Ty goes to India

When you graduate high school, most people don't feel the way I did. Most people I know aren't too concerned about the next step. If you ask any number of 18-year-old high school graduates "So, what's next?" you'll hear a lot of the same.
"University!"
"Work!"
"Army!"
But for me it wasn't the simple. I had a crippling fear of what I was to do after I'd left the K-12 milestone I'd worked so hard to escape. I didn't know what I wanted to do, but I knew what I was supposed to do; hop on a conveyer belt and allow life to spit me out with a college degree, a husband, 2.5 kids, and a dog. But that wasn't me.
I've always been a bit more romantic when it comes to seeing how I want to live. Romanticizing the idea of a small apartment where my only decoration is a world map on the wall with push-pins in every country- black for where I'd been and red for where I was going- was something I'd began doing when I was thirteen. Earlier than that I decided to pay for my adventures through my writing. Never showing interest in a world-class job and a stunning house caused a lot of people to call me a "dreamer," "free spirit," and "weird." I was told to get my head out of the clouds and to come back down to Earth. "Why don't you aspire for a real job?" hurt worst of all.
Something amazing happens when you hit the big ONE-EIGHT, however. You suddenly realize that it's your life you're living. Not your teachers, not your parents, not the life of anyone who said you couldn't become who you are deep-down. That's exactly when I began looking into volunteer-abroad programs.
"Help Orphans with HIV in India!" was the headline on the IFRE website. Aashray Care Home was an orphanage in Jaipur, Rajasthan, that offered hope and love to 30 children living with HIV. I felt an immediate pull towards this program, but I feared India. I'd heard the horror stories just like you had. Gang rape, murder, kidnapping. India was intimidating. On top of that, I literally couldn't go farther from my home of Portland, Oregon than India.
A week later my voice shook as I asked my mom about a volunteer program in India.
The month after I had my first of four vaccines.
Five weeks following that, my visa showed up.
On the last day of January of this year, four days after receiving my early-graduation transcript, I cried on my way to the PDX airport. The longest twenty-five hours of my life were spent in three airports and two planes.
Five weeks after that, I cried on my way to the New Delhi airport.