Back to Guate with some love in my back pocket

I have a self-diagnosed "savior-complex."  It's this urgent, incessant, nagging need to help people.  I always think I can fix people, their problems, their stress. I rarely focus on my own life, and put all my energy toward others - in sometimes helpful ways, and sometimes "Hey, you don't know my life better than me and I don't need fixing" kind of ways. I'm working on finding a balance, while simultaneously fighting the need to fly around the world with my super-heroine jet-pack, sprinkling joy, education and safety on the masses.  I'm trying to teach that naggy fix-it all chica in my brain to chill and meditate more.  And sometimes I give her a cerveza to calm down. 

When I went to Guatemala, I was fulfilling one of my decade long needs of getting out there and trying on my dream job for size. Turns out - it doesn't fit all that well.  This realization has slowly been sinking in for 5 months, over the course of myriad emotions and experiences.  And it hasn't been the easiest of realizations. 

I have been madly in love with my experience there and the amazing kiddos and women I get to spend time with. I also have been incredibly depressed and paralyzed by the intense emotional roller coaster, doing nothing but sitting immobile on the couch.  I have had anxiety attacks over the responsibility of holding a child's future in my hands and from hearing the nightly chorus of gunshots that ring out.  

When I came back for my few week stay back home, I realized I probably have a mild form of PTSD.  I have seen one too many dead bodies.  Heard 1,000 too many gunshots.  Held way too many crying women and children.  In addition to all that trauma I'm trying to process, I also am understanding that I can't save the world.  I never ACTUALLY thought I would save the whole world, or even Guatemala.  But there is that part of me that thought I could surely make some kinda difference.  When I wrote my last blog post, I was feeling on edge from some of the truths I was wrestling with.  People asked me what difference I was making, what things I was doing to change the broken systems, and what I was accomplishing.  I was feeling very raw about the thought that I wasn't making ANY difference, and those questions were pushing the exact button I was trying to ignore.  It's definitely my default to just say "You wouldn't understand!" rather than figure out what is triggering me.  

Someone asked me recently why I choose to do my humanitarian work overseas, and not in my backyard.  There is equal need, no doubt.  Usually, I get defensive to this question - not wanting to seem like I was ignorant or uncaring to the problems we have here.  But, in a moment of clarity, I answered truthfully.  I choose to work abroad because I have a love affair with Latino culture.  The language is challenging and fun.  I love the way Latinos wear their emotions on their sleeve - they are all in.  The passionate crying and anger and laughter gives me (with my emotions tightly bottled up in) the permission to be honest and open with my feelings.  Human contact is NORMAL and expected - hugs and kisses all around!  Strangers will take care of me at the drop of the hat.  Family is priority number one, and members fiercely protect each other.  I love waking up to the sound of roosters and hearing the accordion music blasting at top volume.  The tortillas and community and love are what draws me overseas.  I know that I'll come back and do work here, but for now - over the border is where my heart is being pulled.  

Here's the thing.  It has been really hard in Guatemala.  It has been a tough experience full of so much learning and love and heartache.  I've been working hard these last few weeks to come to a space of peace with heading back.  I am so excited to see my friends and family again.  I can't wait to hear all the street noises and laughter and music.  I'm excited to see my rascal students and be swarmed with hugs and kisses. At the same time, I got very emotional boarding the plane last night.  I started to cry unexpectedly, as I felt the fear of returning to the death and pain and malnutrition and gangs.  But, I also feel prepared.  I know what I'm getting myself into this time.  And I am realistic about my role there.  As one of the dad's in La Esperanza told me "Courtney, even if you don't see it, you are making a difference.  The time you spend with my sons means so much to them and to us. You show them so much love."  

I can't change the flawed school system.  I can't fix the number of young boys flowing into the gangs at age 13.  I can't even convince the women of my co-op to find trustworthy men to serve as mentors to the boys (one of my original goals 7 months ago).  I can't stop the cycle of violence in this community that I adore.  Surprise, surprise.  I can't fix. . . I can just love.  I am headed back to Guatemala knowing that I will still do my work and plant the seeds of hope and change and consciousness that get me fired up.. .  .knowing that no matter the result, the biggest thing I am doing for this community is loving them. As a white person, and an outsider, it's not my place to come in to fix and change.  It's my place to listen, learn and share.  And when the sky is dark, and my super jet-pack runs out of fuel, and when the gunshots are too loud for me to hear my own heart beat. . . I will rely on that love to keep me centered and grounded.