A curious girl, a wanderer

Going to Ludovico’s pino concert in Milan hast been one of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had.

People often ask me “Where are you now” or maybe “Where are you off to?” when they reach out to see how I’m doing. They know I’m always going from one place to another quite often.

Sometimes I feel that I’m unreachable. Running away from place to place not knowing where to next.

Not so easy Wednesday morning. Spent 2-3 hours crying with the tissue box next to my lap. So hard to focus on my work today, and unmotivated about doing stuff. What’s going on?

How does it feel to be back in my hometown?

I’ve been willing to sit down and write with no success since I came back to Mexico.

It’s been almost three months that I’m in Mexico! Whaaaat? Yes, time has flown by!

At times it’s felt like a rollercoaster of emotions. But I understand it’s because I’ve been through a lot and I am just healing and going through the process of recovering emotionally from all the stress and pain and anxiety.

On the other hand though, let me say that I am very comfortable here. For the first time in 5 years I feel so happy to be here with my family.

My mom even said that she thought I was not going to feel comfortable anymore. Why? Well, almost three years living in North Carolina, and a year and couple months in Paris… what can you expect? Coming back to Mexico is like a huge change!

It has been hard in terms of food because I was so used to having a very green and healthy diet in Paris. I was almost becoming vegan… So coming back to Mexico, where you can find tacos everywhere, lots of street food, lots of snacks…. It has been for sure like a bomb to my stomach lol. But then, when I look back to the first weeks and month here, and compare myself to the way I am now, I feel proud of myself and I am aware of the resilience I have 🙂 I am slowly adapting again to the new environment and slowly feeling better.

I also thought for a long time that my home was not Mexico, and I traveled so much trying to find my home or my place in this world, but recently I just discovered that (and this is one of the best and most precious things I’ve ever found) that my home is within me. No matter where I am or where I go, I am home to myself.

This is Diana since I came back to Mexico…

Bienvenida a MEXICO!!!! No puedo creer que finalmente estoy aquí después de dia y medio de viaje. Además debo agregar que ya había pasado un año tres meses que no pisaba tierras mexicanas.

Here I am again, not knowing where I’m off to next. Calling myself a nomad, a wanderer.

It’s crazy to think that for the last six months I could see myself living in Paris for a long time. I didn’t have a lot of questions coming in and out of my mind. I was almost certain Paris was the right city for me. I did my best to keep on going. It was hard though… I found myself packing boxes and suitcases every one/two months. I tried my best to call my place a home. I almost made it. I was very close.

But I got lost on the way.

The end of October and beginning of November was a complete blur. It was hard. It was raining all the time, and I found myself isolated in a not very nice tiny town near Paris. Would it be too extreme if I say I literally saw how my mental health went down during those weeks? I still ask myself what was the thing that triggered all that anxiety and sad/gray days I went through.

Was it the people I had around? The place? The stress?

I had never felt so alone in my life. I felt desperate, as if my body was screaming HELP.

I couldn’t stand being alone.

I was afraid.

I was worried and overwhelmed.

It is sad when I think about those days. It still shatters my heart. It still brings nostalgia and a couple of tears.

It all started one day while I was on the train. I experienced a panic/anxiety mild attack. It was all in my head. Yes. No one could actually tell how scared I was because I was trying my best to hide it. I didn’t want people to see how vulnerable I was. But my heart was racing. My mind was going wild. I was sweating, and my hands were shaking. I had the urge to runaway and get the hell out of that train.

To be honest, it was more the experience itself that scared me and depressed me. I thought I was losing myself. I don’t think I had experienced something that strongly.

Then I heard some voices saying – «you’re not strong emotionally»,- and someone questioning me -«are you always going to be like that? is it genetic? does anyone in your family has it?» – DAMN, how is it possible to be that insensitive and cruel? That was the breaking point. I really needed some words of affirmation and support, but what I got was emotional abuse. Agressive words. And that tore me down. I felt incapable. I felt helpless. I felt alone. I felt far away from everyone. I felt stuck in a black hole.

I went through very hard days that felt like years. I was waking up in the middle of the night screaming in my head, with such anxiety in my chest and tears running through my cheeks. I couldn’t stand breakfast. I was nauseous and throwing up because of all the acid I had. I saw slowly how my body changed. I lost a couple of kg. Not too much, but enough to see my pants all loose and shapeless against my skin.

I was afraid of hoping on the train again. I was afraid of going out. I was tired after sleepless nights. I was weak. I was sad. I was a big mess far away from home. I was in Paris and yet feeling so bad.

But guess what? I had to lift myself up because I knew no one else would. I had to force myself to brush my teeth, take showers, swallow the food, and go out. IT WAS HARD THE FIRST TIMES. Oh yes, it was tough. I wanted to cry all the time. I was in such a vulnerable state. I wanted someone to just hold me in their arms and say «hey, everything’s fine, you are safe». But then I realized that it was me the one who had to speak softly to myself. The one who had to hug me, touch gently my arms, and love me once again.

I gained strength after a lovely letter I received unexpectedly by mail. Those sweet words were more than enough «You can do this».

I gained strength after those long conversations over the phone with my parents.

I gained strength after the sessions with my amazing and wise therapist.

I gained strength after having phonically, video calls, messages, and strolls on the park with my friends.

I gained strength right after I understood the situation, and let myself feel the emotions without being scared. I gained myself back.