Stream of consciousness from a bunk bed in a hostel
Sometimes it feels like there is a mean little girl who lives inside my heart and wants to paint everything I love in a negative light. She is a dictator and rules with an iron fist.
She shows up in unexpected ways. For one, I’ve always had a bit of a short temper. My mom got me a “CAUTION: Grumpy Person Ahead” sign when I was a teenager. I think my mean little dictator likes me to have a short temper. She likes to hate things and spend time alone.
She holds me to strict standards, where a chapter of my life can only be good or bad. I hated that job at that restaurant or I loved it. That club I joined was perfect or it was awful. It’s so hard to convince her that things can exist in the grey area. She believes that if something is criticized once, it can only ever be criticized in the future —because to do otherwise would make her a liar.
She gets mad at the people I love most in the world and commands me to me say no when my sister stands up and offers me a hug after dinner because I am crying. She is snippy, defensive, condescending, and mean.
I am trying to become friends with her and forgive her for her authoritarian ways. She is not the only voice in my head, even if she is the most compelling sometimes.
I have to convince her that the world is not grading me in black and white. I can contradict myself and love something that I disliked a moment ago. I can be lonely in Spain and still appreciate all the beautiful cities I’ve explored here. My friends will forgive me when I apologize after saying something harsh. So will my mom.
Over time I hope I can wear my little dictator down. At least a little.
I get that. I also was mostly unhappy when I was in Spain for a semester years ago and I did not relate to much of what I experienced nor to many of the people. Though I liked Spain, I did not like the vibe at all of the city where I studied. If it helps any, I would nonetheless relive that experience in a heartbeat and I relish nearly every memory that I have of it. Grey is pretty beautiful, and often more interesting than black and white.
Kelly, your writing is wonderful and so honest. I appreciate all that you are experiencing and taking with you from your adventure abroad, but even more so what you are learning about who you are. Your mom loves you so much. Your dad had such a love of life and is right there with you loving it all. Thank you for letting us in💜💜