Tag: journey

A Year Plus

One year and six months…547 days…lots and lots of hours, minutes, seconds. Each second your absence is felt acutely, deeply. Life continues, even when I want it to…STOP! Your room is still the same. Your bed has the same sheets, unwashed, to preserve your essence. Remember Cam (a stuffed animal)? You held that thing, close to your face. Now, I hold it to my face. I miss YOU!

I saw some of your friends on Sunday, they miss you too. It was difficult to be around them, but it was good. Someone said to me, “We are glad you are here. We miss Angie so much. By you being here, we feel like we have a piece of her.” Angie, I hadn’t thought of that. You are missed by so many.

The holidays are coming. Goodness, how you loved the holidays. Not sure how it’s going to be, but hey, today is here. I’ll just do “today”. We will see about “tomorrow”.

I long to hold you, to hear you, to simply be with you. Time makes it feel like you are further and further away. Pictures and videos are just not cutting it. However, I am so thankful for technology, and that I have those videos with your voice and beautiful face. I view them often.

I LOVE YOU so very much and MISS YOU to no end ❤

My Family

Greetings from from my neck of the woods, and no I am not little red riding hood 😉   Thank you to all the new follows and likes. Whether you visit or stay a while, I am grateful for each and every one of you fellow sojourners.

Some reasons I Write… And I Write…

A time of great celebration and joy. Little did we know what was around the corner, however, this day was a day of making wonderful memories. Tomorrow is not here, yesterday is past, today is what we have. Those around us are precious gifts. Let us lavishly love! Let us dance like nobody is watching, and even if someone is watching…let them see YOU – dancing, crying, smiling, splattered on the floor…let them see the real you. TODAY is a gift…what will we do with it?

 

Stigma

The stigma and shame behind “labels” can create enormous havoc in an already broken and fragile state of mind. The struggle to cope and understand is greatly affected by once upbringing and the prevailing mindset of those around you.

I grew up in an environment where the mindset was that you fended for yourself and vigilantly hid any sign of weakness. Talking about “it” was a resounding NO…not an option. Going to the doctor was not an option, either, let alone a mental health specialist. Finances were slim to nothing. Any monies had would go to feeding the many mouths that begged for a piece of tortilla to appease their growling stomachs.

Any reference to a psychiatrist or psychologist was in disgust or disdain saying, “that person must be totally crazy to go to that! That’s not needed. They are good for nothing.”

There was an auntie who dared to venture into that forbidden territory. Oh, the things that were whispered about her. Those words cut to the heart. No one else dare venture out. They did not want to be part of those cutting conversations and side glances.

Do to extreme circumstances, another family member saw herself in need of venturing out. She did, however, in the strictest most hidden way. No one must know. Eventually, she stopped going. Maybe it was too difficult to keep up the front…we will never know. In her ultimate darkest moment, the “help” needed was denied and with no power to keep fighting, she ultimately succumbed to it all.

Many months have ensued, the memory of accepting my medical doctor’s advice comes to mind. The initial phone call. The first appointment. All the voices within and without. The fight to not get up from that chair. The fight to not flee that office…to run out. Each session, a struggle to accept.

I think I’m starting to accept…I think I’m starting to give my therapist a chance…I think this is NOT weakness, but strength…I think this is not shameful, but a necessity.

~ ~ ~ AND…it is…OK ~ ~ ~

Junior High

Her awkwardness was evident. Not really sure she belonged. She and her mother had ventured a long way from their quaint little village. A never ending, so it seemed, highway brought them to the much talked about “norte”. All she knew was that she was with her mother on a journey to “visit” her Dad. At 9 years of age, no details are needed, just that you are going on a trip. Little did she know that “el norte” would become home.

Years passed rapidly since their arrival and now here she was in another unknown, chaotic environment, where puberty was at its peak. Who knew “bullying” would become such a hot topic? Who knew “mean girls” would be made into a movie? All she knew was she needed to find a way to survive. Why was it that every place she went, including “home” was a fight to stay alive? Life and the pursuit of purpose and meaning continued, hoping to find less pain.

She was not one of “them”. She was not one of “those”. Where did she belong? Where did she fit in? Her clothes had no label, but always clean. Her shoes needed to last and last, cause unless they were falling apart, she would not get another. Who knew outfits needed to match? Well, she knew, she just couldn’t do anything about it. New clothes and shoes and supplies for the school year was not in her radar.

Mr. Diaz was a kind man. He invited her to “The Mecha Club”. She decided to go, maybe she’d fit in? Who knew? Walking in with heavy feet – her feet have been heavily dragging for most of her life – there she was. Her thrift store attire was no match for this clean and pressed group. Stared at, looked up and down to see if she matched the criteria…if she fit in. What torture for a girl who couldn’t hang with the outside crowd, but she sure didn’t seem to fit in with the in crowd.

What was it that attracted her to the gang life? She sure didn’t fit in. She sure didn’t belong. Somehow she managed to get “similar” clothes, tried the make up and hair look AND got the nickname “La Sleepy” — how’s that for a fear inducing name?

Initiation antics followed. Alcohol and dabbling in other illegal substances. Although alcohol had already been the numbing agent of choice. It was the only way to numb the pain of the abuse ( The Runaway).

Junior High, a bridge between kidhood and younghood. A place where fitting in felt more like a pinball machine, however, the “scoring” was way, way off. And, being an immigrant girl with an accent did not help the volley from one place to another, from one group to another.

It seems like ages ago, and yet so readily available in the memory bank. Survived, and life continued with more road to travel on this journey of life.

Valuable Dirt

What draws me here? What do I expect to find? Is it that I am sorely aware that your shell is beneath this manicured lawn? No amount of decorations, beautiful though they are, can remove the agony of reality. Every bug, every worm a horrible reminder of ones end. From dust we came, to dust (dirt) we will return.

As the reel of my mind plays and replays those horrid images, which threaten to undo what little sanity remains, I have to purposefully make the choice to think and meditate on images of heaven – you are whole, complete, full of joy! There is no other way for this Momma’s heart to find comfort and solace.

Almost a year and a half of your departure, AND it still feels surreal. I’m learning to accept that this “feeling” will be part of me until the day I take that same journey and we are united again. Oh, how that day drags on…endlessly painful…my eyes blurred to the horizon.

Do you think of me? Do you miss me? Of course NOT, that would be torture! I know…I live it! No, this isn’t living…I’m barely enduring it!

Death, the ultimate separation. The gut wrenching reality we will all have to face. No one escapes it!

“Grief has a way of lodging itself in the body…There is a substance to sorrow, a gritty reality and physicality that, if left untended, has the power to choke out one’s hope.” ~ Annie Parsons

Introvert

From “Introvert Nation Movement” FB Page:

“You look pissed off, what’s wrong?” It’s just my face…

“I don’t always have time to call people back, but when I do, I don’t”

“I hate when someone rings my doorbell because then I have to drop whatever I’m doing to be silent and pretend I’m not home”

Finally getting some “balance” from the horrible spiral of last weekend. In one of my “sitting staring at nothing” episodes, I scrolled through this FB Page. Social Media triggers me to no end, so I had been taking a break from it. I found this page by “mistake” as I was looking through my daughter’s FB page (something I do often).

I’ve been told that I am “the life of the party”. Now, I’m wondering if it was all a masquerade (Plastic Faces).

Some posts are hilarious and made for a good laugh. While others are material for deep thought.

Have you ever had one of those “aha, moments” when you realized that you are different than what you thought?

Back from Oz

Back from the land of Oz. And, by the way, I never found that yellow brick road or the Wizard. I guess that’s just a fairy tale :-/

I decided to get away for a few days with a friend I hadn’t seen in a few years. The decision making was a grueling back and forth process, but I was proud of myself for finally making the decision to go. However, this chaotic brain of mine seems to have forgotten to upload the latest upgrade: “Girl, you can’t! Not right now!”

Acceptance…a fluid place to arrive. Just when I think I’m there, I realize that I’m still fighting it. What is it that makes me want to please people? What is it that makes me want to do my old normal, when I am acutely aware of my new normal? What is normal? Questions, questions that bounce around in this very noisy and jumbled head of mine.

I ventured off into new territory without my safe place and my safe people. Yikes! Just typing this makes me cringe. Add to this the noisiness and crowds of airports. The crammed quarters of airplanes. Well, no wonder all my senses were on high alert and I was being triggered over and over again..

Finally arriving at my destination…phew, a sigh of relief! The smile and hug of a friend…into the car and off we go…a fun time awaits us.

Blah, blah, blah…talk, talk, talk…directions in hand…smiles, laughs – – – – – – –

SCREECH, SLAM, S—L—O—W—M—O……………………………….three car pile up, we are rear ended!!!

It’s all a blur…somehow, I got out of the car, sat on the curve clutching my daughters animal pillow (a comfort accessory). More noises – people, sirens…lots and lots of noises.

⇐⇐⇐Total Meltdown⇒⇒⇒

I’m home in my safe place with my safe people…recovering. Life continues at snail pace, but it continues. Thankful for a place called home 😀

Depth

I read this on a page in FB called Introvert Nation:

“I don’t think people understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on inside your head when you don’t even understand it yourself.”

On a total side note, I think I’m an introvert…just sayin!

Anywho, I decided to do something I used to do (in the dinosaur ages, so it seems). I used to write in a more “today” kinda-way, with a sort of pondering/meditating to the flow of the writing piece. Although I really enjoy writing in any kind of way.

In my FB Memories a video popped up from 3 years ago. It gives 5 points that encouraged and prompted me to “guide” my thoughts. Encouraged by Natalie Goldberg when she said, “if you are not afraid of the voices inside you, you will not fear the critics outside you.” Here goes…

1) “Own Your Own Happiness” – I’m 52 years old. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done. I can’t please all of the people, all of the time. It’s exhausting! Critics are everywhere. I’ve been a professional and a stay at home mom. I’ve had my children in public school, private school, homeschool. I’ve been crazy out in the world and settled and homie (some critics would still say that I’m still just plain-ol-crazy…hey, they might be right!). Just to name a few things…and I’ve been criticized for every single one of them.

2) “Challenge Your Own Story” – I hate the word “victim”! I dislike being pitied! I’ve been molested, raped, assaulted, beaten, BUT I refuse to let this define me! Each “season” I’ve lived and, by God’s grace, have come THROUGH has made me who I am today. However, I will not stay quiet about who I am and where I’ve been. No shame in my game! This season of my life has me sunk in deep sorrow and grief from the loss of my beautiful daughter. I deal with crying all the time, thoughts of suicide, PTSD, panic attacks…AND I’m not ashamed to talk about it or write about it. I don’t need to hide (unless it’s a really bad day, then I’ll be under the covers for most of the day).

3) “Enjoy the Journey (NOT just the destination)” – Today is a gift! Be fully present. Enjoy the baby years; the toddler years, even the teenage years of your children. Enjoy those soccer games, baseball games, valet, recitals. Enjoy the house full…the empty nest will come soon enough. Enjoy that you can jump and run and eat whatever you want, cause, people, I’m here to tell you that “season” comes to an end really quick. Enjoy the sunrise, that sunset…the moon and the stars. Enjoy that cup of coffee, that donut or that salad. Don’t miss today while you are stuck in the past or reaching for tomorrow. Celebrate along the way! There is JOY in the process.

4) “Make Relationships Count” – Trust even when you’ve been betrayed. Don’t carry others mistakes to the new relationships. Don’t get “historical”, stop keeping lists. This person is here for this moment in time. Friendships are messy (this is a continual struggle for me…still), but still be open to friendships. Know the difference between friends and acquaintances. Some will stay for a while, others just for a moment, but each will leave an imprint on your life journey.

5) “Balance Work and Play” – Everything is not serious everyday. Take time to be silly. Take time to laugh. Take time to dance. Your “job” will continue even without you. For 10 months my entire focus was my daughter. We colored, played dots, got pedicures, took naps together…I will NEVER regret having put everything on hold. I’ve been told that now it’s “my time”, that I’m free to do things I enjoy. Guess what? That was “my time” AND life was still happening…it did not stand still. Things were accomplished in those 10 months that stories are of. No mega trial brief could top that time with my girl.

Thank you for taking the time to read. Thank you for “walking” with me. One step at a time is all it takes, and if you need to sit, that’s ok, too 🙂

My Beautiful Girl

My Beautiful Girl (Angie) was born June 3, 1986. She was named after her paternal grandmother, whom she loved. I wonder if they are singing together in heaven? Abuelita Jelo loved to sing.

All of my pregnancies were difficult. I had two miscarriages before we had our first born prematurely, with minimal issues. Then I got pregnant with Angie and the difficulties continued with the added trauma of having a drunk man fall on me late into the pregnancy. Angie was born between 6-7 months (don’t remember exactly) with difficulty breathing due to her underdeveloped lungs. She was placed in an incubator and given medication and care for her tiny, frail body. Angie didn’t get to come home with me because she still needed to stay in the incubator a little bit longer. She finally came home with lots of instructions and medications. I am so thankful for my sister who loved both my children as if they were her own. She helped me care for this tiny girl. Angie would “forget to breath”, she still needed to have Mommy breathe for her. She had to learn to breath on her own. This caused for her brain to be deprived of oxygen, which in turn caused further developmental delays. Those were, I thought, difficult days.

Sometimes I just need to remember. Sometimes I just need to “tell” somebody about her. Sometimes saying and seeing her name brings so much comfort and joy.

ANGIE, my precious little girl…fearfully and wonderfully made. Each day a miracle; each day a gift. Each day a milestone; each day defeating the odds. Each day of your life is engraved on my heart and mind. AND each day you are gone brings heart ache and pain. I will miss you until the day I have you in my arms again ❤