Sleep find me
your present
if you only think in the past and the future, where is your present?
a little over a year ago, i felt like i had come to a point where it just wasn’t worth it anymore. that i was small and needy. i lost myself. i was nowhere to be found. i felt unsafe. i wanted someone to breathe me. the problem was…i had someone there. but they stopped breathing me. and so i stopped trying to breathe, letting go, so i thought, of all my pain.
instead, i brought myself more pain. and as hard as it was to face that pain, that experience liberated me. that pain eventually allowed me to live whole again. i have gone up and down over and over, but each time, i come out stronger, with more faith, with more courage.
i realize that letting go of that person, as painful as it was, was the test i needed to find the courage to breathe for myself. no one can breathe all the life back into me. i had to learn to breathe on my own again. and so i do. the pain resonates at times, but i know i will push through it, using each experience as an opportunity to learn. to grow. to be. to breathe.
on sunday, may 29, i danced in san francisco’s carnaval celebration in the mission district. i took on a challenge earlier this year to raise money for an organization and this was my way of raising money…a dance-a-thon if you will. so far i’ve raised $700, looking to raise $1000. beyond raising money, it was a personal goal. i love dancing. it’s been there since i was a child. since i was a little girl in a blue ruffled dress, white tights, black patent leather shoes. dipping in my family’s dining/living room, i would stand and dance amongst adults as they discoed the night away celebrating my brother’s baptism. yes, baptism. mexicans love a good party, no matter the occasion.
beyond my love of dancing, i did it in an effort to love my body more. to love my hips, curves, boobs, lips, smile. to love me. though i started out timid and nervous, as soon as my chanclas hit the pavement, i felt an energy i’ve never experienced before. fearless, i danced down the streets with an open smile and heart and love, true love, for myself. i smiled at the thousands of people lining the streets. ran to hug my friends and family that came out to watch me perform. my intention is to continue discovering myself. and to love. no matter what.
at 35 years old, i do not have any children. i don’t know if i will ever have children. a little over a week ago, i went to the doctor and got an IUD. at 35 my mom removed her uterus because of medical issues. at 35 i am making a choice to not have children. i am thankful that my mom had the opportunity to have me, to give me life, to give me strength, to give me power, to give me love, confidence, safety, security, and to crack an egg on my head when i can’t do it anymore. she’s taught me that no matter what, i can do it. i may need a break to recover and i can cry, but i’m still going to make it. even when it seems like it will always be dark, she reminds me that there is light somewhere. today, i felt like my mom. i listened to her cry like a child, weak and helpless, in need of comfort. at the end, she thanked me, told me there was light in her room, that she felt lighter. today, i felt like i gave her back something that i haven’t been able to give a child of my own.
Beirut ‘Postcards From Italy’ (by 4ADRecords)
this video reminds me of sifting through old family photos at urban ore in berkeley. photos once cherished and shared. i create stories for each scene, each moment, never really knowing what was actually happening. but no matter what, the story is always happy. happy because we try to capture those moments. we never try to capture the sad ones. why would we? moments of happiness remind us that even in our darkest moments, we come through, shining. happy. new.
"There is pain in change. But suffering in stagnation."
(via theangrytherapist)
my first post. i think it is perfectly suitable, perfectly perfect. let the awakening begin.
(Source: theangrytherapist)
