Saturday, July 20, 2013

The elephant in the atmosphere.

I've never been able to mask my feelings very well, I avoid awkward situations like the plague, and it's beginning to make me feel like an absolute bitch. I mean, am I crazy? I am I anti-social to the point of selfishness? Or am I just a normal person avoiding people that I'd rather not associate with? Four people. My stepfather, and my future in laws. Let's start with my stepfather.

I guess step-family members have a reputation of not always getting along. And in this case, I believe it's pretty normal. We've had our spats in the past. He's cursed me out, kicked me out, ratted me out, and is currently really dropping the ball as a provider for my Mother and sister (if you ask me).Truthfully, since he does make my mother (and sister) happy, who am I to judge?, but that doesn't stop me from really wishing he was capable of doing a better job providing for them financially, instead of maxing out their credit cards by carelessly spending money on less than necessary things. I know he's my Mother's husband, but it burns me up inside when I witness her waiting on him hand and foot. Most everything about him aggravates me to the core, and when I'm around I barley speak to him. Of course, I'm nice, and respectful, but if I could avoid him completely without it being a big deal, I'd do it in a heart beat. It's not like we're feuding. It's just that even after 1 year of living together, and 2 years of knowing each other, we don't have any sort of relationship slash connection slash bond. For starters, we don't have many things in common so we never sit down and talk. I never even have the courage or desire to spark up a conversation if we're together, alone in the same room. It ends up becoming this awkward cluster fuck (at least in my mind) where I'm squirming internally hoping the awkward moment passes as quickly as it began.

I get the same feeling with my future in-laws. Absolutely no desire or courage to indulge in conversation. And even if when we do converse, it's usually about one thing: the baby. It's absolute torture sometimes (okay, maybe the word torture is too strong) being in the same house with them alone without Daniel. Like I've mentioned in a previous post, all I want to do is avoid them. I feel terrible for having these feelings. I'm not sure if they're caused by my mere selfish, and immature ways, or genuine anxiety on the brink of phobia of being misjudged and looked down upon by them. It doesn't help that my future brother-in-law has this thing where he always needs to make a joke/lighthearted comment that has to do with me being Black. (They're all Mexican). He even refers to my unborn baby girl as "Jemima" sometimes. (Now some Black people would consider this extremely offensive..) I know he doesn't do it to purposely hurt me..but it always makes me feel so estranged. When you're hoping to fit in, it's terrible when someone continuously reminds you of what makes you different. In this case, it's my race.

When it comes to my future in-laws, we have nothing in common, we're not friends, and I hardly feel the warm and fuzzy "family" feelings around them, so interacting with them only makes me anxious and awkward. Sometimes, it's bearable. I bite the bullet and face my fears just so I don't look and feel like a complete bitch slash nutcase. But it takes so much effort.. I wish it didn't. I was it was easy. I wish I had a perfect, and meaningful relationship with all of these people. It makes me feel like shit because it seems I'm the one who can't muster up the courage to face them without having feelings of anxiety and awkwardness. I wish I could spark up a conversation with them, and spend time with them all individually without having to force it. I hope to god it's not this way forever..

Friday, July 12, 2013

Evolution of the Human Spirit pt.1

Evolution of the Human Spirit: a Life’s Journey to Enlightenment

Now I’m not the best at beginning things, but since I must begin somewhere, I’ll begin with this statement: One of the most influential artists of my time that I know of is a person by the name of Alex Grey. It would be an understatement to label him as just a ‘painter’ when, in my opinion; his work here on this planet far exceeds that. Some people have referred to him as a spiritual teacher. I refer to him as a shaman whose visionary insights have shined a light on extremely important aspects of ourselves, and our world that would normally be invisible to the untrained eye. His artwork has allowed me to confirm, and explore the new realm I’d entered into with the help of conscious expanding, psychedelic drugs like LSD and psychoactive mushrooms. The analogy of my ‘hallucinations’ and his depictions of the human spirit, and progression through life were all too similar to simply ignore. My life was forever changed. During my first psychedelic trip, I’ll never forget the infinite eyes that observed me, as I observed them. Everywhere, in everything, they watched me, and communicated with me for what felt like a million hours, and it was absolutely beautiful.

During my second trip, as well, I witnessed peculiar laser-type visuals, and vague sky beings that radiated feelings like; peace and hope for a Utopian society. When trying to explain what I was seeing to a friend, he seemed amazed by what he was hearing. He pulled up Alex Grey’s website and asked me if what I was seeing looked anything like the pictures that were on the screen. I was at a loss for words. Paintings like Grey’s, Dying, and Over-soul were almost identical to the visions of infinite eyes that I’d seen while under the influence of LSD. He began to explain that Alex Grey was a visionary artist, and the things I was seeing weren't just hallucinations. They were actual realms and dimensions of reality which have been explored before. The reason what I was seeing was so similar to what Grey had painted was because he’d seen the same things. My friend had seen the same things too. It was as if the drugs had taken us all to the same dream. It had given us all similar ideas. It gave us all hope. It was all I could think about. If places like this really did exist, I wanted to know more about them.

Recent thoughts.

Here I am again; alone, and surrounded by walls of a different shade. Hidden and secluded, I feel safe, and comfortable. Out there in front of curious eyes, I am once again the black sheep. Black, pregnant and flaunting my flaws for the ‘in laws’ to see. In a perfect world I wouldn't be here. But unfortunately, this is where I am. I have this immense desire to rise above my situation and move past it into something better, but the reality of the issues at hand always seem to bring me down. I used to visit my Mother and Sister once a week, but nowadays, it’s unbearable to see how they struggle. My Mother tries so hard to make the best of it, and carry on like the soldier she is. With little income, and big bills, it seems as if they're always broke. Their life reminds me of where I come from, and make me scared to death of my new family’s future. (Daniel, Baby Girl, and I). We’re far from rich and living with Daniel’s mother..

 This life is so new to me. Two years ago I was the teenage girl living with her Mother and her Mother’s fiancĂ©. Today I am a teenage mother-to-be living with her boyfriend’s family. Aside from Daniel, I feel totally alone. He’s the only one capable of supporting me at this time, for I can’t even support myself. I've always had an independent sort of demeanor, and I plan to be this way for the rest of my life. But it kills a portion of my spirit knowing that Daniel and I have to lean on someone other than ourselves this much. I wish I there was something I could do to help out financially. But being pregnant doesn't give me many options as far as employment goes.

It wouldn't be so bad if we had our own home. In fact, the hardest part about my entire situation is the fact that it isn't just Daniel and I. His Mother is also in the mix, as well as Daniel's two siblings who all (in my opinion) see us as nothing but irresponsible failures. It becomes…uncomfortable, embarrassing, and humiliating just to be around them most of the time. I often wish I could become invisible, and go about my day without having to be seen or heard by them at all..

But my biggest fear is that if we do move out, we'll end up being like my Mom and Stepdad. Struggling constantly, paycheck to paycheck. But deep in my gut, even if we do endure this type of life for a short amount of time, I don't see us living that way for as long as my Mother has. Honestly, in 3 years tops, I see Daniel with a great job, me in school working towards my degree (with a job on the side, of course), and Baby Girl smiling, healthy, and soo smart as she enjoys her childhood. All of us living in our single family home looking back on our humble beginnings with great pride considering how much we've progressed. I have no doubt that this is our future. It's just that our present situation is very blinding sometimes.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

She felt.

      It’s a quite challenging, a life for someone like me. Of course circumstances could always be worse, but in the same instance, circumstances could always be better. Plagued with bitterness, self-hatred, anxiety, and plain old unhappiness; I often question my own life’s worth. I constantly find myself sitting around, alone, and dreading social interactions with those that surround me. It’s painfully humiliating, the irony of falling silent and forgetting how to speak when in my head, that familiar voice is always talking. According to it, I’m always the victim, never good enough, and because of these reasons, the whole world is judging me. A part of me realizes this happens to everyone, but a handful of us feeble ones, unwillingly allow this darkness completely blanket itself over our lives. I feel that I am currently one of the weak ones. I’ve been this way for a very long time. Looking back at the past, I can literally watch myself doing all of the wrong things and it leaves me with this undeniable belief that if my life was a movie, it would be one of the worst ones yet, though it has barely begun. The main character has absolutely nothing to offer but a puddle of guilt and her silent presence as she tumbles trough life with a miserable demeanor.

      I do know that happiness is not hiding from me; it’s just that I have no idea where to find it. I understand that true joy and happiness at the most basic level depends on a few neurotransmitters, and receptors in the brain, like serotonin, and dopamine, depending on whether they are functioning correctly or not. In a perfect world, there would be a simple remedy to correct the malfunctioning of these neurotransmitters, and as a result, I’d spend my entire life sailing on the seas of my mind’s nirvana. You see, all I want is to feel happy, comfortable, and happy. Even in the skin I’m in, if I could be happy with it, I’d wear it with pride at all times. Some nights, the seemingly endless flow of tears, are all I have to depend on. I silently beg them to run their course, and exhaust my mind until I’m completely drained and slipping into the hole of sleep. The places I visit while asleep always fascinate me with their authentic, depth, and detail. Even when they torment me, I feel privileged to escape the agony of my waking mind.

Monday, April 8, 2013

Childhood guilt.

      She began to feel estranged from everyone. Her days were spent in a haze. She wasn't quite sure how she managed to get through the bore of the day. Boxed between four walls her body was always trapped. She sits in a quiet room as she begins to reminisce on her childhood: A small girl with summer shoes carelessly stomping on bumblebees that flew low just because she realized she could. Slipping her friend's Hilary Duff CD into her backpack just because she could get away with it. Finding her teenage hands and realizing she was still inside the same four walls, she tried to accept the fact that she had been rightfully imprisoned. Later that evening, eyes filled will love tried to make her feel beautiful again. She pretended to believe him but her memories wouldn't let her. A little girl's mother vomiting in the kitchen trashcan. The forced isolation.. It makes sense that she would later recreate that isolation. A pattern that plagues her right up to now.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013


      And the worst part is…I’m losing my will to speak. Something’s telling me I should go back on Zoloft; even if it drives me to pull an Eric Harris. I don’t understand myself…I’m not happy with where I am in life. I’m not happy with my shell. I only feel love for my boyfriend and my dog. Occasionally my family whenever our paths cross. My spirit is weary and sometimes I feel like I don’t have the stamina to hold onto this life much longer. I don’t even understand my life any how I got to this point. My creativity is at an all time low. That alone makes me want to put of glock to my head and blast off. I can’t even doodle correctly anymore. Zero talent shines through. Creative writing such as short stories and fan fiction…haven’t been able to write those in months. Maybe even 2 years. Writing used to bring me such joy. Escapism was my best friend. Now all I write about is my pathetic, lonely life. I look forward to the weekends. Some Saturdays, I get to visit my Mom. And Sundays I get to spend the entire day with my boyfriend. Those days get me through the week. But I never get a day off from worry. Everyday I’m scared to death that my baby isn't doing well. I've had to lift heavy objects in the midst of cleaning and such. Not to mention those 2 weeks of duster abuse that I had going on about 4 months ago. ..And today I’m 4 months pregnant. I have nothing more to say today.

Monday, March 18, 2013


      Why does the timid girl tear herself up for being that way? Bold and vibrant for a moment... then shy and distant in the very next instant. Her polar opposite state of being makes her the shining light that she’ll always be. Cycles, changes, and stages are not to be feared; But accepted, and applauded. As long as you remember: only a fool stays in one place and vows to never move ahead because of the familiarity associated with living in the past. Living in the present is ideal. And oh what a gift it is when you realize that you’re so far ahead from where you used to be. Progress.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Sad face..

      Odd girl out comes to mind. It’s hard for me to feel happy. It’s never been easy for me to phony a smile. Shouldn’t I be ecstatic when my boyfriend comes home? One third of the time, I’m not. Why? I don’t know. Mood swings? Am I just grumpy? Well I feel grumpy. I don’t feel happy. Today Blanket turned 11. I wonder if he’s happy. It made me smile this morning seeing pictures of him looking older, smiling n such. Why can’t I just pretend? Better yet, why can’t real, authentic happiness find me? A part of me just wants to run, and abandon everything I built over the last year and search for myself. No matter how much I learn about my existence, and begin to appreciate the mere privilege of being alive, I continuously find myself caught up in the gunk and yuck of blackness where dying seems to be the only escape. Even tonight, I wished I was dead. I contemplated suicide, and I’m still waddling in the sadness.

Sunday, February 10, 2013


      It really feels like no one understands me here. My mother-in-law and I are the closest. His brother seems to only see my skin color, and his sister seems to barley want to see me at all. She cried when we first broke the news. And not tears of joy. They were clearly tears of disappointment and fear for her brother’s future. She hugged me and said something to the affect of, “Well you’re a part of the family now so I have to accept you.” Those were not the exact words but it really did throw me off and ring to that affect. It’s true I’m beginning to stay up in my room more often. Of course, I’m never just sitting in silence or in darkness like a depressed vegetable. I mainly keep myself busy with my online courses, thought provoking podcasts, and documentaries, or just simply journaling like this. It’s not ideal; and I do feel a bit antisocial. But I didn’t start off like this. It was only as a result of how little English is spoken and how left out I feel from their conversations. Sitting in front of the TV all the time is a big “no no” in my life, period; And even worse when it’s always telemundo. I’ve tried to take interest in the soaps and news programs and use them as a way to pick up Spanish, but sometimes it back fires.

      I made the mistake of asking what the name of the program we were watching was one day while my brother-in-law was in the room. “She’s retarded.” He said referring to one of the girls on the show. I sat there for at least five minutes watching what I believed to be a mother crying over her daughter’s disability. The girl did look a bit weird. She wasn’t speaking and her glance would dart towards the speaker then back down to her lap every 30 seconds or so. Eventually I had to comment, “She doesn’t even look retarded. She’s pretty! They should be grateful the girl isn’t cross-eyed or something instead of crying!” I blurted out. My mother in law didn’t understand. she was too busy crying. My sister in law didn’t pay me any attention. But my brother in law was like, “Who’s retarded? What are you talking about? Who’s cross-eyed? You’re so mean!!” Finally the television showed a picture of the late Jenni Rivera who had just passed recently. Taking another look at the people who were crying, they all looked like they could be related to her. The program was talking about her death. Not a mentally retarded person. Embarrassed, I just went back to my room. Being the butt of every joke just isn’t fun.