I'll start at the
beginning of my Peace Corps experience by telling you why I joined and the
arduous process that then ensued.
My very good friend, Mo
(a.k.a. Chris Heidt), wanted to join Peace Corps when we were attending Indiana
University of PA together. He told me at the time that there was some
sort of physical test requirement, kind of like joining the U.S. Army.
Being the endomorph that I am, this instantly precluded me from thinking
about it further.
Fast forward to several
years later after. I've graduated college with a B.S. in Mathematics,
moved across the United States three times, and lost about 50 pounds. I
was unsatisfied with my job working at a small medispa and was deep in thought
trying to figure a way out that would lead me to a more rewarding career as
well as satiate my intense desire to travel, not to mention be as far from a sales
position as possible. Up until this time, the best solution I had
come up with was to try my luck at being a flight attendant; an idea I nixed
when I learned more about the competition in this field and also realized I
could not care for my cat or ever own plants again if this was my career path.
Regardless of the fact
that (as I would later discover) there is no basic training for Peace Corps
like I originally thought, I realized this would no longer the obstacle it
would have been 50 pounds ago when I heard an advertisement on the college
radio station. I got butterflies in my stomach and was excited to the
point of nausea when I realized I had discovered the answer I was
looking for. Within a couple months time I had worked through my fears of
living and working in a foreign country for 2 years and change. I started
the lengthy online application and told my boss of over 4 years that I had to
follow my dreams. Although he ultimately supported me, he certainly made
an effort to exhume any fears I had and deter my leaving, stating that he
believed my life's satisfaction would be a product of my personal relationships
and not my career. Of course I politely disagreed and went on thinking I
was in the home stretch. Little did I know I had much to learn about
myself and patience before this dream would materialize.
Enter Ian. I met
Ian one evening at a cocktail bar when I was out with a couple of friends
loudly exclaiming my excitement for my new life plan. I think my positive
attitude and confidence played a role in starting what would be one of the most
significant relationships of my life. Although I told him immediately
about my intentions to work abroad and tried to be emotionally unavailable, I
cared for this man right from the beginning and our connection was undeniable.
It was slow at first, and I continued the online application during the
first month or two of our courtship. By the time he started sleeping over
almost every night, my dream took a standstill. I hardly noticed when it
had been 6 months since I had logged in to the application site, but luckily
the website keeps track of this for me so I became painfully aware of my goal taking a backseat to my new love. I told Ian I had to continue the
process and at least see where it took me. He was nothing but supportive.
After finally meeting all
of the initial application requirements (over a year after I started this
endeavor), I had my interview. I can't believe I didn't vomit right there
in the San Francisco headquarters. I did, however, jump up and down in
the waiting room before I even went in to meet with my recruiter. I guess
my answers were satisfactory because I was nominated on August 24, 2010 for a
Math education assignment in Africa. Exactly what I wanted! I would
get to return to Mathematics and maybe even use my French minor! I was
told I would likely not receive an assignment until the following summer, so I
had to curb my enthusiasm a bit to focus on the now and get through this
waiting period without those around me hating me for wanting to abandon them.
Fast forward again to
the following March. My little sister has gotten married and become
pregnant. This news did not sit lightly with me. When she called to
tell me about the baby to come, I bawled unabashedly. Partially because
she is five years younger than me and the society I was raised in tells me to
be ashamed of being nearly 30 and not married with children, but mostly because
I knew I would miss the birth and first couple years of my niece or nephew's
life. Knowing this, I had to at least see her before I left. I
traveled to the Air Force base where she and her new husband live in Washington
state and expected an uneventful trip in a very boring town. Instead, I
left her house on crutches. Silly doesn't begin to describe how I
acquired my injury. One little piece of uneven pavement in her driveway and a
thoughtless misstep by me took my life in a different direction. To add
insult to injury, I received my invitation to serve in Malawi only a couple of
days after returning home.
I instantly accepted the
invitation pending another visit to my podiatrist, as she had explained to me
that I could be out of the cast in a matter of a couple of weeks. This
would put me on track with the 3 months of healed time required after
breaking a bone to go to Malawi on June 14th-- but just by the skin of my teeth.
All the while my nearly
two year relationship with Ian had started to take a turn for the worst, and
not only because of my pending departure. As I learned more about what I
wanted out of life I learned more about what he wanted too, and these visions
were unfortunately not of the same future. While my broken metatarsal
caused me to lose my independence to do all the things I was used to doing like
cleaning my apartment, walking to the laundromat, and getting around my
workplace to perform the various tasks necessary (just for example), I realized
I had to gain my independence from this kind man who I loved very much. I
just couldn't fill out yet another "Romantic Involvement Form" from
Peace Corps, so when an even more detailed one arrived (complete with case
scenarios) I sighed with exhaustion. I didn't know what I was going to do
about my relationship while I was away for 2.25 years, especially because Ian
had refused to even consider visiting me! The document did what it was
supposed to do. It made me ask myself and my boyfriend the questions
neither of us really wanted the answers to, and one night after a tearful
realization that he would never be the husband or father of my children that I
had romanticized about, we ended it.
Shortly thereafter (now
it's the beginning of April 2011) with the help of yet another expensive x-ray,
my podiatrist revealed to me that I would be cast bound for at least 2 more
months. I cried a lot during this period of my life, and I am not much of
a crier. I had already started training my replacement at work, and my
boss was very accommodating by altering my role there to cater to my
infirmity. He said he would keep me on as long as possible, but there was
just no way he could employ me until my new expected staging date somewhere
around June-October 2012 as estimated by my Placement Officer. Thanks to
my good friend Amy, her husband Andy, and a little thing called the knee
scooter I made it through this dark time in my life.
I still had to come up
with a new plan for the interim. Luckily I had a great deal of time
trapped in my apartment to figure it out. The most viable plan seemed to
be to move in with a family member or one of my friends, preferably someone in
a city so I had some chance of getting a new job to pay off my mounting medical
bills. I also had a chance to rethink the importance of being in a Math
education placement and decided to prioritize getting there as quickly as
possible over utilizing my bachelor's degree, knowing this meant I would have
other requirements to meet before getting another invitation. I
solidified my arrangements to move to New York City with Poopie (a.k.a. Sara
Krull) and said goodbye to my honorary family of 6 years in Santa Cruz, CA.
I was fortunate enough
to get a job within a month of arriving in the Big Apple, but I had to conceal
my altruistic intentions or risk never finding employment. My nightmares
revolved around incurring more injuries and hiding my true identity to those
around me. I am incredibly transparent when it comes to my subconscious.
Then one glorious October day I received a conditional invitation to
serve in Jamaica as a Youth Literacy Adviser, but not until March 2012.
I had yet to complete 30 hours of teaching English as a Second
Language, and I quickly found a program called We Are New York that offered
exactly the kind of familiarity I needed. The format was simple yet
highly informative for the students, and it allowed me to do something I had
never done before with very little training. More than anything, teaching
ESL to New York immigrants from all over the world kept me pumped for the trip
to come.
My adventures in NYC
have been enlightening, to say the least. After all this is the greatest
city on the planet earth, or so I'm told. I'm also told that everything
happens for a reason. Many times over the last 10 months I have looked at
where I am in life and wondered, "Is this the reason I broke my foot and couldn't
go to Malawi?" I have also speculated on why I made the decisions I
did during the Ian era. The best answer I can come up with is that I
still had more to learn about patience, even when I thought I could have
written a book on it a long time ago. Nearly 3 years after starting the online application, I am now less than two months away
from the commencement of my Jamaican adventure, and I couldn't be more elated.
I look forward to telling you all about what I learn, the friends I make,
and the quest to come!!
