Somewhere Not There

" ...A place where I could simply exist..."

It’s been a little  since I last wrote to you.

I feel like I need to tell you what has been happening lately, and when I say lately, I really mean the past two years or so.

I’m back home.
Back from my adventures, my studies, my solitude , my freedom.

Looking back, I realize that somewhere along the way I developed a coping mechanism. Whenever things didn’t go well, I would run. Sometimes physically , to somewhere far, unfamiliar, new. Other times mentally,  into my own head, my imagination. Somewhere safe, distracting.

Somewhere that wasn’t there.

Away from chaos, fights, disappointment, pain, anger, criticism.

A place where I could simply exist.

Who was I there?
I don’t really know.
I only know that I was there. 

Now, I’m here.
Back.

I remember the moment I decided to return. The mix of fear and pride, tangled together. The desire to prove myself, standing side by side with the fear of betraying myself. That choice didn’t feel simple then. It still doesn’t.

Now it’s been two years since then. Two years and some time more.

They’ve been stormy days , and especially stormy nights.

I’ve thought about leaving again. I tried, actually. I took some time off, hoping that distance would help me figure things out. It didn’t. After a month of unsuccessfully trying to find a job in my field abroad, and countless conversations with my family, conversations filled with persuasion, disappointment, and certainty that I was wrong , I came back.

They told me I would never make it anywhere else but home.
They asked how I could even consider leaving everything that had been built.
“Our legacy” 

People tell me I’m lucky.

They don’t see how much struggle that luck carries. And not just for me, for all of us.

We’ve endured a lot. Sometimes it feels almost like a curse, the amount of hardship we’ve faced. And yet, we’re still here. I don’t know if I can say that with strength or conviction, but… here we are.

Learning each other again.
Trying to forgive old wounds.
Creating new ones without meaning to.

We try.
I try.
They try.

I know I’m not an easy person. I’m complicated. I’m aware of that.

I don’t want to quit again. And yet, quitting has been my pattern, running when things get heavy, leaving before something is finished. 

So I ask myself questions I don’t yet know how to answer.
Am I still here because I truly want to be?
Or because I need to prove to myself, or to them that I’m not a quitter?

There’s a part of me that doesn’t accept this reality. And it’s that part of me that fights, that raises her voice, that feels angry.
Angry at whom?
At me?
At them?
At life?

This is my journey. My lesson to learn.

The only thing I know for sure is this: if I’m here, walking this path, living these experiences,  the struggles as well as the moments of grace,  then there must be a reason for it. Even if I don’t fully understand it yet.

So now, I ask only for wisdom.
The wisdom to be patient.
To stay calm.

And to learn how to be and act better.

P.S. I know this may sound a little harsh.
But then again… sweet and sour.

xoxo Mia