Have you ever felt like you just don’t fit in? Like you’re some kind of alien? Or is it just me?

Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so fascinated by aliens and science fiction movies. Maybe I actually am one of them, and whenever I watch those movies, I feel right at home. Bloody hell, what if I’ve spent my entire life searching for my home planet and it turns out I’m only here because of some administrative screw-up in the universe?

And why the hell am I starting today’s post talking about aliens? What does any of this have to do with the construction project I’m working on?

Well, it might seem completely unrelated, but I think this is precisely where the foundations of everything begin. The starting point from which I need to build, to discover just how far I can go.

I’ve never felt entirely comfortable in my own skin. As if my true self, my soul, or whatever the hell it is, were somehow trapped… Trapped? Is a soul male or female? Do souls even have genders? And do aliens have genitals?

For fuck’s sake, Nuria, focus! You’re getting sidetracked again, and we haven’t even laid the first brick!

Right. What I’m trying to say is that if I don’t really know who I am, how the fuck am I supposed to know who I want to become?

And now that I’ve decided to start building a new life, I’ve realized that before putting up walls, choosing windows, or deciding what color to paint the living room, I’d better make sure the foundations are solid.

Because imagine I start building this fabulous mansion, complete with swimming pool, garden, and ocean views, only to discover that the land is crooked, the blueprints are all wrong, and the foundations are made of Play-Doh.

Well, there goes the fucking mansion!

So I think it’s important to understand and unravel this mystery called Nuria as best I can, so I’ll have a solid foundation to keep building on.

Now that I think about it, I probably should have done this years ago.

But hey, it’s never too late, for fuck’s sake! Don’t judge me. I’ve tried to live inside this shell I’ve been given as best I could, with all its strengths, flaws, leaks, and the occasional structural crack.

And you know what? I haven’t done that badly. Here I am, 58 years old, with quite a few renovations behind me and still eager to build something new.

But now I want to go a little further. I want to discover who the hell actually lives inside this house. Because I’ve spent my whole life wandering in and out of rooms, and apparently there might be doors I never even knew existed.

And how exactly are you planning to do that, Nuria?

Well, I’ve spent years trying to figure out this little mystery of mine, and I’ve got several ideas and possible solutions. One of them is talking to a professional who can help guide me.

 

A psychologist!

Although, now that we’re talking construction… What should we call her? The construction manager? No, that’s me. The architect? Nope, because I want to design my own life’s blueprints.

I’ve got it! The structural inspector!

You know, the person who comes in, examines the foundations, identifies the cracks, checks which walls are holding up and which ones might need knocking down before the whole building collapses.

Although I sincerely hope she doesn’t declare the entire property structurally unsound, because then we’re really screwed.

The idea is that I’ll tell her who I’ve been, who I think I am, why I’ve made certain decisions, and why sometimes I do things that even I don’t understand. And she’ll use her professional knowledge to give me some guidance and tools to help me do a proper job.

Basically, I’ll lay the bricks, she’ll help me read the blueprints, and together we’ll try to stop the whole bloody building from falling down.

And today, we got started.

Oh. My. God.

I’m not going to tell you everything we talked about, because one thing is enjoying airing my little bits of personal bullshit, and quite another is turning my therapy sessions into a live broadcast.

But I’ll tell you one thing…

I think instead of her helping me, we’re all going to end up having to help HER! HAHAHAHA!

Because between my life story, my adventures, my decisions, my contradictions, my projects, my problems, and this wonderful construction plan I’ve come up with, I think I’ve given her quite a lot of material to study.

I can just imagine the poor woman getting home, collapsing onto the sofa, and having this conversation with her family:

— How was your day, darling?

— Fine, fine… Although I think I’m going to make an appointment with a psychiatrist tomorrow.

— What on earth happened?

— Oh, nothing, nothing… Just a 58-year-old woman who thinks she’s an alien, says she’s rebuilding her life, and apparently I’m the inspector of some bloody construction project.

HAHAHAHA! POOR WOMAN! IF SHE STARTS CHARGING ME EXTRA FOR MAJOR RENOVATIONS, I’M GOING TO GO BROKE!

But all jokes aside, I’m happy I took this step.

Because I recognize there are things I can’t figure out entirely on my own. And that doesn’t mean handing someone else the keys to my house or letting another person decide how I should live.

It simply means that sometimes we need someone to help us see those cracks we’ve been staring at for so long that we don’t even notice they’re there anymore.

And maybe I’ll discover that there are walls I need to knock down, rooms I need to renovate, and others that are perfectly fine just the way they are.

Because the point isn’t to demolish everything and start from scratch, is it?

For fuck’s sake, there must be SOMETHING worth keeping after 58 years!

Anyway, today we’ve officially begun another important phase of the project: the foundation inspection.

I don’t know what we’re going to discover, how long it’ll take, or what surprises might be hiding beneath the floorboards. I just hope we don’t uncover a dead body, because then we’ll have to switch genres from comedy to psychological thriller.

But for now, I’m excited.

What about you? Have you ever felt like you don’t belong in this world? Have you ever been to therapy? Has it helped you understand yourself better?

And most importantly…

Does anyone know if psychologists have professional liability insurance in case a patient gives them an existential crisis?

Just asking so I can warn mine, because this construction project has barely begun.

STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!

Thanks for reading.