You can’t take it with you

Sometimes I forget that I left behind an entire life to come to Honduras. I gave away an entire apartment’s worth of furniture. I left most of the clothes I own in a closet in Maryland, and most of the other things I own in boxes in storage.

I also left my family. I left my career. I left a boyfriend I might have married.

Here in Honduras, I find that I am pressuring myself to recreate all of those things that had taken me a lifetime to find and to build. Even if I really need time to myself, I feel bad when I don’t spend enough time with Sandra, like I’m not fulfilling a family obligation. I feel completely useless on days that I get ignored at work. I wonder what is wrong with me that I am utterly uninterested in men that make advances toward me here and that I make men that do attract me feel inadequate.

And then I get a phone call from home tonight that reminds me that the first 27 of the 28 years of my life have not been here in Honduras. I can’t possibly expect to have the same quality of relationships here that I had in the States. I don’t need to be an expert at work when I changed the entire focus of my career to adapt to the professional opportunities I have here. I don’t need to worry about finding a romantic partner in this country when I know it will be so much easier once I am back in my own culture where I understand and agree with the rules.

This isn’t all so serious. I don’t need to despair if I don’t overhaul the attitudes of a nation in my two years here. And I don’t need to worry about re-creating an entire life’s worth of relationships and professional recognition in Honduras. I will be back in the States soon enough.