A Personal Statement as to my Intentions to Reinstate

During my medevac period there was a week in which I experienced heightened panic. Every day from February 9th to the fifteenth my anxiety found ways to debilitate me whether from believing in the abject meaninglessness of being lost or simply being overwhelmed by an aimless stroll in the mall. In between the panics attacks of this baleful week one evening I found myself at the gym.

I wanted to test the hypothesis that exercise relieved stress. What I ended up doing was listening to Rihanna's Umbrella. One typically boring, suffocating night over the summer NCA and I had sung to each other over the telephone. It was my first time doing such a thing. It was an oddly delicate thing to do; the idea just popped into my head and the conversion from thought to almost melodious synchronization was magical. There is a part of me that thoroughly enjoys fits of frivolous fancy. It is the ease of laughter that diminishes barriers and encourages acceptance and yes, being stuffy (read: so dull) can foster an environment of positivity, but I'd rather be a deviously twinkling light in the world ready to do something silly and reach the sheltered places of those under duress.

So I listened to Rihanna singing in the key of I-don't-know-what at the top of my vocal cords allowing my thoughts to wander to futures unknown and to the gaiety and pain of past events. Settling myself down memory lane guided by the tunes of ella ella eh eh under my umbrella I tried to find reason in the chaos that precluded my medevac.

When the sun shines, we'll shine together
Told you I'd be here forever
Said I'll always be a friend
Took an oath I'ma stick it out to the end

On March 27, 2013 I took an oath to serve my nation. Standing beside NCA we made a pledge to protect and defend the constitution. Honestly, I hadn't the slightest clue as to how I could feasibly do that, but to the best of my abilities I promised myself that I would give my all in accomplishing the three goals set forth by Peace Corps.



I cried when I took that oath. Several tears dribbled down my cheeks. I tried to hide them because I was embarrassed by how emotionally overcame I was at the prospect of being an agent of change. It rings hollow like unintelligible pleasantries now, but when I repeated the oath I meant the words at their most sincerest. I meant them for a brighter future for myself and for my community. I meant them the way children do pinkie promises to each other with no attention to an alternate future. I meant every single definition that every single word uttered has ever meant or ever will mean when I raised my right hand and became a Peace Corps Volunteer.

I still mean it.

My oath means something to me. My word carries a solemn conviction. It is not an empty epithet recited for the sake of chatter or awkward silence. They are burgeoning promises with a destiny that has future implications. When I took that oath I signed up for a two year commitment. For every single month afterwards it has been both a short and long period of time. Some weeks fly by and then there are the days the continue long past the setting the sun hesitantly creeping into the next day. I only experienced a year of those timeless days. I swore on my name that I would complete two.

Since childhood I have championed the idea of serving as a representative of Peace Corps. It was my dream. It was my motivation to begin volunteering. It was the reason I finished college. It was what I told people what I wanted to be when I grew up: a Peace Corps Volunteer. I didn't know it wasn't a career. All I knew was that it was my dream and all I know now is that I have to hold on to my dreams. I cannot allow myself to awaken to an empty present were my hopes are too frail to survive the upset of reality. Dreams can be corroded. They are the small seeds of faith that grow into goals and mature into aspirations. If you do not cherish them then they will die. All of them.

My medical separation is not death. I have not been supplanted. My roots though anemic are thriving and fruitful. I have chosen this dream, this path to follow for the lessons that it may teach me. I am grateful for the illumination it grants me. My dreams give me life. They are the light that pulls you out of darkness and soothes away troubling nightmares. I cannot turn my back on them. My sorrows can not mean more than my dreams.

What triggered my medevac was one night. It isn't worth all the other nights and all the other days. It isn't worth my oath. It isn't worth my dreams. It isn't worth my happiness. It is worth the lessons that I learned. That's it.

As the weeks elapse and my anxiety erodes I find more resolve to reinstate. Reasons appear both big and small, momentous and minor to denounce my status as a "Returned Peace Corps Volunteer."

Because truth be told I haven't returned yet, but I most assuredly will. 



A special acknowledgement to KP, CS, and JD for following the personal truths that guided their separate journeys.