Missing What Never Was
I think it’s okay to miss something and not want it back.In my previous relationship, my partner and I almost had a baby together. We had a miscarriage. And years later, I guess I’m still working through it.There are days I go back to the imagination I had of what my baby was going to be like. His face. His hair. His eyes, like his father’s.I pictured him as a toddler.I pictured my dynamic with him.I pictured myself trying my best to create a life for him that I didn’t have, or maybe one I would have wanted.Years later, I’m no longer in that relationship. I don’t have my baby.I’m in another relationship now, and I’m very happy.And yet I still hold the tension.I still imagine what my life would have been like if my baby had been born. The trajectory it might have taken.I can’t say I know exactly why things happen. I have my ideas, my theories. Most of them are probably coping mechanisms. Maybe some of it is divine revelation. What do I know?But on days like today, it’s like my body remembers. It feels like something was meant to be and just chose not to be.And I say “meant to be” through my own filter. Because if it really was meant to be, then he would be here, right?This is the interesting part of the human experience. We like to think in all or nothing. But it’s not always all or nothing. Sometimes it’s a little bit of everything. And sometimes it’s a whole lot of nothing.So today, I don’t miss what I used to have.But I do miss what I imagined could have been.I still wonder what it would have looked like.Am I guilty for that? Am I wrong? Is it selfish?I don’t know.What I do know is this: it’s okay to grieve even something that didn’t happen. You can grieve what your imagination hoped for. You can grieve the story your mind thought was going to unfold.Because whether I admit it or not, my body knows grief.The moment I get quiet with myself, the tears come.Like my body has been waiting all this time for me to feel it.So yeah… that’s that.That’s where I’m at today.
I haven’t returned to Mexico yet. But my body, my mind… they already feel it.After Venezuela, Mexico was my first stop.My first real attempt at starting over.It didn’t belong to me by passport, but it did by experience.I lived there for nearly ten years.I worked. I grew.I learned to navigate life with what I had.I learned to survive, to defend myself, to stay alert.And while those years were meaningful, they were also hard.When I left, I did it quietly.No closure. No looking back.I left with the conviction that there had to be something more for me.And I found it.Today, I’m building a new life.I have stability—one I’ve created through effort, through love.I even have peace.And still… now I’m going back.Just for a few days.To renew my passport.To finalize a process.But something deeper is already moving.I’m not going alone.The version of me who once was… she’s coming too.That young, brave woman who crossed the city with fear but also with dreams.The one who didn’t know if she’d make it, but tried anyway.That woman, full of joy, is returning too.And so is the woman I am now.The one who no longer hides.The one who can make peace with her mistakes,with a life built in another language,with love by her side.The one who loves out loud,and still wonders if her soul remains split between who she was and who she is.Mexico wasn’t a stopover.It was a whole chapter.One I never fully processed.And now that I’m about to return, I don’t know what I’ll feel.Maybe relief. Maybe discomfort.Maybe all of it at once.How do you return to a place that was both home and wound?How do you walk the same streets, when you no longer walk the same?This trip hasn’t happened yet.But it’s already begun within me.Because sometimes, the hardest part of going backis everything that wakes up before you even arrive.