Sitting in class, of my first semester of my doctorate program in clinical psychology. I can’t help but wonder about, quite frankly, a little bit of everything. See I’ve been going through moments in my life that I would never be able to find a specific word to describe, which is why I decided to make a small article to share with you guys. First I’d like to start by stating that about two years ago I left home and by home I mean Puerto Rico, even though I think that home is more people than a place, home was in Puerto Rico, literally and figuratively. Yet still I left home, not because I wanted to leave my home but because I was in search of something better, something that home could never provide, and so heartbroken an all I left home. I think home always understood even though I myself never grasped the feeling that everything was ok, that leaving was ok.

Here I was; a 21-year-old female in search of labor opportunities and as many the pursuit of happiness. I searched and searched and though taking steps forward nothing felt right and I sure as heck didn’t feel complete, maybe I still don’t but that’s not the point. After spending 6 months in Connecticut, a year in Pennsylvania, obtaining a license in Personal Training (which I came to learn was not me) and obtaining a Master’s in Business Administration, still, nothing felt right. I should feel accomplished but I didn’t, I didn’t really feel anything, This is where things get interesting, but I don’t want to give too many details because I don’t want to give spoilers to a future book I am developing, a book that will be fiction but that I will draw some aspects from my life.

Close to end of obtaining one of these different “titles”, I was now a 23-year-old female in an entry-level job related to my college studies (psychology) and still, I felt nothing. All I could think about was home, how much I missed home, how much I craved. But I had no excuse to go back, jobs would pay less and there was the little fact (sarcastic) of student loans. But I couldn’t take another minute in Pennsylvania, I hated the city, everything about it, to those who like it I’m sure you have your reasons, as I have mine for liking the country. I pondered what to do and it was a hard decision, if I were to come back home I needed a reason to come. After talking to many friends, I came to the conclusion that I would apply late to a doctorate program. Against all odds I got in, a story I will also tell in the future.

I backed my bags and sold everything I owned in a span of 7 days and took flight towards home. I arrived home and although everything was the same, everything felt different, part of home just wasn’t there, at least in the figurative sense. But still it was home and for the first few weeks I got to know my home as much as I could; I was still handing in assignments from my masters and starting my doctorate program. I felt good and I felt at peace, even with my incomplete peace. Then on the 20th of September, my whole world changed and I mean this in every sense of the world. Hurricane Maria was passing through my home, destroying and damaging everything it found in its path, my aunts and uncles were scared, my animals were scared, my parents were scared, but for some reason I was not scared, I wasn’t even worried, I don’t even think I realized to what extent my home was being affected.

See but everything that begins, has an end and so Maria came and went. With it, Maria took the electricity, running water, cell service and many parts of my home. My house was almost intact after the hurricane past, but my aunts lost their homes, I had no way of communicating with my parents (who were in the states) or anyone for that matter. Two days after I started driving through my city in search of answers for my heart, I needed to know that my other home was ok. As I drove to where I would find my answers, my heart was torn my home was not the same, my home was damaged, my home was destroyed (which I will describe in greater detail when I publish my final book to a trilogy I am developing). I tried to shake the feeling but it was hard, everything looked dead and dark but I at least I was able to determine that my home was safe.

Now, close to two months after the passing of Maria I still have no electricity, running water has returned, although sometimes it leaves, cell service is never reliable, I have to drive 30 minutes to even think of using the internet or an hour and a half when I’m in school, I have to wash my clothes by hand and let me tell you something I feel blessed. I’m alive, my family is alive, my loved ones are ok, my parents know I’m ok, I have food and somewhere to live. I get to experience true silence and darkness at night, something that can be quite magical. My first book wasn’t launched when I wanted but still, I was able to launch it. Being a writer in these conditions is definitely hard, being a new author and trying to share your book is near impossible, but I can still write. Even if I have to drive 30 minutes to charge my computer, even if I have to stay away from my house all day to access the internet, even if I have to charge my phone and Ipad in my car, I will still write. I will write because I am alive and I am blessed and those are the only two things I need to write.

-M.A. Fernández

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