Thank you, Universe.

So, the moments after you make a solid decision to change “the way things are” for yourself, a feeling happens. For those of you who have ever made a huge decision—huge depends on perspective and I imagine if you are above the age of 14 and reading this, you’ve made a huge decision—this happens:

Is this the right decision?

Is this what I’m supposed to do?

What if it’s not?

What if something goes horriblly wrong?

What if I regret this?

How the HELL am I going to prepare myself for this?

Will I be successful?

For me, I have known for a long time that I would pursue the Peace Corps. Four years of solid “knowing” and many more years of “flirting with knowing”. Yet still, when I accepted my invitation to serve in March, those above questions circulated through my head. This is not just a change. this is A CHANGE. This is like a triple decker burger plus pork and bacon, and 3 types of cheese and jalapenos and a fried egg ain't nobody fuckin around change. Serious business. So naturally I’m going to go through a phase of asking myself questions that I already know the answer to in order to gain reassurance that indeed this is the right path for me. Yes, I already knew the answers:

Is this the right decision? Absolutely. My heart hasn’t felt the drive to pursue anything this strongly.

Is this what I’m supposed to do? Absolutely. Think about the difference you made in Lesotho in 6 weeks—and the difference it made in you—and now times that by two years.

What if it’s not? It is. Shut up. Seriously. Shut. Up.

What if something goes horribly wrong? Like what? This is not some rinky dinky trip abroad with potential terrorists. This is the Peace Corps. They are experts in sending volunteers abroad. The payoff will be worth the reward. No question.

What if I regret this? Consider the regret you would have if you didn’t accept. Would it be less or more than the potential regret from going? MORE. by a LONG SHOT. 

How the HELL am I going to prepare myself for this? You can’t fully prepare. Your heart is prepared to serve. Everything else will fall into place. 

Will I be successful? Why is this a question? Math, love and compassion. That’s like, totally your jam, Sar.

I had an answer to each insecure question, and that made me feel better. I knew that whatever came my way, I could tackle. My whole being would not be so drawn to this opportunity if I was not mentally, physically and emotionally prepared for it. That was reassuring and it gave me confidence to say “yes” when the invitation came. 

Then I got more reassurance in ways that I didn’t expect:

The first was my apartment lease. I thought it would be super costly to break my lease. It turns out that the amount I owed would depend on how quickly the apartment complex could find someone to move into my place after I move out. I would be responsible for all the days of rent between my move out and the new person’s move in. So technically, I could be on the hook for all the rent up until my lease was supposed to end (three extra months of rent) if they didn't find a new resident. Yikes. But instead, they found someone to sign a lease literally the day after I gave my 30-day move out notice. I am responsible for 6 extra days of rent. That’s about 200$ extra. DONE AND DONE.

The second was my car lease. It’s not technically up until October 2016. To turn it in early I would have had to pay ~$3,000. Yikes. I learned about the option of a lease transfer. I would need to find somebody who would be interested in taking my car and taking over payments until the end of the lease. That person would need to be approved by Nissan and therefore have decent credit. I figured it was worth a shot. I posted my car on Craigslist with a description of monthly payment amount, the fact that they could turn the car in next October, and a little blurb about the process required to take over the lease. To my surprise, I received about 40 phone calls from people who were interested in taking over my lease. Disappointingly, when I mentioned the need for good credit, most people admitted that wasn’t their strong suit. Shucks.

I was losing hope until:

I got an email from a lady who was interested. Similar to every other response, I explained the reason for needing good credit and asked her what hers was. She said 525. Not great, but not poor enough to be a deal breaker. I told her the process of needing to apply to Nissan, that there was a $250 non-refundable application fee that I would ask her to pay half of, and that the car wouldn’t be available for exchange until mid-September. We spoke on the phone and she was willing to begin the process. So we had talked on the phone twice, she seemed like a promising lease takeover candidate, and we agreed to meet in person in a public place. Because she doesn’t have a car she can drive around on the weekends, she asked me to meet her at the 7-11 across the street from her. I agreed.

She is a single mother with a 2-year-old daughter. She currently drives a company car, but they only allow her a certain amount of miles per month, which are usually used up by halfway through the month. Then she needs to take a cab to work for the remainder of the month. She makes enough money to afford a car payment; she even has enough money in savings to afford a down payment on a car. However, she does not have enough of a savings to make a down payment and continue to have a savings. She explained to me that she wouldn’t be able to sleep without an emergency fund, since she’s solely responsible for her daughter’s health and happiness. Very respectable. She told me that she had gone to car dealerships before and felt like they were just trying to squeeze every penny they could, instead of being on her side and helping her find an affordable car. She didn’t like that feeling and gave up (car salesman are kind of selfish assholes, sorry if you are one #notsorry). 

On the day we met, she walked over in the August Texas heat with her daughter in an adorable pink stroller. We went in a laundromat to stay cool. She took out a folder with a bunch of print outs of the Lease Transfer Application, her money order for the $125 application fee, a contract that she had written up that explains what the $125 is for and that she understands that it’s non-refundable even if she wasn’t approved. (I did not ask for that at all). She also had pay stubs to serve as proof of income—“thinking one step ahead”, she explained. She must have said 25 times how grateful she was to have found me, and how nervous she was to meet me. She told me that she called and told her dad she loved him, in case I turned out to be a killer #thankscraigslist. I told her I was just as relieved to find out that she was the person she had described herself to be, and relieved to know there would be no knives or guns involved in the transaction. 

After we exchanged paperwork we walked out so she could take a look at her hopefully-future car. She cried. Like real tears. And said “I never thought I would be able to drive a car this nice”. She gave me a hug. A hug that meant business. A hug not meant for a total stranger you just corresponded with for the first time in a laundromat. Like a you have impacted my world and I’m not taking this lightly hug. I hugged back and I meant it. Unexpectedly, my goal of doing good was already fulfilled and I hadn’t even left Dallas. PS I won't keep you hanging: she was approved and the contracts are signed and she gets the car the day before her birthday. Could this have worked out any better? Doubt it.

That was a very impactful experience. For me, it felt like the universe was slapping me on the behind and telling me to keep going, kid. Run fast towards your dreams and good things will happen. I’m grateful that yes, good things are happening for me, but even more grateful that I made a good thing happen for someone else. 

I decided to sell instead of store my furniture. All of it. I posted all of it on Craigslist on a Wednesday night and had an offer for each of the pieces by Thursday morning. Well, that was easy. The couple that came to pick up my bedroom set said it was for their oldest daughter. She had just turned 13 and got her own room. She was the only kid of five that would have her own room. The parents gave her a budget and started scanning through Craigslist to find a deal on something she liked. They came across my bedroom set and the day they came to pick it up they told me she was anxiously waiting for them to get back so she could design her brand new room. The mom said they went and picked out all new bedding yesterday and her daughter was so excited she couldn’t stand it. 

I even found a home for my cat. Her name is Stoli and she’s five years old. I was really concerned that I would not be able to find a home for her because most people want a kitten—they are pretty much the same work as an adult cat except way cuter. When I adopted Stoli as a kitten I made a commitment to give her the best life I could. I knew that having to surrender her to a shelter would cause me to leave that commitment unfulfilled. I put her on Craigslist (no offense Stoli, if you’re reading this) and nobody responded to the ad. My backup plan was to make her an outside cat on my mom’s farm. She was only used to living inside for her whole life and I wasn’t sure if that would be an easy/healthy transition for her. But that was the best I could do...

Until I was joking one day at work about how I couldn’t find a home for a not-super-friendly car (she bites and scratches sometimes, and ignores people most of the time). Side note: I'm learning that this was likely user error: cats don't appreciate being treated like dogs. As I began treating Stoli more like a cat, she became more friendly and less unpredictably mean. Go figure. My colleague didn’t even know I had a cat (Lucy definitely gets the spotlight 100% of the time). She said that her parents just lost a cat and might be interested in adopting an adult cat. After some back and forth (me explaining that Stoli bites sometimes when I try to pet her and keeps to herself a lot--and them explaining "yes, she's a cat"), they decided they wanted to adopt her and we met for a meet-and-greet. Upon meeting them, I knew it was a good fit. They understood cats and their temperament and their disposition to keep to themselves. They understood that cats aren’t dogs (a fact I still can’t seem to completely comprehend). They were really excited to meet her, and I left her with them that day. Since then, I’ve gotten a few text pictures saying that she’s doing really well and becoming very affectionate with the new owners. I think she will have a great life with them and I am so grateful that I was able to find my kitty a loving home. 

Full disclosure: when I left that day without Stoli, I cried. I didn’t expect to because I didn’t feel very attached to her—not like I do with Lucy. But leaving her that day made me realize that she has made an impact on my life and has been an unlikely companion throughout my first five years of adult life. I am grateful for her and I love her very much. I am so glad she’s with a family that will understand her and love her for the rest of her days. Thank you, Jessica’s family, for allowing me to keep my commitment to my first pet. 

So, the point of this post is this: The universe knows what’s up. These little examples of “good luck” I think are way more than that. I truly believe that if this was not the right path for me, things wouldn’t be falling into place so smoothly. Instead:

Apartment lease: Check + minimal fees.

Car lease: Check + improved a stranger’s life.

Kitty: Check + ideal situation.

Bedroom Set: Check + made a little girl’s first room special.

Other furniture: Check + record time.

I’m hearing loud and clear: Go Sarah. Do it Sarah. Be great, Sarah. IT’S ALL YOU BABY.

Thank you, universe. I appreciate you.

A little heavy. A lot relevant.

The topic of Mental Health is pretty uncomfortable. People don’t like to talk about it. And people realllly don’t like to talk about it when it pertains to themselves. So, what am I about to do? Talk about it. Duh.

Currently: I am the happiest and healthiest (physically and mentally) that I’ve ever been. I have been described as self-aware, insightful and reflective. I am overall a happy and positive person; when I feel that daily stressors are becoming overwhelming, I recognize it and I use learned techniques to manage feelings of anxiety. The ability to manage stress, recognize anxiety and acknowledge feeling sad is definitely a skill that most people are not inherently born with. Over the years and as a result of some not-so-jolly experiences, I have learned how to do  those things. I believe these skills are going to be crucial to my success as a Peace Corps volunteer.

Where am I going with this? Well, I had to convince the Peace Corps medical board that the above statements are true. It was not easy.

Two pieces of background information are important to know in order to understand the point of this post.

1.       Prozac (fun fact: 1 in 10 Americans take an anti-depressant)

Here’s what my life was like in 2005: I had great friends. I was the captain of the volleyball team (I was really freaking good at volleyball). My mom and I had this really cute house in Independence, Ohio fully equipped with a so-ugly-he’s-cute bulldog named Rueben. I got really great grades, found a healthy balance between sports, friends and school. I had a side job which gave me money to shop for new clothes every week. I drove a Land Rover Discovery…

Yet I felt sad sometimes. And I didn’t really know why. I would search for concrete reasons to validate these feelings, and when I couldn’t come up with any, I would create them in my head. I was confused and frustrated. When I told my mom about how I was feeling, and the confusion that came with that, she thought that maybe I had a chemical imbalance, so I saw a psychiatrist. I was a 17 year old with a great life and I was seeing a psychiatrist. You better believe I didn’t tell any of my friends about that. After a few sessions, the doctor thought it would be a good idea for me to start taking Prozac. So I did—at age 17 I was now part of the statistic. The medicine alleviated by feelings of sadness, and actually it muted all of my emotions—I felt less sad, yes, but I also felt less happy. It helped me maintain a “neutral” state when it came to my feelings, never awful and never wonderful. I continued to stay on Prozac from mid- 2006 through October 2014.

At first it absolutely helped me and continued to help me during and after my transition into college. It eventually became a regular part of my life. I took Prozac every night before bed for 8 years. The mentality was that “it helped when I needed it and if I don’t continue taking it, I’m going to be sad again”. Well, in October of 2014, I made a bold move: I went to my doctor and said “I don’t want to rely on a happy pill forever if I don’t need to. I feel like I’m in a really great place and maybe I don’t need to take this anymore.” So, I weened off of it, monitoring closely my emotions. I realized that not only did I not feel sad, but I actually felt better. I could focus better, had much more energy; the joyful moments were “Bang! Pow! Awesome!” joyful, while the sad moments were no less manageable than before. It was amazing. Like, this is how normal people feel! Woohoo!

I’ve been off of Prozac since then and haven’t looked back.

2.       Eating Disorder (Eating disorders are a daily struggle for 10 million females and 1 million males in the United States.)

In 2006, as a freshman in college, I was diagnosed with a severe eating disorder. I’m not going to go into the gloomy details now, but to paint a quick picture: I was hospitalized for almost a week, unable to get out of bed for any reason, because my heart rate was unable to be detected. I was malnourished to the point that my heartbeat was so faint, an EKG could not detect it. I was sick. Physically and mentally. I think it’s true that every girl around my age at that time struggles with body image in some capacity (thank you society). My struggle was at the highest and most intense level. I was in treatment for three months, attending at least 3 hours of therapy per day, and returned to campus full time in the Spring of 2007. Since then, I have continued to positively build on my recovery, with very few setbacks along the way. I’m proud to say that now I exercise for joy rather than obligation and I eat whatever the hell I want (except animals because that’s just sad #vegetarian). Last night I ate a grilled cheese sandwich and Doritos for dinner. To put the previous sentence into perspective, I think if my college friends ever saw me eating that for dinner, they would assume it was the Skinny Cow version.

…See ya never, eating disorder—you’re a sick freak!

Fast forward...

December 2014, when it was time to fill out the Peace Corps Medical History Form that accompanied the application. I disclosed that I had been diagnosed with an Eating Disorder in 2006 and graduated from outpatient treatment the same year. I also disclosed that I had been on Prozac up until October of the year I applied. Well, those two disclosures set me up to basically fail out of the Medical Clearance process (don’t worry—I’m leaving to serve in a month, so it’s a happy ending!)…

Once Medical Review started (after I got my invitation to serve—but that’s a whole separate can of worms), my case was immediately flagged. Peace Corps was concerned about my eating disorder history and also the fact that I had been taking an anti-depressant up until recently. I provided them with documentation from my past and current doctors, along with a personal statement explaining that my mental health history should not deter me from serving because I have grown past that and am better for it. To no avail. I was not cleared. I received this generic—but no less heartbreaking—email:

We have reviewed your Health History Form and other medical information you provided. We regret to inform you that we are unable at this time to medically clear you for Peace Corps service. The Peace Corps has medical status eligibility requirements that every applicant must meet. Every applicant must, with reasonable accommodation, have the physical and mental capacity required of a Volunteer to perform the essential functions of the Peace Corps Volunteer assignment for which he or she is otherwise eligible, and be able to complete a tour of service (ordinarily 27 months) without unreasonable disruption due to health problems.

What? Wait, what? You don’t think I have the mental capacity to serve as a PCV? Because I was honest and admitted my past and how I overcame it, my dreams are cut? Stopped dead in their tracks? What?

This leads me to the heart of this post and what I really want to talk about: Why is having a history of mental health so scary? Because I admitted to the Peace Corps that I confronted feelings of sadness and anxiety, and that I elected to enter into eating disorder treatment to halt unhealthy behaviors, I was told that I am not permitted to follow my dreams of living abroad and serving a kids for 27 months. In this case, my willingness to take bold ownership of my feelings, actions and life path has come back to bite me in the ass in the worst way. I decided, that for myself and every other person who has overcome mental health issues: I’m not going to stand for it.

Start minor (but completely valid) vent session:

NEWS FLASH: If you meet a 20-30 year old who claims to have never had a period in his/her life where they were required to deal with frequent feelings of sadness or worry, THEY’RE LYING. Either to themselves or others. These should be the people you flag and question whether or not they have the “mental capacity” to serve in the Peace Corps. These are the types of people who are going to fly abroad with no friends or family, experience poverty first-hand for the first time in their lives, and Flip. The. Hell. Out.

Imagine somebody who has never had to deal with bumps in the road, life situations that cause unbearable stress, or events that leave overpowering sadness in their wake. Is that person going to be equipped with the mindfulness and self-awareness to fly to a foreign country, live in extreme poverty without any support system, and embark on a journey of uncertainty without completely losing their shit? I highly doubt it.

But that person sailed through the Peace Corps medical clearance process without a doubt. Good one.

Minor vent session ended.

Needless to say, I decided to appeal the Peace Corp’s decision to not clear me, which meant I would need to write another personal statement explaining why I feel the decision should be overturned, including evidence to support that I in fact am equipped to serve. The ironic truth is that I feel that I am more equipped that most people to do something like this because of the bumpy road I’ve taken to get here. Treatment taught me how to recognize stressors early and implement techniques to help alleviate feelings of anxiety, worry and sadness. My eating disorder, while awful and terrifying at the time, taught me how to treat and love my body; how to keep myself healthy; how to see beauty in myself and others; and most importantly to understand what it’s like to struggle internally and overcome it. I should be rewarded for that, not punished for it. Am I right?

Below are some phrases from my appeal statement:

• “Writing and logical thinking are tools I use to process through challenges. While I understand that I will be presented with brand new challenges that I have not yet experienced, I feel that I can take what I have learned from my past to help me face the new and the unknown.”
• “My success in facing challenges with a clear, stable mind and without relapse is evidence that I am able to function without antidepressant medication and continue on my current path of mental and emotional stability throughout my service and beyond.”
• “I have learned how to be mindful about my emotions, how to facilitate positive self-talk, and how I interact with others. I have learned how different situations affect me, and how to face challenges in a healthy and controlled way. I have learned to not think in the black and white, and that sometimes ‘one day at a time’ needs to be my focus. I have learned techniques to calm myself down, to manage stress, and to take situations for what they are and move forward.”
• “I feel that my history of an eating disorder and the depression/anxiety that came with that has not set me back at all; instead, it has allowed me to grow strong, self-reflect and has lead me to a position that I am in now: well-prepared for the challenges I will face over the next few years in Mozambique.”

“I request that the Medical Reviewer’s decision be reconsidered and ultimately reversed.”

And it was. A few weeks later I was notified that the decision has been overturned and I would continue to move forward in the medical clearance process. I found out late July that I was officially cleared and set to leave for Mozambique on September 24^th.

I’m proud. I stuck up for myself. My mental health history does not deem me “mentally incapable” of doing anything. I needed these medical reviewers to hear that loud and clear. And they did. I’m grateful for that. Additionally, and more importantly, I needed to ensure that this general untrue perception that “history of depression/anxiety/mental illness” completely incapacitates people forever. I am living, breathing, adventure-loving, math teaching, silly-laughing, dog-loving, kick-ass-at-my-job, PROOF that mental illness can not only be overcome, but it can be a growing and learning opportunity that truly paves the road to success.

Luckily, I convinced the Peace Corps medical reviewers that my case was worth reconsidering, and that I am a great candidate for this journey. I consider that a small win to a much broader problem. When are we going to stop allowing mental health history to put labels on people with permanent Sharpie? In treatment I learned that my past depression does not define me and my identity certainly does not lie in the fact that I suffered from an eating disorder 9 years ago. I am me now: Not perfect by any means, but a perfect fit for Peace Corps service. 

I hope that eventually the topic of mental health can be understood from a perspective that is compassionate and informed, instead of allowing a way to put a label on a person that may never go away.

Common Questions, Uncommon Answers

Many times, when I tell someone I’m joining that Peace Corps, at some point in the conversation, the following questions are asked:

“What are you going to do with Lucy?” (This is the first question 99% of the time. Nobody—not an exaggeration—asks about my cat.)

“Where are you going?” Mozambique “Did you get to pick?” Kind of.

“Doesn’t the application process take forever?” Medium, but the old process was way longer. Thanks Obama.

“How long will you be there?” A long time.

“How much stuff can you bring?” The same amount of stuff I would pack for a week-long trip to the beach, but less shoes.

“Are you excited?” Is that a question?

“Don’t you have to, like, get a lot of shots?” Yup. A lot. And then some more.

“I heard Medical Clearance takes forever. Is that true?” It felt like way longer than forever, if that’s even a thing.

So, I’m going to answer some of these questions here, fully equipped with typical charming Sarah sass. You’re welcome.

“Where are you going?” … “Did you get to pick?”

I’m going to Mozambique. It’s the Southern African country across the pond from Madagascar. Between South Africa and the ocean. There are beaches there. Really pretty ones, I hear.

When you go on the Peace Corps website to see what types of assignments are available, the site asks you to make some selections that help you narrow down where you want to go and what you want to do. It asks if you have a region preference (South America, Asia, Africa, Pacific Islands, etc.). Then it asks if you have a sector preference: Agriculture, Education, Health, etc. Once you choose those two things, it populates job listings that fit your selected criteria. It tells you what the job entails and what country you’d be in. At a point in the application process, Peace Corps asks you to fill out a form telling them your top three choices for jobs on the list. You would more than likely be considered for placement in one of those countries for one of those jobs that you put in that form.

Well, I didn’t favor any options and I didn’t pick from a list. When it was time for me to fill out the form, I chose:

No preference

No Preference

No Preference

And in an open-ended comment box below that, I typed: “I have a very strong math background, and I love working with kids. I think I’d be a great math teacher.” I’ll let you get this straight: Yes, I’m committing to serving 27 months of my life in an underdeveloped country. And no, I chose to not have a say in where that was. I literally said “Send me anywhere in the world and I’ll go. And it’s probably a good idea to let me do something mathy because math is my jam.”

Why? Well, throughout the years, I’ve talked to many people that have been Peace Corps volunteers. When I asked if they liked it, the answers varied tremendously. Some people say “I loved it. You must do it!”. Some people say “It was good and I learned a lot.” Some people say “It was really hard” and some people say “I struggled and fulfilling my commitment was very challenging”. I don’t know what my answer will be to that question when I return, but I do know that I will not have any regrets about where I’m placed. What if I end up hating Mozambique, and I chose to go there based off of a list? Would I constantly question whether or not I made the right choice? Absolutely I would--that's human nature. I don't want even the potential of that happening. No thank you. 
Instead, I put my trust in the universe, and the Peace Corps placement experts, to send me to a country they believed I would both thrive and help others thrive too.

“How much stuff can you bring?”

Pretty much, think about the amount of stuff a typical female would bring on a two-week trip to Europe, and half that. I get to bring two 50-lb bags with me…for two years. I mean, I know that means two giant suitcases packed to the brim, and some of you may even be thinking “that’s not so bad”, but it's going to be tough. Especially when you consider some of the items in the “not to leave at home” section of the packing list:

A year supply of tampons. That’s roughly 250 tampons, or 5 boxes. Pretty much half of a suitcase.

A two year supply of your favorite soap. At a bar a month, that’s 27 bars of soap. That’s 10 lbs of soap. One fifth of my 50 lb bag will be soap. But at least it’s my favorite kind.

A fleece blanket. If I don’t want my toesies hangin’ out, it needs to be at least 5 ft long. I can fold, roll, or smoosh that sucker all I want, it’s still a lot of space.

One or two heavy sweatshirts; a waterproof jacket; sweatpants; two pairs of jeans. A backpack; a professional bag; a purse with a zipper. Blouses; t-shirts; a warm jacket; nice shoes; running shoes; hiking shoes. Books.

Moral of the story: How the hell am I going to fit all this stuff in two bags? And keep each under 50 pounds? And have enough clothes to still have “options” every day? We women, we love options. Need them, actually. The last thing I want to happen is: “Man, I really wish I would have brought my red FC Dallas t-shirt instead of the black Live United one”. In other words, my mom might be ready to kill me by the time I’m made my final packing decisions. Thanks mom—love ya!

“Are you excited?”

The short answer is yes, duh, but there’s so much more to it than that. I think the three words that I could use to replace "excited" in order to communicate how I’m feeling about my soon departure are: hopeful, curious and happy.

Hopeful: I hope that I fit in. Not like the kind of fitting in that 4^th graders hope to achieve on the playground at recess by completing the hopscotch course the fastest. But like really fitting in. Into the community. The culture. The day to day. Fitting in enough to trust and be trusted. To understand values, morals and motivations. What drives these people to work and to love? What type of person do they openly invite into their homes for lunch? Trust to teach their children? Share the dreams they have for themselves and their families? I want to fit in. I want to hear their dreams. I want to be invited to walk alongside a community to create new dreams. Big dreams. With my hands and my heart—scratch that: our hands and our hearts. Team effort. I want to join their team. I hope that they’ll let me.

Curious: Not like George. I like to think I already know about some things—many things. But I really want to know about little things. You know, the things that are part of your world that you almost don’t notice. Here are some examples of my right now little things:

• My one neighbor is always outside having a cig when I walk Lucy in the morning. He always comments on how big her poo is.
• The people at Starbucks sometimes call me “Princess Sarah” because I told them my name means Princess in Hebrew.
• People downtown use the crosswalks without the walk sign. Which means a green light no longer means go. It means wait for people to finish crossing and then proceed with caution.
• There is lots of traffic at 7:45 but significantly less if I leave at 8:05.
• The lady at Subway right next to the office recognizes me but pretends she doesn’t because that might be creepy. I know this because I catch her adding the right veggies to my sandwich before I say them out loud.

So do you get what I’m saying? The little things. They just become a part of the normal and you just go about your business not really thinking much of them. Onlookers might even consider these things interesting or out of the ordinary, but you don't. They have become just another thing that happens on any given day.

So what are the little things going to be for me in Mozambique? Clearly, I won’t have a neighbor talking about a poo pile the size of a go-kart, but surely some things are going to become normal. Typical. What will my new quirky normalcies be? I'm looking forward to finding out, but then again--will I really even notice?

Happy: Not the ‘happy is too common and boring so find a better synonym for it’ happy. But like really happy. In my heart. Warm. Yellow like sunshine. Positive energy and involuntary smiles and speed-up-my-talking happy. The happy that comes with the phrase this just feels right. Happy.

I'm hopeful and curious and happy. It just feels right.

Holy Cow. This is Real.

So, this is actually happening. In 40 days, I’m leaving America.

Peace Corps, Mozambique. 27 Months. Teaching secondary school Math…and so much more.

I submitted my application to the Peace Corps in December 2014, found out that I was invited to go to Mozambique in March, and was finally medically cleared less than two weeks ago. That’s a long time to maybe do something. Even though I’ve known for about two weeks now that this is for sure a thing that I will do, it hadn’t really sunk in. Even after I told United Way that I was leaving my role there for this new adventure, it still didn’t really feel true. Until…

I was on a run on the Katy Trail, preparing for an August 23^rd half marathon in Dallas. (Dallas…13.1…August…maybe picking up and moving to Mozambique isn’t the craziest thing I’ve ever signed up for). Anyhow, I’m running along, aware of the heat and the sun and the sweat and how many tenths of miles I have to go until this run is over and I can eat a sno-cone. Thinking about the extensive packing list and what kind of Chacos I want. Will there be peanut butter in Mozambique? Please goodness let there be peanut butter…

And I thought about the moment of saying goodbye to Lucy. (Meet Lucy--and me-- in the photo below). My best friend, a great listener—and even better snuggler. A true companion. A joyful greeter, enthusiastic walking buddy, the deliverer of sillies when I need them, love when I’m lonely and joy literally every second that I’m with her. Goodbye Lucy. You don’t know this, but it’s not forever. Just two years. I don’t love you any less, in fact this will surely make me love you more (is that even possible?). I will miss you more than ever, probably so much I will be able to physically feel it in my belly. I promise Stephen and Cameron will give you unlimited pets and playtime and snacks. Trust me. I’ll be back. I'm coming back for you. Those thoughts took me into that moment that will happen 40 days from now. And I cried. Right smack in the middle of the Katy Trail on a 100 degree day. By myself. I cried.

Holy Cow. This is real. It’s happening. I’m doing the thing that I am meant to do, and I cannot wait. Every time I think about immersing myself in, and walking alongside people of a different culture I catch a surge of positive energy. But if there was a way to not have to say goodbye to my best friend…well, I would wait for that forever.

The other moment I had that made "yes, this is real" sink in happened this past weekend. I met some new friends through an acquaintance at a grill out, and we were talking about my future Peace Corps service. Someone asked me, “what’s it going to be like?” And I smiled and too-excitedly said “I HAVE NO IDEA!!” Um, what? they said.

My life there will be so different from what I currently know and how I currently live that I can’t even truly picture it. Will I be in an urban apartment in the city? A mud hut in some faraway village? Running water or a well? A stove or a fire? Will I actually need the headlamp that’s listed under “optional” on the packing list?

I. have. No. Idea. And that is so beautiful. I can read all the material I want about life as a volunteer in Mozambique, but I still can’t really fathom the day-to-day. I know that I get to teach students everyday about a subject I am passionate about, work alongside other PCVs towards a common goal, and walk hand-and-hand with community members in an effort to improve quality of life. I will accompany. And empathize. And walk with. And learn from. And it’s going to be incredible and challenging and uncertain and happy and sad and real.

Holy Cow. This is real. Saying out loud, and to strangers, that I have no idea what my life will be like in 40 days from now is a true statement. Possibly the most important thing I can know right now is that I don't know, and I can't know and I won't know until I get there and live it. I HAVE NO IDEA. And at this point, I prefer to not have an idea quite yet.