Quarter-Life Crisis

I think I am going through a quarter-life crisis.

Lately, I’ve just felt like blah. I don’t even have the words to explain why I’ve been feeling so bored. That’s how weird this is. I am always able to explain how I’m feeling.

I never did a “Farewell” post to Madrid. I meant to write about how I was feeling upon leaving my home of 4 months, but somehow, I don’t think I was ready to sit down, collect my thoughts and accept that I was truly leaving. The worst part is, I left and I don’t know when I will return.

In a way, Madrid was an escape from reality. I felt SO happy every day in Madrid. Just so happy. It was easy to feel happy. I even would wake up in the mornings and roll over with feelings of incandescent peace.

Madrid helped me realize my potential to be at peace with myself. I’ve struggled so much in the past with self-acceptance and self-esteem. But in Spain, I felt beautiful, confident and relaxed. Not only did I not harshly judge myself, I never felt the need to criticize others. It was my goal to lift people’s spirits every day. I wanted the people around me to feel as great as I felt. Looking back, I realize that is the true indication of confidence. When you can look at yourself in the mirror with content– a contentment that stems from the inside-out– you have realized your worth. I would aim to spread this feeling to those around me. I wanted everyone to feel the same greatness. A greatness that is only attainable through peace of mind. That peace of mind was a great achievement for me. I don’t think you understand just how amazing it was.

It was a rare feat, particularly because I grew up in such an intense household.

The only pressures I had in Madrid were my school work (hardly a problem) and maintaining a budget (a much bigger challenge). Otherwise, I was completely in control. I controlled my schedule, my activities and MY LIFE. I didn’t have my parents there to criticize me. No one was hurting my feelings or providing not-so-subtle criticism in casual conversations. I didn’t have to dread mood swings or outbursts from my father. I wasn’t given an endless amount of tasks from my mother, of whom never acknowledges that I do so many tasks for her. I wasn’t being badgered by my newfound extra-conservative brother. I didn’t have to share my space with my disorganized sister. My little brother wasn’t there to create unnecessary conflict. I only had to confront myself. And without any external factors to alter the playing field, in the battle between me and my meaner-self, I always come out on top.

I don’t put myself at a disadvantage. I don’t enjoy being insecure. I much prefer happiness.

I realize that coming back home is the ultimate test for me. It is testing my strength to maintain the self-love.

This isn’t as easy as it sounds. My family can be harsh and I am overly sensitive. I am aware of my hyper sensitivity, but I can’t and won’t change it. I refuse to make myself less sensitive. My sensitivity is what makes me compassionate. it is apart of who I am. It is the reason for the best parts of myself. However, I can choose to be sensitive while avoiding the other adjectives that are often associated with sensitivity. I will not be delicate or fragile or defensive. In fact, I decided to look up sensitive in the dictionary. I found that an antonym listed was resilient. I refuse to accept this.

I choose to be both sensitive and resilient. I will be the best kind of contradiction.

Here’s to hopefully getting through my quarter-life crisis and re-adapting to my judgmental and harsh family.  After all, nobody should form an opinion about themselves based on what anyone else thinks. Especially if the people around you are notorious for taking advantage of you. I am not trying to throw myself a pity party. My family is just kind of mean to me. It’s true. One could even say that its factual. Everyone who knows my family recognizes the hostility towards me. But its okay. I am happy that I’m given the most responsibility because it is the reason why I am able to handle the challenges life throws at me. So I must perceive this transition back into my family household as another challenge. Although my family doesn’t realize that this challenge goes beyond mere spacial annoyances, this is a mental battle more than anything. I will not relapse.

The happiness is here to stay.

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