The Shadow of the Holidays

“Joy” - Philadelphia, PA, December 2023

I spent this past Christmas alone. My family experienced their first bout of COVID the week before. I was fully immersed in my new role amidst the typical year-end busyness of a bustling nonprofit. As the holiday inched closer, an idea sprouted and I wondered if I’d survive.

Some of the deepest wounding of my upbringing (and my lineage) centered around holidays. Last year, as Christmas neared, I realized that I was being presented with an opportunity to face my deepest-held fear. I asked myself what it might be like to spend Christmas alone. I sat with what I would tell myself and what I would tell others. I considered the internal dialogue that might occur as I sat with my own solitude during “the most wonderful time of the year”. I was genuinely curious about whether I could live through it.

Four months earlier, I awoke the day after the dissolution of a relationship in which I envisioned a future and uttered seven words that shook me to my core. As I stirred in the morning light, my first thought was, “what do I have to live for?” I sat with an immense sadness at the very depth of my soul and immediately recognized this was not the seemingly simple question it appeared to be. Rather, it set off five alarm level fire warnings internally.

While the despair I felt in that very moment was unfamiliar to me personally, it felt inexplicably recognizable. Mental health challenges have long since been the biggest fear of my life. Existing as this lurking, dark shadow for as long as I can remember, I’ve been trying to outrun the deep-seated patterns of imbalance. Suicidal ideation, and follow through, have been woven through both sides of my lineage. What I experienced in those early morning moments last August touched a vastness so deep, it felt like it had the potential to swallow me whole.

Instead of diving deeper into its depths, I knew I had to take notice of the gravity of my current situation and mental health state. Unlike so many of the generations before me, I had resources.

I made a series of calls to a handful of beloveds and unabashedly explained how I was feeling. For someone who struggles with articulating her needs and asking for help, I realized this as an another fight for survival. I credit these sweet souls with intimately and carefully holding me as I shared my most tender vulnerabilities and asked for what I needed. And, I recognize and am proud of myself for reaching out and saving my own life.

“Joy Too” - Airborne over Philadelphia, PA, September 2023

I’m incredibly afraid of heights. Yet, a week after my darkest hour, I jumped out of a plane, not as a death wish, rather, in the spirit of it being a life wish. I asked myself that same pivotal question, with a different inflection point, “What do I have to live for?”

I’ve answered that question repeatedly in the choices that I’ve made since August. With the help of my therapist, I devised a safety plan that has served as the foundation upon which I have intentionally fabricated a healthier scaffolding. I’ve mindfully rebuilt my life these last nine months.

I’ve cultivated meaningful relationships. I discovered a myriad of communities and activities that have breathed life back into my very soul. From authentic relating to ecstatic dance to dragon boating, each time I connect and dance and paddle, I am choosing life over and over again, affirming my will to live. I have crafted a safety net that my ancestors never knew. I am healing the lineage each time I hit the dance floor, float on the water and share my story.

As I reflect on the life I’ve lived, I choose to face my fears head on - again and again.

I decided to spend Christmas alone in hopes of meeting the very thing I’ve spent a lifetime fearing. I’ve met myself in the rawest forms. I’ve met my anxiety and depression. I’ve met my resilience and my triumph. I’ve met my heartbreak and my despair.

I continue to meet my shadow. I continue to meet my light.

I continue to navigate the waters of loneliness and am growing to accept myself moment by moment. ♥

Resources:

♥ If you are struggling with your mental health or are having thoughts of suicide, the National Suicide Hotline is available to via talk, text or chat at 988.

♥ Through the International Association for Suicide Prevention's website, you can access your country’s resource lines if you are feeling like you may harm yourself.

♥ Hey Sam is a peer to peer texting program for youth feeling lonely, depressed or having thoughts of suicide. They can be reached by texting 439726 from 9am to midnight EST.

♥ Trevor Lifeline is available 24/7 to assist LGBTQ+ youth in crisis by texting 679678.

Which Wolf Will You Feed?

On my first day in Greece, I made a conscious decision. That decision buoyed my spirits, renewed my energy and cultivated my inner light.

Traveling to Greece was my mom’s dream. In the final years of her life, I set the intention that I’d take her there when she got better. It was fitting, then, that on the tenth anniversary of her passing, to the very month, I finally made the Grecian trek - to attend a retreat. My hope is that the journey healed us both.

The plane ride to Greece was one I won’t soon forget. The woman in my row almost died.

Within the first hours of the flight, the commotion began. Medical personnel tended to her with various medical apparatus from oxygen tanks to a blood pressure cuff and oximeter attained from fellow passengers, an IV suspended from the luggage overhead bins and a cocktail of medications, screaming her name at regular intervals, so she wouldn’t go to sleep in ways temporary and permanent. The lights remained on for our 9 hour overnight flight as her care continued. She was thankfully coherent by landing. No sleep was had.

Grateful for a safe landing for all in Athens, I retrieved my brand new luggage from the carousel to find it had broken in transit. After the tumultuous travel, I desired a hot shower and the sanctuary of a bed of my own to seek rest. Shortly after arrival to our hotel, I learned I would be sharing a bed with a stranger, someone from our retreat that I didn’t know.

Panic ensued.

Travel has tested me before - most pointedly in Southeast Asia, South Africa and Hawaii, and yet I venture on. As I noticed fertile ground preparing similar patterns, I intentionally shifted the energy to foster different choices during this trip to Greece.

As I took a breath, I asked myself,

In the midst of chaos, how can i create peace?

In pondering this inquiry, I thought of the Native American parable about the two wolves that battle within us. The dark wolf, “is anger, envy, sorrow, greed…and ego.” Yet it also represents, “tenacity [and] courage.” The light wolf within “is joy, peace, love, hope…compassion and faith.” By feeding one (or both) of these wolves, we create our feeling state.

Early in my Grecian adventure, I yearned to feed the lighter wolf.

After this harrowing first day, it felt like the creation of my peace existed in something I loved. Taking pictures, particularly when traveling, brings me great joy. I relish the notion of capturing a particular moment in time from my perspective.

As an answer to my sacred question, I created a nightly gratitude practice, delving into what I love to create my peace. I tuned into the sensations in my heart, mind and body as I reviewed the pictures I’d taken that day. I selected my favorites, wrote up a little summary and posted it on Facebook. The intention of this daily ritual was to focus on the light - the good - and release anything that hadn’t served me that day.

“Roadside Affirmation” - Santorini, Greece, July 2023

I questioned whether this practice whitewashed my experience in an incendiary way, promoting false social media comparisons that actively fuel our current mental health crisis. Yet, I yearned to interrupt my own deeply engrained negativity bias. I made the conscious, personal decision to feed the light wolf and engage in this practice to mindfully focus on the positive throughout my journey.

The practice wasn’t easy.

I wanted to post about the trauma of the in-flight medical emergency and my busted luggage. By Day 4, I could feel the dark wolf pacing, as my self care became increasingly challenged by a busy schedule compounded by sleep deprivation. Day 5, my phone smashed to the ground at a spiritual site. I wanted to bawl my eyes out. I wanted to process what had just occurred.

But I didn’t have time.

I needed to board the bus for our next stop.

I felt my physical and emotional exhaustion mounting.

In my exhausted state, this question emerged:

In less than ideal conditions, how might I care for myself?

As I sat with this sacred question, I realized the answer lied in nurturing the dark wolf.

“Courage’s Reward” - Plaka Beach, Naxos, Greece, June 2023

So, I conjured up my courage, and took ownership of my experience.

On what would become my favorite Greek Island, Naxos, I swam.

I explored.

I meandered at a leisurely pace, allowing for enough time to notice and appreciate and integrate.

I savored vistas and lingered at seaside dining tables.

I actively renewed my spirit.

I caught my breath.

I actively poured into myself.

I found balance between my wolves so that I, myself, was nourished.

The rest of my time in Greece was spent listening to the whispers of my heart, leaving space for magic (and there was plenty) and letting the rest flow through. ♥

An Invitation to Practice:

Find a quiet space. Bring a journal, if you enjoy writing. Make yourself comfortable in a seated position or lying down.

Place your hands on your heart.

If it feels safe and comfortable to you, close your eyes or soften your gaze.

Tune into your breath. Notice the rise and fall of your belly and your chest with each inhalation and exhalation.

Bring to mind any situation in your life that feels unsettled.

Give it space.

Breathe into the situation itself.

Notice what thoughts arise as you consider these less than ideal conditions. Notice the sensations that arise in your body as you consider this scenario.

What is happening to your breathing? Your heartbeat? Your body temperature?

Notice any sensations of heaviness or lightness in your body. Notice any sensations of heaviness or lightness in your mind. Notice any sensations of heaviness or lightness in your heart.

Ask yourself these two questions:

• In less than ideal conditions, how might I care for myself?

• In the midst of chaos, how can I create peace?

Grant yourself permission to listen to the wisdom of your body and the whispers of your own wise heart. Provide yourself with as much quiet, sacred listening time as you can.

When you feel ready, take 3 deep breaths and reacclimate yourself to the space you’re in. Journal about any insights that may have arisen ♥

Broken Open

Cancer has broken me open.

For the last year, I have been fighting a quiet battle. Most days, the weapons were pointed inward, creating darkness words cannot describe. Other days, I waged war with everything and everyone around me, particularly with those I love the most.

Radiation re-ignited my inner light. Courage, love and compassion now burn brightly. I am learning to wage peace.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

It is fitting that my last blog chronicled the last time I was faced with my mortality. In what seems like a lifetime ago, pre-pandemic, more than two years ago, the ocean nearly claimed my life. This time, she provided solace as I ran to her upon diagnosis and returned to her embrace many times these last couple weeks since the conclusion of radiation. I’m grateful for her renewed invitation for rebirth.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

”Devotion” - Philadelphia, PA - January 2022 - Altar created on a blanket crocheted by my Grandmother who also walked a breast cancer journey. The Altar has held vigil with me throughout my healing process.

My annual mammogram last October snowballed into a series of tests over five months. In between, I contracted COVID that evolved to bronchitis and pneumonia. There were moments I felt I was taking my last breath. COVID has stayed with me for the long haul, burdening my body and mind. After healing from pneumonia, I was given a weeklong reprieve before I was diagnosed with breast cancer in February.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

After surgery in March, I again caught my breath to ready myself for the next step in my healing journey. I took inventory of my five options and methodically investigated them one by one. Upon serious health diagnosis, you are encouraged to get a second opinion. I got ten.

Over the next six months, I researched like my life depended on it. Statistics are more meaningful when they apply to you.

I spent countless hours earning an honorary degree in Healing from Cancer, pouring over medical journals, combing online support groups, formulating lists of questions for appointment with each specialist across disciplines at three facilities. Once my mind was satisfied with the information, I sat with my options - cross-referencing my head and my heart. I received wisdom from resources both earth-bound and beyond.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

“Angels” - Philadelphia, PA - October 2022

I finally found peace in my decision-making and started radiation on September 12. Armed with wrists full of gemstone bracelets, doused in essential oils and serenaded by mantras over the treatment room’s speakers, I integrated my brand of healing within my daily radiation sessions. The angels on my treatment team and my fierce heart guided me through daily panic attacks until my final session at 10:10am on 10/10 (auspicious, no?).

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

I have traveled to far corners of the world in search of myself. I have chased experiences that I’d hoped would lead me to believe in myself. But, it was through 21 days of radiation that I realized my inner strength.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

I am still processing this last year of life, as well as those from the 42 years before. As I unpack and unfurl, I love the woman I am becoming. As layers are shed, as long-held beliefs fall away, I am realizing this core of kindness and compassion and this wellspring of profound love that exists within me.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

I am a beautiful work in progress, given the opportunity to be broken open by illness and experience and trauma. While there may be darkness in the story, the light of hope pervades.

I don’t know where this precious life of mine will lead, but I am heartened by the light of hope, strengthened by my heart’s courage and determined to continue cultivating my inner light.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

The phrases “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.” are part of Ho’oponopono, an ancient, indigenous Hawaiian practice that cultivates healing, forgiveness and reconciliation. Ho’oponopono translates as “to correct a mistake” or “to make it right.” We repeat these four phrases to rectify our mistakes and connect to the present moment.

Ho’oponopono provides a powerful opportunity for self compassion, self forgiveness and self acceptance. We may direct these phrases to ourselves, someone we’ve harmed or to a force greater than ourselves: the collective, love, God, Spirit, Mother Nature. (Source: Rhythm Bliss)

Thank you for walking this healing journey with me. ♥︎

The Current

Poking my head above the surface, I spotted the shoreline in the distance. Wave after relentless wave pounded me. Swimming as hard as I could, my fatigue built with each stroke. I felt the water violently shift and noticed the myriad of colorful fish around me likewise fighting the current. My breathing became erratic. I was going nowhere and tiring quickly. Again lifting my head above the water, I realized I was alone.

Submerging myself in the turbulent sea, I concentrated on my breath noisily echoing through my snorkel. I mindfully returned it to a steady, calm rhythm. I attempted to close the distance between my flailing being and the rocky shore. Looking ahead, I noted a couple reaching the safety of the beach. I took off my mask and snorkel, looked up at the cloudless sky and pled for guidance. As I recalled the numerous fatalities I’d read about in Hawaiian waters, I shivered with the feeling I may become one of them. Taking on water as the waves continued to pummel me, I heard myself exclaim, “Help! Help!”

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“Ahu” - Oahu, Hawaii, July 2019

Fortunately, my distress calls were heard. As his gentle blue eyes and huge lashes met mine, I knew I was going to be okay. He grabbed my hand and we exhaustedly battled the current together.

Reflections in the last two weeks since my near-drowning, unveil parallels to my transition back from Peace Corps service in South Africa.

These last several months have been painful. Simple tasks have been arduous. Reorientation has seemed impossible.

Several practitioners told me I was suffering from PTSD from the varied tumult I lived through in South Africa. My sadness mounted. My mood was heavy. My self-imposed isolation intensified. The shadow was pervasive.

The dam broke on my emotions. 27 months of trauma accosted me like the relentless Hawaiian waves. I was adrift, seemingly lost in the current.

Muscling through wasn’t working. I finally asked for help.

A tearful visit to my Primary Care Physician resulted in a prescription for the first psychotropic drug of my life, which I dutifully filled, popping my first dose before leaving the medical campus. Once I returned home, a conversation with a friend about my rote drug consumption echoed the whispers of shame I’d been experiencing since my calls for help on that Kauai beach.

Shame hissed, “Why not try alternatives? Acupuncture? Herbs? Why not try swimming with the current until you broke free? Why did you take the medication without doing more research? Why were you snorkeling alone? Why did you ask for help? Why can’t you get it together?”

I stopped the shame spiral by recognizing the truth.

I was exhausted.

I did the best I could with what I had at the time.

I was fatigued.

Could I have eventually reached shore on my own? Could I have healed this shadow on my own?

Maybe.

The prospect of mustering my meager swimming skills was as plaguing as identifying healers in my new city.

I was depleted.

Could I have done things like I normally do, on my own, muscling through, trying to prove how strong I am?

Maybe, but I have learned.

I emerged from the Pacific Ocean the day of my rescue grateful for only three cuts on my leg. I feared the residual effects of a shaken mind, body and spirit would bar me from the sea during my remaining time on the islands. Three days later, though, I relished the sanctuary of the crystal waters, despite a couple flashbacks. As I floated along, I reeled myself back into the present. The next day, I donned a snorkel for the first time since my rescue. In murky waters in search of turtles, I had two flashbacks, but was able to calm myself, orient and self soothe. The next day, I desired to take full advantage of snorkeling in Hawaii’s fishbowl. I utilized orientation and mindful breathing to enjoy the experience.

Our survival skills, much like our healing abilities, are innate. We cultivate connection without even knowing it. We want to show up for one another in our most desperate moments.

It is not weak to ask for help, whether mumbling it through choking tears at a doctor’s office, hurtling the request over treacherous seas or merely requesting it in your normal tone on an average Tuesday.

Through a powerful combination of therapy, medication, meditation, energy healing, time, space and love, I started feeling the first flutters of my Self right before my trip to Hawaii. With each practice, pill, conversation, tap, session and asana, I capture a little bit more of my breath, reclaim a little bit more of my light and return to the woman I thought I’d lost. The tide almost took me under, but hope keeps me afloat. Regardless of the current, I’m going to keep swimming. ♥

 Resources and a Request:

♥ I’ve read a lot about currents and snorkeling since my sea rescue two weeks ago. Snorkel Bob’s, a gear rental company in Hawaii recommends a minimum of 5 minutes of snorkel meditation before entering the water. Snorkel meditation includes watching the surf, current and surge on the reef and rocks.

♥ Peter Levine, a leader in the field of trauma work, created Somatic Experiencing, which teaches that trauma must be resolved in the body before it may be effectively processed emotionally and cognitively. Levine describes orienting as, “the primary means a through which the animal tunes into its environment. These responses are constantly merging into one another and adapting to allow for a range of reactions and choices”.

♥ I’m incredibly grateful for Julian, the young man who rescued me in Kauai. In this moment, please send him some love and gratitude for his selfless heroicism.

Blog #50: Turning the Page

Four and a half years ago, I set out to blog to cast the net of healing far and wide. Writing would serve as a medium to connect with folks unable to schedule a healing session with me. I intended to spotlight some of my best photographs emblazoned with inspirational quotes. An opportunity to share insights on mindful living and the healing modalities in which I’d been trained, I approached my blog with the firm boundaries I’d cultivated as a Social Worker. I thought I’d shy away from the personal. I was wrong.

To prepare for the milestone 50th entry that your eyes are now feasting on, I reread through the last 49 pieces. I was struck by my courage. It felt like reading the writing of a stranger. My process surprised me.

Brené Brown encourages that “owning our story and loving ourselves through the process is the bravest thing we will ever do”. A cathartic release, these last 49 entries detail my unraveling, the process of owning my story and learning, bit by bit, to love myself more. This bold set of writing cast light upon many shadows. I wrote through transitions galore from a major surgery to the deterioration of my longest partnership to the loss of my mom from resolutions and retreats to travel through 11 countries. Aspects of my self and my life hidden away for so long were unveiled.

Highlights from my favorite compositions include:

♥    Layers Healed, Layers Revealed which represents a turning point and brings me to tears anytime I

reread it. The tenderness and ownership here cut to the core.

♥     Code Blue for the sheer vulnerability it took to share and the exercise at the end that promotes the

realization of our unbound nature.

♥    Soul Cry that stands out as my favorite poem.

♥     I ♥ CAMBODIA which contains my most beloved pictures.

♥     Three Years Ago Today that I relish as one of the rawest of the many pieces about my mom.

♥     Sawubona – I See You, my most insightful post from Peace Corps service in South Africa, that

encourages self reflection and mirror work.

♥     My only recorded meditation to date, a lovingkindness practice, shared in Kindness is a Bridge.

♥    My first blog, How you Start Matters, which outlines practical intentionality for our every day lives. 

♥     The power of Krav Maga and tapping into your own Fighting Spirit.

♥     The recognition of growth in Holding Patterns which resonated with many people.

♥     Wisdom Within: Reflections on Silence, my third entry, the first in which I dipped my toe into the

vulnerability of telling my story.

♥     Winding my way through New Years’ practices in Illuminate 2016!

♥     Untangling fear and a prayer for ancestral forgiveness in I Saw the Light.

♥     Dissolution in the Desert which offers an awesome reflection on Vipassana retreats.

♥    My first writing in South Africa, Early Reflections, that unknowingly foreshadowed themes that

replayed throughout my Peace Corps service.

♥    Lessons in Receiving one of my most love-filled posts from South Africa.

♥    A representation of the full circle nature of life, The Gift of the Breath, which describes my feelings

on being accepted into the Peace Corps. I describe how I set out to “help” others and end up

being worked, much like this blogging process and my entire Peace Corps service.

The Other Side: Connect with the Photo: Taken right at the end of a visit to Victoria Falls. Shot from the Zambia side looking towards Zimbabwe.

I’m heartened to recognize the healing that needed to happen in order to tell and share my story. I’m incredibly proud of this body of work.

I’m heartened by the healing that has happened which invites me to release the story.

I’m now ready for the next chapter. I’m open to crafting a new story. I’m honored to turn the page.

With the recent passing of Mary Oliver, many of her beautiful word have been shared. This poem, “The Journey,” invited me to pause. It feels like a fitting conclusion to Blog #50 and inspiration to truly turn the page:

The Journey

 One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

 Thank you for walking with me as I create the closing chapters of my journey as a Peace Corps Volunteer here in South Africa and learn to tell a new story. ♥

The content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the South African Government.

100-100-100

PC Life: Mpumalanga Province, South Africa

“Draw a large circle on the piece of paper in front of you. Draw a smaller circle beside it. Label the smaller circle, ‘me.’ Label the larger circle ‘comfort’.” In March, 2017, a facilitator provided this exercise in an effort to depict the reality of Peace Corps and issued us a challenge to relinquish control in order to have a successful service in South Africa. Having now been in country for 20 months, the diagram of me existing outside my comfort zone accurately describes my life with control and autonomy sacrificed long ago. 

Today, I celebrate 100 days on my TB meds. As I glanced at my medication app earlier this week, I decided to honor today and my 100% compliance to my health regimen through reflection and writing. After my TB diagnosis several months ago, I discussed treatment options with the doctors. If I chose to forgo Peace Corps medical recommendations, including TB meds, I forfeited the right for medical coverage for TB-related issues that may arise post service, as well as potentially jeopardizing my ability to stay in country. Days before I started the medication, I made the conscious choice to balance the Western medicine approach with three new daily practices. I supplemented my morning routine with ACCESS, a BodyTalk technique that balances my brain and body, bolsters hydration and body chemistry and helps manage stress. In the evening, I stretch my toes and ankles in a technique I learned in Bali and fall asleep to an amazing guided meditation that is similar to what I imagine an Ambien to be like.

Prompted: Limpopo Province, South Africa

I’m incredibly grateful for my medication app. Its prompts have supported my medication adherence, increased my water consumption and highlighted serious side effects of my medication. I linked my mood tracker to a gratitude practice in which I paused three times a day to notice what I was thankful for. Last month, I noticed that my mood changed and realized I was marking “so-so” each of the three times per day. My affect had dulled and I was literally unable to feel joy. The colors of my life were muted. I cannot fully describe it, but it was a marked difference from my norm. I started to mindfully monitor this disconcerting occurrence. On vacation, amazing moments felt fragmented. Even when I was around children, I didn’t feel the joyful moments fully. It felt like there was an energetic block between me and happiness that I’d never felt before. I noted this and other symptoms in last month’s follow up appointments with the doctors.

Upon receipt of my blood test results from these visits, I was left with more questions than answers. Psychiatric side effects from my TB meds were discussed as common and the meds were reduced by half. 11 daily pills that include additional B and D vitamins, selenium and zinc, were added to my routine to protect my body from some of the effects the TB meds may be having. My blood tests came back negative for TB, positive for schistosomiasis, and my hormone levels were low. I’ve been told the negative TB result shows the medication is working (and my self care practices have surely assisted) and I have to continue on the medication. As I was just treated for schisto prior to starting my TB meds, the doctors decided I will await treatment at my Close of Service. It’s certainly challenging to wait six months for a treatment of a known parasite. I’m thankful to report that I have witnessed an elevation of my mood since the reduction of my TB medications and additional vitamins. Though I’m not quite back to my normal worldview, things are not quite as dulled as they were several weeks ago.

Through all of this, I’ve had the busiest period of my Peace Corps service to date. I hosted a graduation for my four Roots Tribe Yoga classes, distributed over 200 Mother Bears at 6 events, inspired a poultry project and gardening project to promote healthy living and economic empowerment to two groups of women in my village, facilitated workshops on safe sexual practices and pregnancy and HIV prevention and set boundaries on numerous occasions, including recently walking away from a particularly challenging meeting and saying “no” to a project. One of my goals for Peace Corps service was to acknowledge my ability to stand confidently on my own two feet in this world and recognize my own gifts.

 I now believe that I can not only confidently stand on these two feet of mine, but that I can venture forth through these last six months of service and into the next chapter of my life. This Peace Corps service has been one of the most challenging experiences of my life. Each time I barely got my head above water, another wave crashed upon me in the form of site changes, illness and trauma. You name it. I’ve faced it. I like to think that I’ve faced each situation with grace.

It is a huge relief that I have actually gleaned lessons from all of these trials.

It is in these last 100 days that I finally recognized my resilience. I recognize my strength, endurance and resilience and today, I celebrate them. ♥

Thank you for joining this chapter of my story. I aim to chronicle the journey of a Peace Corps Volunteer in South Africa and appreciate your support.

The content of this website is mine alone and does not necessarily reflect the views of the U.S. Government, the Peace Corps, or the South African Government.

TB or not TB? That is No Longer the Question

“I have the order here for your chest X-ray,” she says casually. “My what!?” is the only response I can conjure up, as the pit forms in my stomach. The well-meaning Office Assistant quickly realizes her mistake, that I hadn’t yet been told. She then says I have to contact the doctor. As I sit among my peers, I can’t hear their chatter. I can’t eat the sumptuous meal in front of me. Something is wrong. I know it in my bones. I try to reach the doctors. There is no answer. I receive a text during the next training session, “Megan, your blood test came back positive for TB.”

Tears stream down my face as my mind races and I enter go-mode. In the midst of crisis, my nurtured former Social Worker Self joins forces with my natured Planning Self, blazing a million steps ahead. Add to the mix my lack of knowledge about tuberculosis and I am adrift, out of my body, out of the moment. I think of long-term consequences, being labeled with a pre-existing condition. Questions abound, “Is this fatal? Will I live with this for the rest of my life? Am I infecting others? Where did I get this? Does this mean I’ll return to the States?” In the last several weeks, I’ve found answers to these questions. I’ve discovered resources. I’ve regained my grounding in many surprising ways.

On the Horizon: Pretoria, South Africa

I set out for my Mid-Service Training (MST) with what I thought was anxiety about seeing my cohort, the group of people with whom I arrived here in South Africa 16 months ago. The purpose of MST is to fuel Peace Corps Volunteers during a notoriously emotional slump, provide a midpoint medical check up and propel us to succeed in the second leg of PC service. In some ways, I looked forward to the milestone and anticipated boost, but mostly, I felt I was lagging behind. Struggling to find my fit has been a theme during my service. On my third site, living with my third host family, not feeling like I quite fit into my assigned organizations and not feeling at home amongst my peers has been a challenge. What was supposed to be a time to recognize ourselves and our service quickly devolved for reasons other than the diagnosis I didn’t see coming. Maybe one day, post-service, I’ll speak more freely about MST.

Fast forward several days when I travel to the hospital for the aforementioned chest X-ray. Upon entering the room, I voice my anxiety and the friendly clinician tells me I have nothing to worry about. As I relay my blood result, she exclaims, “oh!” runs out of the room, rightfully returning in a surgical mask with a bit more hesitancy than before. Luckily, my chest X-ray is clear. Two days later, I’m offered a pamphlet on TB and 2 different treatment options. As I read about the symptoms of active TB, the fatigue and labored breathing I’d been experiencing for the last several months jump off the page. I urge further testing to determine my TB status, which is thankfully granted. The subsequent days are filled with multiple doctor and hospital visits, the low point being a lab tech pounding on my back for what felt like an hour in an effort to force sputum-producing coughs behind closed doors that earned me unabashed stares from the entire waiting room upon my exit (yes, as anxiety-provoking as wading your way through that sentence). Fortunately, my poor lungs are spared further trauma when I’m sent to the physiotherapist who administers proper sputum-production techniques over the next two days. I await results, which come back negative and point to a diagnosis of latent TB. I opt for the 4-month, rather than the 9-month course of treatment. I take half a dose, as instructed, and awaken at 3am with nausea, vomiting, vertigo and a whole host of misery that makes for one of the scariest experiences of my life.

A desperate call to my second Mama in the States prompts a even more desperate 4am call to the Peace Corps Medical Officer who at first diagnoses food poisoning, then tells me to refrain from my morning dose of the Rifampin and come to the office in a few short hours. I’m sent for a second opinion where we explore some of the other strange symptoms I’ve experienced over the last several months, including night sweats and joint pain. Additional blood tests and another sputum test is ordered.

As I await test results, the days and weeks go by, I am further disconnected from my village, my host family, my current projects and my support systems. My guilt mounts as I can’t effectively communicate my current health status, as I myself don’t have answers. Text, Facebook and WhatsApp messages increase as I press “pause” on my life. I experience some dark days as my fatigue is compounded by a lack of answers.

I bounce in and out of each of the stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, as I clamor to cope. From questioning the validity of medical tests to analyzing interpersonal interactions to feeling as if I’ve made a mistake pursuing the Peace Corps in the first place to finally recognizing the empathy cultivating within me for folks who endure chronic diseases, partner and family notification of medical issues and obstacles of all kinds. I dig deep to remain connected to the light within and around me.

I am diagnosed with schistosomiasis, the second most common tropical disease next to malaria, that somehow no one’s ever really heard of. Schisto, as it’s so lovingly referred to among those of us who now know it well, can live in the body for up to 40 years. The parasite can cause some major damage. Amazingly, the treatment is only one day, but as the worms die, the body can react in a variety of ways. I spend the next several days asleep. Doctors tell me it will be months for my body to adjust to life without the schisto present in my body. Unfortunately, I have to start the TB meds before then. It's likely I won't feel like I've got my body back until the TB medication finishes. More days pass. During a follow up appointment at which I’m expecting my new TB treatment, I leave with a prescription for a broad-spectrum antibiotic because something is still out of balance. The doctor determines that I’ll try the 9-month treatment for latent TB once I finish the course of antibiotics. I’m told I can return to site.

Panic sets in. Many conversations take place. I decide that starting TB meds back at site, in light of my reaction to the last medication, is a non-negotiable. Living in a rural village several kilometers off a paved road precludes me from accessing proper medical care should another reaction occur. I will start the TB meds in the capital. The antibiotics are uneventful until I get what feels like a cold during the last two days of the therapy. The doctors attribute the symptoms to my body being “drug naïve” and the medication increased my susceptibility to illness. Three days later, symptoms disappear and I start my 9 months of TB medication without incident.

I return to my village this week, I speak with my current and former host families to notify them of my diagnosis, the reasons for my absence and my lack of communication. I fear stigmatization and blame and, instead, am greeted with acceptance, understanding and words of affirmation. The dynamics among myself and others in the village shift positively in the direction of curiosity and appreciation. I look forward to the work to be done, the relationships to be forged and health, wellness and balance to be regained.

Through these illnesses, I’ve learned to recognize my privilege. Many people don’t get treatment for latent TB. As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I need to take the prescribed medication to prevent my latent TB from progressing to active TB. After taking the regimen, there is a 90-95% chance that I will never get active TB in my lifetime. I’ve taken an active role in educating myself over these last few weeks. Spending countless hours of internet research combined with conversations with friends who have connected me with friends and relatives who have lived with (and survived) TB has been invaluable. I’ve had the luxury of a second opinion, self-advocacy, additional testing and support and urging others to listen to the wisdom of my body. Had I not had such a severe reaction to the first TB medicine, I would not have discovered the schistosomiasis and remedied symptoms that have been plaguing me for months, maybe years.

Full: Pretoria, South Africa

As the last 50+ days have seen me hyper-focused on what’s wrong with me, Angels greet me along the way, stretch my comfort zone and remind me of what’s good. In an epic, yet very non-Peace Corps kind of day, I fill my belly with Mexican food and tapas, then digest before grooving at my first pole dancing class with two new soul sisters and dance the night away on table tops at a local pub. The level of empowerment from this combo is highly recommended. Why don’t we dance on more table tops, people? Days later, I attend a beer festival, odd for someone who doesn’t drink, I know. I go for the music and sunshine and am given the opportunity to dance my way back into my Self. A dear friend comments that she’s not seen me so happy in the last year and a half. I agree. Both days have been among the best I’ve had since arriving in South Africa. I am gleefully reminded of how much music and dancing juice me up and how much my heart yearns for time with soul sisters.

I’ve claimed that I came to the Peace Corps with tools I didn’t have when I burnt out of the helping profession. Admittedly, I haven’t been employing these tools as much as I could have. The day before I started my TB treatment, I integrated Access, a series of 5 energy healing techniques from BodyTalk, meant to balance the entire system, into my daily routine. I’ve also started listening to this chakra balancing meditation nightly right before bed. The acquisition of TB and schisto has been a wake up call on many levels. As I reground and more readily awaken to the present, I’m increasingly aware of the beauty and culture around me. I’m increasingly aware of the tools and I have at my fingertips, and recognize that it’s up to me to actually utilize them. I’m increasingly grateful for this precious experience that is my Peace Corps service, despite, and quite possibly because of, the twists, turns and myriad of challenges it’s thrown at me. And perhaps I’ve returned to my village from my Mid-Service Training with exactly what was intended, the treatment I didn’t know I needed, a reminder of what’s important and, indeed, the fuel to continue on this journey. ♥

This entry feels like a departure from my regular writing style. Gratitude to you for walking this journey with me. I aim to provide honest and vulnerable insights into my emotional and spiritual process that is Peace Corps, this 27 month chapter of my life.  All my love ♥

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