It has been the usual challenge here in Sierra Leone. Worse than it was when I last wrote, in fact. As I expected, as I had hoped…

After stripping back on those habits that, whilst pleasurable in small doses in the moment brought shame and compulsion, I’ve gotten a clearer view of my woes. An unpleasant process – now I look at things, I might even be on the verge of a mild depression.

But, as I say, it was to be expected, hoped for even. After all, I wanted to feel again – such shame-laden, compulsive, quick-fix behaviours had to be covering up something that I didn’t want to look at. It’s a familiar pattern for me, and many of us, and they can be hard to get beyond, what with all the distractions we have at the ready, and especially when the pain runs deep.

But whilst short-term fixes may well help us through a moment, they won’t make for a particularly happy life in the long run. Rather they’ll likely compound the problem and make it even more difficult to find a way through.

Hopeless and Helpless

A couple of Mondays ago, after a day of working remotely and not speaking to anyone in person, I finally allowed myself to shed a tear. It is not that I am struggling to find a reason for being where I am (other than supporting my wife, which I’d say I am doing a rather poor job at up to now) and that I feel isolated and lonely. That has been painfully apparent for a while. The real issue is how stuck I feel. That I do not see a straightforward way to change my situation. I mean, I have tried, but I seem to always end up back where I began – without purpose and feeling lonely – indeed hopeless, and a little bit helpless too. 

The problems often feel so vast that I don’t know what to do with them. I can see them. I care about them. But I cannot solve them.

I have started seeing a counsellor. Talking to someone is always a wise move. And a few sessions of feeling heard have already revealed nuggets of understanding. For one, living in a land with so much struggle, combined with shockingly awful governance, makes one question the difference they can really make. I pick that up when I talk to people working in the development world – who do not seem as purpose driven as I thought they might be. For some it is mostly about having a career, whilst many others are cynical.

The Outsider 

Which points to another crucial thing – feeling like I am an outsider; that I do not belong within these circles. Within the expat/diplomat bubble it mostly manifests itself subtly in a lack of interest in me as a person, and if we happen to get onto them, any of my ideas. But there have also been incidences where people within this world have made it clear that I am not welcome. But I do not have a large pool of people to engage with, and even small sleights have come to hit me hard. It is like being at school again, thinking that not being included meant there must be something wrong with me. What also keeps coming to mind is an alarming experience I once had at university when someone told me they came to university to get away from people like me. 

With locals it’s far less painful – differences are evident and, in many cases, cultural and linguistic in their origin. Yet I suspect that sometimes I inflict pain – through an unremembered name or a lack of curiosity in their lives. Different reasons, same outcome: I am an outsider there too.

If there is an answer

Yet I am curious about both of these worlds, and about watching myself within them. I can keep writing about it. Experience the world in a way that many won’t, and try to share something of that experience. And I am sure I will keep coming back to the same conclusion: we are more alike than we are different, and many of those differences are shaped by the situations we find ourselves in. I want to stay connected to that truth, even when it is uncomfortable, and even when I am on the receiving end of someone else’s othering.

It is also part of the reason I continue to write these blog pieces. They will not solve anything. But they help me think. Writing is one of the ways I make sense of my experiences. It helps me through challenges. And perhaps someone reading this might find something relatable to their own situation.

I know I also need to write more about inequality, about the choice to witness it, and about the small ways by which we can respond to it. Alongside that, I think there is potential for using my skills more directly to support small organisations that are making a meaningful difference.

So, whilst I still don’t know exactly why I am here, I do know that the answer is unlikely to be found in distraction.

If there is an answer, I suspect it lies somewhere in paying attention. In staying present with discomfort rather than escaping it. In finding those little ways by which to contribute. In finding people who value connection for connection’s sake. In accepting that belonging may emerge gradually through the connections I choose to nurture.

And most importantly, keeping clear in my head that there is probably nothing wrong with me – that these feelings are not signs of brokenness, but understandable responses to loneliness, uncertainty, and unbelonging.