What a difference a week makes.

The days collide and blur, and I'm not quite sure of when one started and another ended. There have been two dom jobs - one I got fired from for almost killing a man, the other I didn't start because it didn't seem legit; numerous retellings of the day I left my parents' house in Queens (I apologize if you haven't heard the full story; I've told it too many times to care about the events that transpired that day); several nights of drunken carousing with good friends. And yesterday, I dropped the other shoe. I told my mom that I'm not going to the Philippines anymore. It's official. I've made my decision. I'm staying in the States.

*enter trumpets, blaring*

It seems crazy that I choose my life here, over the one I'm certain to have in the Philippines. Over there, I would be living in the lap of luxury. I'd have a maid and butler, a house all to myself and my brother, nothing to worry about but grades and my love of teaching. Over here.... well...

I'm staying with Rob and his family, in a house that's full of relatives. We have our own room up in the attic, and neither of us have steady money coming in. In truth, I haven't really been looking for office work since I left my parents' place. I've been too busy licking my wounds, trying to find a dom job (as opposed to a regular 9-5), and adjusting to the new reality. I now have no ties with my parents: our financial responsibilities are separated at last; I have no phone for them to contact me; they have only an inkling of where I'm staying and what I'm doing with my life. It is - to put it plainly - the antithesis of where I was at (emotionally, financially, physically) about a week ago.

So forgive me for skipping over the parts where I scare myself with my own confidence. Excuse my lack of exposition over the episodes where I ended many phases of the last incarnation of Maria. Read on, despite the fact that my writing has been hampered by an inability to focus on real events; only fiction soothes my soul these days.

Let me tell you that this thing, this plan, this new version of myself, is something that I have been working towards for a long time. It's different from the many times I've left home: I don't feel the itch to return to my parents; I don't feel dependent on anyone to be okay; I am confident in who I am and what I'm about.

Let me say that despite the many appreciative gestures I've experienced - friends who've picked up tabs, families who've opened up their hearts and homes to me, etc. - I still feel like this right here is mine. It is because of me and who I am that I am given these opportunities and gestures. This has just as much to do with my worthiness and my personality as it does with other people's generosity. I don't take for granted their kindness, but at the same time I don't sell myself short.

And that's the main difference between right now and every other time in my life when I've attempted to break the ongoing cycle of dysfunction known as "my family."

I've finally finished keeping tabs on myself and my shortcomings, and now I act and react without self-doubt or self-criticism. I know better than to be offended when someone makes an off-color comment that doesn't threaten my livelihood. I can ease my way in and out of duress and teach myself something contrary to the undisciplined nature instilled in me by my parents. This is my world, my life, my responsibility, my legend, my accomplishment, my failure, mine mine MINE. And no one else's.