I don’t think people talk enough about the guilt that comes with wanting a different life than the one your parents imagined for you. Not because you hate your family. Not because you’re ungrateful. But because you want things they don’t really understand. Growing up in an African household, I was taught that there was a certain path you were supposed to follow. Go to school. Get a good job. Be responsible. Don’t take risks. Don’t do too much. Don’t ask for too much. And for most of my life, I tried to follow that.

But the older I get, the more I realize that I want things that don’t always fit into that picture. I want my own apartment. I want my own car. I want to make enough money that I don’t have to ask anybody for anything. I want to create content. I want to write. I want to build something that’s mine. I want the freedom to wake up one day and know that the life I’m living is a life I chose for myself. The problem is that every time I think about those things, there’s always a little bit of guilt attached to it. Because how do you explain to people that love you why you want something different? How do you tell people who sacrificed so much for you that the life they pictured for you isn’t exactly the life you picture for yourself? Sometimes it feels like I’m living two different lives. There’s the version of me at home. Then there’s the version of me at college. At home, I feel like I have to explain every little thing. Why I want to do something. Why I think differently. Why I want more independence.

At college, I don’t feel that pressure as much.I can think for myself. I can make decisions for myself. I can figure out who I am outside of being somebody’s daughter, somebody’s sister, somebody’s example. And honestly, every time I go back to school, it feels like I can finally breathe again. For the longest time, I thought something was wrong with me for wanting that freedom. I thought maybe I was selfish. Maybe I was asking for too much. Maybe I should just be happy with what everybody else wanted for me. But I’ve realized that wanting your own life doesn’t make you a bad person. Wanting independence doesn’t mean you don’t love your family. Wanting to move out doesn’t mean you’re abandoning anybody. Wanting more for yourself doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful for what you’ve been given. It just means you’re growing up. And I think that’s something a lot of first-born daughters struggle with.

We’re so used to carrying expectations that we start feeling guilty for having our own dreams. We feel guilty for wanting to make our own choices. We feel guilty for wanting a little space to figure out who we are. But lately, I’ve been trying to remind myself of something. My dreams aren’t wrong just because other people don’t understand them. And maybe one day they’ll make sense to everyone else. Maybe they won’t. Either way, I don’t want to spend my whole life shrinking my goals to make other people comfortable. I want my own apartment. I want my own car. I want financial freedom. I want to build something I’m proud of.

And for once, I’m trying not to feel guilty for wanting those things. Do you relate? Let me know.