Learn Spanish. Run away to Bueanos Aires. Find a milonga. Learn the tango.
Have lots of wonderful sex with lots of wonderful hairy-chested men with caramel skin and eyes like melted chocolate. Men called Jesus and Raoul, Felipe and Isadore. My children would be called Enrique and Consuela, Ricardo and Guadalupe, Earn a meagre living reading the tarot and selling love spells and be called the "Mad English Cat Lady" because I feed all of the stray dogs and cats in the favelas, and take in the orphaned children.
I would die comparatively young - probably at the hands of a jealous wife, in a tequila-fuelled bar fight in a run-down cantina. All of my children - those of my body and those I adopted, would mourn me and continue to take care of all of my dogs and cats (and other children who need their help).
One of my many sons will probably join the priesthood and become the Bishop of Bueanos (Sanchez - he's always been a challenging boy, but my death has shocked him into the church and his faith just grows and grow). I never achieve sainthood - that suits me - but I am definitely influential in how Bishop Sanchez Viper doesn't let the government get away with anything and fights for the rights of the poor.
(Why, yes. This is something I've ponderered on before. 🤔
What makes you ask? 😶)