Tonight I had dinner with one of my best friends and as if often the case, we got around to talking about my upcoming plans. The immediate [I leave in two and a half weeks], the intermediate [I want to go to NP school when I get back], and the distant [I’d like to get married someday]. There aren’t many people in the world I can talk to about anything, but he is one of them, and probably the human I’ll miss most while I’m gone.
The only thing that I know for sure is that if something happens, and I can’t get on that plane, there’s no way I can put myself through the preparation again.
Let’s Get Real
I’ve gave notice at my job in March, but I’m still picking up shifts and will be until the last minute; I’ve met the continuing education requirements needed to renew my nursing license in 2019.
I’m on an emotional roller coaster and I couldn’t get off even if I tried. I’m up, I’m down; I’m sure of myself, and I’m wondering what the hell I was thinking.
Basically, I’m freaking out.
10 days to departure. T- 2.5 weeks and counting. Holy sh…..
I’m scared out of my mind. Of what, I couldn’t tell you, but that’s probably contributing to my fear. I don’t know what’s in store for me when I get to wherever it is I am going. I don’t know who I’m going to meet, or what my living conditions will be like. An idea, sure, but every situation is circumstantial.
I’m nervous about not doing well. I spent a lot of time thinking, how hard could it possibly be, despite how many times I’ve read or heard about the “hardships” a PCV faces. Now, in the wake of my sudden apprehension, I worry I was being too cocky.
What the actual fuck am I doing!?
I go from feeling on top of the world to having a feeling in the pit of my stomach. I walk around with confidence, proud of myself and this accomplishment, and then I hug a friend goodbye and I feel the ground crumbling beneath my feet. In the span of a moment, I could easily begin with “I got this sh**.” to “Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with me?” My perception and my feelings are constantly changing. I keep finding new things to be excited about, and new things I’m terrified to be leaving behind.
Let me say this now, so you don’t misunderstand: I’M NOT GIVING UP.
The Peace Corps was not a decision I made lightly. In truth, the idea began brewing my mind during my mind many, many years ago. It started as a way to see the world. It began to transform into a desire to meet new people and experience new cultures. Then it ignited into a passion for helping others.
In September 2016, I bit the bullet and submitted an application. I didn’t think I’d get in. I was convinced I wasn’t good enough to be accepted into such a prestigious group. And now it’s 17 days to departure.
I can do this. I know I can. I’ve taught myself that I can do anything I put my mind to. I wanted this, and so I went out and got it. Later tonight, ask me how I feel, and I bet you’ll get a different answer.
OMG… the cats. What am I going to do with my little black kitty cats? After much searching, I’ve finally found a solution for what to do with Lucy and Molly. It’s not ideal, but it was a much better situation than sending them to their deaths at the pound. I won’t see them again for over two years. What is that in cat years? I wasn’t there for their kittenhood, but I’ve had Lucy for three and a half years, and Molly just under a year. She’s had three owners/homes in her three years and is still the sweetest cat I know; I couldn’t very well send her on her way to her 4th owner/house. They love me, and I them. So they have 2 years worth of cat litter supplies, an Amazon subscribe and save account for food and a savings account for yearly vet visits + emergencies.
See? Up and down. I’ve got this sh**, but really, what the fuck am I doing?