Who is the Freak that writes this blog?

My name is Janey, I am the Freak Russophile, or Russorexic, as I call it.  I am 24 year old American who loves Russia more than anyone else.  My heart and life has forever been changed by the rich culture, the poor people and the omnipotent enigma that is Russia. 

 I went over to teach English, not knowing any Russian, thinking it would just be a nice break from school, only to have my entire world shift as Russia became my mortal center of gravity.  On the first day there I fell madly in love and my life has since been made up of my struggles in Russia, or my struggles to survive while out of Russia.

Me in Red Square June, 2005

I saved money and went back to study at MGU in the Philology faculty.  I studied there for a year, left my stuff and heart in Moscow while I went home for a summer break in 2005.  Some things fell out of place and wasn’t able to go back, and have been wondering around heart and joy less since.

  Me with two of my teachers, Tatiana Mikhailovna and Nadezhda Yureevna

                                                        

It has been 2 years since my return to America. I’m married now and settled and happy, but still a little empty.  I am lost without Russia, this blog has been an attempt to grapple with the distance, a way of cradling what I do have of Russia, and a way of frantically scrambling for anything more to cradle.  Russia has been the one pursuit in my life that has not fizzled, in fact it has only flared and flourished.  It continues to give me a deep joy and purpose.  In order to wake up in the morning, a bribe myself with promises of blog-writing, Russian-mongering. 

 Me in front of Moscow State University, MGU

To think of the impassioned arguments I’ve had with my husband about why he feels I will never love him the way I love Russia.  And it’s true.  I probably won’t.  The relationship I have with Russia almost an abusive one, I can’t live with or without her.  She beats me up, tears me to shreds, rips me off, and wrings my soul dry of all its love, she doesn’t even notice when I’m gone and just seems to go on living without me. 

 Me and my husband in Moscow, May of 2006

And yet  the happiest moments of my life have been there, with her.  I felt a depth of love that I never knew possible, living in Russia.  And when I had to leave I honestly felt empty and lost and utterly disparaged.  At least once a week, I drift off in to a kind of daze, wherein I pine for Russia.  I pine for the times I had there, even the rough ones.  I pine for all of the things I hated about the place, I pine for the cruelty and manipulation.  I pine for that vulnerability that comes when you completely give your heart to something.  Russia has power to bring me the highest levels of joy, and the darkest levels of despair.  Just like your loved ones do.

Love gets deeper and stronger when you grow and suffer together.  I grew and suffered with Russia.  I know I’m suffering now, but I don’t know if I’m growing any, I think Russia is growing up with out me. 

I know I’ll never go back to live like the way I did before.  But I refuse to let this deep love and passion that I have for the place, the capacity that I have for the language and the insatiable hunger for more, go to waste.  If you feel such strong love for something or someone you can’t just walk away from it simple because it forces your heart to stretch.