Four Lanes, One Brain
Spanish for the mundane: pedir un café, quejarme del colectivo, charlar con amigos. English for work: tasks, structure, problem-solving, clarity. Spanish again when feelings come out: enojo, amor, nostalgia. Creole for pain: anmweee, the sound more than the word. French… eh, toujours un peu oublié, comme l’enfant le plus difficile. Mais il est là, stubborn, hanging on.
And sometimes they don’t stay in their lanes. English sneaks in when I’m trying to explain algo complicado. Spanish jumps in when I’m frustrated at work. Creole spills out without warning when something hurts. French? French likes to make itself rare, popping up in the weirdest moments, comme pour me rappeler qu’il existe.
So my brain is not just switching codes; it’s running parallel universes. And then, le soir, I’m tired, épuisée. Y después me pregunto por qué. But claro… my mind has been living cuatro vidas at the same time.