 snack croissants.

I talked to my pole teacher briefly before class on Monday.  "I'll be leaving Plovdiv in about a week, and I haven't really gone anywhere or done anything yet.  What would you suggest?"  She laughed.  "You sound like my ex-boyfriend.  He was here through the Air Force for three months when we met, and he hadn't gone anywhere yet either."  She had some suggestions, none of which I've done yet for the same reason I hadn't up until this point - I'm a marshmallow in a human skinsuit, and I start melting into misery at circa 26C / 78F.  And it's been pretty consistently in the 30s/80s for the whole time I've been here.

1 jar of honey, mostly full.
1 jar of peanut butter, nearly empty. 

I keep telling myself I'll go on x day.  Wednesday.  Friday.  Sunday.  Each one passes by without me going anywhere or doing anything.  The heat remains my chief excuse, but at some point I have to wonder if it's more.

3 Monster energy drinks.
2-2L bottles of Coke.

There's a thing in...I'll call it social psychology, though please know that's not an official term (or really even a defined thing I don't think) called "body doubling."  It's the idea, prominent in neurodivergent individuals (those with autism and ADHD, as well as other non-typical traits), that just having another person nearby, even without interacting or sharing a particular activity, helps boost productivity, focus, and executive function.

8 pouches of microwave popcorn.
1/2 pouch of "American potato" seasoning.

I think this is a major reason I saw more in Harbin than I have here, despite being softly interested in seeing some things.  In Harbin, I had the other international teachers, and while I didn't form active friendships or outside-of-work interactions with all of them, they were still about as foreign to their environment as me, and exploring it together was easier.  

2 jars of jelly, each less than half full.

It's just hard to do things alone sometimes.  It's hard to leave the house alone, walk somewhere alone, and wander around an archaeological or historical site or older part of town more pedestrian-oriented and culturally maintained when there's no one to actively share it with.  Someone to point out things you don't see, to bounce ideas or theories or just observations off of, to joke with, to pool knowledge and share support even in something as simple as "I'll keep us from walking into the street while you look up what конски шницел means." 

I finish taking stock of my current foodstuffs and realize I don't really have that much, and that most of what I have is the same stuff I ate in my first and second week.  I've come up with a few new things, but since my next home doesn't have an oven, I've challenged myself not to use one for the last week here in order to start adjusting to the limitation.  I'll have another one, maybe two trips to the store this coming week to make sure I'm still eating well enough until I leave.  My life will return to my two suitcases, I'll take a taxi to the bus station, and in two days I'll be starting to unpack my life in a new town. 

As I navigate, quite honestly, one of the deeper and yet least intense depressive periods of my life, I am often having to remind myself just how little time I've spent out here, just how much my life has changed in three months.  And remind myself that struggling to establish my sense of self, my stability, my mood and work ethic, my hobby activity at home...is all normal and reasonable and valid.  I didn't predict quite how difficult this would be, but that doesn't mean I was entirely unprepared for it, nor does it mean this is how my life will be forever.  The experience of living in Plovdiv taught me a lot about my life and future, broadly speaking: the importance of putting myself out there to make local friends, even short-term ones; the shortcomings in cooking skills and familiarity that I have, especially with more limited kitchens; the danger of letting myself fall into passive patterns, as well as just how few active things I have in my life.

On the bright side, though, each new town is a new start.  Every few months I have the opportunity to eject myself from a comfort zone or trap, discover a new place, redefine my habits, and work towards better balances of all the things I fell into last time, without needing to fight the inertia of still being in the same place.  I used to tell people that one way to look at my nomad life is "staying one step ahead of my depression."  It was only half a joke, if that.  The frequent changes keep me from getting too settled, too inert, too comfortable, because I'm not at my best when I'm comfortable...at least, not yet.

...oh, yeah.  And 1/3 tub of ice cream.