What if

What if I truly honored my parents. What if I was a good girl. What if I waited till i got married. What if didn't lie. What if I finished college? What if I was strict with my girls, if I had continued their piano lessons, track, cheerleading? What if I had raised them different? What if...

I can't seem to let go of the what if's. It's consuming me, consuming my thoughts and my mind s gonna explode. How do I fix it? How do I get out of bed and move forward?

What if my mom had lived? What if we had tried harder to save her life? What if her presence had made an impression on the life of my girls and on our marriage?

The love of a mother never dies and I believe it because not a day goes by that I don't think of her, that I don't miss her. I didn't know how much I loved her till i became a mother and I'm not sure if I ever told her, if she ever knew that she was my world.

What if the bond was never broken? What if we lived happily ever after? What if you still looked at me like you looked at me the first day we met? What if all our dreams came true? What if fairy tales were true? What if I still had butterflies every time I heard your name?

What if you still loved me?

La Familia

I miss my family. I miss my sisters, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, and uncles. I miss the closeness and energy an extended family provides. The laughter, hugs, and tears that make us who we are today, I miss it so much.

"We're too busy. We just don't have time." Those are the common excuses. How about, "I'm just too tired." Or "I have a lot do." To me, all those excuses are BS. We ALL make time for the things we want to do. We ALL make time for the people we want to see.

Family has always been very important to me. Even as a teenager and young adult, I made the time to see my sisters and my nieces and nephews. I attended plays, sports events, band converts, and picked up the little ones from school. I would rather be with my family than my friends. Even after I married I completely made my husband's family my own. I loved Big Grandma's house. I could spend the whole day there. I loved my family.

It's with all understanding that families grow and move away. It happens, life happens. Children make us busy with school and extracurricular events. We, as adults, we get busy with work. We are all getting pulled every which way. We spread ourselves thin. But we do it to ourselves. We work 50 to 60 hour weeks and place our children in 3 or more activities. There's "no time" for family dinners. Everyone eats on go or in their bedrooms. How about the technology that takes the little time we have left.

I have always taught my girls that if they wanted to see someone they should make the first attempt to get in touch. Otherwise it will never happen. But what happens when the other person doesn't make that same attempt; that person puts you in the backseat. What happens then? It breaks one's heart.

When we get invited to an event, a birthday party, a wedding, or a special occasion to make it our first priority to be there. Many years ago we were invited to five different parties in one day and because I believed never to RSVP with a "will not attend" we attend every single party. It was a hell of a day but I couldn't let anyone down.

Although I am very disappointed in my family, I know I cannot expect that they do what I would do. I cannot expect them to drop everything for me as I would do for them.

Footsteps

One day Nicole and I were talking about her mission trip to Juarez years ago. She spoke about the trip with love and excitement. I told her that I always thought she would go into missions. Nicole's response slapped me in the face. She said, "Mom, missionaries become missionaries because their parents were missionaries. And look where I come from." Wow, the truth surely does hurt.

The last thing I want is to pass my dysfunctional ways to my daughters the way it was passed on to me. But guess what, it seems it's been passed on.

I am living the life my mother led. I rarely remember my mom laughing but I knew that she wanted to laugh. She wanted to be adventurous and she wanted to be happy. That's how I feel I want to be happy but the strings of heartache pull me away. Just like my mom I can't seem to motivate myself for a better life. The hole I'm in is so deep I barely see the light up above me. 

When people are young we tend to say that we will not end up like our parents or do the the things our parents did, but we do. At least I have in many ways good and bad, I am my mom. And I hope that my girls will not be turn out to be me one day. 

Blood is thicker

Growing up I didn't know my father's side of the family. I thought it was a normal thing until I became a teenager then I realized it wasn't normal. Most children did know both sides of their families. It made me very sad, very sad that there are cousins, aunts, uncles, even brothers and sisters that I don't know.

When I got married I made it my first concern to make sure my girls had the chance to know all their family. They were going to know their father's side of the gaming. It was easy, they are a great family. Big Grandma's house was full of laughter and fun. It was something I never knew because I never had a grandma that wanted to be with her grandchildren. I fell in love with my new family.

Through the years there were ups and downs like any typical family but I always felt secure and part of the family. "Blood is thicker than water" didn't have any meaning for me because I was blood, or at least in my eyes I was blood not water.

Sixteen years into my marriage the worst thing that could happen happened. My husband walked out on his family. He walked out and didn't look back. My girls and I were crushed. Everyone around us was crushed. The support for my girls and I was incredible. As months went by the blood became thinner and thinner until water dripped out of my veins.

On the nights when I couldn't get myself off the floor, it was my sisters who came and lifted me up. When I had a bare cupboard my friends filled it up. When I had no comfort to give my girls, my dad made them laugh. The family I fell in love with was no longer there. Or maybe they never were there for me. Maybe I imagined the closeness because of the need to fill the hole I was missing growing up.

I walk with hunger

I've been used and abused by men my whole life, but you were the only one who respected me and now that's lost too. My question to God is why? Why did you create men and women so differently? Why can a man get up and leave without a single tear and a woman shed so many tears for someone who left her like a dog in an alley. Why can a man kiss his children good-bye and not look back; while a woman would die without the feel of her children's lips everyday? Why God? Why the torment and pain that comes with loving someone so much that the loss of him makes one rather lose a limb than his touch? But he could care less if he ever touches you again.

Weeks before you walked out, I knew. I knew but I convinced myself that I owed it you. I convinced myself that it was my fault and I deserved the non stop pain. I sacrificed my children for my sorrow. I saw nothing around me, above me, or beneath me. I wanted to earn you back when you didn't deserve it. I lost my dignity because I chased after your love, a love that was no longer existed. I allowed you to tease me and use me with the hope that it would spark the feelings you once had for me.

I laid on the floors for hours weeping and yearning for you to walk back in the door. I wouldn't eat for days because my pain wouldn't allow it. I saw your face on every man that walked or drove beside me. Your cold blood, and your empty stare degreated me but I stood by the thought that I drove you to hate me, that is was me who did this. I blamed myself over and over. It has taken me years to realize that it wasn't my fault. We all have choices and you chose to hurt us. You chose walk to walk away. You chose to leave your family. I no longer blame myself. The wound is still opened and it taking long to heal.

Now I am a shell of woman. I walk like a zombie. I walk with hunger but without a heart.

Did she know?

Rain water is the best for the plants is what my mother used to say. Every time it rained we had to take all my the house plants outside for the rain to water them. We also collected buckets of rain water. My mother loved her plants as much as she loved us.

At my mom's funeral my cousins said they remembered that my mom would buy them Happy Meals from McDonald's every time they came over. I don't remember it too clearly, but it was a special memory for them about my mother. Someone else had a memory of her always willing to give to others.

My mom loved Baskin Robbins, onion cheeseburgers, and root beers. She loved her family. She loved life but she didn't know how to live it. She was sad most of her days. I barely remember her smile or her laugh.

I think of my mom every day, every single day. When she passed, it took me about two years to cry for her. Not because I wasn't sad or because I wasn't going to miss her, I just couldn't cry. Now I wonder if she knew how my much I loved her, how much we all loved her.

There have been times when I "go fishing" for compliments from my daughters, well that's what my girls call it "fishing" and they refuse to say something nice to me. I know they love but sometimes we need to hear, we need to know it, and we need to feel it.

Azalea Evelice was a beautiful woman, a strong woman, a giving woman, and so much more. But did she know? Did we tell her? Did she hear us? Did she know?

Tell those you love how you feel, tell them everyday, and every chance you get because more than likely they might now know or they need to hear it.

Green-Eyed Monster

Two weeks ago, my family and I attended a cook-out with my high school friends. Some of them I had not seen in over 25 years but the minute I stood among them the shy little girl came out. I love my friends and I love that many of them I've known since kindergarten but all the insecurities suddenly rendered me motionless. As I stood in the kitchen listening to everyone talk, I was thrown back in time. I was always the quiet one wishing in my heart that I could be funny one, the popular one, the athletic one, or the beautiful one. I remember being the silly or weird one, because that was who they saw me as, I embraced weirdness and that's who I became. 

My low self esteem is what created the jealousy in me, as it does to many young ladies. It grew as I became a teenager and a young adult. It was what kept me from smiling or shining. I never felt good enough for my friends, my family, or even myself. As I started dating that monster grew into a terrifying giant. My insecurities drove me to my madness. It caused me to lose friendships and relationships. 

In 1992, I began working for the YWCA after-school program, that is where I met my husband, Hector. After we were introduced our friendship began and he made me feel confident and beautiful, no one had ever made me feel that way. Our conversations would last for hours but it seemed like only minutes. He could make me laugh like no other. From our friendship a romance blossomed, and that was like a fairy tale. Hector was the one person who had managed to kill that green-eye monster. I never doubted his love, his loyalty, and his strength. 

Now here we are 21 years later, our marriage has had it's ups and downs just like any other marriage. He continues to make me laugh and he is the by all means the head of our family. But because of some of the bad times in our marriage and maybe because I'm getting older that monster is back and I do not have the strength to fight him off. I am back to the being the shy little girl.

What I have come to realize is that I can not depend on my friends, my family, and my husband to fight that green-eyed monster for me. So put up your dukes, I'm ready for you.

Are you married?

"Mom when is your wedding anniversary?", I asked my mother when I was about 10 years old. I was excited for the answer because a friend from school had mentioned her parents were married on Valentine's Day; even at the early age of ten I knew that I also wanted to get married on Valentine's Day. They say every little girl dreams of her wedding day, I don't remember dreaming of my wedding day but I did know that I wanted to be married.

Unfortunately because of TV shows, I believed that one day I would grow up to be June Clever or Mrs. Brady. I wanted the picket fence, the 9 to 5 husband, and four children. I wanted what I was about to lose. "Mom, when is it?" I continued to ask. The response I got not only knocked me off my feet but broke my heart in two. "Mom!" "Look Marisol I don't have an anniversary because I am not married to your dad and I wouldn't want to be married to that SOB." was my mother's answer. I fell flat on my bottom and I didn't move for several minutes. I didn't know how to feel.

The love my mother gave us I know was above anything I could ask for but the need for "The Brady Bunch" family was what I heart yearned for from that day on. As the words came out of my mother's mouth the view of my life, my family changed forever. The saying goes, what you don't know will not hurt you and to a certain extent it is true. I knew my family was far from perfect, my parents fought, my dad drank, and my older sisters did not look like me but that day my mother's bitter words opened my eyes to my true life. I became ashamed of family and ashamed of myself.

Your Pain

I know your pain
When you were sad,
When your blue eyes teared up
I know your pain

When you laid in your bed motionless
I know your pain

Your rare laughter
I know your pain
The love you had for your family
I know your pain

When you let him go and on his return
I know your pain

At the attack of your head
And at the bed in your bed
I know your pain

Two-Sides

Just like there are two sides to every story, there are two sides to every heart. Since 2009 my eyes have been opened in a very different way. My thoughts at times scare me because after 40 years I do not believe or think the way I was raised. My biggest frustrations are that all the Believers seem to want to save me from my new beliefs. The sad part is that I once caused the same frustrations to others who did not agree with my beliefs.

Through our enduring in the last few years I now understand that every one's opinion matter and that there many roads to finding the truth. I was raised with a very closed mind because of my religion and my culture but I now know that that is not a way to live or a way to treat others. I ask for forgiveness to all who I have hurt with my actions and my words.

With that said, my new blog will be about my new thoughts, my pain, and the new things that I have learned and endured. I hope that I do not only write on this blog to complain and cry but that through my words I can grow and help you grow. And if you are also going through some kind of suffering, I hope you know that you are not alone. I would like to hear your thoughts and comments so please feel free to express your thoughts in the comment area.

Here I go.

Marisol