Edge of the Map Feeling

"No se puede montar dos caballos a la misma vez."- Can't ride two horses at the same time

"You don't have to go home but you can't stay here."-Our staff guy for volunteer support Pete brillantly quoting Semisonic, at our "Close of Service" Conference

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I woke up feeling freezing cold the other day, in San Mig of all places. It was probably only 55 or 60, but that counts for chilly here. Still half asleep, it completely threw me for a loop as to where I was, because I swear, there was same the leafy rich smell of September back home, which instantly gave me an unexpected rush of nostalgia for home this time of year. Fall is my favorite season without a doubt and this is the third that I'm missing in this adventure. I'd kind of forgotten about the effect the seasons have on you until the smell brought me back. 

The last couple months of Peace Corps are a ludicrous carnival sideshow of feelings. Should I stay or should I go? O, I'm sad I'm leaving. O, actually screw these last months, I want to go home immediately, it's fall. O, but things to do still! O, but I love Nicaragua!!!!!!!!! I have gotten too emotional and cried at basically everyone in the Peace Corps office and definitely all my Peace Corps friends. I've come to a bit of equilibrium and peace (jaja) now that my health seems to have improved (si Dios quiere) and I've got some endorphins in my system from working out again. However, I'm still self conscious about how indecisive am I and the uncharacteristic lack of passion I feel for everything. 

 In a completely non-suicidal thought experiment way, it would be so much easier if I could just stop existing after December 18th, the day I'm going home. Like if the rapture were to happen, it would be very convenient.  I just can't picture myself inhabiting any space in the world or doing anything in particular. I've spent the last three or four years being or banking on being a PCV and I while I am really to move on, a lot of -wh questions loom. The devil's in the details.  

I term this failure of imagination "edge of the map feeling." Think of the flat world model of the Middle Ages and then reaching the end of the known. I've felt this feeling before, and I'll be the first to admit: in my case it's a feeling of privilege, of too many options, of too much mobility, while for many, it is rooted in the desperation of narrow options. Not too get too wrapped up in rich country guilt. I've felt this feeling before: when I came here, when I studied in Chile, and when I went to Guatemala, the first time I left the country. It's a mixture of excitement and dread, an inability to conjure up what it will be like on the other side, what the daily routines will be like, even just what it will look like. What I find interesting is that I'm getting this feeling about going home. I can picture the structures (sorta) and people that comprise home, but I can't convincingly fit myself into the picture. The only thing I can picture myself doing in America is going to the gym in my home town, where I am not a member and in which I have never worked out, apart from high school swim team. The mind is a slightly absurd fantasy land. 

Anyway, these are some weird times BUT if I happen to be real neurotic and unnecessarily existential at you, please call me out on it. No coddling!!