niña's blog

when i was a kid, i spent a concerning amount of afternoons dragging my navy blue wheeled school bag around our neighborhood in search of a better life.

it usually happened around 3PM on some random summer afternoon while both my parents were still at work. i would pack my shit and run away from home.

the running away was never serious. i wasn’t escaping some terrible home life. i don’t even make it particularly far. by 5PM, my mom would be walking home from work, spot me somewhere around the neighborhood, and i’d quietly fall into step beside her like like i hadn’t just spent the last two hours choosing a house, inventing a career, and exploring my options as an orphan.

but for those two hours, i was out in the world and open to opportunities.

i’d drag that loudass school bag through the same streets i already knew and pretend i had started an entirely new life. i would choose which house i was going to live in. decide what job i would have. figure out how i was going to support myself with no money, no actual skills, and and just whatever useless objects i had packed in place of food or common sense.

(this was apparently what people mean when they say children were better off before phones lol)

the running away wasn’t a one-time thing, too. i did it regularly. i would leave home, walk around the neighborhood, and build a whole imaginary life before returning in time for dinner.

i never really understood why i kept doing it. i think i just liked the idea that i could begin again somewhere else. that i could leave with one bag, start from nothing, and somehow the fun was in figuring out the rest as i went.

years later, i packed my shit one more time and ran away from home for real.

this time, i had packed for more than an afternoon. the streets were unfamiliar, and no one was coming home at 5 to find me.

and this time, i had to make it work. there was no version of the afternoon where i got tired, gave up, and quietly returned home for dinner. there was no old life waiting three blocks away when the experiment stopped being fun.

i had moved across the world and placed my entire future on the deeply questionable belief that i would somehow figure it out.

so i did what needed to be done.

then i did the next thing.

and then the next thing.

and fast forward to 2026: i finished school with distinction. i got into my dream engineering firm. i moved into an apartment i once would have opened twenty browser tabs just to stare at.

i built the exact life i came here hoping i could build.

and somehow, i did not notice.

none of those things felt like achievements while they were happening. they felt like obligations.

graduating wasn’t “holy shit, i did it.” it was “thank God, okay, i need to find a job.”

even landing the dream job wasn’t the grand arrival of a dream. it was relief that another terrifying question had finally been answered.

and even moving into my dream apartment became security deposits, furniture, and figuring out where the hell we were supposed to put everything.

fear will get a lot done and unfortunately for me, it is extremely bad at gratefulness.

when you’re constantly worried about whether you’re making the right decision, you don’t stop to admire the life you’re building. you just keep checking whether the roof is about to collapse.

and now that things have finally slowed down enough for me to pause, look around, and write my story down, i have only one thing to say:

girl. what the fuck.

i did one hell of a job.

i graduated with distinction while rebuilding my life in a foreign country.

i got the job i wanted. i love what i do. i like the people i spend most of my week with. i come home to a place that feels safe, beautiful, and mine.

and no, i didn’t do it alone. this life is a collective project. it carries Jake’s hard work beside mine, my family’s love from across the world, and the Lord Almighty doing what i can only assume was emergency structural support every time my plans started shaking.

but i was there too.

i made the decisions. i kept going. i got up on the mornings when i was scared i had ruined my life. i did the work even when there was no guarantee any of it would pay off.

i think i owe that version of myself more than a quick “good job” before moving on to the next problem.

so this post is me finally giving myself credit.

this is me looking at the things that have become normal and remembering that they were once dreams. things i prayed for. things i wasn’t sure i would ever have.

i never properly basked in the glory of achieving them because i was already busy preparing for the next possible disaster.

well. the disaster can wait five minutes.

i made it.

and maybe you should stop and look around too.

think about the things you can do now that once felt impossible. maybe it’s the career you worked for. maybe it’s the home you built. maybe it’s having the freedom to leave somewhere that made you miserable.

maybe it’s as simple as being able to buy milk tea without counting the money in your wallet first.

whatever it is, don’t dismiss it just because it feels ordinary now.

it became ordinary because you kept working until it could be.

someone helped you. someone prayed for you. you made mistakes, recovered, tried again, and slowly built a life around things you once only hoped for.

that deserves at least a moment.

when i was a kid, i would pack my little wheeled school bag and pretend i was starting from scratch.

this time, i actually did.

and honestly? not bad for a girl whose original survival kit probably contained four pencils and no food.