The Precipice

It's 2:15 am. I went to bed around 9 pm. I've been working like a mad woman the past few days, getting things organized in my place and packing four bags for two years in China. I've repacked these bags over ten times, weighing, reorganizing, getting frustrated, doing it all again. I purchased the essentials: Old Bay, a charger adapter for China, and various matching accessories for my flight. I have switched the outfit I will wear four times and set my alarm for 4:30 am (I woke up at 1:30 am and haven't been able to fall back asleep). I've received text messages, phone calls, emails, visits, packing help, hugs, tears, love, and prideful encouragement. My phone keeps pinging from WeChat messages being received from other sleepless volunteers. We are already bonding as family although we have never met as we stand on the precipice of what is to probably become the greatest adventure we will ever embark upon. We are laughing, crying, and commiserating over the reality of our choice to do something many people would never even dream of doing.

My cousin and I found a "peace keeper's" fake tattoo in my stuff the other day and I boldly put it on, knowing my mother would say, "well that's ugly" (she did) but not caring, because doing something a little childish just felt fun and liberating in the moment. 

My mother is right, it is quite ugly...

Over the past few weeks, I've been forced to realize the gravity of my decisions. My mother, the closest person in the world to me, goes from being more proud of me than I ever thought possible, to being absolutely distraught. My brother, unable to visit from Florida before I leave, remains unable to process exactly what he feels, but always tells me how proud of his big sister he is and that when he goes to tables in the restaurant where he works, he tells complete strangers I'm going to China with the Peace Corps. My dad, well, he's my dad, and he just smiles and pretends like none of this affects him, but I can tell when he comes over and pats my shoulder, the mixture of pride and frustration over the knowledge that I will not be just a car ride away is weighing heavy upon him, as he tries to make the last few days easier for me by not showing how much he will miss me and worry. My family members have traveled to visit me from NYC, Asheville, and Houston and have told me how much they love/envy/are just so stinking proud of me. My friends have rallied behind me. I've been told how much I mean to these extended "chosen" family members. I've been hugged and cried on and loved. I have heard that I'm a "safe space" and that these wonderful people don't know what they will do without my solid and constant presence and listening ear. I can say with confidence: you will all be okay! You are all smart, funny, and perfectly capable of running your own lives! 

My anxiety has been an 11 on a scale of 1-10. I haven't meditated enough. I've been too busy. My schedule has forced a back seat to my immediate stress levels and mental health. I'm looking forward to just sitting at the departure gate at Reagan, way too early in the morning, crying by myself as I say to myself, "oh geez, what in the world have I gotten myself into?!?!"

Last night I spoke to a special person and they said to me, "you are leaving me for that side chick China," as if China was my mistress. I sort of liked that. I'm going to spend two years with my side chick, ya'll, and I'm going to have a relationship with her. I'm going to eat spicy noodles at dinner and pretend it's no problem to impress her, grinning as my eyes tear and I nod to the waiter to bring more water please, saying, 'no, don't stop refilling until it basically spills over the top....' with watery eyes. Nod....smile. I'm going to laugh at her jokes, even though I can't understand a word of Mandarin, smiling and nodding as I think, 'dafuq did she just say?' I'm going to mime "bathroom" when I have to pee, as her voice gets louder in her native tongue, frustrated that I don't just understand, and I'll just give up and look for international signs of female and male to blissfully empty my bladder within a private space. I'll probably stand against walls right inside my apartment and sigh, allowing them to prop me up after my first sunset and sunrise with her, and when she's a fickle bitch, I'll sit on the floor and cry, wishing I had brought that chocolate bar everybody told me was essential. Then I'll unpack my first love's memories like the Old Bay and brick of maple sugar I carefully wrapped and placed in my carry on luggage and look through pictures of the good old U.S. Of A. when things were super fly and I'll miss that original lover, crying over the "good times." Maybe I'll even wish they could meet, a polyamorous blend of the old love and the new love intersecting in a perfect blend of magical bliss. I'll caress articles of clothing from both relationships and when I unroll my travel yoga mat, I'll say, 'it was different this time, but still good, and no, the size doesn't matter...' And if I'm really lucky, I'll introduce her to some of my closest friends from home when they come for a visit, showing them the places we've built the solid foundation of love and trust upon, "oh, once we took a stroll across that bridge and fed the ducks, and see that restaurant? That was the first time we had spicy noodles and I CRIED! At the table! Oh! And that over there? That's where I fell down and instead of laughing at me, she sent a local to help me up, brushing me off and speaking to me unintelligibly, and that spot over there is where I realized that I Ioved her for the first time, no, not there....there, under that tree. I was sitting there meditating with my mala beads, repeating my mantra in my head, and it hit me....this is my home and I love her."

I am on the precipice. I am standing on the edge, looking into the abyss that is my future, and I'm ready to jump.