Cramped in the small seat I should be accustomed to after all the travel I've done the past few years, I drifted in and out of consciousness from Boston to Houston, then Houston to Guatemala City. I've often favored red-eye flights for their low price and high availability, feeling strongly that the resulting fatigue was nothing a few cups of coffee or laughably expensive airport espressos couldn't remedy.
After waiting two hours for the Continental agents to arrive and begin checking passengers in, I made it to my gate at 5:00am. Boarding was surprisingly quick, and I found myself fading as soon as I sat down. The anticipation I usually feel while waiting to take off, the eagerness that keeps me scribbling away in my journal despite the fact that it's barely dawn and I haven't slept nearly enough, was completely overshadowed by the exhaustion I had been pushing aside for the past week. I was feeling burnt out from the physical and emotional toll of moving my life thousands of miles away, but the steady stream of commitments to be kept and loose ends to be tied had kept it all at bay.
Not-so-affectionately nicknamed "Robot Girlfriend" by my previous two boyfriends for my general lack of tears and visible emotion (beyond excited, happy, or irritated), this weekend taxed my mental faculties more than I had expected. Perhaps I gave myself too much credit for being too unshakeable in the face of "regular" events like moving and the like. In retrospect, it seems more that I simply forgot what it was like to feel everyday emotions such as sadness, especially when unrelated to something that my objective mind cannot deny as being "sad." Moving? That doesn't have to be sad. It's exciting! A step forward! A step closer to the work I'm trying so hard to do! Logically speaking, what should be sad about that?!
For every step towards the life I am choosing, I must take a step away from the life I was given. The life I've known for years. The people, places, and things that have always been there, regardless of the configuration or my sentiments regarding their presence. Looking behind me at some of those elements, my pace quickens and my steps get bigger, eager to increase the distance as quickly as possible. Others, not so much. It turns out that the vulnerability that used to plague me, that I thought I had banished, has just been far more selective in expressing itself.
While I will return to the US in a mere nine weeks for my mothers remarriage, this departure was a difficult one. The pattern of go away for a sizeable amount of time, return, kill a few months, and go away again is now turned on its head. Stay here for awhile, visit for a bit, be here for a few months, maybe visit again. IF "home is where your stuff is," after six vacuum-packed bags of clothing and bedding later, Guatemala is indeed now home.
For anyone needing a laugh or perhaps a reminder of my lack of saintliness, I landed in Guate with not just one down comforter, but two (vacuum packed, of course), as well as no less than four different shades of semi-permanent color conditioner. The six pairs of shoes and five bathing suits felt a little excessive as well, but thanks to the miracle of the almighty Space Bag (sponsorship, please?! so much free advertising!) I can rest easy knowing I have footwear and swimwear for ANY occasion.
I kid. But really, those things are incredible. I had no intention of bringing comforters until I realized that the contents of my suitcases were sliding around inside due to all of the extra space. I actually debated with myself for a bit. How can you NOT feel ridiculous arriving to live in a developing country, where so many live on dirt floors, with TWO fluffy soft comforters in your suitcase? Hello, American excess. I guess you win this round...
This past weekend can only be described as a whirwlind. Beginning Friday, it was goodbye after goodbye after goodbye. Some were anticlimactic, some were sweet, some were easy, some were gut-wrenching. Some I knew would be hard, others I didn't quite expect. All of them added to the growing current of weariness I've been battling.
For how drawn-out, mentally and physically tiring, and overwhelming the month leading up to this move has been, the move itself and my arrival in Guatemala has been anything but. Delayed only 15 minutes due to some storms in Houston, I arrived in the city, went through immigration, and retreived my bags without incident. The taxi driver was pleasant, my taxi-mate (a Dutch woman living in the Caribbean and traveling throughout Central America) was friendly, and the drive wasn't a harrowing one. I arrived to Corinne and Charlie's- soon to be AMY'S!- and they helped me bring my bags inside. As I stood there, surrounded by my stuff and two wonderful friends, it hit me- the hard part of moving was over.
I am moved. I am here. I live here now. I have one single place where I will lay my head every night. One place where I will shower and eat and relax and read books. One place that I can call my own. No more of this nomadic life, bouncing around between apartments and family members. I haven't felt like ONE place was truly my own home in so long. I look forward to that, however long it takes.
Not only do I have a home of my own, but I have chosen this home for the proximity to the kids, community, and work that I love so very much. It's an empowering thing to consider... After years of telling myself and others that someday, I would live, work, and help outside of the country, it feels amazing to have taken that step in earnest. I can recall so many moments, sitting in various doctors offices, hearing the same thing over and over: This is a stage. You are seeking something outside of yourself because you are unhappy. You are not a person who will be able to do this sort of thing. Ever.
As of today, as of right now, I haven't done a damn thing yet. I haven't fufillfed the goals I came down here with (obviously). I haven't figured out a way to connect families with the support they want; to educate and empower community members and caregivers to change the lives of the children in their care. But when that plane touched down today laden with me and my two comforters and enough pink hair dye to last a lifetime, I accomplished something I often feared wasn't possible, but resolved to do regardless. Those wheels touched down and as I walked off that runway, a ten-year-long battle I've fought with myself and often those around me finally came to an end.
Are there going to be difficult times ahead? Ciertamente. Am I going to struggle, and cry, and feel absolutely defeated sometimes? Absolutamente. Is it going to stop me, slow me down, or diminish my resolve to fully realize the rest of my dream, the part that isn't about me or what I do, but the kids I've committed myself to?
Not a chance. :)
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