Wonder Woman
In the infamous words of Carrie Bradshaw, "There is a battle between what we know and what we feel."
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve shared an entry. It’s not that I haven’t been writing—I’ve kinda lost the ability to make it more than a day or two without putting pen to paper or hands to keyboard. It’s that I’ve been struggling to feel my superpower.
My superpower has always been this: the ability to connect the dots in my life and untangle the spider web. I don’t write because I always know what I think—I write because when I do, life starts to make sense. One moment naturally folds into the next. A thread appears, and suddenly I understand why everything happened the way it did.
But lately? It’s felt like the web is falling apart. Each entry I've written feels like a standalone scene from a movie that hasn't figured out its plot. I’m writing memories, not momentum. And for the first time in a long time, I feel... stuck.
That word—stuck—is the perfect irony. Because what I’ve been avoiding most is the thing I need to say out loud: this dream life of mine in Barcelona is coming to an end.
I’ve built something here that feels like home. Not the kind of home with a mortgage or a mailing address, but a spiritual home. A version of myself I always hoped existed—bold, brave, alive. A girl who dances and performs with a ballet company, gets her writing published, lands her big modeling job in her first casting, and takes up classes and passions in languages that are not her own. A girl who walks through foreign streets and hears a symphony of newness. A girl who loves deeply and laughs loudly.
And yet—I can feel the thread pulling. This dream I’ve lived so fully is beginning to feel... finite.
It’s one thing to board a plane with hope. It’s another thing entirely to fall head over heels for the life that greets you on the other side. And now, with the calendar creeping forward, I feel unglued. Untethered.
In the gym yesterday, I saw a tattoo that made my heart ache and head hurt. It said, “Go after dreams, not people.”
And I thought: But the people have been the dream.
Sure, I’ve achieved milestones. I’ve done and seen cool things. But none of it would’ve mattered without the people who colored it in. The friends who celebrated me. The strangers who became soulmates. The ones who poured sunlight into my spirit. The ones who taught me that being deeply loved is not a distraction from the dream—it is the dream.
And then, there’s Mr. International. My biggest dream of all.
He cracks my heart open.
He teaches me that love doesn’t complicate a good life—it completes it.
He looks at me like I’m magic, and somehow make me believe it.
He gave me a million reasons to question everything I thought I knew about love.
There’s a certain kind of fear that comes with meeting someone you want to stay in the room with forever. Who makes you laugh so hard you forget what you were worried about. Who says the exact thing you needed to hear, before you even asked for it. Who calls you his Wonder Woman—because of a bet you swore was about “the sea” and not “DC.”
Gosh, I hope he always speaks 85 percent perfect English.
Of course, just as I type this, our Spanish Alexa decides to play “Wonder Woman” by John Legend. Looks like my superpower of connecting life to spirit is back.
Maybe this season, this column, this life in Barcelona—it doesn’t need a perfect closing chapter. Maybe the magic wasn’t in the untangled web. Maybe the magic was in letting myself get caught in it.
So, yes. Things feel like they’re shifting. Unraveling. But I don’t think I’m falling apart. At least not yet. I think I’m just realizing how many pieces of myself I’ve left in the hands of people who showed me what it means to be loved while becoming.
And no matter what happens next—no matter how many goodbyes are waiting for me around the corner—I know who I am now.
I’m someone who chases people before dreams, and still finds the dreams anyway.
And somehow, that makes me feel a little less untethered... and a little more like Wonder Woman from the sea.