The Meltdown

I could feel it coming. I started pacing around my room as my head became flooded with anxiety and frustration. The stress of many weeks piling up inside until there was no more room and it had to come out. I could feel my face becoming warm and flush, and then…the meltdown.

It was a Thursday night. I had just waited outside the embassy for the driver for 40 minutes. Each time I called him he was “5 minutes away.” If he wasn’t such a pathological liar I would have gone back inside so that I could avoid the local guards gawking at me in my gym attire. While standing on that sidewalk, I realized that I probably spend at least half of my time here in car, waiting for a car, or on the phone trying to get a car.
I finally arrived home to a house that had no electricity or water for the second day in a row. The new security guard, who I am almost certain is blind, told me that he had to call someone to get permission to turn the generator on. I watched an episode of Curb of Your Enthusiasm. There’s nothing like the extreme neurosis of others to bring you back down to earth. The power had come back on during the show, but still no water. Having not taken a shower that morning and working out that evening, the need for bathing was becoming imminent.

I decided I would cook, which is a relaxing activity for me. I walked downstairs to find that one of my housemates had completely taken over the kitchen. “Jim,” who has a wife and 4 young daughters at home in the UK was whipping up a meal while his Angolan girlfriend was perched on a stool watching him. Isn’t that cute?

“Hi Brigid,” she said. “Oh hey, (home wrecker).”

I hate cooking with other people in the kitchen and especially despise being in the company of these two so I pretended to grab something out of the fridge and headed back upstairs. I called the maintenance guy to ask about the water situation, and he informed me that the tanks would not be filled until the following day. Luckily, there is another staff house down the street so I threw my shampoo, conditioner, and soap in a plastic bag, grabbed a towel and headed outside. The street was exceptionally dark since the power was out and I needed the guard to escort me. Of course, he was nowhere to be found. The guard at the restaurant next door must have sensed my helplessness and offered assistance. I enjoyed a hot shower and walked back to my house in my pajamas and a towel on my head. I mean at this point, who do I have to impress?

I arrived home to find the formerly missing guard slumped over in a chair sleeping. He was wearing 1 boot and 1 flip flop. I can rest easy tonight knowing this man is responsible for my personal safety.  The adulterer and his mistress were still occupying the kitchen. It was getting close to 8:00 and I still had not eaten dinner so I was famished, but that was still better than having to share space with this couple. You know what I need? I thought. A beer. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. And then I remembered that I had some potato chips in the cupboard in my room. Ok, so beer and potato chips for dinner it is. I sat on my bed, mediocre Angolan lager in one hand and the other one deep in the bag of chips. It felt amazing for about 5 minutes but then reality set in. Oh dear, is this really happening? I called my boyfriend on Skype and just started crying and saying “I want to go home” as I licked the crumbs off my greasy fingers.  He stared back at me, trying to make sense of the scene before him, but had no idea what to say. He now thinks I am completely crazy.

Sometimes you just have one of those days when everything seems to go wrong and you snap. It can happen to anyone at anytime, but here, that could pretty much happen every day. No one wants to be that person who is constantly complaining, so you have to be patient and let a lot of stuff go and figure out a way to cope and stay positive. Apparently, my way of coping is bottling everything up for 7 months until I erupt.