Middle-of-the-night meltdown

It's been a tough week- I will concede to that.

As angry, frustrated and disappointed as I've been in so many of the people who are supposed to be advocating and looking out for me here in Vietnam, I have (mostly) kept it together. Neither my University nor Fulbright will advocate for me? Okay, I'll advocate for myself. If that means speaking up in a meeting and not sitting back quietly and agreeing to patiently wait for my visa to magically arrive, so be it. If it means yelling at someone (a no-no in Vietnamese culture) and telling her that she is horrible at her job (a no-no in just about all cultures?), well, yeah, in retrospect, there are probably better ways to deal with coworkers, but also, so be it.

But, impressively enough, I've made it through the week without crying or having a total meltdown in one of these various visa-renewal meetings. However, that doesn't mean that the emotions haven't been brewing, and we ALL know they were bound to come out at some point soon.

So what was the straw to break the camel's back at 12:30 AM? Finally ready to sleep after a frantic journal-writing session to get some anxiety and negative energy out, I got out of bed to go to the bathroom one last time. When I got into the bathroom, there was something brown in the toilet. "Huh, that's odd. I always flush," I thought. And then, "OH MY #@()&)$#&(@$&@#()&$)#(&$@# GOODNESS, THAT BROWN THING IS A MOUSE, AND IT IS #(&$@#)($@#)((&# ALIVE."

I ran to get my cell phone. "Dad? I need your help," I half-whimpered-half-whispered while staring at the beady-eyed creature that was trying fruitlessly to climb its way out of the toilet bowl. Dad explained the two options that lay ahead of me: pull it out of the toilet (still alive) and do something with it (that something is anybody's guess), or flush it. Both options made me want to vomit. That's then the water-works started, and I completely lost my shit (a fitting colloquialism for this bathroom catastrophe).

The conversation went along the lines of:

-Allie: I CAN'T DO THIS. I HATE IT HERE. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO.
-Dad: You can do this. You will be fine. Just flush the toilet. I'm right here with you.
-Allie: I CAN'T DO THIS. I WANT TO COME HOME. I HATE THIS COUNTRY.
-Dad: Yes, you can do this. You are so strong, and you're not a quitter. Just flush the toilet, I'm right here.
-Allie: PLEASE HELP ME, I AM SO SCARED.
-Dad: You need to be brave, you will be fine. You can do this.
(Etc, etc, etc, with many iterations of both sides of the conversation before I finally worked up the courage to slam down the toilet lid and flush the toilet not once, but twice, all while sobbing hysterically and trying not to break into full-blown hyperventilation.)

So, a few mysteries remain:

First of all, how did a mouse get into my toilet bowl?
Second of all, where did the mouse come from? I compulsively check my walls for entrance holes of unwanted visitors, and I have never seen any. Where is the secret passage, and how do I block it?
Third of all, does this mean that rodent season has officially begun? Where there's one, there's more? Should I be prepared to return from Da Lat and Ho Chi Minh City and find my entire apartment floor swarming with rodents and their newly-hatched babies? Is this a biology-themed horror movie waiting to happen?
Fourth of all, is his family going to come to get revenge on me in the night? (This one is mostly a joke, but per my friend Taylor's suggestion in a very comforting middle-of-the-night phone call, I think I will sleep with my mosquito net tonight for added protection, just in case.)
Fifth of all, how can I possibly go into my bathroom ever again? What if more mice come to take a bath in the toilet? What if it is their new hang-out? Not that any of you need to know this much information about my urination schedule, but I still have not gone to the bathroom (which was the original purpose of going in there almost an hour ago), and I really, really, really need to go. Times are getting desperate.


So, absurd as that meltdown may have been, and as much as all of you may be judging me for being a cowardly loser who can't handle tiny, harmless mice, I think I needed some catharsis to get rid of all the other stress that has been weighing me down this past week.

The visa renewal process has been maddening, and this week has been so draining, but things seem a lot funnier after surviving a mouse attack.

Thanks to Dad for providing remote, real-time support and assistance during The Situation, and Taylor for providing some humor and perspective after-the-fact. Thanks to my mosquito net for being my own safe cave (with lovely decorative embroidery, at that!) that nothing can crawl into. Thanks to the fact that I have no problem falling asleep with all my lights on, because eliminating the darkness will surely protect me from any creatures lurking in the shadows. Thanks to the fact that I am leaving for Da Lat tomorrow and will be sleeping in (hopefully) clean hotel rooms for a whole week, where I shouldn't have to worry about rodent visitors. And thanks to the fact that after The Situation, I am exhausted and ready for a sound, uninterrupted, unvisited sleep.