A graduate school prompt that has always stuck with me is, “Connect the dots of your life. How did you get to where you are now?”. Though I never ended up submitting a response to this question, as I decided not to pursue a graduate degree (re: gap year and Peace Corps), I have spent hours pondering its answer. After all, grad school was the next “logical” step in my life, and yet I’m sitting on my floor on a Saturday afternoon typing my thoughts out in Namibia. I didn’t have the imagination to predict this for my life.
So, how did I get here? What constellation tells the story of my life? I’ve recently revisited this prompt since I was scheduled to visit my old high school–my roots–to talk to the upperclassmen when I was back in the States. My primary focus was to talk about my work in the Peace Corps and share what I now know about Namibia, but a secondary, and important part of the story, has been my journey here. It blows me away to think it’s been almost 10 years since I’ve sat in that HS auditorium myself. What would my past self want to hear? What authority or audacity do I even have to give “advice” to others? I settled on the idea that my goal was not to give advice (because I think you have to live through things and not just heed other’s words) but simply to share a story. My story. As I was inspired by reading Michelle Obama’s memoir (highly recommend, by the way), what a powerful thing that can be: “Your story is what you have, what you will always have. It is something to own”. So here’s me, trying to own it, trying to connect these dots that sometimes seem so far away. All I can hope is that it validated at least one of those high schoolers’ feelings or experience and encouraged them to keep moving forward, even if forward isn’t a clear destination.
It’s usually easiest to spot the brightest, newest stars in the sky, so I want to start there, with the newest, biggest changes.
I’m currently applying to be a Foreign Service Officer with the U.S. State Department. I passed the general entrance test, a Jeopardy-like (though multiple choice thank the heavens) knowledge based exam; I made it through the “full-candidate picture” round, submitting 200-word personal essays trying to exemplify skills like leadership, communication, and management; and I just went to DC and passed one of the last hurdles: the oral interview. It’s a long process; from the initial test to acceptance in a training class it takes on average 1-2 years. And that’s if you don’t fail any step and have to wait a year before retrying. Best case scenario: I would be able to join the State Department after finishing my Peace Corps service and be sent to an as-of-yet unknown country (how exciting does that sound?!).
Why am I doing this? Why is the prospect of this job consuming most of my daydreams and hopes and wishes on eyelashes? Because I’ve never had a career dangle in front of me that combines both what I’m good at and what I love: travel, change, challenge, learning, adventure, stories… I’m applying to be a consular officer, meaning I would provide American citizen services–adoption facilitation, handling American deaths/emergencies abroad, reissuing passports–and/or visa services–immigrant or non-immigrant applications in the country where I’m posted for a 2-4 year time frame. Depending on the post and my seniority, this can mean lots and lots of paperwork at breakneck speed, or managing a group of people at a consulate, or hosting student events, or providing aid to Americans in distress… Really, the chance for everyday to be different. To help Americans and citizens in a different country and be their face of America. To guide them through complex information and rules and hear their stories. I’ve never been so excited by a prospect for my life. Honestly, I’m pretty ready to jump right into it. I have months of medical and security clearances up ahead; even after those, it’s not a guarantee. I have to see if my interview score was high enough to even get a job placement…but for now, I’ll take the wins as they come!
Let’s zoom back a bit. How did I even hear about the FS or consider it as a career? This follows a pretty close tandem with my Peace Corps service. One important fact I’ve learned about myself, and Peace Corps assured me of, is my love not just of travel, but of living abroad. The phrase carries with it a romantic conotation that I totally buy into. My Peace Corps experience has felt like an adventure. Every day. And although every few months I have a day where I feel bored and pass on adventure, I much prefer this lifestyle to anything I’ve done previously.
And how did Peace Corps come about? Well, I’ll blame the Camino. It was there, while walking over 1000 miles for 75 days, that I took a good look at myself and gave myself time. Time to consider what I really want out of life, what really inspires me. That gift of time was such a game-changer, and I knew I had to be abroad. I taught in China, I lived in France for a month or two, but I was hungry for a longer stretch, and Peace Corps seemed like the perfect fit.
And why did I walk the Camino, anyway? Well, picture Spring 2017. I graduated from CSU with chemical engineering degree and in the fall of my senior year I interviewed and was accepted for a masters engineering program at Cambridge. I visited in November, fell in love with the campus on my punt trip, with that ecclectic, vibrant, intelligent city. So what made me decide in spring of my senior year to decline the offer and take a “gap year”? I don’t fully remember my thought process. I don’t fully remember if I had thoughts, or if I just trusted my feelings. I just knew it wasn’t me; I loved the idea of living in Cambridge; I didn’t love the idea of what I’d be doing there. I’ve always been a good student, I knew I would pass my courses; I just didn’t have the passion. I couldn’t keep up the façade.
The star before this was my time as a high school senior, accepted to 9 undergrad programs, ready to get out of CO (the travel bug hit me early), until the curve ball came in a most positive form, a Boettcher scholarship. A gift that rewarded my years of hard work. And I chose to stay in-state, with all expenses paid (and to stay near my high school boyfriend. It wasn’t a completely mature, purely logical decision, I can’t lie…).
And before this? Who was I, growing up, in high school? I don’t know. I was someone who wanted to do everything, and also someone who cared that others saw that I wanted to do everything. I don’t know where in my pysche it became so important to seem important, to seem competent to others, others I didn’t even know. But I become obsessed. With the numbers, with the “résumé”, with perfection. I struggled and didn’t accept myself with my flaws. I struggled for years, and I still struggle. I often find myself extrinsically motivated, guiding conversations to a topic I know a lot about, caring if complete strangers think I’m competent, intelligent. If they think I belong.
It helped, in college, to finally name this trait within myself. To realize what kind of expectations I was using to judge myself–and others–and how unfair and unattainable they were. I started growing into a more confident version of myself in deciding not to go to grad school, in walking the Camino, in meeting people and starting to respect more about who they are, than about what they’ve done. In starting to respect more about who I am, instead of what I’ve done. In being more gracious with myself.
Which has lead to these bright, recent stars: learning French, moving abroad for two years with the Peace Corps, working my way along the Foreign Service process, loving the unexpected changes.
I’ve come a long way from that teenage version of myself, though I’ve kept my discipline and passion close. Even my pitfalls I’ve tried to say goodbye to–wariness, caution, appearances–matter and they make up part of my story. I can forgive myself for them, but I can’t and shouldn’t forget the stars they’ve added. I have come along way, but my dots don’t yet make a constellation. My story’s not finished.
Back to the high school!
**The cover picture is my village at night, down the road I take for my daily walk. I didn’t have the talent to take it–that would be my friend Daniel de La Fé.