I wrote a blog in which I would fully disclosed why I left. I was going to share every single detail. The meeting where I was accused of being unprofessional and not an advocate for students. The confrontation when a director threatened me and my students saw it all. The meeting with a friend/colleague where he wanted to be understood but did not seek to understand me. I was going to share in bright details all the times I hear rumors fabricated by colleagues. How I had to quickly learn to utilize my resources and how I was advised to try to endure and seek for help within the department. Good advice that had the main objective to keep me away from reporting my experience to HR. I wrote a blog about it all. When I finished it I realized that it was oozing with poison. Why I left was not important. Why I wanted to stay was.
I arrived at Oregon State University in 2011 with hope and nervousness in my heart. I was ready to change the world and still unprepared to be changed. I had some amazing times at OSU. I made lifelong friendships, I found an amazing mentor, and I had the privilege to supervise some of the best student leaders. I had a purpose in my role at OSU. Of course there was adversity and every time adversity was at my door I had a support system. My last months at OSU were dark. There were errors made and I was present to pick up my responsibility but it seemed that I was the only present to do that. The students noticed and I wondered what I did wrong. I still wonder what I could have done better. I have identified some of the lessons and I am trying to figure out the rest. I know that there are many speculations of what truly happened and all I can tell you is that it was my time to go and still I wanted to stay.
I wanted to stay because I had a family there. A family that for better or worse had been decreasing in numbers due to the changes in leadership. In the rough times, we had each other's backs. Whether it was a late night dinner, pie shakes, or some good BBQ; I had a friend group that was with me in the hell. I had weekly lunches with an area of RDs that are compassionate and talented. My family at OSU had seen me grow. They cheered for me and in times of adversity we stood strong to be able to keep going. We were in it to win it.
I had a duty to care and guide the student leaders that believe in me and those that trusted me. I had a staff team that was loyal to me and to see them shine was the ultimate reward. One of my favorite memory was in staff training at the community service project. All I remember is a day of exhaustion and dancing to DMX's "Party Up." They inspired me to be the best. They had my "back-pack." I have a favorite memory that involves them all. When life was cruel to me, they would find ways to help me find strength to continue on. I wanted to stay to serve them.
I wanted to stay to be part of the change in a positive manner. At the end of the day, I was loyal to OSU but somewhere along the way I allowed this loyalty outweigh the loyalty to myself. I wanted to stay because of all the favorite memories that were shared in the Finley staff room. I wanted to stay because my team and the Fab 5 had my back everyday. I wanted to stay to see them graduate. I wanted to stay to prove the doubters wrong.
I loved my time there because of the students and colleagues that showed me empathy and love. I learned and grew so much in that place in the valley. I wanted to stay because I believed things would get better and they will...but I am not going to be part of it and I am not going to see it and that is okay.
My truth is that at the end I was being pushed out. My last weeks at OSU were filled with fear and I had zero trust in the leadership so I made the decision to leave before the harm destroyed me.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
#RAWarrior
When I was 8 years old I lost my grandmother to diabetes and other complications brought on by this horrible disease. At the time I did not know what diabetes was and the history in my family. All I knew was that this disease took my beloved grandmother. In 2009, diabetes took my maternal grandmother. Later it took an uncle and an aunt. Diabetes runs in my family. Thankfully, my mother and father have not been affected by this disease and even now they are diabetes-free. As I grew older and having become an aunt, I always thought to myself and somewhat hoped that I would be the one to be diagnosed with diabetes as long as my niece and nephews could live their lives diabetes-free. In my mind, I would rather carry all the pain for them. I want them to live a life fill with energy and freedom. I have witnessed how this disease sucks the life out of you and entraps you a little bit everyday. I, for the longest time, viewed myself as extremely lucky in my short life I have accomplished so much. So I always thought it was the least I can do. Carry the pain of those that I love so that they can live a more fulfilling life. Little did I know that I have always carried the pain.
The notion of being superwoman has demolish in front of me. Last October, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. An autoimmune disease in which your immune system attacks your joints. Yes, my own immune system for some unknown reason is attacking my joints. I am lucky that I got such an early diagnosis. I began showing symptoms in July of 2013, very "subtle" symptoms. By February 2014, I unknowing was having flares every month. I would go to the doctor and try to explain verbally what pain I felt but I just couldn't properly communicate. There were times that I just point to my shoulders and say, "I hurt!" I was frustrated but I kept working and pretended to have a "normal life". I worked hard and at times I hid to people that I was in pain. I was good at it...in the beginning. By May, I was getting tired by 2 pm every day. It did not matter what I did, the exhaustion settle in hard! In August, some of my fingers were swollen and at times I could not grasp a pen or write. I did not tell people hoping that it would get better. My doctor blamed stress but I knew that something was not right. This was beyond stress. At one point, I had convinced myself that I had successfully broken myself. My motto of "work and be happy" had failed me. I worked and became ill.
Later that October, I woke up one day not being able to move my left arm. I went to work for the day and the next day I went to immediate care. When I told all my symptoms to the RN, she immediately ordered blood work. She told me that it might Lupus, Lyme Disease, or Rheumatoid Arthritis. Whatever the case, I remember her looking at me and telling me that she would bring me closer to diagnosis. By mid-October, I was referred to a Rheumatologist. In my first appointment, the doctor looked at me listened to my symptoms and checked my mobility. At this point my hands were only at 60% of mobility. I remember breaking down in his office and just telling him that I want to be better. I did not want to be my old self, I just wanted to be able to walk and being able to sit down and not feel discomfort. Dr. Drew looked at me and told me that, he was going to do just that. He had to order more blood work to make sure that he would not misdiagnosed. By the end of October, he told me that I had RA. We discussed treatment options and he shared his concerns. I asked him if my RA would get worse. He smiled and told me that it wouldn't. He reassured me that things would get better. I got my marching orders and went on with my day.
The notion of being superwoman has demolish in front of me. Last October, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. An autoimmune disease in which your immune system attacks your joints. Yes, my own immune system for some unknown reason is attacking my joints. I am lucky that I got such an early diagnosis. I began showing symptoms in July of 2013, very "subtle" symptoms. By February 2014, I unknowing was having flares every month. I would go to the doctor and try to explain verbally what pain I felt but I just couldn't properly communicate. There were times that I just point to my shoulders and say, "I hurt!" I was frustrated but I kept working and pretended to have a "normal life". I worked hard and at times I hid to people that I was in pain. I was good at it...in the beginning. By May, I was getting tired by 2 pm every day. It did not matter what I did, the exhaustion settle in hard! In August, some of my fingers were swollen and at times I could not grasp a pen or write. I did not tell people hoping that it would get better. My doctor blamed stress but I knew that something was not right. This was beyond stress. At one point, I had convinced myself that I had successfully broken myself. My motto of "work and be happy" had failed me. I worked and became ill.
I began to go public with my health troubles; mainly because I couldn't hide it. This came with a mixed of reactions. Some friends (very close friends, in fact) would tell me that it was all in my head and that I needed to relax. This, of course, would hurt and infuriate me. A few friends would be very supportive. They would push me to demand answers from my doctor. One friend told me straight up that I needed to go to a Rheumatologist. At the time, I had no idea what that was and I was also afraid of a diagnosis. I was not ready as dumb as that sounds. I hated the pain but I was so scared of the diagnosis that carried the pain. By September, those around me were worried and I was defeated. I did not know what to do, I was lost. I felt and held on to so much pain. I would feel like a fool for taking so many things for granted. Like being able to walk, sit down, tie my shoes, hold a pen, write, and so on. I, at times, thought that pain was going to be my life. I remember talking to my best friend and telling her that I was going to just give up. I remember telling her, "this is it, my illness wins!" Her response was, "No, you are fighter. You don't give up." At the time, I did not believe her. I was ready to surrender. This same month I had to disclose to my staff what little I knew of my condition. I was not ready for that but I couldn't hide it. When I told them, I was showered with empathy and kindness. This rejuvenated me. One October 8th, I called in sick to work. I woke unable to move. I remember spending the whole morning crying and helpless. That day in the afternoon I receiving a text from an RA saying exactly what I needed. I felt loved.
Later that October, I woke up one day not being able to move my left arm. I went to work for the day and the next day I went to immediate care. When I told all my symptoms to the RN, she immediately ordered blood work. She told me that it might Lupus, Lyme Disease, or Rheumatoid Arthritis. Whatever the case, I remember her looking at me and telling me that she would bring me closer to diagnosis. By mid-October, I was referred to a Rheumatologist. In my first appointment, the doctor looked at me listened to my symptoms and checked my mobility. At this point my hands were only at 60% of mobility. I remember breaking down in his office and just telling him that I want to be better. I did not want to be my old self, I just wanted to be able to walk and being able to sit down and not feel discomfort. Dr. Drew looked at me and told me that, he was going to do just that. He had to order more blood work to make sure that he would not misdiagnosed. By the end of October, he told me that I had RA. We discussed treatment options and he shared his concerns. I asked him if my RA would get worse. He smiled and told me that it wouldn't. He reassured me that things would get better. I got my marching orders and went on with my day.
Here we are 3 months later and I am not at 100% but my pain is manageable. I know that I have limits. Right now, I still feel that I am my condition. I am RA. I am hopeful that one day I will view my condition as a part of me not a definition of myself. I still worry that my treatment will need to change because eventually my body will become resist to the medication. I have yet to get comfortable disclosing my condition. I am sure that when folks see me drop an object or see me bump into an object they label me as clumsy. This is a reminder of the invisibility of RA (and most chronic illnesses) and for now I am in the search of being an activist in this world of RA. Thankfully, I have great allies that support me and check up on me. I send updates on FaceBook mainly to bring awareness and for myself since I know that one day I will an RA warrior; until then I am in repair.
Monday, February 17, 2014
In between two worlds...
I am 29 years old and I am a Chicana and Latina that aspires to pay it forward and pay it back. I will give back to honor the many mentors and teachers that believed in me. To the mentor that would tell me that being Chicana was not going to be an identity that will limit me but the identity that would help me flourish. To the mentor that took me under his wing and made sure I learned valuable lessons about "playing nice" and being advocate. To the teacher and mentor that would remind me day in and day out that my duty was to make sure students were happy at least once a day during their college careers.
One of the most valuable lessons that I have learned in my career journey is that I live in between two worlds. The world that nurtured me and gave me morals and values and the world that taught me about myself. I was born and raised in two different nations that share a border because they have to not because they want to. I live a life in the states and in Mexico. I was viewed as different in both worlds. Too Mexican in one world and not Mexican enough in other world. I live in the world that believes in change and advocacy and I belong to a world of struggle and hard work. Both of these worlds feed my soul and enrich me in so many levels. I stay in the world of change and advocacy because my world of struggle and hard work taught me to be great and fearless. I never feel the need to choose but I always choose to remember the world that raised me. The world where I had the never ending of losing my mother and sisters due the flawed immigration reform. A world were social class created a culture of poverty that would rarely let go of you. A world where the simpler things in life made me happy and where your neighbors were fictive kin.
For a long time, I thought I would have to choose a world. I thought that to leave my world can lead to selling out and now I realize that this is a myth that people have made up when they do not understand your purpose. If anything, I have learned that I can explain with precise detail my upbringing and still people would view it through their lens and imagine that best way they can. When this occurs the only thing that you can do is hope that your storytelling skills painted a picture that made your experience justice. Being in between two worlds, has taught me one thing with certainty: that is that my purpose is rooted in mentorship. I pay it forward and back not because I have to but because I want to.
One of the most valuable lessons that I have learned in my career journey is that I live in between two worlds. The world that nurtured me and gave me morals and values and the world that taught me about myself. I was born and raised in two different nations that share a border because they have to not because they want to. I live a life in the states and in Mexico. I was viewed as different in both worlds. Too Mexican in one world and not Mexican enough in other world. I live in the world that believes in change and advocacy and I belong to a world of struggle and hard work. Both of these worlds feed my soul and enrich me in so many levels. I stay in the world of change and advocacy because my world of struggle and hard work taught me to be great and fearless. I never feel the need to choose but I always choose to remember the world that raised me. The world where I had the never ending of losing my mother and sisters due the flawed immigration reform. A world were social class created a culture of poverty that would rarely let go of you. A world where the simpler things in life made me happy and where your neighbors were fictive kin.
For a long time, I thought I would have to choose a world. I thought that to leave my world can lead to selling out and now I realize that this is a myth that people have made up when they do not understand your purpose. If anything, I have learned that I can explain with precise detail my upbringing and still people would view it through their lens and imagine that best way they can. When this occurs the only thing that you can do is hope that your storytelling skills painted a picture that made your experience justice. Being in between two worlds, has taught me one thing with certainty: that is that my purpose is rooted in mentorship. I pay it forward and back not because I have to but because I want to.
Monday, December 30, 2013
An open letter to any women that has felt ugly or fat.
This is an open letter to any women that has felt ugly or fat.
365 days from today will be the day that I define and find my balance. I am 28 years old and I have felt happiness, sadness, madness, and all the emotions in between. I would not trade the pain for what I have learned in my 28 years. Especially, the lessons of the past 5 years. In the past 5 years, I have become an adult and a proud Chicana and still I have failed to be vulnerable in times that I needed vulnerability and in times that I needed to forgive and heal. I have failed to forgive myself and love myself when I made mistakes or made not-so wise decisions. I have failed to love every single part of me. And even as I write this, I have not learned to extract the word fail from my vocabulary and replace it with "not learned."
For the past 20 years, I have experience and seen the images of what beauty is and how beauty leads to success. I have let those images determine my definition of beauty. I have allowed that definition tell me that I am not beautiful and that I need to change because I am not enough. How can we change something that we hate? And how can that something be you?
As I travel down the road of memories and trying to think how I once did have a system to learn to love all of me and determine my own definition of beauty, I remember the times when I was busy and found a comfort and outlet in working out. I remember I did it to release stress and not to lose weight. I remember losing myself in my thoughts and finding clarity. I remember writing in my journal and finding clarity there too. I remember losing myself in my thoughts by listening to my iPod. All these activities were good for me all around. I, of course, engaged every now and then on emotional eating and happy hours that led to real talk with close friends. Even with those vices, I was closer to defining and finding balance. I was learning to love all the parts of me, even those parts of me that were flawed. I was empowered. I was learning what I now recognize as the search for greatness and not perfection. Perfection was a boring thought that I did not want to associate with. Still I had no words or way to explain what I was defining or searching for.
The truth is I lost myself, I stopped writing. I stopped listening. I stopped working out. I continue to emotionally eat and I actually welcomed back the worse vice of all, smoking. I got lost at the time when I had all the pieces to complete my definition of beauty and balance. I cannot say that I had no idea how it happened because that would be a lie. I allowed myself to get lost. I kept saying that I will eventually find my way back. This was in 2011 and hence it has been close to 3 years, I spent 2 plus years going through the motions and not feeling anything towards balance and beauty. I purposely wore the blindfold that made me an unhappy woman.
Yesterday, as I was on the elliptical I saw someone that I had not seen in almost 3 years. I smiled at that person and said, "welcome back!" Right there and then, I learned that to be able to move forward I need to love myself every day and this might not happened all day but it needs to happen and be FELT every day. As I continue to listen to my iPod and sweated during my workout, I allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts. Thoughts of how much I love my family and friends, of how many wonderful things I am doing in my job and all the other projects I have yet to start, and of thoughts that were consumed with happy moments that I helped create for myself. I was empowered and fearless. I am unsure if I should name this an epiphany since all I did was take off a metaphorical blindfold that I put on.
For the first time in...forever, really, I can say "fuck what the media thinks of what beauty should be," and actually mean it and believe it. I cannot move forward or welcome change until I love every part of me. This includes loving all of it. Today I looked at myself in my mirror for 45 minutes after I took a shower. I did not shy away from looking at all of me. I am not going to lie it was hard at first but I kept telling myself that, "that I was searching for greatness," and slowing I saw beauty. I felt it and I know others saw it. For the first time since I cut my long hair in 1999, I fell in love with my hair. I walked taller. I did not think what outfit should I wear to hide me. I wore clothes as clothes not defining factors of beauty.
I have learned that to be able to move forward I have to take a rest stop and learn to love myself. I am seeking for change but before all that happens, I must first define and find balance and beauty within myself.
365 days from today will be the day that I define and find my balance. I am 28 years old and I have felt happiness, sadness, madness, and all the emotions in between. I would not trade the pain for what I have learned in my 28 years. Especially, the lessons of the past 5 years. In the past 5 years, I have become an adult and a proud Chicana and still I have failed to be vulnerable in times that I needed vulnerability and in times that I needed to forgive and heal. I have failed to forgive myself and love myself when I made mistakes or made not-so wise decisions. I have failed to love every single part of me. And even as I write this, I have not learned to extract the word fail from my vocabulary and replace it with "not learned."
For the past 20 years, I have experience and seen the images of what beauty is and how beauty leads to success. I have let those images determine my definition of beauty. I have allowed that definition tell me that I am not beautiful and that I need to change because I am not enough. How can we change something that we hate? And how can that something be you?
As I travel down the road of memories and trying to think how I once did have a system to learn to love all of me and determine my own definition of beauty, I remember the times when I was busy and found a comfort and outlet in working out. I remember I did it to release stress and not to lose weight. I remember losing myself in my thoughts and finding clarity. I remember writing in my journal and finding clarity there too. I remember losing myself in my thoughts by listening to my iPod. All these activities were good for me all around. I, of course, engaged every now and then on emotional eating and happy hours that led to real talk with close friends. Even with those vices, I was closer to defining and finding balance. I was learning to love all the parts of me, even those parts of me that were flawed. I was empowered. I was learning what I now recognize as the search for greatness and not perfection. Perfection was a boring thought that I did not want to associate with. Still I had no words or way to explain what I was defining or searching for.
The truth is I lost myself, I stopped writing. I stopped listening. I stopped working out. I continue to emotionally eat and I actually welcomed back the worse vice of all, smoking. I got lost at the time when I had all the pieces to complete my definition of beauty and balance. I cannot say that I had no idea how it happened because that would be a lie. I allowed myself to get lost. I kept saying that I will eventually find my way back. This was in 2011 and hence it has been close to 3 years, I spent 2 plus years going through the motions and not feeling anything towards balance and beauty. I purposely wore the blindfold that made me an unhappy woman.
Yesterday, as I was on the elliptical I saw someone that I had not seen in almost 3 years. I smiled at that person and said, "welcome back!" Right there and then, I learned that to be able to move forward I need to love myself every day and this might not happened all day but it needs to happen and be FELT every day. As I continue to listen to my iPod and sweated during my workout, I allowed myself to get lost in my thoughts. Thoughts of how much I love my family and friends, of how many wonderful things I am doing in my job and all the other projects I have yet to start, and of thoughts that were consumed with happy moments that I helped create for myself. I was empowered and fearless. I am unsure if I should name this an epiphany since all I did was take off a metaphorical blindfold that I put on.
For the first time in...forever, really, I can say "fuck what the media thinks of what beauty should be," and actually mean it and believe it. I cannot move forward or welcome change until I love every part of me. This includes loving all of it. Today I looked at myself in my mirror for 45 minutes after I took a shower. I did not shy away from looking at all of me. I am not going to lie it was hard at first but I kept telling myself that, "that I was searching for greatness," and slowing I saw beauty. I felt it and I know others saw it. For the first time since I cut my long hair in 1999, I fell in love with my hair. I walked taller. I did not think what outfit should I wear to hide me. I wore clothes as clothes not defining factors of beauty.
I have learned that to be able to move forward I have to take a rest stop and learn to love myself. I am seeking for change but before all that happens, I must first define and find balance and beauty within myself.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Waiting for a rainbow.
"If you are going through hell, keep going." -Winston Churchill
I love what I do. Although I still hold on to my dream of being a sociology professor, student affairs will always be a passion of mine. I know that this field can be known as filled with rainbows, ice breakers, hugs, fluffy conversations, and team builders. Yet, somewhere in between the hugs and team builders I found mistrust and invalidation. The good intentions have not matched the impact that certain actions have had on me. This place has become dark and I am clouded. "If you are going through hell, keep going," and that is what I am trying to do. I know that there will be better days filled with rainbows.
In a time when I doubt my purpose in this place, I have found that I am not alone in this hell. In times of hardship, we have supported each other. We have inspired to advocate for us and to others. We have not been silenced and we will continue to advocate for each other and ourselves until we are heard. In times of darkness, I have realized who are my friends and who still struggle to deal with their truth, areas of growth, and privilege. As I continue on this path, I am reminded that survival is not what I need to accomplish. I need to flourish and be fruitful.
As I walk through hell, I know that I am not alone and that we must keep going.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Her birthday.
Once upon a time there was a girl that loved her birthday. It was a day when her family allowed her to do whatever she wanted and the perfect excuse to get away with mischief. Her birthday was a perfect day every year. As she grew older many traditions were added to her special day. At first it was the tradition of red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting and opening of presents at 6:44 pm; the time that she was born. Then came the tradition of Olive Garden dinner where she always ordered the same thing minestrone soup with salad and peach tea. Her friends would buy her a tiara to remind her that she was a princess. Then when she moved away from home she would get her red velvet cake (thanks to her friend, Jenn) and a night filled with yummy beverages and dinner. Her birthday was her favorite day of the year.
Two years ago on her birthday, her grandfather passed on. All she remembers from that day was a pain that she has probably only felt twice in her life. It was as if she had a hole in her chest through where her soul escape. It was a feeling of numbness and endless tears. She was in graduate school a 1,000 miles away and she did not get to say goodbye. All she had was a farewell memory from 2009 and the unfulfilled promise that she would come back to have more talks of wisdom and life. She never went back. She got lost in her world. That year for her birthday she was silent, she did not tell anyone that day about her loss. She did not cry when she told any of her friends the next day. The only time when she felt something other than pain or numbness was when she shared her last moment with her grandfather.
Her last moment with her grandfather was over a bottle of Patron Silver. She had gone to Mexico to say goodbye since she was moving to Missouri for graduate school. Her beloved grandfather asked her to sit down and have a chat with him. He brought out the bottle and started to share with her that he once travel north to be a guest farm worker in the 1950s-60s. She sat there proud in knowing that her abuelo was part of history. As they both sipped tequila and talked. He told her that he knew she was destined for greatness and that he wanted her to be happy and find a companion. "You are too much of a good person to be alone." She nodded and thought of many feminist comebacks to his comment but she didn't say anything. She promised him that she would make him proud and his response was that she already had. Soon she realized that they had finished the bottle. This was her rite of passage as her mother explained to her later that evening. This was her last memory with her grandfather.
She never went back and she did not get to say goodbye. He passed away on February 22, 2011. It was a cold and dark day.
Two birthdays had pass since that day and the feeling of numbness is still there. She hates her birthday. For now it is a day that celebrates death not life. She cannot help to feel that she was cheated. She should have been there but she was not. She wished she would have gone back to share more moments but she never did.
Today is just a reminder that two years ago her grandfather passed away.
Two years ago on her birthday, her grandfather passed on. All she remembers from that day was a pain that she has probably only felt twice in her life. It was as if she had a hole in her chest through where her soul escape. It was a feeling of numbness and endless tears. She was in graduate school a 1,000 miles away and she did not get to say goodbye. All she had was a farewell memory from 2009 and the unfulfilled promise that she would come back to have more talks of wisdom and life. She never went back. She got lost in her world. That year for her birthday she was silent, she did not tell anyone that day about her loss. She did not cry when she told any of her friends the next day. The only time when she felt something other than pain or numbness was when she shared her last moment with her grandfather.
Her last moment with her grandfather was over a bottle of Patron Silver. She had gone to Mexico to say goodbye since she was moving to Missouri for graduate school. Her beloved grandfather asked her to sit down and have a chat with him. He brought out the bottle and started to share with her that he once travel north to be a guest farm worker in the 1950s-60s. She sat there proud in knowing that her abuelo was part of history. As they both sipped tequila and talked. He told her that he knew she was destined for greatness and that he wanted her to be happy and find a companion. "You are too much of a good person to be alone." She nodded and thought of many feminist comebacks to his comment but she didn't say anything. She promised him that she would make him proud and his response was that she already had. Soon she realized that they had finished the bottle. This was her rite of passage as her mother explained to her later that evening. This was her last memory with her grandfather.
She never went back and she did not get to say goodbye. He passed away on February 22, 2011. It was a cold and dark day.
Two birthdays had pass since that day and the feeling of numbness is still there. She hates her birthday. For now it is a day that celebrates death not life. She cannot help to feel that she was cheated. She should have been there but she was not. She wished she would have gone back to share more moments but she never did.
Today is just a reminder that two years ago her grandfather passed away.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Growing Pains,
This is not a home, it is a hiding place. There are days when it feels like a home but there are other times when I hope and try to imagine that there is a silent and open space. There is an entitlement of suffocation here. I miss the place where I felt safe. I miss the place where there were people that cared and that although they did not understand they tried.
This is a blog about remembering please do no mistake it to be a cry for help or a blog about complaints. I just feel that sometimes it is important to just say it or write it, I miss the place and the people that made me feel safe. I hope this does not make it sound as if I am unaware of the wonderful people that are in my life now. There are just some days like today that all I need is a dinner with the posse or a rock band with Jenn and Jess or a place in the bar next to my boo.
Sometimes I just need to remember that these hard times will end and that they are just a kind reminder of the good times ahead and the good times that I have had. Today is that day when the only a few things keep me sane. Cheers to hope and the growing pains...
This is a blog about remembering please do no mistake it to be a cry for help or a blog about complaints. I just feel that sometimes it is important to just say it or write it, I miss the place and the people that made me feel safe. I hope this does not make it sound as if I am unaware of the wonderful people that are in my life now. There are just some days like today that all I need is a dinner with the posse or a rock band with Jenn and Jess or a place in the bar next to my boo.
Sometimes I just need to remember that these hard times will end and that they are just a kind reminder of the good times ahead and the good times that I have had. Today is that day when the only a few things keep me sane. Cheers to hope and the growing pains...
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
05092011
Life as I know it now has changed. He admires me and I am his favorite person. The memories of this day will stay with me forever and although he will never say he loves me and I love him. I am seeing clearly view of him. The questions or talks about him and I are useless. People do not get it and that is fine. I am at peace with that now. He gets me and I get him.
He is not the most liked person but in a time of self-doubt all he said was, "When I hold you I don't just see what you see, I see a strong beautiful woman. And I feel blessed to have you and hold you." In that exact moment, I knew he loved me. Sadly, the outside talk about the what ifs, differences between us, and his understanding of what constitutes me might be too much for us to handle.
I cannot understand how life can show you the best of someone and then show you the worst. The circular continuum of him might be more than I could handle. I do not know if we are going to make it. All that matters is that he loves me and I adore him and that is all I should remember.
This was a journal entry from 2011. I know that there is much missing to this story but all you need to know is that I loved him and he loved me. We just loved each other so much that when our flaws appeared; the love and the flaws melted together and we did not know how to separate them for us to survive.
He is not the most liked person but in a time of self-doubt all he said was, "When I hold you I don't just see what you see, I see a strong beautiful woman. And I feel blessed to have you and hold you." In that exact moment, I knew he loved me. Sadly, the outside talk about the what ifs, differences between us, and his understanding of what constitutes me might be too much for us to handle.
I cannot understand how life can show you the best of someone and then show you the worst. The circular continuum of him might be more than I could handle. I do not know if we are going to make it. All that matters is that he loves me and I adore him and that is all I should remember.
This was a journal entry from 2011. I know that there is much missing to this story but all you need to know is that I loved him and he loved me. We just loved each other so much that when our flaws appeared; the love and the flaws melted together and we did not know how to separate them for us to survive.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Housewife.
I always claimed that I didn't want to be a housewife. In my
mind this was the ultimate role that gave power to the male superiority over
women. I remember my junior year in college and I remember being
frustrated and angry at the injustices that I had to endure because I was a
woman. I hated being viewed as bitch just because I was outspoken and strong. I
disliked with a passion being in student government and being known as the
bitch. I was misunderstood and for some reason I refused to be viewed as
emotional.
I created a barrier that later became my defense mechanism towards
all that would show emotions or weaknesses as I referred to any emotion that
showed vulnerability. I saw males as the enemy and I saw any female that would gladly give in or
accept the type roles that were manifested upon us, women, as the norm the
reason why we could not reach equality and equity. I was an angry feminist that
would fight for cause at any cost. Boy was I wrong.
Recently, I was making diner as I was in my kitchen in a very cute brown and sky blue apron I had an epiphany. I would be a great housewife and I would very happy being that too. Somewhere in between the inevitable stages of becoming an adult and gaining a different point of view I discovered that being a feminist is about doing what makes you happy. Being free to decide your journey and not having to fight for that choice or for that choice to be respected. Today, I am an RD but tomorrow or 3 years from now I can be housewife and that is my choice and that choice will be respected. This is what a feminist looks like.
Recently, I was making diner as I was in my kitchen in a very cute brown and sky blue apron I had an epiphany. I would be a great housewife and I would very happy being that too. Somewhere in between the inevitable stages of becoming an adult and gaining a different point of view I discovered that being a feminist is about doing what makes you happy. Being free to decide your journey and not having to fight for that choice or for that choice to be respected. Today, I am an RD but tomorrow or 3 years from now I can be housewife and that is my choice and that choice will be respected. This is what a feminist looks like.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Freedom
I heard someone say that being free has many dimensions and meanings. The freedom I am going to write about today is a freedom that comes after you get the right to be free. Who says I can't be free to be all the things that I use to be. "I need to be the same person that I am trying to be." The wise words coming from a misunderstood artist hence these words carry a message which I understand and can relate with these words.
To feel free you must know what inner peace looks like for you. My inner peace is reached every time and any time that I see the good in people. It is the wonderful and positive memories of all those that have been part of my life and that have changed me that bring me inner peace.
Life is good and challenging. Sometimes knowing that it is alright and that coming together changes the world is all I need to feel free. I find peace in the wise words of my mother, John Lennon, Jack Johnson, and my best friend. All this time I have been missing the good times and I stopped create new good times. This ends today because today I have found a way to relive those good times a little bit everyday.
To feel free you must know what inner peace looks like for you. My inner peace is reached every time and any time that I see the good in people. It is the wonderful and positive memories of all those that have been part of my life and that have changed me that bring me inner peace.
Life is good and challenging. Sometimes knowing that it is alright and that coming together changes the world is all I need to feel free. I find peace in the wise words of my mother, John Lennon, Jack Johnson, and my best friend. All this time I have been missing the good times and I stopped create new good times. This ends today because today I have found a way to relive those good times a little bit everyday.
Friday, September 28, 2012
cough syrup...
being sick is no joke. i am beginning to see the changes and there are drastic and slow. this is combination i never thought i would experience. so far i am just staying in my corner. lately, all my thoughts have been invaded with the thoughts of going home. i keep thinking of how my nephew is growing up without me and i am in a journey that is quickly transforming into an unknown adventure. this had never bothered me until now and even then i always manage to remind myself and even at times convince myself that this adventure will reveal itself soon. there has been one time in which this was not good enough.
going back is worse than staying here; these are words from an entry back in 2009. however, this is no longer the case. to go back means to go back as a woman. going back means that the debut of my new and independent self. going back means that i will have something else but work to talk about, there will be much more and in time it will all look lesser and lesser as well. so what am i really missing? what is it that is calling me back to where it all started? and what is keeping me here?
it is all like cough syrup since the way it should be will never be reveal; if anything i should just wait for the cough syrup to come down.
going back is worse than staying here; these are words from an entry back in 2009. however, this is no longer the case. to go back means to go back as a woman. going back means that the debut of my new and independent self. going back means that i will have something else but work to talk about, there will be much more and in time it will all look lesser and lesser as well. so what am i really missing? what is it that is calling me back to where it all started? and what is keeping me here?
it is all like cough syrup since the way it should be will never be reveal; if anything i should just wait for the cough syrup to come down.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Year 2
As year two begins, I reflect on how different things are and how unprepared I was for this year. I imagine a second year with lights that would warm my face in the morning and instead I get a few dark clouds that are determined to teach me that they deserve to be part of the blue skies. As I embark on year two, I think of how I want to remember this year. How do I continue to instill pride in my community? What lessons do I want to learn this year? And how am I going to remember the lessons learned in the past year? Although, a control freak like myself should know that there is only so much I can control I dare to imagine that the answers to the questions above will be consistent and uncompromising.
This is a lie.
All I want to feel at the end of this year is change. I want to enter this year with a clear mind and understanding. I want to be able to control what I can and participate in the learning that this year will bring. I selfishly want to prove to myself that the reason why I picked this path was not deceiving. I do not want to be off shore and feel in an island. There is nothing I can do to make others understand all I can do is learn to be patient. So as year two starts I embark this and I am okay with not having a partner in crime.
This is a lie.
All I want to feel at the end of this year is change. I want to enter this year with a clear mind and understanding. I want to be able to control what I can and participate in the learning that this year will bring. I selfishly want to prove to myself that the reason why I picked this path was not deceiving. I do not want to be off shore and feel in an island. There is nothing I can do to make others understand all I can do is learn to be patient. So as year two starts I embark this and I am okay with not having a partner in crime.
Friday, July 20, 2012
It is not good bye, it is a see you later...
Today marks the last day of one Terry D. Smith at Oregon State University. It is with a bittersweet note that I say till next time to a great colleague, friend, and partner in crime. This blog is for you, Terry.
My dearest Terry,
Words cannot explain how you have shaped my first year at Oregon State. It seems just like yesterday that I hugged you at my campus interview and declared to you that you and I were going to be best friends. Although, I am sure this presented me as a crazy person. I knew the moment we met that you were going to be lifelong friend.
In the middle of green chicken enchilada dinners and happy hour times I found a friend. I have enjoyed you and I have learned so much from you.
"Home is where the heart is. It is not a place..." Although, I still refuse to believe in this know that I will keep telling myself this when times get rough. I have laughed with you, I have fought with you, and I have cried with you. Your strength and passion was motivation to me when my own passion and motivation was missing. You are a brilliant and strong individual. I am honored to be your VP, colleague, and friend.
Know that this is not a good bye but I see you later. Thank you for a great year and for all the great memories. Now go to UIC and change lives!
Te quiero mucho.
Claudia ♥
Sunday, June 17, 2012
The Year of the Honey Badgers
It all started nine months ago, I honestly did not know what to expect all I knew was that I did not want to be bad at this. I was in a building that I did not know or love. I was going to meet eight individuals that were strangers. I knew that they were going to have expectations of me and goals for themselves. It is hard to enter any new situation having a deep fear of failure. Fear was the only feeling that I could define at that time.
All I wanted to be was a good RD. I wanted to make sure that no one saw my self-doubt. In those nine months, I learned so much about the job. I have come to love this building and I found myself working with phenomenal people that wanted to do their best. In my staff, I found different perspectives. I was challenged by them every day and every day I would find myself welcoming or forcing myself to learn a lesson. Bottom line is that I found myself having the best year as a first-time RD and I could not ask for more. There are no what-ifs in my mind.
I sit here on a Sunday afternoon in my office marinating and reflecting on the wonderful people that lived and worked with me for the past nine months and all I feel is happiness and gratitude. Once again, I am reminded of why I do what I do. I enjoy being around college students. I realize that lessons are learned by the teacher and the students. I realize that to be able to make an impact and this place a better place I need to slowly understand others.
My first official academic year as a professional was real and that makes me happy. I made some great friends and I had an excellent staff.
Overall, it was a great year to be a honey badger and I cannot wait to do this again.
All I wanted to be was a good RD. I wanted to make sure that no one saw my self-doubt. In those nine months, I learned so much about the job. I have come to love this building and I found myself working with phenomenal people that wanted to do their best. In my staff, I found different perspectives. I was challenged by them every day and every day I would find myself welcoming or forcing myself to learn a lesson. Bottom line is that I found myself having the best year as a first-time RD and I could not ask for more. There are no what-ifs in my mind.
I sit here on a Sunday afternoon in my office marinating and reflecting on the wonderful people that lived and worked with me for the past nine months and all I feel is happiness and gratitude. Once again, I am reminded of why I do what I do. I enjoy being around college students. I realize that lessons are learned by the teacher and the students. I realize that to be able to make an impact and this place a better place I need to slowly understand others.
My first official academic year as a professional was real and that makes me happy. I made some great friends and I had an excellent staff.
Overall, it was a great year to be a honey badger and I cannot wait to do this again.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
When I grow up...
Lately I have been thinking about how I saw my life when I was younger. I remember when I was 17 years old and I told myself that when I am older I would be independent and free. I would see myself in an apartment that would be very homey and full of color. I remember imagining my apartment to be full of life. This image in my mind vibrant and a bit blurry. Nonetheless it was certain and that is all that mattered.
A couple of weeks ago this thought invading me and I could not wonder but to ask myself, "where is this home I craved to create?" This question led to having to ask myself, "Am I free or independent?" I began to analyze my life now and my aspirations when I was younger. The statement of when I grow up I am going to be BLANK was all that I could think of. When I was 17 all I wanted to do was change the world to a better place and wanted to do this by doing everything. I wanted to be a teacher, a doctor, a nurse, a senator, and many things more. The more I thought about these dreams I began to lose myself in dreams that I never pursued. I sit in my living room in my apartment and look around and I see clearly that when I grow up was no longer a thing of the past. I was independent and free. Although, I did not become a doctor or senator I still dictating my own path. I was where I wanted to be. I always had a choice and those choices brought me to a place that my 17 year old self always wanted.
So for a second, I realized that when I grow up was already here.
A couple of weeks ago this thought invading me and I could not wonder but to ask myself, "where is this home I craved to create?" This question led to having to ask myself, "Am I free or independent?" I began to analyze my life now and my aspirations when I was younger. The statement of when I grow up I am going to be BLANK was all that I could think of. When I was 17 all I wanted to do was change the world to a better place and wanted to do this by doing everything. I wanted to be a teacher, a doctor, a nurse, a senator, and many things more. The more I thought about these dreams I began to lose myself in dreams that I never pursued. I sit in my living room in my apartment and look around and I see clearly that when I grow up was no longer a thing of the past. I was independent and free. Although, I did not become a doctor or senator I still dictating my own path. I was where I wanted to be. I always had a choice and those choices brought me to a place that my 17 year old self always wanted.
So for a second, I realized that when I grow up was already here.
Monday, April 9, 2012
25 things about me...
Liz was my guardian at Central Missouri. She entered my life at a moment when I was heading to a very dark and lonely place. She helped me save myself.
One day during session she gave me a challenge. The "25-day challenge." This challenge consisted of having an individual share one experience or thing about themselves per day. The challenge lasted 25 days so there were 25 experiences/things. These things or experiences did not have to be personal, interesting, or even entertaining. The main objective was to learn to share myself with others. I was not thrilled about this challenge but I trusted Liz, she had never misled me before.
I decided that I would send a postcard every day for 25 days to two friends with one or two lines sharing a piece of me.
25 days and 25 experiences/things shared, here they are:
Day 1
25. If my life were a musical it would play Queen. I would start and end my days with "Under Pressure."
Day 2
24. I secretly always wanted to be part of the SNL cast.
Day 3
23. I refuse to believe the passing of my mentor, at times I desperately wished he would call me or write to me to guide me.
Day 4
22. Somewhere in between the social butterfly and grumpy witch, there is a girl, a very misunderstood individual that loves to love.
Day 5
21. I secretly want the husband and kids but at the same time I want to make an impact in the world. I am starting to believe I have to pick one.
Day 6
20. When I was 17, I saw my father slap my mother and in the moment I told myself: 1. that I no longer had a father and 2. that my mother was the bravest person I knew.
Day 7
19. I hate when people text the word "okay" or "ok" or "K". If that is all you have to say then do not text me!
Day 8
18. I swore that I would never work with college students. Oops!
Day 9
17. I never wanted to go to college. I was happy with giving in to the culture of poverty. My plans for after high school were to be a waitress.
Day 10
16. I did not learn to drive until I was 23.
Day 11
15. "Slide" by the Goo Goo Dolls was the first English song I learned; it was my favorite then and it still is now.
Day 12
14. I love to color code my planner, mainly because it looks pretty.
Day 13
13. I do not fear dying. I fear realizing at my deathbed that I did not live life to the fullest.
Day 14
12. My logic and heart constantly battle when it comes to decision making. Logic has cost me many opportunities that I will never have again. Lately, my heart has been winning more battle and even though some of those victories have led to heartbreak, I have no regrets.
Day 15
11. I sometimes wonder if I will be able to see myself through eyes of others.
Day 16
10. I believe that there is no such thing as too much love. To love is to live! The best way for me to show love to those around me is by telling them that I appreciate them and that I love them.
Day 17
9. I wish I was an introvert; a little quiet, a little selfish, and a little normal.
Day 18
8. I am a revolutionary soul.
Day 19
7. I need to learn that everyone has different expectations than mine. I need to give everyone a chance.
Day 20
6. I do not hate my father. I just don't want him in my life.
Day 21
5. I refuse to adopt a sexual orientation label. When people ask me if I am straight, all I say is that I love to love.
Day 22
4. I know that there is certain things that I need to learn but I refuse to learn these lessons since I fear how they will change me.
Day 23
3. The day I let others read my journal will be the day that I am free.
Day 24
2. When I was younger, I thought I was adopted. No lie!
Day 25
1. I force myself to forget that whatever family I once had is now nonexistent.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
The sunset by the bridge...
When I was 5 years old I broke the law. And although the details of the following story are still a bit fuzzy, one thing will always remain as my truth. On that day known to me as the day when I saw the most beautiful sunset, I learned to appreciate my mother and all her sacrifices.
My mother is a saint. A beautiful caring individual that has always wanted the best for me. I have asked my mother plenty of times how she manages to be such a great mother, sister, daughter, woman, grandmother, and friend and I never get an answer if anything all I get are smiles that say nothing but express limitless love and gratitude. I am convinced that she has gained a first class ticket into the heavens. To be able to unconditionally love four of the most context individuals ever known to humankind has to earn a place in the heavens that only angels and saints get to experience.
On the day where I saw my first sunset by the bridge, I learned why my mother believed in the American Dream. I learned that we were from a country that was not the United States. I learned that sometimes doing the right thing is not doing the right thing. I will admit that these are very complex lessons for a 5 year old but that day I saw clarity as the sun was setting to the west of the bridge that divided two nations. One nation that defines a dream and one nation that defines my roots.
I have lately thought about that day and the sunset by the bridge. I think about how I felt that day. The feelings of sadness, gratitude, and frustration took over me that day and at the same time I think of the warm sun and the beautiful colors that can fill the soul with happiness. That day the only thing that brought me happiness was the fact that I had a mother that will not let the American Dream escape her.
I have yet to experience another sunset like that one and the reason why I hold on dearly to this memory is because in a weird way that memory aids me to see purpose in my days. The sunset by the bridge brings me back to my reality, aspirations, and goals. The sunset by the bridge reminds me of the beautiful cruelties of this world. It loudly tells me that it is better to be busy changing the world then using my smiles to pretend that I am happy.
The sunset by the bridge reminds me that my adventure is turning into an unknown journey.
My mother is a saint. A beautiful caring individual that has always wanted the best for me. I have asked my mother plenty of times how she manages to be such a great mother, sister, daughter, woman, grandmother, and friend and I never get an answer if anything all I get are smiles that say nothing but express limitless love and gratitude. I am convinced that she has gained a first class ticket into the heavens. To be able to unconditionally love four of the most context individuals ever known to humankind has to earn a place in the heavens that only angels and saints get to experience.
On the day where I saw my first sunset by the bridge, I learned why my mother believed in the American Dream. I learned that we were from a country that was not the United States. I learned that sometimes doing the right thing is not doing the right thing. I will admit that these are very complex lessons for a 5 year old but that day I saw clarity as the sun was setting to the west of the bridge that divided two nations. One nation that defines a dream and one nation that defines my roots.
I have lately thought about that day and the sunset by the bridge. I think about how I felt that day. The feelings of sadness, gratitude, and frustration took over me that day and at the same time I think of the warm sun and the beautiful colors that can fill the soul with happiness. That day the only thing that brought me happiness was the fact that I had a mother that will not let the American Dream escape her.
I have yet to experience another sunset like that one and the reason why I hold on dearly to this memory is because in a weird way that memory aids me to see purpose in my days. The sunset by the bridge brings me back to my reality, aspirations, and goals. The sunset by the bridge reminds me of the beautiful cruelties of this world. It loudly tells me that it is better to be busy changing the world then using my smiles to pretend that I am happy.
The sunset by the bridge reminds me that my adventure is turning into an unknown journey.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
My place in the table at a local coffee shop.
A few months back, I posted a facebook status that said, "One day not far from now, I will be in a local coffee shop with a bunch of my peers/friends talking about Chicano history. I will share the story of my family and feel empowered by the fact that everyone in the table has a piece of history to contribute to the world and all we have to do is listen and not forget." This is my dream.
I imagine myself being an educator with the heart of a revolutionary. I refuse to forget where I have been and where I come from. My place in the table at a local coffee shop will be a place that respect and appreciation has earned. My place in the table at the local coffee shop will be filled with passion, warmth, and beautiful things that only the colors of love and life can produce. I imagine this coffee shop being filled with the memories that people have had there and by the tiny pieces of souls left behind which can only be the result of the hundreds of stories that have been told in this establishment.
I do not know where this local coffee shop is and I do not know who will be around the table. All I do know is that when I get there, life will change as I know it.
I imagine myself being an educator with the heart of a revolutionary. I refuse to forget where I have been and where I come from. My place in the table at a local coffee shop will be a place that respect and appreciation has earned. My place in the table at the local coffee shop will be filled with passion, warmth, and beautiful things that only the colors of love and life can produce. I imagine this coffee shop being filled with the memories that people have had there and by the tiny pieces of souls left behind which can only be the result of the hundreds of stories that have been told in this establishment.
I do not know where this local coffee shop is and I do not know who will be around the table. All I do know is that when I get there, life will change as I know it.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
The world has lost her way again...
This month is filled with many thoughts. Thoughts about work and the way I dealt with things while I was at UCM. I loved life my last semester at UCM. I was happy and I found passion and purpose in everything I would do at UCM. I saw myself and my work heading towards a path that would result to great things. Now being away from that, I am struggling to see clearly here.
I sit here listening to the wonderful Dave Matthews Band and the lyrics of "Oh" are stuck in my head. "I love you, oh so well, like a kid loves candy and fresh snow," I once loved my life like a kid loves candy and fresh snow. I was a simple individual that wanted to work and be happy. An individual that would find endless joy in feeling the rain on her skin. I remember standing in the football field at UCM and feeling the wind in my face. I remember finding joy in the simple and free things in life. When did I lose sight of these things?
As I sit hear listening to DMB, I am haunted with the thought that I have been doing this the wrong way right from the start.
I have refused to see this as an investment. I am starting to find peace at the end of my days. I am clearly seeing purpose in my days and I am waiting for my passion to reappear. I want to love my job just like a kid loves candy and fresh snow. Maybe one day not far from now that can happen. I hate to think that I am the kind of person that is just working to have an income. I have always wanted to see myself in my work. I have been unfair to this place and this experience. I will never have another UCM experience and that is okay and I must accept that as my reality.
Now is the time to accept the closing of that beautiful chapter called grad school. It is time.
I sit here listening to the wonderful Dave Matthews Band and the lyrics of "Oh" are stuck in my head. "I love you, oh so well, like a kid loves candy and fresh snow," I once loved my life like a kid loves candy and fresh snow. I was a simple individual that wanted to work and be happy. An individual that would find endless joy in feeling the rain on her skin. I remember standing in the football field at UCM and feeling the wind in my face. I remember finding joy in the simple and free things in life. When did I lose sight of these things?
As I sit hear listening to DMB, I am haunted with the thought that I have been doing this the wrong way right from the start.
I have refused to see this as an investment. I am starting to find peace at the end of my days. I am clearly seeing purpose in my days and I am waiting for my passion to reappear. I want to love my job just like a kid loves candy and fresh snow. Maybe one day not far from now that can happen. I hate to think that I am the kind of person that is just working to have an income. I have always wanted to see myself in my work. I have been unfair to this place and this experience. I will never have another UCM experience and that is okay and I must accept that as my reality.
Now is the time to accept the closing of that beautiful chapter called grad school. It is time.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
The Cave
When I was in my history class in college I remember my professor talking about the concept of the cave. Once you leave the cave and explore you are eager to explore more and more. Soon you have no intentions to return to the cave. I refused to understand this concept. I was one of those people that always believed that I will never forget to come back to the cave. The cave holds my key to success and happiness. If I do not have plans to come back to the cave I have betrayed the cave.
The cave for me is best known as El Paso, Texas. El Paso is my beautiful bubble that kept me happy and safe for years. When I left the cave, I saw my world shattered and I experienced the cruelties of this world. There were many times when I wanted to run back to the cave, but I did not. I always thought that to come back would be worse than staying. For better or for worse that is what kept me going during those times of adversity.
Recently, one of my dearest friends stated to me that he knew that I was never coming back to the cave. He said, "You are loving it too much to come back!" I did not have an answer for him. I have never thought about the option to not come back to the cave. I have always thought about the cave and how beautiful it is every time I go back and how it has evolved and changed without me there. There was also a comfort to knowing that I can also go back to my hometown but I have never explored the idea of not coming back to the cave and calling it home again. What does this mean? And how would this look like?
I know what it would look like but I do not dare to share this vision since I am still figuring out if this makes me a sellout or a visionary trying to explore the world in search of peace and love. When I dare to think about this, I think of what my mentor told me before I left the Burg. I remember sharing some of my worries and fears about moving and having to start all over again and all he said was, "Even if you are the only one there or not, you will be a role model for some or a mentor for others and you can successfully do both." These kind words bring me some peace of mind as I realize that although I am still unsure of what I am doing in this journey, one thing is certain I am not done searching for what I am looking for.
I did not leave the cave to escape it, I left the cave because everything I could do at the cave had been accomplished.
The cave for me is best known as El Paso, Texas. El Paso is my beautiful bubble that kept me happy and safe for years. When I left the cave, I saw my world shattered and I experienced the cruelties of this world. There were many times when I wanted to run back to the cave, but I did not. I always thought that to come back would be worse than staying. For better or for worse that is what kept me going during those times of adversity.
Recently, one of my dearest friends stated to me that he knew that I was never coming back to the cave. He said, "You are loving it too much to come back!" I did not have an answer for him. I have never thought about the option to not come back to the cave. I have always thought about the cave and how beautiful it is every time I go back and how it has evolved and changed without me there. There was also a comfort to knowing that I can also go back to my hometown but I have never explored the idea of not coming back to the cave and calling it home again. What does this mean? And how would this look like?
I know what it would look like but I do not dare to share this vision since I am still figuring out if this makes me a sellout or a visionary trying to explore the world in search of peace and love. When I dare to think about this, I think of what my mentor told me before I left the Burg. I remember sharing some of my worries and fears about moving and having to start all over again and all he said was, "Even if you are the only one there or not, you will be a role model for some or a mentor for others and you can successfully do both." These kind words bring me some peace of mind as I realize that although I am still unsure of what I am doing in this journey, one thing is certain I am not done searching for what I am looking for.
I did not leave the cave to escape it, I left the cave because everything I could do at the cave had been accomplished.
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