They say through every difficult experience you learn. I have definitely learned to stay away from sheet metal in the dark, among other things.
Two years ago today I left for Nicaragua. I embarked on a journey that has forever changed my life. I now have a whole new family, wonderful friends both American and Nicaraguan, and a new outlook on so many aspects of life. But I was robbed of my final months.
I have been healing slowly, trying my best to remain positive about the progress that I have made. But recovery is hard. They don't tell you that before they wheel you into surgery. They don't tell you how it will affect your mental state when you are unable to do virtually all of the activities you love during a Minnesota summer. They don't tell you that when you finally feel free and start to move again it will be the most painful part of the process. They don't tell you that insurance will throw in road blocks and speed bumps around every corner. They just tell you it will all work out.
And it will. I am so thankful to have had a place to come home to and a support system to care for me. Don't get me wrong, I am very lucky.
But two years ago I signed up for 27 months and never thought twice about that commitment. If I do something, I do it wholeheartedly and until it's finished. I never thought that I would finish my service early. I even left my house on that stressful day in May telling my host family that I would be back and refusing to say goodbye. I was determined.
And then life happened. I have seen the slow progress, I have followed the regiments. But it is simply not the best decision for my recovery to go back to Nicaragua. I need my foot and appreciate that fact now more than ever, so I cannot jeopardize that by pushing too hard too fast.
It breaks my heart to not follow through with my commitment to my community, my host family, Peace Corps, and myself. But sometimes, you just have to follow your instincts and do what is best for you, even if it's not what your heart wants. I was robbed of 5 months full of hard work, celebrations, and closure. But at some point, you just have to move on.
What I have really learned in this hard time is how much the relationships I have built actually mean. My "Nica 62" Peace Corps family has continued to make me feel like a part of the group, even if I'm not physically present. Peace Corps staff has expressed nothing but support and love during this entire process. And my Nicaraguan host family still remains in close contact with me, ensuring that I am healthy as well as telling me how much I am missed. I now have a home in two places.
For so long I did not want to think it was real. I didn't want to make the decision to stay or to go back, but now I know that it is time to move on and do what is best for me. I will be taking a job as a legal assistant in Minneapolis starting in September. Here's to the next step, carrying all of my love and memories of Nicaragua with me as I go.
"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place."
