Trapped

Note to readers: this post is actually from June 14th, while the sentiments it expresses are completely true, I am doing much better than the writing would suggest.

My hands are raw, my eyes are damp and my heart is weak.  For the past few days I have been "fine".  Trying to stuff away the emotions that have been surfacing as sunset looms.  Telling myself to smile, adjust and deal.  Putting on a 'happy' face or hiding in my room, I have been looking for different ways to cope, but nothing seems to be working.  

I have been hesitant to write about the less then pleasant side of adjusting to life here in Morocco, because I didn't want anyone to worry about me.  Even now as I sit typing I wonder if it is the right thing to do.  There is certainly no cause for alarm or concern, life isn't sunshine and smiles all the time (well... I guess here it is always sunny... but you know what I mean!).  

Having been to Morocco once before I entered with the naive assumption that I easily slip into Moroccan life and culture.  In the beginning everything went smoothly, I adjusted to the time difference effortlessly, loved the food and quickly worked to establish a basic routine for myself.  Life was great!  However as time wore on the romance of this exotic land began to fade as cultural and societal precedence took center stage.

The freedoms I have in the States as a single female do not exactly apply here, and as I alluded to before, the instant loss of such freedoms can be very frustrating.  Having to be in by dark, feeling stifled by the culture which watches every move you make, living under a set of double standards, it has all become too much to take!  Being locked inside when sounds of life resound on the other side of the cement walls is torture as my balcony transforms into a lonely perch from which I can observe, but not participate.  I feel completely trapped!

I don't know how women here can live like this!  I was talking online with a young Moroccan lady I met a few days before.  Both of us were home and bored, I was on the verge of tears.  Cautiously I vented my sentiments of being stuck inside to her and surprisingly she responded with similar feelings.  In order to be a 'good' Moroccan girl there are certain rules you are expected to follow.  Every culture has standards and guidelines under which society operates, but sometimes they simply seem unfair!