They say part of growing up is turning auto-capitalization on again… because, at one point in time, writing exclusively in lowercase somehow became an aesthetic act of rebellion against tradition. But now you’re at the age where you delete unnecessary apps, and search for meaning, stability, and, well, peace.
Several years ago, I made the decision to write in lowercase on here too, with the exception of always giving “I” the justice it needs, to stand alone upright. Is it a way to emphasize the need to stand up for oneself, the need to stand out from the rest, or was it just a proof that you haven’t totally let go of tradition? I don’t really have an answer to that, other than believing a stand-alone “i” looks wrong and quite underwhelming.
That being said, I believe it’s time to turn auto-capitalization back on when I write, as a way to declare that things have truly begun to change.
However, there is more to growing up than going back to the grammatical rules you’ve studied in school, and definitely more than feeling overwhelmed by life, its responsibilities, and its contracts. Unfortunately, part of growing up is also realizing that you signed that contract, way before you knew what contracts were in the first place.
[Clears throat]
Hey.
A few years ago, I was sitting on the couch across from my dad, and I talked to him about my friends who were constantly on the road. I told him that they were country-hopping, catching planes and trains here and there, and that I found it intriguing. I remember specifically saying that I didn’t know how they gained all this sense of independence, and this courage to “just go.” To me, those were always signs of growing up. My dad looked at me and said that it wasn’t a matter of independence, as much as it is a matter of careful planning.
I’ve been on solo day-trips before, but the key difference is that I knew I was heading back home by the end of the day. I’ve also gone on trips with groups, which was always enjoyable. Only once have I gone on a solo week-end trip: I had gotten my visitor visa for the UK (I needed it for a work trip), and decided that in two weeks after that, I was going to visit Edinburgh, in Scotland. It was exciting. I’ll spare you the details, but I can tell you that Edinburgh is definitely a city I left a part of my heart in.
In that regard, I’ve always admired people who just… went. I know it takes planning, optimizing, and constant overviewing of the best prices, but the fact that these trips actually make it out of the Excel sheet fascinates me. I understand that perhaps it’s less daunting when you’re traveling with someone, or with a group, but there are people who just go… alone. And I admire them.
I don’t know if it’s harder for me as an overthinker and an easy-worrier, or because I always granted the biggest chunks of my time, energy, and focus to my PhD, but I reckon that traveling (especially alone) has never been a priority or a desire for me.
However, for this Easter, I actually booked a trip. And I went. It was a trip to San Sebastián-Donostia and Bilbao, parts of the Basque region in the north of Spain. So, I put on my European hat and went to Spain by train, with all my stuff packed in only a backpack. My parents were worried I would get bored by myself, and to that I responded, “I’m going with my camera and my tripod. Trust me, I can’t get bored.”
Spolier alert: I was right. One of the best weekends of my life.
Now, this isn’t an itinerary kind of post. I won’t go over all of what I saw and all the places I visited. I will, nevertheless, talk to you openly about some things I’ve been thinking about lately and that a solo trip can also open your eyes on.
1. It really is that damned phone (main point).
This is probably the biggest oh snap moment I’ve had in a long while; this damned phone and all it takes away from you.
You see, I’ve repeatedly heard artists, content creators, and influencers say that, because of their creations and advertisement deals, they get stuck in this trap of endless content “visualization”. This basically means that they’re constantly thinking of what content they’re going to create next, or about whatever it is that non-creative influencers do. I’ve heard them say that they struggle to actually enjoy their vacations and their life because their brain is constantly thinking about how their socials could benefit from everything they do on the daily.
I hate to admit it, but it’s been the same for me. Look, I am by no means an influencer, a monetized content creator, or a professional artist. I am just someone who practices photography and editing, and who enjoys sharing her photographs with her friends. However, every time I take my camera with me anywhere, I become so focused on capturing what I see as beautiful, instead of actually soaking in the moment. That is because I’d be excited to edit the photos and share them later on.
I don’t know what kind of FOMO this is, but I know it is there. It’s as if my brain didn’t have the capacity to remember something enough, and my phone was just some savior that is going to immortalize the moment.
My weekend in Spain wasn’t the first time I’ve had this oh snap realization though, but it was the strongest. The first time I realized that not everything needed to be captured or filmed was when I went to Luca Fogale’s concert back in May of 2025. Luca had been my top artist of the year for two years in a row then, so you can imagine how ecstatic I was to be attending the concert. During the gig, I made the conscious decision that I wasn’t going to film every song, although I do love every song. I told myself I was going to actually enjoy this concert, that I was going to sing at the top of my lungs instead of filming. This was the concert of my favorite artist, and no video was more important than savoring the experience.
The second time I had this oh snap realization was when I went on a last-minute, urgent trip to Paris last month. Before my trip back to my city, my friend and I went to the museum together. Now, what was fascinating to me is that she kept her phone in her bag the entire time, except for when we needed a map. She carefully contemplated the art in the museum, without feeling any urge to take any photos whatsoever. Her brain immortalized the moment, and that was all she wanted—to be present and admire art. She also barely texted anyone while we were out, and that was when I realized this is what a healthier daily looks like. Truly makes you think that maybe nothing is really that urgent and needs your immediate response. If it were, the person who needs you will call, I guess. Don’t get me wrong though, if your phone’s in your hand and you can respond, do it. Don’t go on and purposely ignore someone, please.
Anyway, back to the weekend in Spain. Look, I did go with my camera. It was my first ever trip to Spain, and I was genuinely excited to visit San-Sebastián, especially since a very good friend of mine (a proud Basque woman) told me I was certainly going to love it there. So, I arrive to San-Sebastián after six hours on the train. The minute I stepped out of the train station, I pulled out the camera from my backpack and started taking photos. Yes, that quickly. I did the same in Edinburgh too, by the way. Can I consider this as an immediate sign that I had an instant “city-crush”?
Okay, fine. Jokes aside, this sudden urge to snap a photo of something my brain perceives as beautiful is something that I genuinely tried to tame during my stay, and believe me when I say that it was kind of a struggle. It was like when your friend’s a strong smoker and they’re actively fighting the urge not to go on a cigarette break, because they know they can’t take a smoking break whenever they feel like it, so you see them try to focus on something else instead. At different instances, I had to remind myself that I took one photo of something, and that that was enough, that it was okay to put the camera away and just admire the view, and that is was perfectly fine to not take a picture at all. For example, while hiking up to Monte Urgull, I actually had to say to myself out loud that I didn’t need to stop and take a picture, mainly because the view from the top was going to be the exact same, but better and clearer. I had to tell myself that this was still a hike and that stopping to take my camera out of my backpack was unnecessary. I believe I needed this.
However, the realest example was during the procession on Good Friday. If you know anything about Spain or Hispanic countries like Guatemala, then you might know that Semana Santa is something out of the ordinary. I don’t know any other Christian communities who celebrate Holy Week the way Spanish and Hispanic populations do, and I knew that this was going to be an unforgettable experience. So, I’m in the streets of downtown San-Sebastián, waiting for the Good Friday procession, and I was filming and taking pictures as it was going on. Then the voice in my head was like, “For God’s sake, this is a religious procession. People are carrying the statue of crucified Jesus right in front of you, so show some respect and put the camera away.” And I listened. I watched the procession in silence and bowed when crucified Jesus and grieving Mary were carried on floats in front of me. I never film during Mass or religious gatherings, but again, weird FOMO happening… so I did take some pictures even then. Sorry, Jesus.
All these examples are just to say that it really is that damned phone. I want to make the conscious effort of not digitally documenting everything and overall using my phone less. I really want this trip to be the “blueprint” for the next one, whether it will be a solo trip or a group one. I want my next trip to be more about being in the now rather than preparing for the future memories I couldn’t fully enjoy in the present. I also want all of the above experiences to be a reminder that you can be creative and have an eye for things, but it can be so without the spotlight of a phone camera or social media. We’ve all repeatedly complained about how curated everything on social media is (I’m the first), but what capturing, editing, and then posting does is exactly continuing that.
I don’t want to live to create content. I want to live to create meaning.
2. It’s okay, I have time.
My God. So, I have been on the job hunt for over three months now, and it has been stressing the crap out of me. This I’m-free-now-but-not-really kind of life has been extremely rough for my overall mental and emotional states. This isn’t just because of the responses (or lack thereof) from offers I had applied to, but also because finding a job has felt like a game of Snakes and Ladders, and every time I moved a few squares forward, I landed on a snake that sent me back several squares down.
Everyone’s trying to reassure me that everything’s going to be fine, and that, when the time is right, I will find the best job ever. They’re telling me to benefit from my free time now, because once I find a job, I’ll dwell over this time off that I didn’t know how to benefit from.
Thus, I wish to start reminding myself that it’s okay, I have time. It’s okay to try and be patient, to make the best out of “free” time. Fine, let’s just call it a work in progress.
An example of this progress happened in Bilbao. I had arrived to the Basílica de Begoña, whose doors happened to be closed until 5 PM (it was 3:45 PM when I arrived). I had been walking for hours nonstop, and I hadn’t visited a single Church in Bilbao until that moment, as all the other Churches’ doors were also closed. So, I decided to sit on one of the benches in front of the Basílica, and I waited. I called my brother to check up on him, told him about how beautiful Bilbao was. After I hung up, I kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting. I checked my phone occasionally, but in that period, I just… existed. In silence. I told myself, “It’s okay, I have time,” and “I have the right to rest because I’m tired from walking.” In those moments, I was quiet. Life was quiet, and I have Bilbao to thank for that.
“Slow down, you’re doing fine. You can’t be everything you wanna be before your time. Although it’s so romantic on the borderline…” – Billy Joel, “Vienna”
The reminder to take home from this is that it’s important to pause. To really pause. This aligns a little with my first point in this post, in that sometimes you have to truly sit in the moment you’re in and appreciate it for what it is: another full moment you get to fully exist. Another moment of gratitude that you’re a day closer to whatever is promised next for you. Even in the uncertainty.
And, hey. I know you often hear the phrase “let go and let God.” I also know it’s harder than it is, no matter the strength of your faith. I would like to begin by saying that you shouldn’t beat yourself up for wanting to control things yourself. As biologists, we are repeatedly told that nature abhors a vacuum, but little do we first realize that the human mind abhors it too. We hate periods of quiet, of emptiness, of lack of clarity. We’ve trained ourselves to fill up the “gaps” with various stimuli because the “gaps” are uncomfortable, even if we just end up filling up this space with stress and overthinking. I’ve struggled to trust God enough that what’s best for me is on its way, because my human brain feels unsteady in this current phase. And I’ve prayed about it. I’ve recurrently felt like I was behind in life, because my friends and acquaintances are either well into their jobs or careers, have families, etc., and I’m out here looking for my first non-academic job. It feels like I’m starting over, and it was a difficult feeling to sit with.
But the Lord doesn’t half-do things, nor does He make mistakes. You just need to pause and be patient. It’s okay, you have time.
3. Lastly, some people stay with you.
Okay, this one’s going to be vulnerably honest. I’ve recently noticed a growing distance between me and someone I deeply care about. I’m not really sure what happened, but it is something that has shaken a lot of my heart’s infrastructure.
The thing about humans is that the heart has an odd way of functioning. Although life can progressively push two people apart, without the need for some major rupturing event, it seems like some people just stay with you. These people walked into your life on a random thursday, and they changed the wiring of your entire being. The days after that are full. Your heart is full.
So, if they leave, they never really do. They might no longer show up physically in your life, but you meet them again, and again, and again. Not in person, but in moments.
“We’ll meet again, maybe not in person, but in everything you and I loved.”
During my stay in Spain, they still crossed my mind. In the churches I’ve visited, in the culture I’ve observed, in the waves I heard crash. I said to myself, “They would love it here,” although I knew they had already previously visited these cities. I wasn’t sure if it was sad or kind that I carried them with me all throughout my weekend, but the more I think about it, the more I lean into it being kind.
I’ve been thinking a lot about having a heart that holds on to people and things and places. This time of job hunting got me feeling, thinking, and writing constantly. It also pushed me to thoughts that didn’t serve any purpose in my walk in life; you know, the kinds of thoughts that tell you that you’re not enough. But, if there is one thing that calms me down, it’s acknowledging that despite everything, my heart still feels. It makes a place for people and things, and it remembers. It makes connections and threads pieces of life together. Thinking about this person throughout my trip was a sign that I still care, that despite inexplicable circumstances and subplots, they still matter. And I think it’s beautiful, in a way, that some people just stay.
They say that part of growing up is turning auto-capitalization back on. To that I agree.
Part of growing up is taking on responsibilities, but also taking the time—to travel (if you can), to put the phone away, to make food for yourself, to take care of yourself, to see loved ones, to think, to pause, to feel. My weekend in Spain reminded me that it is still possible to turn off duty, and turn on life again. Part of growing up is learning to trust the process, to trust that God doesn’t do “incomplete”, to try and firmly believe that after vacuum comes abundance. Part of growing up is learning to find balance between giving and self-preservation. Part of growing up is holding on to “I hope I see you again” when life subtly and slowly pulls you away from somebody you care about.
The greatest sign of growing up is to keep showing up.
Found a New Home 