Dine's Ethos

I find it hard to believe that I’ve been alive for almost 29 years. That’s crazy. 29 years and I still feel so unsure in my existence. 29 years and I still feel like a fawn learning how to walk.

The past nine months have carved in me the importance of perspective, gratitude, and resilience. Those are the only things between me and standing in the middle of the freeway at this point. (It’s a joke.)

I’m in such a soul-searching phase of my life, even more so than I was before, and it’s making me so frustrated. So frustrated that I sometimes cry. Emotional regulation where? When will I embrace that I can’t dictate how things are supposed to be? It’s a battle between who I am in the present and who I think I should be – in my growth, my emotional strength, my finances, my career… everything.

A few months ago, I thought that my way forward was clear – is clear. I thought, finally I know what I want. Yet again, I’ve been proven wrong. I am back to being unsure. Second-guessing my decisions. Doubting dreams that once felt certain. I wonder if I’ll ever reach a point where my mind finally quiets.

Because of my age, my doctor said I’ll probably need two or three kidney transplants in my lifetime. That means if I move back to Samoa, there will come a time when I’ll have to return to Utah again. For how long, who knows? Transplant lists don’t follow anyone’s timeline. So now I find myself second-guessing my decision to go back. Why move back when I’ll eventually have to leave again? Why am I so drawn to moving back? And how do I know if the reasons pulling me back are the right ones?

Of course, I talked to my therapist about it, and she asked me the simplest, hardest question: “What makes you happy?” She told me to stop overthinking every variable and just consider my own happiness. Which is funny, because I thought therapy was supposed to give me clarity – not more questions, lol.

She pointed out that 15-20 years is a long time and if I move back, that’s a long time for me to be happy. Maybe by then, I’ll have given enough of myself to be able to let go of Samoa. So now I’m left asking the obvious question: What should I do?

All the issues that existed when I first moved back to Samoa last year are still there – the pay difference, the quality of life, the lack of convenience, the limited choices, the distance from family. And now there’s a new weight: medical care. The pay gap has only widened. I’d be earning more than the AG of American Samoa by staying here. Eventually, I could be making twice her salary. Money. Always money. Is it ever anything else?

One thing I loved about living in Samoa was the simplicity. Life stripped itself down to the basics, and I had to follow. In one year, I spent less than half of what I’d spent the previous year in Utah. That still blows my mind. It showed me I could live, truly live, even with a pay cut.

But the what-ifs never leave. The pressure that comes with a law degree. Albeit self-imposed. The silent expectation that I should always be making six figures and more. That as a first-generation lawyer, I owe it to my family to build generational wealth.

I have a friend who always presses me with the ame questions: Why are you doing all this? Who are you trying to build all this success for? Who will it matter to when you’re gone?

And honestly… it’s me. It’s always been me, and the people who raised me. My parents, my siblings, the younger version of myself who wanted to be great. I like beautiful things. I like comfort. I want ease after years of effort. I’ve spent most of my life in school, and now that I’m a practicing attorney, why wouldn’t I work hard to achieve what I want? Is that too selfish of me? I want to travel. To buy things simply because I desire them. To donate to causes that resonate with me.

Is that naive? Simplistic? Am I being egotistical?

This has my parents quietly panicking, because I have shown no interest in marriage or children. Their faith and Samoan traditions shape their view of what happiness looks likes, and I know they worry. My dad says he believes I can be happy, but there’s a unique joy that comes from having a partner and children.

I can see how much it scares them that I might never experience that in this lifetime. And that troubles me, not for myself, but because I can see how deeply they believe it.

Ua leiloga se mea seh. But how can I change how I feel?

Now I’m back in American and I can feel my soul slowly being sucked dry. (Lol. What am I if not dramatic?) I didn’t think I’d miss my old job this much. It’s been months since I’ve been in court. I honestly miss it. I never thought I’d say that. I didn’t find my love for the courtroom until I moved back to Samoa. I didn’t realize how alive it made me feel until I gave it up. It’s a love-hate relationship. It’s exhilarating. Even when I was getting my ass handed to me by the bench, I still enjoyed it.

I feel like I’m missing out. Like I’m behind where I’m supposed to be. I’d be more useful working in the courtroom right now. Getting more litigation experience. Zoning in. Continuing my volunteer work. But being away from the place that shaped me… it’s changed my drive. Is that selfish to say?

I’m trying not to tie my worth to my usefulness. To stop feeling like I have to earn permission to take up space. To believe I’m allowed to exist without constantly proving my productivity. But damn… it’s hard.

I’ve realized it wasn’t even my diagnosis that kicked me on my ass. It was leaving so suddenly. Maybe it’s because it wasn’t on my own terms. I think that’s what I’ve struggled with the most. I don’t know how to not struggle with it? Is it just time that needs to pass? Letting go was more jarring than finding out my kidneys weren’t functional. Isn’t that just insane? 

The thoughts spiral again and again. Almost 29, and yet life feels strangely mundane.