When I escaped nearly six months ago, I envisioned a life of being a nobody.

I was going to get a minimal job just to fit in with the rest of society (and to help pay bills). I was going to be average. I was going to fly under the radar. I wasn’t going to do anything more than I had to to get by.

I never imagined I’d be going to grad school. I never imagined I’d be a mental health blogger. I never expected my face to come up whenever someone google searches my name. This is not flying under the radar. This is not doing the bare minimum to survive.

I never expected to be a person that people look up to. I’ve gotten a lot of opportunities recently, most notably guest speaking. While I’m honored to have such opportunities, I also need to remind myself that I can’t do it all.

In the last few days, I’ve had many people thank me for my work in starting up PAFPAC. I know I am doing something great. But I never expected to be doing this at all. A part of me still feels like none of this is supposed to be happening. I can still hear my mother’s voice telling me I’ll never amount to anything. Sometimes, it hooks in me and I start to doubt all of the good I’ve been doing. Maybe I’m not worthy of this work. Maybe I really can’t do it.

I came here wanting to be a nobody and I’m turning into a somebody. This is not at all what I had planned. She would never want this for me. I’m going against everything my family set for me. And I feel horrible for it.