Lasts

I officially finished work on Wednesday. I said my goodbyes. I am REALLY bad at goodbyes. My general M.O. is to rip the bandaid off which, I think probably, comes off as pretty callous for those that I am saying goodbye to. Not generally a crier, if I think the waterworks are going to start I run like hell. I prefer to save it all up for one massive, emotional explosion at the least appropriate moment. In Central America, this has most often been an occurrence on public buses. Before I left for Peace Corps, I went out for my goodbye party with my co-workers, got drunk, and had a laughing fit that morphed into uncontrollable sobbing.... in the middle of bar, full of my co-workers. I was working as a counseler at the time and I remember one of my fellow counselors looked at me, sighed, shook her head and said, "So much emotion."

Anyway, I managed to get through my work despedida without falling apart. I think I am saving it all up for the bus. I must admit I feel more than my fare share of guilt going home. I know it's time. I have decided that my leaving El Salvador is like leaving an abusive marriage. I know it's what's best for me, but I feel guilty for breaking my committment and frankly, I'm still in love.

Guilt is a big part. It's really about acknowledging my privilege. But if there is anything that I have learned in the past three plus years, is that you are what you are. There is no hiding nor running from what you are, and everything that the accident of your birth gives you right to. But a the end of the day, when it gets to be too much, when if feels unbearable, I get to go home. I don't have to look far to see those that don't have that privilege. PRIVILEGE. I can't change it, can't give it up. I have discovered that trying to give it up, must be amazingly disrespectful for those that don't have it. It's complicated. Still figuring it out. I am hoping some serious time on the beach will bring some peace. If not, there's always the bar....