The Hardest Job I'll Ever Love

I think that most people have a certain image in their head of what being in the Peace Corps looks like. I think it probably resembles a carefree person, usually dressed in tye dye with messy hair, strumming a guitar around a campfire with a bunch of ethnic looking children. I won't lie, that's what I was hoping for. However, the life I imagined for myself here is so far removed from what I actually got, which isn't bad, just different. Contrary to what many believe, I am not the least bit carefree. I worry every minute of every day. I worry about fulfilling the expectations of the Peace Corps, my host agency, my family in America, my host family here in the Philippines, and all of my friends both near and far. I am positive that I am not what anyone here was expecting. I am not the stereotypical loud and outgoing American. I am quiet and reserved around people I don't know. I am also awful at Tagalog. It doesn't seem to matter how many hours I spend studying or tutoring with my patient and kind tutor, no one ever knows what I'm saying; some times I don't even know what I'm trying to convey. I am not an expert teacher, not even close. I have so much learning to do. I worry that my co-teacher will end up sharing with me more of the knowledge that she has gained from her twenty-plus years of experience in teaching than I could ever bestow upon her with my few years of tutoring. I worry that it wont be an equal amount of giving and that she'll always wonder why this strange American girl invaded her classroom for two years. Also, I'm sure that I offend someone, some where, at least every week if not daily. Navigating different cultural normalities is a full time job in itself. I worry about the souls I left behind at home. I worry that I'll be forgotten. I worry about how my friends are doing, if they're happy and well. I worry about my family, especially with the recent loss of our Junebug. I worry about missing out on the important things that will inevitably happen in the lives of the people I love so much. Life doesn't stop just because I'm not there to experience it too. I worry, constantly, about my precious Luna. Will she remember me in two years? Is she happy and healthy? Does she think that I've abandoned her? Does she know that I'm coming back? It's embarrassing how much I think about that dog. The Peace Corps has been my dream since I was 16 years old, and I worked very hard to get where I am. But, I come here, and I meet all of these other extraordinary volunteers, and I wonder why I was ever chosen. I worry that I won't be what everyone expected me to be. My biggest fear is that, at any moment, they will all realize what a mistake they made and tell me to leave. My even bigger fear is that they'll do this in Tagalog, so I won't actually know what's going on until they hand me my plane ticket and say bye. I admit, I thought that this whole being in the Peace Corps thing was going to be a breeze. I wanted it so badly, for so long, that I never really thought about how difficult it could be. I only had one purpose, which was to get my invitation. I had done so much traveling prior, that I assumed I could handle anything that this life threw at me. Nope. The Peace Corps slogan is that it's "the hardest job you will ever love," and that could not be any more accurate. I just wrote three paragraphs depicting my worries as a volunteer, but I never once mentioned that I was worried about whether or not this was the job for me. Some times, after a particularly frustrating day, I will ask myself why I am here and what I'm doing with my life. I don't always have an answer, depending on how bad the day was, but my heart has always told me that I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing at this time in my life. This job is hard, really ridiculously hard and it's definitely not intended for the faint of heart. I have never sang with children around a campfire (although it does sound nice), I do wear tye dye, but not as frequently as you may think, yes, my hair is always messy, but no, I am not carefree. There are times when my heart literally feels like it will break from how much I long for my loved ones, and there have been instances where I want to start crying (and do) because I can't always understand the language, miss my bus stop, and end up in a random baranguy by myself, or I'll feel so alone that I want to curl up in a ball and not move. But, these feelings DO pass, and give way to moments of pure bliss from the realization that I'm living out my dream. I get to spend my afternoons with a group of sixth graders who tell me that their favorite days are Tuesdays and Thursdays because that's when we have our English club together. I get to see the beauty of the Philippines every day of my life. I get to rely on, collaborate with, and build friendships with some of the kindest spirits I have ever known. I get to live a beautifully weird life for two whole years. My desires to be a good volunteer can often blind me into insecurity and cause me to second guess everything I do, but I still love my job. In all of its beauty and heartache, I still love it.