PC guilt

I had always wanted to write a witty, well written blog post about the pitfalls of PC guilt. It's an outrageous, only-happens-with-Peace-Corps-Volunteers phenomenon that one day I will rant about. But this is not that day.

Honestly, I'm exhausted. Physically, mentally and emotionally I am spent. This week I've had to deal with death, suicide, near death experiences, and so much else. (Before you get all up in arms- none of these things happened to me or were malicious in any way. Just a sad week in the community.)

I'm leaving for the US soon for my first trip back. It's been 9 long months without American comforts, my family, my friends. It's all too easy to take a mental vacation and think about what I want to order at Starbucks (though it's almost always a coffee frap), what nail color I want to get with my mani/pedi (I'm thinking Tiffany blue), and just check out completely. I really, really can't wait for this trip.

That's where the PC guilt kicks in. PC guilt comes in many forms.

Feeling sick and watching 30 Rock all afternoon? Guilty.

Hoarding Cheese-itz from your host family because they're SPECIAL from the US? Guilty.

The PCV next door legalized a woman's group, built a bridge, and saved a basket of newborn puppies from drowning? Guilty.

The last PCV did all these great things, when are you going to do anything? Guilty. 

Also, when you get home after teaching English class, and your class went well and you visited a community member so.... you get to take a break now. Right?

It had been a long, terrible week. I earned a break. I needed a break. But I saw on my calendar that it was my community guide's granddaughter's 9th birthday. Her mom left to go to the US in January and I think she's been pretty torn up about it. I mean, who knows when she'll get to see her again? My host nephew went 11 years without seeing his mom. All I have to do is wave my American passport and get on a direct flight home.

Guilty.

So I drag myself outta the hammock, put on some stretched out thread bare clothes and hike it up the mountain to her house. And you know what? I'm glad I did. I always feel better after listening to the angel on my shoulder, even if she makes me feel like a guilty turd.