fear

Se Habla Espanol.

I speak Spanish.

It’s not a sign I wear often. I don’t scream it from the rooftops. It’s not perfect, but when I need the language to communicate, it amazes me how it rolls off the tongue. I don’t advertise it on my skin, but I do wear it like a badge of honor. In an English dominated country, I find myself torn between the two languages. I am very proud of my languages, my cultures, and my roots. I am very proud to be of two different and very diverse cultures. Even prouder to be able to have my heart in one country and my roots in another. The past couple of months have been a wake up call to my heritage. I am watching people whom I have considered friends and family, turn around and speak against the very foundations of my language. It’s only cool to know the Spanish language when people see fit to their needs. When a holiday comes up, or after a few drinks, and everyone thinks it’s funny to say a word or two. I have watched people make a mockery of my language in a series of comedic jokes and racist rants. I have sat and watched my peers ask me the correct pronunciations of words, to later mock someone speaking in their native tongue.  These are my languages that I speak to communicate with everyone. English or Spanish, Espanol o Ingles. I may not always get the words right, I may fumble and mispronounce sentiments, but these are my words.

My language is not here to intimidate you.

When I speak in a tongue that is not natural to you, I am not here to intimidate you. There are many misconceptions about knowing two languages, but I use my language to communicate with my gente (my people)–my familia (my family), my friends, my colleagues. I am not observing you, I am not judging you. I have nothing to hide from you. I speak passionately, poetically and profusely about my life, in a tongue that is natural to me. Using my hands, speaking an octave higher than most, because that is how my language expresses itself. My first language, my second language; voices that come from me in the moment that I need to communicate to a variety of different people. How can a person who doesn’t know me at all, ask me to speak in a tongue that is natural to me? Both languages come naturally to me, and I use them how I see fit.

My language is not a party trick.

When I speak the words you do not understand, it is not an open invitation to entertain you with. Yes, I know another language other than English. No, I will not sit here and prove to you that I know how to speak said language. I am not a magician. I am not pulling words out of a hat, while wearing a sparkly costume. My language is not a party trick, my language is my lifeline; it’s my alma/soul and my corazon/heart. My secret power that allows me to be close to my roots –to my ancestors, to my family, to people who understand me. I did not come here to impress you with my words that you will use against me. Telling lies of how my language holds me back from my peers; the same language you want me to repeat.

My language is not here for you to state “Say something in Spanish… It’s so much prettier in Spanish“.

Spanish, as well as English, is a beautiful language.  Both languages with written words have a poetry about them. Spoken in terms of endearment or passionately in a rage, but my words are not here to turn you on. I will not roll my “r’s” at you. I will not come at you in a rage of anger and speak obscenities for no reason. I am not here to fulfill your fantasies or desires of a certain cultural stereotype. I am not spicy, I will not call you papi, carino, amor, or any other stereotypical terms of endearment. I have a Papi, and he didn’t raise me to belittle myself to become a caricature of your fantasies. So, No. I will not say something in Spanish. I will speak to you in English, because it’s just as pretty as Spanish.

Spanish or English, Espanol o Ingles, I will be protective of my language. Speak passionately and not allow anyone to make me feel less of a person by speaking it. My language gives me the strength to be brave and to feel a sense of pride of where I have come from. A pride in my heritage and the people that have spoke the language before me. Something that has taken a long time to realize.  Proud of who I am. Proud of the very roots that have allowed me to grow into the person I am today. One language isn’t stronger than the other. As the years go by, I realize it is a blessing more than a curse to know both English and Spanish. No matter what anyone says. I may not always get the words right, but eventually I will make things right.

 

Advertisements

What’s wrong baby?

Why are you single?
Why haven’t you dated anyone?
Why aren’t you dating?

So on and so forth.

If I had a nickel for every time I have been asked the above questions. People make it sound so easy. Falling down, dusting yourself off and then trying again. I know everyone means well. At the risk of sounding crazy, I just let people assume what they want to believe. Its easier for people to believe what they want about me, then having to tell them how I really feel. Because how I feel people seldom understand. I feel scared, I feel crazy, and most times I feel completely broken.

Broken in the sense that my past has broken me into a different person. Instead of shaping me into a better version of myself. I find it harder to trust people, because the past has a funny way of coming back to haunt me. When people have hurt you, it takes a while to come back from. I watch how easy it is for my peers to jump from relationship to relationship. Meanwhile, I watch myself still haunted by the past, with it’s broken words and promises. Hurt does that to you. It breaks and bleeds everything you touch. It claws at your insides, until the raw emotion eats at your soul. I was never like this before. I loved this illusion that love gave you. I loved the sappy love songs, the cliche films that remind you what love should look and feel like. I loved this idea of love and the beautiful orchestrated soundtrack it came with. Now I feel like a completely different person. This illusion of love has broken up my insides and rebuilt itself a different person.

How do you tell a stranger you feel broken? How do you describe it in a way that doesn’t scare off the other person? That pieces of you are slowly going back together again, but the pieces have left you shattered and cynical about love. When people ask you the same questions, how do answer truthfully without sounding tragic?

I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how to tell a complete stranger that someone broke me down completely. With words that are still tattooed on the inside of my heart and creep out onto my skin. The past is the past, but how can you be honest with someone, when you can’t be honest with yourself. Some days it hurts like hell and I want to claw every piece of flesh on my body. I want to scream out every obscenity until it doesn’t hurt anymore. Because thats what hurt feels like. Even after six years, the words don’t feel so vividly anymore, but they still haunt me. They’re faint insignificant words that still linger after the smoke has cleared. I know that not every one is like that. I know people won’t hurt me as bad as my past was. Still, it hurts and I can’t pretend that it doesn’t.

I feel as if these fingers continue to point at me, and I haven’t a clue what to say when people ask me why I don’t put myself out there. You might as well just state “What’s wrong with you?“. I don’t know how to answer those questions without being honest. Then at the same time, I have this need to keep guarded about my feelings. Trusting people is hard. Especially when your heart has been through a lot. I don’t know how to start a conversation with a stranger and not feel completely broken. People want the truth. People want you to be open and honest.  I know that. Deep down, I know that. I want to be open. I want to say everything I have in my heart. I want a level of trust to return, where I can feel open to be honest. It’s hard for me to be open. It’s hard for me to say how I feel, and instead I change the subject completely.

I am not asking for anyone to pick up my pieces. I just want people to understand that its not easy. It just takes some time to feel like myself again. If it takes me a day, a month, or a year, I know I will feel like myself again. Some days are easier than others. I am not sure if this answers anyones questions or judgments about me, but here it is. These are my cards on the table. Take it or leave it.

12/7/2015

The Places You Have Come To Fear The Most.

Growing fears in places where positivity is suppose to shine through. Finding fears in every day people, places, and things. Finding joy in silence and comfort in being alone, but I can’t hide forever. At the risk of saying how I truly feel, I let my fears do all the talking. Everything and everyone I once loved is slowly drifting further away from me. Further seems forever and every day is another day I watch everything slowly drift away.

Maybe I should disappear. Hide in the hills and watch the sun illuminate my surroundings, because all I do is allow the fog to roll in and ruin everything. But this isn’t negativity talking, I am a negative person with positive intentions. Maybe some day I’ll want the sun to shine down on me, just not at this time. Not at this current moment. I was no good to you then and I am no good to you now. My careless sadness has broken away from me. Everything I am suppose to love is slowly drifting further and further away from me. I don’t know what I am doing anymore. I don’t know who I am anymore. The longer I stand in one place, the easier it takes to watch the fear take over me. Where do I go from here? Where do I go to get away from here?

These fears take ahold of my limbs and absorb into my veins. This sad sick feeling of shedding this skin and finding what harbors underneath. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t like this feeling under my skin, because its the fear that keeps me alive. I fear that after all is said and done, I will have nothing in the end. I don’t need anything where I am going. I don’t need you under my skin. I just need these fears to keep me safe from the worries at night. It’s the places that I have come to fear the most, that keep me awake at night.

And I am afraid to fall asleep.

8/7/2015

Just Breathe.

Breathe in, Breathe out.

Just breathe and the moment will pass. Breathe in all the light, exhale all the dark. I am watching everyone see right through me. Looking through my insides and making me feel small. Because small is what makes everyone feel grand and larger than life. I watch the people surround me, turn into giant monsters of their former selves. Piercing my skin that hides my insides. I can’t take it anymore. Pushing the feelings away and save them for another day. Any other day but today. My chest feels heavier than normal. My heart feels more than it should. The more I breathe in, the faster I see myself exhale. It will all be okay, I am going to be okay.

Breathe.

No matter how many times I tell myself this will pass, it just intensifies even more. I feel it in my bones and straight to my soul. In these moments, I want to say everything I feel inside. Tell everyone, I am not the crazy one. I am not crazy, I feel a little out of it, but I am okay. I sit in silence and wait for this all to pass. A wave of emotions just washes over me. This tsunami of emotions that suffocates my breathing. I am afraid and the fear paralyzes me. Afraid of the risk of bursting out every single one of my feelings that I keep bottled up inside myself. Everyone can see right through me. My demeanor is crystal clear and everyone is looking inside of me. Maybe they are right. I should give up all these ghosts and make myself feel fine. Yet the good days turn to bad days and I can’t help but see smoke. I’m burning up on the inside. Everyone sees it. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t keep myself together. I am slowly falling apart with every thought I get. My lungs are closing in and I can’t breathe.

It happens to the best of us. Even people that you’d never expect it to happen to. I’ll smile real big and pretty, if it will make you feel better. I’ll tell you what you want to hear. Because breathing never gets easier. Even I know that.

7/4/2015

Shadow & Light

11391519_10205421043258969_6221286166830312463_n

The older I become, I watch my insecurities become less intense. All my insecurities that I’ve kept deep inside, finds a way of slowly disappearing. All the fears I once had slowly start to vanish. I find myself drawn to the light, from decades of being in love with the darkness. I find myself slowly appreciate my body instead of hiding away my skin through insecurity. If you only knew how much I hate the daylight, how I hated the sun and it’s over exposure on my skin. How much the sun reminds me of summer and reminds me that I hate the shape of my legs.  It’s not to say that insecurities change over night.  I still have a hard time with daylight but afternoon lighting makes everything dreamy.

tumblr_npaz8oxBRj1qzg727o1_1280

A little light changes the course of everything. How it finds a way to reach you even when you want to be forgotten. The light that reaches straight through the cracks of the blinds to illuminate everything you want to remain invisible. Invisible is how I want to be. To hide in the darkest corners of the room, where no one will find me. No one will see me in all my imperfections and flaws. No one will see my skin filled with scars or the insecurities I harbor because of the design of my body. But in this golden hour of the afternoon, it makes me feel invincible. That I can do anything. Even in my imperfections, if the light hits me just right, I can be beautiful. I slowly watch these insecurities break away in the afternoon light. Slowly piece by piece disappear into the rays of the sun.

10996384_10204845950442008_8900021299987696451_n

Our bodies are always a work in progress. Some days are easier than others. Some days I’ll embrace every flaw my body has to offer, and other days I’ll curse the sacred ground from which I stand upon. As time goes by I start falling in love with different aspects of myself. As I once loved the darkness and the ability to make myself disappear, its the light I can’t help but surround myself with. Light brings everything into perspective that the darkness seems to forget. Light helps me remember to love the parts of myself I often hide from the world. While I’ll always be insecure about different aspects of myself, my body shouldn’t ever be one of them. Slowly as the darkness fades into the light, slowly I become a little more accepting of my body.

It’s taken a long time to love the light, as long as it’s taken to love my body. I know eventually I will get there. Sooner better than later.

6/08/2015

Start it all over.

Drop everything, start it all over. 

Failure is not an option. However even on my best days, I can’t help but feel like one. All the choices I’ve made have their own repercussions. My mind goes a mile a minute, thinking, wondering, asking myself, if I have done the right thing. If what I am doing is where I really want to be. What is this existence of life that leaves me so unsatisfied.

Fear has a way of crippling you. Taking away your power to move on and move forward. Maybe this isn’t failing. Maybe this is my fear taking over my body and causing me to act strange. The longer I stay still, the longer I watch everything crowd around me. Surrounding myself by clutter, chaos, and clouded thoughts. I am sitting still watching every single thing pack up and leave from me. The scattered brain feeling of never ending chaos washes over me. This is the bottom. This is failing in every which way. This is the fear that can’t help but stake a claim in me. I am allowing this to happen. The more I hide under the covers, the more the sun seeks out to find me. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep pretending that I am okay, when everything around me is falling apart. This is what I wanted. I wanted this excuse to play into this part. Pretending I am fine and making believe this is what I really want. Crying isn’t going to solve anything. I can’t keep up with this juvenile facade of hating everything on site. We have to grow up sometime. We have to take advantage of the day and start fucking living.

Perhaps everything I need is nothing at all. What I need is to start over and reclaim this new life for myself. Start fresh, start new. Take everything and burn it to the ground. Every single material item I once thought to be important. Give every last inch of my former life away and start again. Begin as a different person, a clean slate. It’s with nothing that I can honestly feel something. Its after everything is gone that I can truly ever really move on. Material items have a way of holding you back. Making you believe that its with these things, that they will help you grow. Instead I am clouded with debt and sadness, this never ending madness that can’t keep me a float. I need a new beginning. I need a clean sale. I need nothing but something to keep this fear away. I need something to take me away from this nothing way of feeling. I watch the fear paralyze this new beginning. Changing course of all my needs and filling them with nonsense. I expected more from this existence then settling for mediocrity. But this is what I want. This is how I chose to live my life. Standing on the sidelines and watching everyone go by with their brand spanking new life.

But I know I can start again. Drop everything and start it all over. I just need to wake up from this mad way of thinking. Wake up from this chaos and work toward this new tomorrow. I can start today, I can start tomorrow. The point is finding a way to start. Maybe I am a failure in every possible way. But we all have to get up sometime and that time is today.

4/14/2014

Courage.

Dumbo always thought he needed a magic feather for the courage to fly. We all rely on crutches to get us through our days. To help us function better, to give us the courage and the will to continue on. I wonder how many things I rely on for the courage to do anything. The multiple times I’ve given up out of fear and then paced myself back into a state of consciousness. I rely on words to be my magic feather, for the fear of things not working out in my daily life. The things I don’t have the will to say out loud, I save until I use the pen as my voice and the paper as my soapbox to escape to.

77fceeb85081430f8d7c423dc98632a4

Most days I don’t feel brave. Most days I don’t feel anything at all. Most days I want to give up and fall back into the darkness of dependency of my self destructive nature. Just disappear for days on end until the blood flows out of every vein in my body. Until my lifeless soul has nothing to attach itself to. Those are most days. The days were even the brave have a dent in their courageous armor. Whats a little courage without being a little cowardly? I find myself more than usual in a series of fears and panics. Of course it’s all just rather dramatic. Just feeling the weight of the world on my shoulder and wishing for something lighter. Wishing that life could just be a little kinder on the days I need it the most. Then I find myself comparing myself to others and wondering why I can’t be where I need to be. Why can’t I just figure out the tools in life, I need to get a move on in my life. Its having everything you need and not knowing the start from the finish. Where do we get to where we need to be.

courage-3

Then I think back to Dumbo. How he believed that with a magic feather he could do anything. With that magic feather he could fly. Instead of holding on to false ideas and illusions, I just have to believe in myself. Find the courage to keep going. Find the courage to be brave and go after what I want. It’s nice to believe that there’s something out there that gives us the magic to believe. In the end thats all what we want, a little magic to find the courage in ourselves. Maybe I don’t need a magic feather, but it’s nice to pretend that I do.

12/22/2013

A little back and forth lately.

I’ve been thinking about the ocean lately. Not in the classic summer way where thinking of beaches and warmer weather would make sense in this cold weather. But thinking of sand, water, and freezing cold temperatures. I miss the sounds of the ocean that I can’t hear from a bridge or from a window of an airplane. I miss digging my feet into the sand and staring off into the distance. I miss living near large masses of water. Water that I can see and touch whenever I feel like it. I am totally weird. Only a crazy person would think of the ocean when it’s freezing.

photo 3

In a way thinking of the ocean is just my way of wanting an escape. Wishing that people felt that way too. I get so consumed with other peoples ideas that I start to believe that they’re my own thoughts. Its been a while since I found people to connect with, people that are adventurous and not afraid of change. People that don’t want to go to the same boring places and actually want to venture out in different directions. We are so consumed with familiarity that going anywhere else seems like a hassle. I hate routine and I hate having to go to the same places because people are afraid of getting out of their comfort zone. I blame my area, I blame the central valley, most of all I blame people afraid of change. Then again I blame myself for not having the courage to venture off on my own. I could do it on my own, but like everyone else I too am afraid of a little change.

photo 2

To be honest with myself, I have to be honest with everyone else. I am scared. I am self-conscious. I am a lot of things in between. It’s so easy to want change from others but why is it often hard to seek change in ourselves. I want adventures, I want to experience new things, but I also want others to feel the same way too. It could just be the simple minded surroundings of my areas. Everyone’s lazy attempts at life, but at times I am no different. I want the ocean but I don’t want the journey that goes with seeing the ocean. I want the world to bend over backwards for me, but I can’t even lift a finger when the universe asks me to. I want the rain, but I settle for the drought. I want, I want, and I want, but I can’t seem to get myself started. I know to change things within ourselves we have to start small. Small victories before feeling victorious. I just can’t help but expect this huge change to start happening now. I am impatient for big changes and not realizing small changes are victories too.

photo 1

I want to get to the ocean before the weather starts getting warmer. I want to place my feet in the freezing cold waters and feel whole again. I want the ocean because somewhere deep inside I need the change. I need a change in scenery. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, all I know is that it will happen someday soon.