It takes a lot of courage to make it to the finish line, and the pride you feel upon completion is immense. However, there is also courage in admitting the finish line is too far away, or in the wrong direction that you want to travel; the pride found in knowing when to change course is equally as satisfying. I would know: one time I ran a 5k and barely dragged myself across the finish line but totally finished it, and one time I set off for a grand adventure in Panamá and had to call it quits a little early.
Yes, I'm coming home. I've told a few select people, and waited until I knew the details of my departure to share it publicly. While it isn't necessary to explain why, I kind of feel obligated to because a lot of people actually read this blog (I am always surprised by my page visit counts), and if you've taken the time to follow along thus far, you deserve to know what's up.
On July 4, I'll be flying home back to Michigan. The reasons why I've made this decision cover many categories, and there a million little ones and a few really big ones, and I don't feel inclined to share them all - some are rather personal. What it comes down to, is that this experience isn't quite what I'd hoped it would be. I actively tried not to set expectations for my service, but in my mind expectations are very different than hopes. I can hope for something without actually expecting it, right? That's how I approached Peace Corps. The hopes for my service adjusted with every day I spent here: how I spend my time in site, what my relationships would look like, what I would show people during visits...it was all incredibly dynamic the whole time. I was proud of myself for being okay with adjustments and reexamining my aspirations and plans.
However, as time wore on, my hopes began to transform into expectations as I began to realize what kinds of things were realistic and what things weren't, and I didn't entirely like what I was confronted with. I'll leave it at that.
Professionally, I found myself feeling unmotivated by the work and uninvested in the projects I had originally found really intriguing when I arrived. I think a lot of this has to do with not having a love for the place I was working in. I love doing environmental work in Michigan because I love Michigan, and I know why I should and do love it. In Panamá, I don't have that. It's something that's learned over many years and is particular to each person, and therefore I was coming up short on inspiration, especially when feeling so isolated and lonely in my community. It's a little weird, I guess, that I didn't expect this before I left. I just really love Michigan. I think it's the most impeccable place, and being homesick translated directly into my professional life after spending time away.
I struggled every day to convince myself I should keep pushing through service. I was advised to wait and wait and wait, and I found that I had turned my service into a series of countdowns. I counted down to departure, counted down to site announcement, to the end of PST/moving to site, to moving day, to IST, to my community analysis meeting...I was counting down to everything, which made me realize I wasn't at all present, and also wasn't happy. If I was happy I wouldn't be counting down the days of my service and anxiously wanting the months to pass by to the next checkpoint. It became very unhealthy very quickly.
Basically, I felt really weird for a long time, I wasn't very happy, and then some events occurred that ended up being the last straw and I decided I needed to leave. I deliberated over this decision for multiple days, being sure it was really what I wanted before I set things in motion to come home. After two nights of no sleep and two days of barely being able to eat, I ripped the bandaid off and relieved myself of all of the anxiety, and I sent my request to resign from my service. As soon as I sent the email and made the call, my entire body took a deep breath. I felt more at peace than I had in a while. That's how I knew it was the right call. Then I let myself take a peek at jobs available in Michigan, and I got so excited over two in particular that I couldn't even wait and started applying the same day; that was when I definitely knew.
After completing my close-out paperwork and having my exit interviews in the office today, the finality of this decision feels extremely real, but I am calm and content with what I'm doing.
That isn't to say this isn't hard. After investing insane amounts of my time, energy, heart, money, and sacrificing other opportunities and jeopardizing relationships to do this, nothing could make it easy to walk away. I made tons of friends that I'm leaving here, fell in love with some gorgeous vistas, cried into rivers and oceans, and discovered a new kind of learning. It's a tough call to make to leave all of those things. Every thought that could have crossed my mind during this decision making process absolutely did. I battled a lot of feelings of defeat and guilt while making this decision, and ultimately decided that I was going to be proud of myself. Proud of myself for knowing when to walk away, for knowing my limits, and for respecting myself to stay healthy and happy.
That being said, my time in Panamá, while riddled with frustration and anxiety, was quite beautiful. I am beyond grateful that I had this experience and got to learn and grow so much, even in just the 5-ish months I've been gone.
I've learned insane amounts of patience. I've learned to accept things I can't change, and how to manage a lot of difficult emotions. I learned a new language and had the amazing opportunity to be extremely immersed in a new culture. I made many friends that I'm going to miss; I'm a firm believer that having people to miss is a lovely privilege to have. I got to explore a new country and learn about perspectives of my own country. I learned how to navigate insane public transportation; how to make hojaldres, patacones, frijoles chiricanas, lentejas panameñas, and corn masa; and how to be extremely comfortable with silence and meeting new people. I started learning guitar again, and left making a promise to send videos of my progress at home. I learned how to be más tranquila about almost everything in my life.
The list could go on and on; I've grown. I am grateful. I left before I grew uneasy, resentful, or full of negativity about this experience, because I wanted to remember it being the wonderful time it's been. As a wise woman (my Chiriquí regional leader, Courtney) said, "I like to leave the party when I'm still having fun." She said that to me after I made the decision to leave, and it fit my situation all too perfectly. I'm going to leave Panamá while I'm still enchanted with it, before I get a sour taste in my mouth (because I know things were headed in that direction).
I will always remember Panamá as being full of the kindest strangers I've ever met, fried food, endless coasts, and too many bugs. I will close my eyes and remember hundreds of butterflies flying circles around me on the side of the road on a random afternoon, or Mabel laughing at me for absolutely nothing, or riding a chiva at night during a storm and watching lightning silhouette the mountains and volcán while cool air rushed over my face and blew my hair into a mane behind me. I'll taste the sweetest pineapple and my mouth will start watering, or I'll remember taking pulls of Seco and my throat will set fire. I'll remember the fear of finding a scorpion behind the toilet and the amazement as Mabel chopped its tail clean off with a machete. Words like "tranquilo" and "riquísimo" will come to mind, and then some others like "yeye," "METO," "Esooooooooo," y "bueeeeenaaaaas." I'll smile, and probably text my fellow PCVs in country and ask them how things are, because I'll support them from 40 miles away or 4,000 miles away. They're family now.
Most importantly, I'll make sure this experience is not the end of me trying new things, of leaving my comfort zone, or of getting out to see our beautiful world. Tears come to my eyes while I think about the beauty and kindness I've had the privilege to experience here, and I long to learn more about just that: all of the beauty and kindness this world has to offer.
I'm sad to be closing the Peace Corps chapter of my life. I'm sad it wasn't the perfect fit I'd hoped it would be. However, I'm happy to know I did what I could and tried to make it work, and that I'm leaving with happy memories and fondness for the time I spent here. Much like the experience in general, the decision to leave is very much a roller coaster, of feeling very confident about my decision while simultaneously questioning the entire thing. I know, though, that it's my time to go home. I'm ready for my next step.
So what's the plan? I'm going to go home and hug my mom, and go out on the boat with my dad and jump off the prop. into Lake St. Clair and probably cry while the water wraps me up in a welcome home hug, and then ask them to take me to Cedar Garden, which is this random Mediterranean restaurant in my hometown that I totally love (they have amazing garlic sauce, they put the perfect amount of nutmeg in their spinach pie, and the house-made dressing on their fatoush salad makes me drool). I'll want to take a long soak in the tub and rub essential oils all over my torn up feet. Then I'll sleep, hopefully better than I have in weeks.
I'll finish up the job applications I started this week, go out for drinks with Martin this weekend, and make my way to Grand Rapids to have the sweetest of reunions with my people and with Michigan craft beer. I hope to be sitting on the patio at Mitten Brewing Co. sipping my favorite Mitten Pale Ale an eating their house-made vegan cheeses shortly.
My reunion with Lake Michigan might kill me: the last time I flew into Michigan I started crying on the airplane when I saw Lake Michigan come into view as we made our way over Chicago; that was after being gone for 8 days. I don't know what will happen this time.
Of course there will be lots of lunch dates and coffee dates to catch up with friends and my favorite menus all over the city, and lots of figuring out housing and working and getting my car back form my brother when he comes home from Baltimore at the end of the summer. But I'm not worried about any of that just yet. I'm just terribly in love with the thought of being surrounded by comfort again and of watching the moon over the lake on the West coast of Michigan. And I'm terribly excited to be starting a fresh chapter in a familiar place: what a feeling, to be starting anew in your home state. It feels like safety and it feels fresh. It feels like growth and it feels like commitment. It feels like saying hello and goodbye at the same time. Mostly though, it makes sense, because all it ever was when I left was "see you later."
And that's how I'll leave Panamá, too.
Hasta Luego,
Hanamá