By: Crystal Alba

It has certainly been a while since I posted.

I needed a break from social media to really be present and focus on one thing at a time. I felt like I had too many eggs in my basket and they were spilling out and breaking everywhere.

So what have I been focused on?

My family for one, starting a business with my husband and my career. I had to ask myself who was I really? Am I a blogger? An influencer? A stay-at-home mom? A therapist? An entrepreneur?

I really felt the imposter syndrome sink in no matter what area I wanted to focus on. 

While being a stay at home mom, I'd second guess myself and say "You need to go back to being a career woman".

 Or when I would be at work on the weekends with my clients, "You need to be at home with your family and wait til the kids grow older."

Or when I am helping out my husband by supporting his business, I would have thoughts like "You need to focus on your blog and build your brand."

Constant spiraling, I tell ya!

Who am I?

I had to think why is it that I really wanted to be a therapist? Why was I forcing my career to be partime on the weekends?

Why is it that I really wanted to be a voice to empower women through a blog/ podcast/ social media?

Why do I want to be a stay-at-home mom while supporting my husband and his business?

Yes, I am going through an IDENTITY CRISIS!!!! 

But through my own spiraling thoughts and giving myself grace and time, I have answered my own questions. 

Much like now, there was a big identity crisis growing up for me.

But my parents couldn't understand it. Because apart from not trusting the police, they also didn't believe in mental health. My father would always dismiss mental health by saying going to therapy was a waste of time "Go read a book or go do something productive". My mother would redirect my concerns by taking me to church. I don't blame them though. It was our culture and common for my parents generation to frown upon mental health.

However, the denial about self-care motivated me to become a therapist. Especially for my Latino community. There is a stigma about the Latino community working in the mental health field. And I wanted to be one of the first in my generation and culture to break down those barriers.  

Despite knowing I wanted to be in mental health from an early age, my parents would always argue and say, "You should be a lawyer. You have the character to be one. We say 'no', you say 'yes' then justify it with a million reasons. It's always been so difficult to argue with you."

So at San Francisco State University, I tried out the Criminal Justice and Psychology field as I double majored. But after taking classes and trying out internships, I realized CJ  just wasn't for me. 

One class did resonate with me though. It was called Raza276. With professor Trujillo

In that class, I learned so much about myself and our community. At the age of 20 years old, I learned that I wasn't the only one that struggled with their identity and sense of belonging. I finally felt understood. I finally felt like I could let loose and relate to someone else's story and speak freely of my experiences. We shared our stories of hiding from the police with our families or hiding our mental health from our own parents.

I related to so many who had to grow up feeling like they had to hide who they were from others because their parents had the label "undocumented". I always argued that we have more to show for ourselves than a piece of paper! 

However, my Mother's fear of the police when we were driving to the store said otherwise. Growing up, my parents wouldn't teach me to call the police if we were in trouble. It would create a reason for them to separate us, they'd say.  I was taught to run or call family members.

My mother would prepare me if she were to ever be deported. "This isn't a game. When you don't see me, you need to pack a bag for yourself and your sisters. Be prepared to call your tia or grandparents in California." She would say.

Those words were imprinted in my mind so much that every time I heard sirens while I was at school, I would have a panic attack. One time, I was sent to the school nurse because I couldn't breathe while I had a breakdown. The teacher thought I was having an asthma attack. When the school called my mom, she didn't understand what a panic attack was, apart from the language barrier.
"Que dijo? (What did they say?) " She'd ask 

But I refused to give another reason for her to worry so I just told her my stomach hurt. 

La India Maria

Despite my authenticity in the Latino community, I didn't ever feel like I quite fit in. As my family would get together, I would find myself forced to mingle with family members because "it was custom" or forced to speak in Spanish, because it was embarrassing to my parents if I didn't. I obliged. But of course, I was considered too 'American' or a 'gringa'. or as my abuela would say "Ni de aqui, ni de aya, eres una India Maria" (Neither from here nor from there, you're La India Maria)

In hindsight, I felt like I didn't know where I belonged. Who was I really?

Translating tax forms and legal documents for my parents at the age of 9 became the norm. By the time I was in high school, I became one of the popular kids. Not because my dad bought me a Mercedes at 16. But because I embraced in my "minority" label and became an "entrepreneur" aka "getting paid to do Spanish homework" for my fellow classmates. I went from being told "Go Back to Mexico" to "Can you teach me how to speak Mexican?" (Cringe, I know. But eventually, I would just roll my eyes instead of correcting them. The money spoke correctly)

One would say I had the best of both worlds. Like a Mexican-Hannah Montana. 

For the elementary school I attended in Maryland, I was considered 'the little Mexican girl' even-though my name was written on my name-tag and I repeated it several times. I was quiet and afraid to ever trust anyone, so the school assumed that I didn't understand or speak English so naturally, they put me in ESOL classes. 

I played along though. I got out of my regular classes, where there were some bullies. I got a free snack. What wasn't there to love? Eventually they caught on and passed me with flying colors.

Watching the World Cup game and seeing USA and Mexico play with my friends was a like a real-life metaphor for me. 

"Who are you rooting for?" They would ask me.

"I....I don't know. I'll just watch and see how it plays out, I guess. I support whoever wins" I would respond as I pasted a smile to mask my life-long confusion.

What side was I supposed to root for?

A Breakthrough

So not your average post but I took a deep dive to find the root of my indecisiveness for my career and where I am supposed to be. While I try to conquer the world, I know that my purpose has been to break generational curses.

I can be a supportive wife at home and be a working woman at the same time.

I can empower women while working in the mental health field.

I can claim more than one nationality. Because it's who I am.

I'm not just doing things for me, which is where imposter syndrome comes in, in my perspective.

I do it for kids who don't have anyone to understand them. For the little girl inside me that always wondered where she belonged. 

For my own little girls that I always assure them of love and respect.

I am here to say that you are not alone. You are seen. You should not backdown. You belong!

Your mental health is important, your feelings are important, more importantly, you're important!

And you know what? It's ok to be afraid but your voice will not go unheard. I promise. 

My name is Crystal, I am Mexican. I am Guatemalan and I am American. I wear many wear many hats but I will always be a mental health provider And I am here to step up and break that generational curse. 

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