Change is Hard, but Change is Good

“Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.” -Leo Tolstoy

I woke up this morning to the sound of my wrist watch’s alarm and came downstairs to a breakfast of chow mien sandwiches. I boarded my spray-painted, bass-pumping camioneta and banged my knees against the seat in front of me as we maneuvered over cobblestone streets. For the last two months, this has been an average morning routine for me and it has been nothing like anything I’ve ever experienced in the States. These small changes build up to take the shape of much larger changes in my life. We’re constantly reacting to our environment, to social situations, and to physical stimuli. So when all of those catalysts have changed, we change too. Thanks to my new surroundings, I now know that I’m someone who likes a tablespoon and a half of sugar in my coffee. I’ve also discovered that I love belting out Gloria Trevi lyrics.

Absolutely every aspect of my daily life has changed. Small details have changed – my daily intake of carbs and the pronunciation of my name. And so have the more pervasive details of life- the language I communicate in most often and the people I communicate with. There are days when these changes are invigorating and exciting, just like traveling to a new place or starting a new job. But there are also days when these changes are exhausting and at times even alienating.

All of these small changes are not only induced by my new environment, they help mold me to fit into it. Integration is objective numero uno here in Peace Corps, and I get closer and closer to accomplishing it through systematic change. The question I’ve been struggling with a lot lately is how much change is too much change. At what point do I start to lose what makes up the essence of me in order to start fitting into a Guatemalan context? Back home I never had any problem trying to rock revealing clothes and took pleasure in being proud of my body. Here, I regularly cover up to a Sunday school level so that I can avoid any extra unwanted attention from catcallers. My very type A work style has no place here in Guatemala, where the hora chapina dictates that everyone arrive at least an hour late to a meeting, take another half hour for greetings, and then finally start 1.5 hours late just to break in 20 minutes for the scheduled afternoon snack. And so I am starting to change. This is the first time that I’ve been faced with the challenge of looking inwards at my own personality traits as if they were items in an apartment being packed up for the move. I’ve never before had to categorize my characteristics into boxes labeled “keep,” “throw out,” and “decide later.”

There’s good change and there’s bad change, but are the two always so distinguishable? It’s taken me decades to be at peace with who I am, even the messier parts of me, and now I feel as if I basically have to start all over. How do I do this while remaining true to the daughter my parents raised, the goofball my friends care for, and the woman my boyfriend fell in love with?
One of the hardest parts of coming to Guatemala has been the persistent fear that I’m losing touch with my loved ones back home. Our lives have suddenly become so drastically different that I worry it will drive a wedge between our mutual understanding. Immersed in so much change, I struggle sometimes to hold on to the shared experiences and characteristics that bind me to the most important people in my life. The mutual love for sarcasm and dry humor I share with my stepfather wouldn’t really fly here in Guatemala. My friends’ and my propensity for late night dancing isn’t quite feasible in my new life restricted by a 6pm curfew. If I put these aspects of myself on hold for two years, will they come back to me so easily?

As someone fresh out of my angsty years, I’ve spent the majority of my life trying to define myself in relation to the context I lived in. Now that the context has been flipped, I wonder if I’m required to start over. Which are the aspects of myself that will stay true over the next two years, and which are those that will change? Change is hard, but change is good. I have the unique opportunity to challenge myself on an incredibly profound level; to really figure out who I am regardless of context. I’ve watched two Peace Corps volunteers end their service since I’ve been here and they’ve both said the same thing – the person I am now is not the same person that arrived in Guatemala two years ago. I’m sure that I’ll say something similar at my close of service ceremony, but it’ll only be half true. I am made of the experiences and lessons I’ve shared with my family and friends. The wall decorations and potted plants of my apartment may change, but I will always be built of an indestructible four-walled foundation. One wall for my family that has taught me that passion, a thirst for education, and integrity can get you anywhere in life. One wall for my friends that have lovingly shown me that spontaneous sing-a-longs and uncensored dance parties are the spice of life. One wall for my boyfriend whose endless compassion and kindness have deeply inspired me. And a wall for me, the nature-loving, baby-obsessed, Motown-grooving cat lady I will always be.

Swearing in as official PCVs

Ladies & gents, Bak'tun 7!