PS. . .I love you

I write so often that I forget to speak. I feel through pen and paper as my heart beats out of my un-healed chest. People tell you it’ll get better but who’s to really tell how long it takes to pull yourself together after a heart break. How do you fix something that grew to such a magnitude in such a fraction of time? How do you explain the inexplicable? They. . .people, the doubters, will never understand.

You meet new people and you find renewed hope in their eyes. They charm you into believing they are there to fix the gaping hole that replaced a once whole heart. Yet here I am, bleeding out again, and this time, unlike ever before. Immediately after his absence I wandered back into those moments when I said forever and I meant it. My forever looked much different. He is a distant and unattainable forever. . .and even though he has always been far, this is final and painful. I find myself drifting off to the moments I laid in the dark from across the country feeling him down to my bare bones. I remember the spark of electricity that rocked me to my core when we said I love you. In those moments I allowed my soul to escape me as it embraced every part of him. I knew, this is it. That was the moment that people hope for, something most will never feel and I did. . .I do. It’s so powerful it hurts. I sit upright with this fake smile on my face and I’m empty. I had never felt so whole in my life and fulfilled by love but here I am just days after completely baron. In the blink of a scared eye, I shed an ugly light on myself and ruined every hopeful possibility. I hurt the heart of the one I swore to protect and obliterated my own in the same panic.

I was driving last night. It is one of my favorite things to do because I can think and clear my mind. I sat distraught in my car and shed inconsolable tears so that when I was ready I could walk into my home and pretend that I was not falling apart. Unfortunately there is no distance in this world that will allow me to outrun the love I have for this man. It is inescapable, it is powerful and more than anything I ever felt, it is painful. When you meet someone you have no idea what they will mean to you, or how they will impact your life. I in many ways wish I had never met him, only because of the excruciating pain I am in. I miss it all, the laughter, the love, the fabricated fantasies we had that would never become true. Even the stupid disagreements. He made me happy and now I’m dejected back into the reality that is life without him while fully knowing someone like him exists. It hurts and I don’t know how to fix myself. I wish I could put back all of the little pieces that so willingly threw themselves open for him. My heart is lacking and its pulsating and pumping to the rhythm of an open wound.

I feel like I am living two lives. The one where everything is just peachy and I work and come home and I’m that same hopeful person I have always been but then there is this other me, the me I am when I am sulking in the solace of a broken heart. There are moments when I sit with my back against the wall and I think of his eyes and I kid myself into believing I can draw a perfect memory of him. I touch my lips and I frown because the only reciprocity I have is that of my cold fingertips against my anguished smile, my lips will never know his. I hold my hands against my chest and I realize there is nothing there but pieces of anatomy. My heart is working but it is very much missing the one who once made it jump out of my chest. How in such an ellipses in time could I have loved to the point of my own detriment. As impossible as it seemed it happened in two hearts that lived on the same pages for a short run. I was foolish and jumped ahead only to lose it all.

To never hold that face in my palms, or hear a last I love you, that is my pain. No more giggles and silly, “what up tho,” I took these days for granted because I thought there was always going to be a tomorrow. The what if that will remain unanswered is all I have left. One day I know I’ll smile and be thankful for no matter the brevity, that I had a love so powerful. That day is not today, I am but a vessel of a woman, empty and angry because I am broken over the one that never belonged to me outside of my heart.

Je t’aimerai pour toujours mes yeux brillants.

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Love Shouldn’t be Blind

We are all different, but there are some of us who feel a bit more peculiar that others. I am one of those people. Being different makes me happy, even if it makes me stand out. That is why I feel that the phrase, “love with your heart and not with your eyes,” makes no sense. Of course I want to be loved and appreciated for everything I am, my character, my heart. . .but I also want to be loved for everything that people can see without looking within.

I feel as though we are constantly reminded to ignore looks so much that we negate the possibility that anything that is not normal can be beautiful. Flawed smiles and imperfect teeth, round bodies or thin physiques become the subject of apology and exception. We have become conditioned to love despite and not because.

When we first meet people it is impossible to take a look deep into their soul without first acknowledging and embracing what we see as a whole. The way they frown, the way they squint when they are thinking deeply. There are so many visual characteristics that we pass up when we apply the notion of loving blindly.

For a very long time I wanted people to give me a long enough chance to realize that I am more than the sum of my looks. I was loving myself despite. I was wrong. I don’t want exceptions to be made for me. I stand tall at over 67 inches, I have child bearing hips and my hair doesn’t fall perfectly in the morning. There are days where my smile is the quickest and easiest place to hide because all the things that make me who I am are hidden inside of a body that people are trained to accept, not love.

I was one of the many who missed out because I learned with exception. This is no longer acceptable. It hasn’t been for a long time and I realize now how damaging that perception has been to my own decision making.

One of my favorite things of getting to know people is memorizing the curves of their face, the pigment in their eyes and cementing the way my heart feels when I see them. The way their thoughts are emitted throughout their body. All these idiosyncratic things about them that I would not know if not by body language.

If I’d carry on ignoring the things that people closet because they aren’t perfect, I would miss out on the beauty and profound touch of the human condition.

 

What do you write?

There is a common thread among people who learn of my writing. “What do you write?,” they ask. . .sometimes I immediately want to say, what don’t I write but that does not satisfy the answer. I feel as though I write everything, so to me what matters most is why I write. I am a very spontaneous person in my every day conversational life. I say things unfiltered, I have my foot in my mouth half of the time and I mostly prefer that things be that way, with my foot as far away from the brakes as possible. I guess because at the core I am after all open to most people who ask questions with the right intention, however that is a very raw version of me. Yet, there are times when I like to sit back in my thoughts and let things process and do all the feeling that 100 mile a minute me does not give herself the opportunity to sort through.

Have you ever seen a movie that has that one scene where everyone else is doing one thing but one particular character stands out. There they are moving around aimlessly while everyone else in the scene is either frozen in time or on the flip side, the whole world is moving around them and they are stagnant. That person is me. Not left behind so to speak or going in one direction without a particular goal. . .but merely in observation of everything and everyone. Right now what I am sorting through is perspective. We all have them. . .good, bad or illogical our perspectives make complete sense to us but sometimes it is good to see things from another point of view.

There are two reactions I receive whenever I tell people I have a son in high school. . .it is either “Oh my god, you don’t look old enough to have a teenager,” to which I always smile in delight, or there is the, “Oh wow, sorry must be tough.” I guess with the way that a lot of kids act lately the latter response is warranted however it is sad. Why do people have such poor expectations of teenagers, they must forget who raised this generation.

As my son has gotten older, we have developed a different kind of relationship, one that I myself am amazed with. I understand him better than I ever have. He can articulate his feelings and without using these exact words he knows how to let me know when I am being a jerk. I am definitely one of those moms who takes no crap, however, I am human. I have yelled too much, or expected too much and even at times shared too much. I hurt feelings, I brighten his day, I am sure I even inflict terror but those are all things of a very wide spectrum of parenting.

The first time I held him in my arms I was so afraid. How could someone trust clumsy little me with such precious cargo? I will admit, I dropped him a few times but never on his head, (Jon if you read this, sorry, I love you, forgive me). Yet somehow we have arrived at the age where I can say, in 4 years I will be done. Eighteen is not too far away but from here to then and from then and beyond there is no such thing as done. I cherish every moment with this boy. I could spend hours with him, recording videos on snap chat and playing them in slow motion just because it makes him laugh. . .not just any laugh but this bright smile straight from the heart laugh that makes anyone lose their breath because it feels so good to feel so alive in that moment. Moments go by so fast but I notice everything and there is nothing comparable to what I feel for my son. I look at him in awe because if not for me he would have never been born, I am responsible for him, but also I would not be here and happy if not for him.

I remember his face on my graduation day, it has only been about 8 months since then. I went back and forth in my mind for years. There were nights where I studied for hours, moments when I had to tell him, “not now,” long nights and early mornings and they all led up to that day. I always felt like I was taking something from him, the time and attention he deserved. I felt guilty and even still sometimes but the beauty of life is that you get what you get when you need it most. I walked across the stage as they called my name and in the crowd there he was with a group of my closest family and friends. I held my composure and my excitement. I crossed my tassel the the left and I made my way outside to meet my friends. I hugged everyone as they came out, and anxiously awaited my sons arrival from inside the stadium. Suddenly there he was, he rushed to me, hugged me and as he cradled my head in his hand he said to me, “everything you have done, has been for me, I am proud of you mom.” . . .and then I lost it. Why? Because perspective. We tarnish a lot of things because of perspective. I felt like a bad mother because of my perspective but Jonathan’s perspective was all I needed to realize that mine was clouded. I am so thankful for my son and happy to be filling the pages of our lives with irreplaceable moments.  

 

Hey Stranger

I see a glimpse of you, In the shadows of stranded hair, a glimmer of hope, despite past despair 

Just a short time ago, there was nothing left, but ashes and memories, from the hole in your chest

But now I can see it, Through the glow in your eyes, You block out all the negative, Pessimism and lies 

You’ve accepted the truth, That you can change the path, Despite failed attempts, Now lesson plans

You don’t ever give up, Even when you should cry, When you’re broken and scared, But never ask why

You were the perfect stranger, But I now know you well, Fought through all kinds of soot, With your story to tell

A reflection of courage, The wrinkles in your smile, Bare skinned knuckles, And determined eyes

How far we’ve come, My reflection and me, I can cast a high shadow, Or cower in thee

Yet I fear not who I was, For the she that’s become of me, The former and the present, Now dance candidly 

For those of us starting over. . .

There is this crippling certainty of what we don’t want. We spent over a decade in a relationship knowing what it’s like being attached to the hip to someone. The very same someone who once knew us better than anyone else and yet never seemed to remember after countless conversations that, “no thank you, I don’t like peanut butter.”

The peanut butter wasn’t that much of a big deal it’s just the little things.

Day after day you found yourself taking the same route home, dropping your keys in the same spot and unwinding in a way that can only be done in a place called home. . .but little by little home dismantled itself and it was no longer your happy place.

So you let go, you live and you claim the type of independence that only comes after years of captivity. This is me now! This is how we spread our wings! We kindly decline any offers from others to assist because we have this innate desire to take care of ourselves. No I’m fine, I can get my own check, nope I am capable. I can, I will and I don’t need you!

I don’t know if it is because we left ourselves as precious cargo in the arms of someone who dropped us countless times. Maybe it is a post traumatic relationship disorder. . .I haven’t a clue.

But. . .I realize that independence can be found in a group, in a pair and even in a solitary walk to the park. Independence is the freedom to choose and be who you want regardless of what others say. Independence is knowing that you can change your own tire but you can choose to allow someone to do it for you because they simply want to help. Help is not weakness, it is not ulterior motives. . .it is what it is. . .it is, “I know you can do this but let me make it easier for you.”

There are men and women out there determined and willing to make another persons life easier and more pleasant but we are always so willing to say, “no thank you.”

We’ve been given such a big dose of reality that we fail to realize the fact that our once now past reality is just that. . .it is in the past. Not everyone is out to take advantage. There are people who offer to hold the door for you and place their hand in the right place and walk side by side with you, not because you’re their trophy but because they can see you. They see a potential equal. These guys don’t look at you like you’re only a woman and one to be desired but more of a worthy companion, someone who elevates them and also someone who is worth standing side by side with because we complete them. We are capable of fulfillment if we allow it but first we have to stop saying no and start accepting the offer to potentially be someone worth taking a walk with. Someone whose silence speaks volumes and whose embrace means the world.

I admit it, I don’t know how to let the reigns go but I want to. I can’t be the only single person who wishes they had a companion to share the laughs with but who also is afraid of giving up another moment to someone who may be just wasting their time.

Why

When I was a little girl, my father made decisions that would alter my life forever. His choices ultimately left me a fatherless daughter. That was a void that almost no one could fill. I don’t remember it all but I remember minor details prior to his departure. I was a daddy’s girl. I resembled him in spirit and in my appearance. There is no denying I am my fathers daughter if you’d have looked at us but he was up and away before he could leave a lasting impression. At 14 months of age my grandfather Felix became an integral part of my life. As the time went on I became a grandpa’s girl and the semblance of my father in my smile was all that remained of my father.

Over the years I convinced myself that I did not need my father because my grandfather Felix was the only man I felt I needed. Grandpa raised a good girl, a tough girl and helped heal a very broken little girl. I wish I could repay grandpa for everything he has done for me but I know all too well that if he were around he wouldn’t take as much as a moment away from me.

There are so many things that I didn’t learn from my father Jose that I was able to learn from grandpa Felix however there are so many things that shall remain unlearned and undone.

Last week I went to a wedding, it was beautiful and filled me with so much joy. I witnessed two wonderful people joining their lives and I felt honored to be in their presence. Yet, not everything was happy tears. There are those moments when you realize you are not as okay as you’d like to be with the hand you’ve been dealt. I am in the habit of recognizing the positives but once in a while I do think about the things I will never have, by no doing of my own of course. . .those very things stripped of me because of other peoples decisions.

I have always thought of the day I will get married, who will give me away, what my dress will look like, how my hair will be, the list goes on and on. As a little girl I always imagined that my grandfather would give me away, not realizing that he was going to leave me before he’d be given the opportunity. He passed away when I was 13 and after that my idea of a wedding changed a bit. I have some wonderful brothers whom I know would be elated to give me away and I actually look forward to that.

I take everything as it comes and while I made adjustments in my mind about what I picture for my perfect day, there is a moment I over looked. I sat at my friends wedding and soon after being introduced as Mr. and Mrs. for the first time, they began to dance as a newly married couple. I stood there with tears in my eyes as they sang to one another. It was incredibly sweet and then the groom passed the bride to his father for the father daughter dance. See, I do not know why her dad wasn’t there but at that moment I realized I wasn’t alone.

I didn’t sign up for a fatherless life but still on my wedding day I will be at a loss; I will not dance with my father and it crushed me that night when I realized it. The whole wedding is supposed to be special and the thought of not having my father dance with me at my wedding (whenever that may be) brought me to more than tears that night.

I cannot control everything that happens but I can try to make sure that history does not repeat itself. I have a responsibility to raised a good man. Everyday I instill morals and values into my son. I teach him to never lie, cheat or steal and to always be a boy of his word, until he grows up and becomes a man of his word. He is kind, he is compassionate and even though I know he cannot be perfect I am doing my best to make sure that he knows how wonderful it feels to be his mother. I do everything I do, all in the hopes that one day no one in his care will have to alter their life because of his deliberate absence.

I know how much it hurt to self sooth, I know what it is like to raise yourself and I feel I am a stronger person for it, but honestly sometimes I wish I had a parent to turn to. After all we are always going to be someone’s child and what child doesn’t need guidance from their parent?

The Pillar

Proud and built with a smile

She stands tall

For a little while

Her faith is wavered

Her hope is weak

Her pain is a badge

Only for her to keep

Through tumultuous pains

Uneven and weathered

She clings to her heart

Hoping it gets better

For strangers

She’s solid, unbroken and meek

Yet on her shoulders she holds the world

Without a budge or a blink

In plain sight

She puts up no fight

Hoping that people believe she’s alright

Too proud for her weakness

She broadens her smile

She knows how to do it

She’s done it for a while

Tears are crippled behind her stare

Nothing out of place

Not even her hair

Very put together

Polished and complete

Stands the little brown girl from the pillar

Who fought for love and had to retreat

The Pink Slip

No matter how hard we try in life, all of our relationships end up much like a career. No one knows in the beginning how a relationship is going to end. However; at some point things take a different turn. We realize that we are no longer interested in that job. Or that you are doing more than you are getting paid for. In some instances we start a job as a means to an end or as a stepping stone to our true career path. No matter the situation I have come to realize that no matter how amicable the ending is. No matter how much all parties agree to disagree, there is always going to be water cooler talk. Someone is always going to say there was foul play regardless of what the individuals say out loud. In the end the truth always comes out, whether you are a slacker and are just getting by until the bitter end. No matter how insignificant your job is, it will always be the next step toward improving yourself and getting closer to what you really want.