Could Be Better

"How are you doing with all this?"

I felt the notification ding in my gut, and then sink a little lower. Not great. Could be better.

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I have very few regrets in my life. I consciously try to live in a way that I respect my state of mind when I make a decision, and decide to value my resulting experiences positively even if they "could be better". For example, I used to be play golf for the JV and Varsity team in high school. I hated the atmosphere and had wanted to quit for years, but could never muster up the courage to let all the people invested in my golf career down. So I just continued. It felt like I wasted time, and energy, and money. It felt like I should have regretted joining golf. But when I finally quit, I didn't regret the time I had spent. I made some memories and friends, and I grew a lot from the experience. I respected the process of having to sit in that discomfort long enough to build the courage that set me free. No regrets. And that is how I mange to keep my grand total of regrets hovering in the single digits. Or so I had thought.

When Coronavirus hit, Minerva gave me their options for the coming semester: Berlin, London, SF, or remote. After months of discussing and debating, I "chose" to go remote. And I thought I had made peace with it. Other colleges sent kids home so I thought I would get to meet with old friends and I could join dance classes again and I could vote hassle free. Mostly, I knew that if I chose to go anywhere else, my mother would be constantly worried and paranoid for my health and safety, rendering those 4 months abroad more stress than benefit. Or so I had thought.

It's been over a month since I've been back in Texas. And at first it was fine. I knew I had to quarantine when I landed, and so I diligently did that. I knew at first my mom would be hesitant to let me meet other people (safely of course), and so I waited. And the longer I waited, I kept my stomach full with the thought that the delayed gratification of finally being home and in Texas would hit me soon. Or so I had thought.

I don't hate it here, but to be honest, I very much do regret my decision to go remote. I watch my closest friends have game nights and picnics together on instagram, and when they call me to check in, the distance suddenly weighs down on me full force. Their laughs echo through the call, unintentionally taunting me. Unintentionally making me feel this... thing... I vowed I would never let myself feel. It's no one's fault, per say. When the time had come to make the choice, my mom told me that she just wanted me home. Even though Texas was doing so much worse with Covid than the rest of the world. Even though I had less of a chance catching it in Berlin or London. Even though there is no reason Minerva would operate in other cities unless they felt that they could handle an outbreak amongst students.

And I can empathize.

I can understand, that as a mother, letting your kid go off into some far away land amongst a global pandemic would induce some amount of panic. But I think why I've come to regret this decision is precisely for this reason: I prioritized my mother's sanity over my own.

Now as a brown person, I am acutely aware that is exactly what I was supposed to do. My mother does so much for me. She deserves to be at ease. She's paying for my college. No matter how old you are, you listen to your mother. Cool.

But as a brown person raised and socialized in the US? As someone who got her first taste of real autonomy only in the past two years? As someone who had begun to find her own happiness under her own skin? THIS FEELS LIKE A STEP BACKWARDS.

"I'm turning 21 in the suburbs of Texas with my mother and sister and probably some assortment of aunties and uncles for company. As opposed to in London with my closest friends." I should really stop talking to myself.

"Now that I'm in Texas, I've realized that most of my friends are not here, not available, and not willing to spend time with me. My closest friends now are two 13 year olds and a family friend. And one of those people is my sister." Perhaps I should just stop thinking about it.

"Well at least you saved money? But it was that much money saved because Minerva took away your work study. So not only did it not make much of a financial difference, it also gave you even less work to do and even less connection to the people at school." Honestly why do I torture myself?

"Well at least you're safer? HOW AM I SAFER. THE U.S. IS ON FIRE. LITERALLY BURNING. CORONA VIRUS IS HAVING A PARTY. THERE ARE BLM RIOTS EVERYWHERE. THE ELECTION WILL THROW EVERYTHING INTO CHAOS."

...yeah...IDK.

Honestly the first couple of weeks back were pretty okay. It's nice having a non-dorm mattress to sleep on, and it's nice to have a kitchen that isn't used by 150 other college students. But I think I'm over it.

Going from living on my own, almost exclusively with other college students, in a foreign country, while relying mostly on myself and some close friends for my food, shelter, sanity, entertainment, study, learning, E V E R Y T H I NG.

To having to ask someone for permission to do anything, living with the ghosts of my childhood, being almost completely disconnected from Minerva programming and people, not being able to go anywhere, having wayyyyyy too much time to think, and just waiting for the world to fix itself.

It's made me temperamental. It's made me angry and want to be selfish and rebellious. But most of all, it made me feel regret. Because the same wall that I'm staring at to pass the time right now? I can find another wall to stare at with my friends in London. The same "lack of going anywhere or mixing with other people? I can do that within my own bubble of three in London. The same semester that I'm spending in the suburbs of Texas crawling back into my cocoon? I can spend doing so much less but with the people who preserve my sanity.

And I know that if I had gone to London for this semester, my mom would 100% have been more stressed and upset and angry than she is right now, but I wonder if I will ever have the courage to prioritize my happiness over hers. Maybe I'm a bad Indian for even thinking that. Maybe that's immoral or selfish or disgraceful. But why should it be?? Why do we consider it selfish to want to be happy??

I'm a capable and intelligent 20 year old who has lived in a foreign country on her own and knows how to manage herself. Why did I give into the fear? If I had gone to London for this semester, my mom would 100% have been more stressed and upset and angry than she is right now. Or so I had thought.

The other day, my mom offhandedly said something like "you should've just gone to Berlin" in the middle of a disagreement. Oh let me tell ya, I felt my skin burn. I had come to Texas for her. Literally, I had convinced myself that i could muster some sort of happiness here in order to preserve her peace of mind. HOW COULD SHE SAY THAT.

I don't know if she really meant it or not, but that comment single-handedly snapped me into full-scale regret. The pandemic, election, flights. So much of it is completely out of our control. But the few things that I did have in my hand, I passed off for someone else to make the decision. Because then I didn't have to. Because then I could blame someone else for the consequences. Sigh.

And I'm aware that I probably sound like a whiny 20 year old right now who has nothing better to do in the middle of a global crisis than to log onto her online blog and complain about her mommy and not getting to travel to London, but right now, that's exactly how I feel. I'm not going to lie about being upset that I can't get to be with my friends right now because I am a capable 20 year old who could be with her closest friends right now in a nice apartment in London, studying and finding comfort in people who are in the same boat as I am.

This isn't something that's going to haunt me for the rest of my life, and I won't lie, there are things that have brought me bits of joy here in Texas, but right now as the US burns around me and the news cycle numbs my sense of reality, I can't help but wonder what my friends are doing in their London apartment right now.

Are they cooking something in their own kitchen? Are they laughing at some joke and waiting to recreate it for me so they can laugh at my disapproving face? Or are they just sitting there. On their beds. In each other's silence. Content that at the very least they can watch the world burn together.

Hopefully next semester we'll be together. Our only options are SF or remote, but maybe we can all at least be in SF together? I guess I'll have to start convincing my mom to let me go. I think she's more comfortable with SF since there's family close by, so she'll let me go. Yeah. I'll be okay. We can be together again in SF. Just three more months, Amulya. Hang in there.

Or so I hope.