I Will Survive, Cake (cover)

Yesterday, I started my first set of good byes.  I had to drop a friend off at the airport and as I hugged him good bye - knowing that this goodbye isn't forever - I began to cry.  That morning, before we left for his flight, I had worked on controlling my emotions and holding onto a sense of composure - I hate crying in public.  As he walked inside the terminal, I took deep breaths, holding onto any semblance of balance and trying to put the emotions aside.

I almost had to pull over on the bridge on my drive home.

Even when the goodbye is temporary, it is still hard.  Saying that word to people you care about, who are important in your life, is hard, especially when you do not know exactly when you will see them again.  Many people have promised to visit, but that's any time in the next two years, and who knows if the plans will work out.  The closest thing I have to definite is that I will see him in two years, but that's two years away.

I've become so wrapped up in preparing myself to leave recently that I've completely forgotten that sometimes, you need to get your head ready, too.  It's the goodbyes that remind you of this.  There is no real way to prepare yourself for a goodbye, but the first surprise of emotion makes it easier.  I have less than a week before staging, and on Saturday, January 7, I leave California.  I've been reading, studying, filling out paperwork, preparing financial documents, providing power of attorney and all these things that a normal 22 year old would not be doing.  I have been staying busy, spending the holidays with my family and close friends.  I have been enjoying these past few days but yesterday, as the first goodbye dawned on me, I woke up and it hit me.  Knocked me down, really.

I'm leaving in 6 days.  For 2 years.  Immediately after having that conscious thought, I had another, which out of pure human decency, I should not repeat, but if you've ever heard me injure myself suddenly, you can fill in the blanks.

The pure knowledge of the future being set for two years intimidates me, in a manner that four years of university never did.  For some reason, to be plucked out of your home, your accustomed family life, and placed (thrown) into a culture and a language foreign to you is scary to me.  At least I already speak Spanish.  I couldn't imagine the trepidation I would be feeling if I didn't.  And while my country is stable, volunteers in three nearby countries were evacuated on December 21 due to violence and an unstable political climate.  After the ups and downs I had with the process, I am lucky and grateful that Panama has a stable socioeconomic climate, as well as little drug trafficking and related violence.  For a program that prides itself on safety, in the past year, four countries have been closed due to safety issues.  I'm glad they pull people out before excessively dangerous situations arise, but what about those of us who rely on this?  Who have already left their jobs and prepared their lives for a two year absence?  I couldn't imagine having to do that.

And the questions never stop, it seems.  Every time someone asks me about my impending departure, it's the same questions.  Where will I live, who will I be, what will I do?  Do I speak the language, do I know anything other than what I've just told you, and why not?

"Are you nervous?"  I've been getting that one a lot from everyone.  Friends, family, strangers.  And when I answer honestly, people are shocked.  Am I not allowed to be nervous to leave, to be fearful of the unknown?  Just because I am nervous doesn't mean that I will give up.  Quite the contrary, I've found out about myself.  Make me nervous, make me anxious, and I will push through.  But even the friends who have known me forever have no idea what to say when I voice my nervousness.  It's as though they are afraid that their words may cause me to break.  But a refreshing thing happened the other day.  When voicing the trepidation I feel to a close friend, he replied, "Too bad.  You'll survive."  Exactly.  Too bad, I'll have to deal with it anyway.  I was the one who got myself into this mess, right?  I will survive, too.  I will survive and be better for it.  This experience is one that few get the opportunity to do, and I am so lucky to have this chance.  The fear and nervousness is all worth it.

Am I nervous because I'm afraid to go, or am I afraid to leave?  I am more afraid to come back to something different, to my friends and people changed in ways that make me no longer belong.  The close ones deny that possibility, but that doesn't settle the fear.  It's the fear of the unknown that knocks me down.

The emotional goodbyes are not over.  They won't be over until I arrive in Panama City on January 11, 2012.  I've already started to miss my people, and I hope they miss me too.  But I'll survive.