Peace Corps Guatemala: An American's First Footsteps

I almost never went out in college, and a part of me felt like I missed an essential part of growing up, so throughout my two years in Guatemala I made up for lost time.

I clung to other volunteers like my life depended on it, because it did. My friends were, and still are, the only people who knew what it was like. Sure there were tourists 20 minutes from me who spoke English, there were even expats in that town, but only 60 people in Guatemala had integrated alone into an indigenous community for two years. Those were the people I turned to when I needed to process, question, or vent. As fate would have it, my cohort was full of extroverts who wanted to chat, and that meant staying up until 2-3am almost every other weekend, dancing and drinking and doing nothing.

My favorite part of it was meandering in the lit streets of Antigua or Panajachel that were usually crowded with honking tuktuks and chaos in the daytime. I loved the darkness and dancing with my girlfriends, but those things took up only a small portion of the night. Partying for me meant dodging drinks and then dealing with stomach pain when I failed. It meant losing the sleep schedule I worked so hard for during the week. It meant travelling and Airbnbs and spending money. It meant feeling bad about myself when the two hot guys at the club didn’t pick me. It meant feeling annoyed when there were no hot guys there. It meant feeling like I had to have sex or I wasn’t young or pretty or alive. It meant trying to stay awake from 9 pm-11 pm until adrenaline kicked in. It meant praying someone would come talk to me by the door so I didn’t have to go into the circle and try to keep up with the banter. It meant trying to tuck my bloated stomach that was processing dinner into my jeans when all it wanted to do was sleep. It often meant not working out for two days. It meant pretending I liked all of that when it was chipping at my soul.

After coming back to the United States, the fog lifted. The satisfaction of pursuing my dreams outweighs whatever was found in the early hours of the morning, and it would be impertinent to waste more time. I don’t regret that phase of my life because college was a lonely experience, and I felt that hole filling up while dancing reggaeton 2,000 miles away from home; but I can let it go with a clear head and heart. The path forward feels clear. I’ve traded in the darkness of the night for the darkness of the morning.