Two Weeks Notice

Wounded Warriors Foundation fundraiser at the Intrepid - one of my last work nights with the Hart family

The two weeks following my decision were a blur – two weeks notice at a job I just started, errands, packing, goodbyes… Ah yes, did I mention how terrible I am at goodbyes? Because I am, and knowing that I am added a spritz (or, rather a waterfall) of anxiety into the mix, making things that much harder. By the time the one week countdown began, my angel of a mother had already put me on some Russian herbal medicine that was supposed to make me relax.

Relax? Impossible. I was leaving the comfort of my home, my friends and my family, and heading into the unknown. Interestingly enough, that sounded just like every trip I had ever taken, and there have been dozens. From traveling all over Europe to my yearly Russian summers, from spending a semester in Italy to a cross-country road trip this past summer, the only feelings I ever had prior to departure were excitement, happiness and the undying urge to explore. So why was it different this time around.

I was going alone, stripped of the comfort of either going with a friend or going to visit a friend. The only other time this had ever happened was when I moved to the United States when I was eleven. New country, new language, little idea of what to expect, and a complete lack of inner peace. Of course, I refer to it as inner peace from the high throne of a 24 year old – when I was eleven, it was known as not having any friends, not understanding what anyone around me was saying, not being able to tell the salesperson at the Christmas tree shop which one was my favorite, being away from my family and the country I once called home, etcetera.

I suppose that’s the fascinating thing about the way people develop, why people are the way they are, why they act the way they do – their background. I know, I know, a cliché fact known by all. However, it’s one of those well-known facts that often gets overlooked by people because, although we hate to admit it, we’re human, and we’re selfish. What we tend to forget is that every single person has a completely different outlook on life based on their experiences. Our experiences play a colossal role in shaping our personalities, beliefs, viewpoints, everything.

Yet somehow, time and time again, I find myself questioning why my grandmother reuses her tea bags until the "tea" that they brew is a yellowish water, and why all the gifts that I get her are saved, unwrapped, in the dresser "for a more difficult time of need." Well, that’s because she went through World War II and she remembers what it’s like to have absolutely nothing, to live in complete poverty, to starve, to ration. That stayed with her, and it will for as long as she lives. The examples of such behaviors are endless and I feel that if we all take a second to reflect on why people act the way they act, rather than lashing out on them for not acting the way you act, our society could finally experience some compassion and understanding.

So, going back to my experience of leaving for AmeriCorps, perhaps the reason why I was so scared was because the only other experience I had to compare it to was a very difficult time in my life. Luckily for me, history did not repeat itself, and beginning with the very first day, my time in the program has been nothing short of amazing.

That's me and some of the amazing ladies I am blessed to call my friends, on the eve before my departure. A wise word of advice - packing while saying your goodbyes is impossible, no matter how good at multitasking you think you may be.