They say the first 3 months at site are the most painful.
Many volunteers feel isolated, frustrated, bored, irritated, etc. Of course
this is “many volunteers” talking, not me. I’m happy here, but that’s only
because the previous years have been incredibly unhappy.
The wave of unhappiness spanned from May 2012 to June 2014.
That seems like a long time, but I’m grateful for every miserable feeling I
endured. I wouldn’t know what happiness feels like if I didn’t know the depths
of despair.
I studied abroad in China from January-May 2012. I truly
discovered myself there. I found a group of friends that were outgoing and
adventurous. We hitch hiked for an entire day not knowing what mode of
transportation we would be able to catch next.
I learned enough Mandarin to hold a full conversation. I ignored my fear
of heights to go rock climbing. I even hiked up a waterfall in a very unfashionable
poncho. It was the adventure of a lifetime. Because of this, I will never return
to China. I’d rather leave with sweet memories than try relive them.
After the semester ended, I had one last summer before
senior year of college. I didn’t apply to any internships or summer jobs. I was
“winging” the whole job thing as I moved into my sister’s New York City
apartment. I quickly landed a sales associate gig at a shoe store near Bryant
Park. I was incredibly dull because I was going through withdrawals symptoms from
Asia. My boss frequently caught me daydreaming of epic adventures abroad or
gabbing about my recent journey. There I was in the summer of 2012, living in the
Big Apple rent-free, responsibility-free and utterly miserable.
My sisters sat me down mid-June to ask me about my
post-graduation plans. Their questions were overwhelming, but I frequently
asked myself the same ones. I knew I wanted to go back abroad. I knew I wanted
to continue to see more of the world. I just didn’t know how I was going to do
it. My oldest sister suggested I save up money, buy a ticket to Africa, and work
at a local nonprofit. She mumbled words like “field work” and “abroad
experience.” Sure, that sounded grand. But how, where, and when would I find
the perfect organization? The thought boggled my mind. I spent many nights that
summer wide awake feeling terrified of the future and praying to get the past
back.
My life was further confused that summer when a certain
Canadian whom I’ve known for years came up to me at a wedding in July. He sat
me down face-to-face to tell me that he had a crush on me. He thought I already
knew, but simply needed to express it. Of course I knew; I wasn’t stupid. But I
was already dating someone else for almost 3 years. Why on earth would he tell
me this now? The truth was that I was
unhappy in my relationship. I couldn’t admit this to myself. The Canadian’s
confession sped up the process. I still kept in contact with him while
maintaining my relationship.
When I returned to school, I was confused as to where my
life was going. I finally had an epiphany as to where my life was not headed. One afternoon in September I
asked my then-boyfriend, “If you could travel anywhere in the world, where
would you go?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve always wanted to travel to
Hawaii.” He then added, “Study abroad was fun, but now that’s over. It’s time
to start real life.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. For years I dreamed of trekking
through the Amazon, cliff diving in South Africa, parasailing in Bali, and
gazing at Rio de Janeiro from the foot of Christ the Redeemer. Hawaii seemed so ordinary. In fact, I once
heard Hawaii described as, “my parent’s version of fun.” I also questioned what he meant by “real
life.” Did this mean grad school? Did I have to get a 9-5 job in Washington,
D.C.? Was I using travel as a means to escape reality? I silently mulled over
his response for the rest of the day.
As the school year began, I started acting more and more out
of character. I would space out at social events. I couldn’t focus in class, if
I even bothered to go. My relationship was quickly going downhill. I knew I was
unhappy for a while, but talking to the Canadian left me confused. My personal
life soon became my biggest crisis. I wanted to leave the relationship, but I
questioned everything. How could I love someone and not be happy? I soon told
everyone I was “living up my last year of college.” This was code for “hide my anxiety and
confusion in alcohol.” It worked until I woke up hung-over the next morning.
The boyfriend and I finally ended our relationship in October
2012. A little part of me was relieved, but a bigger part of me was afraid to
lose the only thing that was familiar. It was like jumping off a bridge and
trying to still hold onto the railing. I didn’t hide how devastated I was. I
even stopped talking to the Canadian. I used him as a scapegoat for my misery,
heartbreak, lack of focus, everything. We argued and didn’t speak for over 7
months.
During this time, I applied for Teach for India. I was
rejected from the program in November 2012. Surprisingly, I wasn’t fazed. I
knew I didn’t want the job. I just applied because I was afraid of what I
really wanted: The Peace Corps.
Why would the Peace Corps be so scary? Well for one, I didn’t
know where I was going. People would say to me, “This is so exciting. You could
go ANYWHERE!” Yes, but that’s also terrifying. I mean, really…I could go ANYWHERE. Two years also sounded like a
long commitment.
During Christmas break I realized I had nothing to lose. I
had no job tying me down. I had no future plans. I had no boyfriend who dreamed
of beach resorts on the shores of Honolulu. It was time, and so I applied on
February 1, 2013.
You would think that I’d be happy when I submitted my
application. WRONG! If I didn’t get into the Peace Corps, I had no solid backup
plan. I was terrified of applying to jobs with a liberal arts degree and no
prior work experience, especially in this economy.
Additionally, I was a resident assistance living alone in
the dorms (my dorm hall was not being used for the spring semester). Living
alone can be hard enough, but living alone and recently single in a building
designed to house 300 students…well, that’s just agony. It was like stepping into a scene from The Shining every evening. I certainly wasn’t ready to date. My
future was ambiguous and my last relationship left me feeling drained. Plus, I
was still angry with the Canadian. If I was going to date, I needed to be in a
good place mentally.
My ex started dating another girl. At first this didn’t bug
me. In fact, I told them to go for it. I was genuinely happy for them. I bumped
into them at a party in mid-February. He had his arm around her and started to
kiss her in front of me. This crawled under every layer of my skin. I dated
this kid for 3 years and he hated holding hands with me. Any public display of
affection made him uncomfortable. Now, all of sudden, he’s all over another girl.
This made no sense to me. It was as if the universe wanted to add a cherry of
disrespect on top of my half melted, freezer burned sundae. I knew I wanted to
separate myself from the entire situation. Alas, American University’s campus
is incredibly small. I couldn’t get space from their blossoming relationship.
I turned my
frustrations from the Canadian to my ex’s new girlfriend. It was an incredibly unhealthy phase, but I
trudged through my final semester angrily. March-May 2013 was when my
confidence hit an all time low. My study abroad friends Amanda and E.J. invited
me to dinner in downtown Washington, D.C. Amanda asked a simple question, “So how’ve you
been?”
“I’m crippled with depression.” I admitted. I further
explained that I was walking through life as a zombie. I hadn’t felt completely
in the moment since I waved goodbye to them before catching my flight out of
China. They reassured me that everything was going to be ok. It was just a bad
time in my life and they loved me even if I felt like no one else did. We went to a bar shortly after dinner. A few
drinks later, I was on my knees on a sidewalk in DuPont Circle bawling my eyes
out.
I want to make a note:
If you ever have friends who literally pick you up off the
ground when you are feeling your absolute worst, keep them in your life. They walked me back to my dorm that night
and made an effort to see me until the day I left D.C.
When I graduated from American University in May 2013, I did
the only thing I knew would make me feel better: I moved in with my sister. She
was spending the summer in our parent’s home in Connecticut. Naturally I followed her there. She suggested
we take a trip to Europe in July to celebrate our graduations (she graduated
from her PA program at the same time). The heartbreak finally caught up with me
when the plane landed in Paris. From 3,000 miles away, I yelled at my ex
through an angry Facebook message. In hindsight this wasn’t an effective way to
get my point across, but boy did it feel good! I even reached out to the Canadian
to apologize sincerely. I told him we’d never be together, and I was sorry for
leading him on. I added that I wanted to travel the world in my 20’s. I didn’t
have time for relationships anymore. The heavy weight was slowly lifting off my
shoulders.
My life took a serious turn when I returned from my Eurotrip.
I landed a nannying job for a wonderful family in Rhode Island. In September
2013, I attended a friend’s wedding in Toronto. I saw the Canadian for the
first time in over a year. Things were awkward at first, but we were cordial. During
the reception, I got a little too tipsy. I finally
admitted everything I felt about him.
I said something along the lines of, “Sorry I was stupid
this last year, but I have some major feelings for you. I don’t think we’d be
good together. I think we’d be great
together.” (I’m really hoping you read between the lines and realized that I
liked him this entire time). We agreed to start things up, secretly of course.
We didn’t want to rush into anything. The very next day I gave him the good
news. I texted him saying, “Peace Corps just emailed me. I’m moving to
Indonesia!” The fog that clouded my mind was clearing. I even began to feel
excited for the Peace Corps.
While my life was finally going uphill, I wasn’t completely
happy yet. I didn’t exactly picture myself as a nanny in Rhode Island. I knew I
wouldn’t feel 100% until I left for Indonesia. It wasn’t until February 2014
that I started feeling like my true self again. I wanted to remind myself that
I am adventurous, fearless, and carefree. Going into the Peace Corps wasn’t
enough; there were 59 other volunteers going with me. I wanted to stand out. So
I left for the Peace Corps with a few things:
- 3 bags full of luggage
- All my vaccination forms
- My first tattoo
- A shaved head
I left for Indonesia in March 2014 happier than I had been
in months. However, the three-month training session didn’t help my mood. I was
bogged down by exhaustion and culture shock. Please see previous blog entries
for details.
However, today is the day I can admit that I’m happy. My
life is exactly how I pictured it. I have a Great Brown Boyfriend back in the
Great White North. I live in Indonesia, one of the most beautiful countries in
the world. The rain is heavy, but the sun still shines. The coconuts are sweet and
the tofu is sour. The beaches are beautiful and the mountains are breathtaking.
My days are lazy and the locals are friendly. I have amazing friends in and out
of the Peace Corps that love and support me. I couldn’t ask for more from my
life in Indonesia. I want to end by saying that I’m not happy because I traveled
to a new exotic location.
I’m happy because I’m living the life I pictured.
