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.

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.

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...

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. 

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.

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.

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.