The F Word

I have been on this planet for 24 years and one thing about me will never change: I will always fantasize about the future when I am unhappy. If there is something wrong in my present, I tend to avoid those issues by imagining a happier life down the road from now.

During training, I was miserable and exhausted during the 10 weeks of intense language classes and cross-cultural training sessions. Therefore, I frequently looked up flights 10 months in advance and bugged my family about what dates they were coming to visit. When I was going through a breakup last November, I dove head first into job-hunting in Paris even though my Peace Corps service was nowhere near complete. Whenever the present feels grey and rainy, I frantically search for an event to look forward to, even if that event will never actually happen.

                            

On the other hand, I become completely consumed in the moment when I am happy. In my village, I find myself staring out at the mountains or the ocean thinking, “God, I’m so lucky to be here.” I shiver and smile as cold water hits the floor during my bucket baths. I eavesdrop on my host parents when guests come and soak up the short, choppy Javanese my host mom speaks in between her laughs. I fall in love with everything/everyone and I never want that moment to pass.

This summer I am happier than ever in Indonesia. Alhamdulillah! But unfortunately this blissful life led to an internal conundrum that gnawed at me for a few weeks. I only have 10 months of service left, so I am forced to think about that dreaded, awful, hideous, disgusting, terrifying word that I never want to hear when I’m happy: the future.

My vacation to the US kick started my fear of the future. My oldest sister moved from a city apartment into the suburbs (the old apartment had a view of Manhattan, so I was not thrilled about this). She also popped out a second kid before the move. My other sister got a new apartment with her new boyfriend. They grew up while I was gone and it freaked me out to no other. They are happy with their lives in America, but I’m equally happy with my life in Indonesia. Moving back home seemed like a reality that was creeping up a little too quickly.

 My subconscious spent my trip screaming, “IS THIS WHAT MY FUTURE LOOKS LIKE?” On the plane ride back home (to Indonesia) I thought about my bucket list, all the boys I haven’t kissed, all the countries I haven’t traveled to, and all of the things I want to do in my 20’s. I also thought about grad school, job hunting, boyfriends, flings, some guy putting a ring on my finger, walking down the aisle, house hunting in the boring suburbs, adoption, babies coming out of me the old fashioned way, salaries, 401K, and just about everything else that Peter Pan would slap me for thinking about. My head was in a perpetual game of tug-of-war every minute of the summer. I can’t grow up just yet, especially not now when I’m so darn happy sipping my Indonesian coffee and eating another pile of rice. How could this all be happening to me? What the future.

The thing that makes this situation even more overwhelming is that locals frequently ask me future-related questions such as:

“You’re still single? At age 24? When will you get married?”

“Are you going to get find someone here or go back home?”

“Will you be a teacher in the US when you go back?”

“What are you going to study for your masters degree?”

“Is a masters degree expensive? How much does it cost?”

“How many children do you want?”

As if my own head wasn’t punishing me enough, everyone bombarded me with questions I don’t have answers to. I guess the good thing about this is that I’m not the only one going through this phase. In fact, Peace Corps came up with a term for this exact feeling. It’s called the Mid-Service Crisis. It’s when PCVs feel like they have so much time and so little time…at the same time. They question their future even though they adjusted to life in their country of service.  My Peace Corps friends call me to vent about similar issues, which makes me glad I’m not alone in this state of mess and confusion.

My fear of what’s to come has made me appreciate the present even more than I normally would. I am looking forward to teaching again, I can’t wait to hang out with my counterpart, I spend more time on my bike than in my room, and I try to spend more time with my host sister who is leaving for college next week. Each minute in country is precious and I can’t afford to lose a second.

My group has ten months of service left. To us, this time will pass us by like both an eternity and a flash. Ten more months of eating rice. Ten more months of questioning the future. Ten more months of teaching (well, make that like…7 months of teaching. Class gets cancelled a lot second semester). Ten more months of secondary projects. Ten more months of trying to squeeze in as much Southeast Asia traveling as humanly possible. Ten more months of us sitting in our villages, alone, thinking.  

Although I find post-Peace Corps plans a little frightening at the moment, I’ll end of a very happy note. My Mid-Service Crisis is coming to an end. I started opening grad school applications. Watch out world, here I come looking for my masters degree! (…in 10 months) 

I made a paper chain countdown in my room. One link to represent each day left in my Peace Corps service. I'm at 282 days left!