I am twenty five, my friends are getting married, starting real jobs, moving in with boyfriends, and buying apartments.
I live in a baby-blue child´s bedroom and sleep under a sleeping bag.
When I plug in my space heater, the flat blows a fuse.
I have litterally been sick since I got here.
My job sometimes feels like a joke. I don´t even speak Spanish well enough to tell the children not to pick their noses-- and they clearly wouldn´t care if I did. Sometimes it feels like picking their noses is the only thing these children actually concentrait on.
Not to mention, the Spanish goverment has yet to actually pay us for looking after their tiny nose pickers. The constant state of ¨broke¨ is getting a little old. It´s been three months Spain, get your lives together.
So sometimes I feel like I´m eighteen again, just moving out of my parents house, trying to discover how many ways one can cook a potato.
At times, it´s disheartening. I have a college education, a decent CV, what am I doing teaching English to babies (for litterally free right now) and sharing a flat with three other people?
There is no one who will tell you that you´ll never question your choice to live aborad. Inevitably you will miss your family, your friends, your life. You will miss feeling put together and all of the clothes you left behind.
That´s ok.
When I feel like this-- like I´m tired of only owning one coffee cup and not having any bowls-- I remember all of the reasons that this is making me a stronger, more mature person.
It is not owning things that makes us adult. It´s owning the fact that we don´t need things to bring us joy.
It is not having a beautiful house that makes us mature. It is being happy with the house you can have and filling it with love.
Growing up doesn´t mean being in a relationship. It means knowing how to love yourself outside of one.
and lastly,
Money does not create happiness. But it does feed you.
