Overcoming Intimacy Issues after a Loss

Matt passed away in November of 2011. After his passing, within 2 years, I gained 30lbs. I was distraught and this was the time that I probably began with a new bought of depression. I hadn’t seriously been depressed in close to 15 years. The last time I had had suicidal thoughts was when Tupac died. Now it was the end of 2011 and I had lost the one man, the only man, I had ever seen as a possible husband.

A few years after his death, I tried to date. But it only surmounted to me getting pleasure for an instant. Sometimes I wouldn’t even let the man I was with finish. I was not equipped to open my heart again. I was fragile. I didn’t want to get close again to anyone. I didn’t want to fall for someone and ever feel the pain of them leaving, whether it be in death or just not wanting to be with me. I felt I couldn’t bare it. I also, somewhat, didn’t want to love another. I only wanted to love Matt until the day I died. Even if he was no longer here.

In 2018, the depression grew into suicidal thoughts. For months I walked through some of my days, inside and out, envisioning how I could hang myself. My son had moved out the year prior. Had graduated from UCLA, had a great job, and moved in with his girlfriend. I had been drifting in and out of accounting jobs and unemployment. I continuously was being taking to court by my son’s father to battle with him on the arrears in the child support he owed me. I had never really dealt with the emotional pain he had conflicted upon me and my son all those years. (He had never been in the picture or had helped financially). I was single and just hated where my life was. I wasn’t grieving as much anymore, but it did come back in waves. I don’t think I had dealt enough over losing Matt and all the other issues that were arising, that it all made my depression get to the point that I was now suicidal. Thankfully, I seeked helped toward the end of 2018 and by January 2019 I was back in therapy. I recovered from the depression and went to Adult Children of Alcoholic meetings for the first time in my life. I continued with my therapy and dove into my intimacy issues. I never really had intimacy issues before. Before Matt, I had not been fully open to a committed relationship, but I was always monogamous. Once I’d like a boy, I liked him and could see no other. But, my childhood kept me away from ever wanting marriage. I had thought and was scarred that I would have a relationship like my parents. It had only been until my late 30s, lots of therapy, lots of reading, and lots of self analyzing, that I knew it didn’t have to be the case with me. I am not the unhealed, volatile person my parents were. And then Matt happened.

As I continued my therapy, I dated. And little by little I got better.

Fist was the guy that I dated and as soon as we were intimate, things were different from the last men I had been with over these last few years. I wasn’t so keen on him I thought at first, but the sex was okay. I let him finish too and I loved finally sleeping next to someone. I liked how he would reach over for me, but as I told my therapist, I loved that feeling, just not from him. I dated him for a few months, but only had sex with him that one time in the beginning. In the end, there were some extreme anxiety issues and lying on his part that I ended that. The next time I was with someone, the sex was again good. I actually liked the bear hugs and touches in the night from him.  Progress! There was just an age issue. He was ten years younger and didn’t have kids yet, but wanted them. I was already in my late 40s. So, I ended that one, too. Both guys were quite upset or maybe pissed off at me that I ended it, but I saw things that either I or they would have problems with down the road.

Then a pandemic hit in March of 2020. Dating during a pandemic was not going to be easy. Dating had always been extremely difficult for me. But, now I had to now maneuver between being single, isolated, not catching a deadly disease, and swimming through a sea of online profiles where some men would take anyone, just not be alone, or some men that had no care in the world over catching COVID-19. I needed to find someone in the in-between. I met one man during the beginning of the riots and protests. I think I just needed an adult to hang out with, take in all that was being blasted over every t.v. channel and possibly see if there could be a connection that could lead into something. I wasn’t into him. He was the kind of guy that seemed good on paper, but we weren’t really compatible and I just wasn’t attracted to him. I went out to dinner with another man, obviously outdoor dining because that’s what you do during a pandemic. It didn’t go beyond that. I’m glad he wanted to see someone closer (he lived over an hour away) because during dinner he’d ask me questions, but would never let me finish answering them.

 

Then it was August. A few months into this world-wide crisis. I was still isolating by myself. Beach bike paths had opened back up, so I was spending my long weekends bike riding. I was working from home. I had only seen my son once, briefly. I hadn’t seen friends or any other family because we were all being safe. Online dating was going nowhere. I was on Bumble and subscribed, just to see who had swiped right. I couldn’t believe and was amused by all the younger guys that had swiped right. My history of who I’ve ever been involved with consisted of guys that were my age or only guys that were a few years older.

And there he was. Blondie. Some could say, he had a dark blonde or just blonde hair. Beautiful wavy hair. Nice eyes. Sweet lips. Drummer. I love musicians and love music. (And, Matt was a drummer). Cyclist. (I had gone from consistently biking, but not wanting to be a full cyclist for years, to now seeing cycling and cyclists as HOT). I liked the profile, but only thought to myself, at least maybe he could be a fling during these challenging times. Nothing more because he was way too young. A little more than 10 years younger. But, not too young to be my child! I wouldn’t be attracted to someone who looked like a boy. He was definitely a man.

We chose to have dinner at his place. He lived in downtown L.A. in one of those high rises that had great views of the mountains and westside. He sent me pics of the sunset as we text. I googled him just to make sure he was who he said he was. I went over. We talked and talked. I went over many times out on his balcony to take pictures. The first time I told him how, why, I was walking slowly because I was scarred of heights. He jokingly grabbed my arms like to nudge me closer to the edge. But it was just enough not to scare me and enough for him to touch me and grab me back. I like it. We ordered in. He had gone earlier to grab wine. While he had been trying to pick it up, he had texted me what kind I liked. He had gotten three different bottles because he wasn’t sure which I would like. We ate, talked for hours. It flowed so easily. He even mentioned how easy it was to talk to me and be around me. As it was getting late and I was getting ready to leave, he kissed me. That was it. I was in. It went better than I had expected it to. I liked his profile, but couldn’t imagine that I would like him like this. Like really like him. I hadn’t felt like this since Matt had passed. The next few days we texted. But, then it went sideways when one time he hadn’t text me back, not just immediately, but almost a whole day without texting me back. I text him that he could at least say he wasn’t interested instead of what I thought, he had ghosted me. He was confused. Said he was out of town. And, then I didn’t hear anything for over a month. I can’t remember how we got back in touch. Maybe it was because I was searching again for a website designer. The night we spent together, he had mentioned that he also did websites, among other things. I told him that I had needed someone to redesign mine. As he redesigned my website, he started flirting again. We continued flirting over the phone and I asked him to come over many times. By November he had caught Covid-19. At least he thought it was Covid. I was getting tired of his calls and texts and me asking to come over that in December after another wanting to see me implying text, I said no more. I was fed up. I felt like I was begging. If he wanted to see me, he’d see me. He seemed upset. He had reminded me of all that he was going through the last few months (a lot of family issues), then he was sick, and all the stress he was under. Those were his last words to me then and that it sucks that he missed his chance. But that he would stop. Stop continuing this virtual flirting that I felt never went anywhere. He even apologized if he had made me upset.

We could be professional adults. We continued with my web design. Mostly through email and phone calls. When we spoke it was like speaking to a friend. Someone I had know for years. But, that is how it had always felt like with him. Even the first night we met. In the back of my head, or truly my heart, there was still an ache of wanting to see what could be.

When I like someone, I like someone. Not that madly in love kinda stuff. I just like what I like and when I like someone, I like someone. I don’t find it all the time. I’m very picky. But when I like someone, I want them around and want to nestled under them. And, I really like him. I was attracted to him. I liked everything I knew about him. I loved how we were together. It had taken me years to get here, but here I was. Recovered from my intimacy issues. Wanting him in my life, even though I agreed to him that we can keep it causal. He didn’t want a full blown relationship. I wanted anything I could get. Hoping that he’d eventually want a relationship with me. Even if it was for a few years.

relationshipsBut in the end, it didn’t work out. We had started talking again, flirting in the beginning of February. I had take a hiatus from online dating, but was back on. I sat back and thought of all the exposure I might be facing if I met someone for coffee, dinner, or a bike ride. What if I expose myself and the conversation sucks, what if the kissing sucks, what if the sex sucks. I opted to reach out to him. I made the first move by asking him if he was still single. He was. We texted over a week and then he finally came over. It was like six months had not passed. It was still like we had known each other forever. He left in the morning and I went on my bike ride. For more than two weeks there were some text messages. Then, I felt disengagement. I was again tired of chasing. Begging as I had put it the last time he was over. He said that he kinda liked it. I didn’t. I wanted to be wanted.

It’s okay that it ended. Yes, I am a little hurt and sad about it. I wish it could have been something more or that it lasted longer. And, he was so much more to me than what I said to a girlfriend recently. He was the first man in 9 years that I hoped, deep down, to have a relationship with. He was the first man that I no longer had intimacy problems with. He was the first man in a long time that I saw I could be compatible with and have a good, loving relationship with. When I think back on the brief time we spent, I will only think of it in the nicest of ways because it showed me my growth and healing and of the type of person I want in my life.

 

#readyforlove #findinglove #readyforarelationship

Overcoming the Fear of Speaking Up

I’ve lived in fear of speaking up most of my life. I’ve only challenged it sometimes. Covid and quarantining makes you really have time to think. It gives you the time to work on things about yourself that you may want to change or the things about your life that you may want to overcome. Speaking up or writing about anything and putting it out there for the whole world to see, without fear, is something I struggle with.fearful

Fear. It’s hard to be a writer and to be fearful. As a writer, knowing that fear will hold you back, is a hard thing to tackle and overcome. I write a lot about personal or private experiences and my thoughts or opinions on many matters. I am not scared of sharing. 

scared

Though, I am scared of retaliation or backlash or just plain physical harm or threats because doing so. A friend and I recently spoke about speaking up. We both come from addicted childhoods. Alcoholism. Never being allowed to speak up is a condition that comes from growing up in a household that had alcoholism in it. We are supposed to be seen and not heard. You can never rock the boat in a household where anything can set off the alcoholic or the other adult that has to maintain some kind of household that has to deal with an adult that is constantly making a wreck of their lives. So, when I was speaking with my friend, I had mentioned to her that I was in fear of a physical response more than anything. Sometimes I have also felt guilty, too. Even guilty of speaking up when I was hurting. As most adult children of alcoholics do, we swallow everything and try to remain silent. We bury our feelings, our thoughts, our words.

Never being able to speak up was hard. Because for the most part, if you spoke up or confronted anything, you’d sometimes get hurt. A slap could come from anybody. If someone didn’t like what you had to say even if you were being honest, you could be backhanded. Even from a sibling. So, I learned to never be confrontational. Yes sometimes I slipped up, regurgitated my thoughts, but I am only human and it was rare for me to do so.  

speaking upSo now as an adult, I have navigated to try to learn how to speak up without fear of harm and in a more civil manner than shouting or fighting, which is what I saw growing up. It’s hard to learn something you were never taught, so it has been challenging at times, but necessary. We must speak up when something is wrong, we must speak up and ask for a raise at work, we must speak up in court when you’re battling someone that keeps lying and doesn’t want to pay you child support, we must speak up and say what we are looking for in a relationship, and we must speak up on how we expect to be spoken to or treated. But, when I write and have written over the years my fear comes from people’s thoughts and opinions on how I should not say something about something or someone, even though time has passed and I hold no resentment. I cannot help it if they are in so much fear of secrets being revealed, their own shame for things they’ve done, or just that they like to maintain an image that is clearly perfection. None of us are perfect. Time has passed and people have learned and grown. But, some of us are trying to speak up to break the silence, break the cycle of keeping secrets and toxicity, tell others that they are not alone, and heal by sharing and talking to one another.

This fear that I have keeps me back. I’m scared of what will happen to me. The fear is based on physical harm more than anything. It’s just what I was trained as a child, not necessarily that it would happen as an adult. Let me tell you, the PTSD is real, but at least nowadays I am aware what the panic is and where it comes from. The physical harm could happen, but more than likely it wouldn’t. So it’s been hard to overcome this fear of physical harm coming from speaking your truth. But this morning in the rarest of moments that I’ve had, I know that I need to challenge this fear and stop being scared and hiding. I cannot be scared of what someone might do. I cannot be scared of what could happen. Fear in some cases, is irrational and it is holding me back as a writer. I must let go and live my life to the fullest.

Without fear there is only abundance. Without fear there is only freedom. Without fear there is only true fulfillment and happiness.
I will live this day and the rest, moving forward, walking through fear and not let it hold me back.

Opening the Wounds – Black Lives Matter

Opening the wounds. Are we finally done tolerating the mistreatment of black people? 
I heard that said by a news-reporter this morning on Good Morning America – ‘Opening the wounds’. These past two weeks have definitely opened up the wounds for me and lots of people. My heart aches, but it also cries with hope.

It has now been two weeks since George Floyd was killed by a power-driven, racist Minneapolis cop. George Floyd is one of many African-American/Black men that are profiled as aggressive men that we, they, should fear, but as friends have mentioned, he was a gentle giant. His friend that was with him that day and witnessed his murder over the course of 8 minutes and 46 seconds, said that George was trying to defuse the situation. We’ve all seen countless videos of black men being killed by cops, only to have a brief spotlight in the media and a moment of outrage and sadness for what might have led to that happening. But, what’s circulating is that this is different. Or, at least we hope that it is! black lives matter
2020 has been a year that has taken us and the world to the edge of breaking because of the pandemic, having millions lose their jobs, not knowing where to get food to feed themselves or their children, and having us all lockdown for months. There has been time to become more introspective, pushing ourselves to realize what’s important, to slow down and appreciate time with family, learn and realize things we never thought we were capable of doing, and to value our health most of all. It’ll be written in history books. Most of us have grown by this experience and have not known perseverance like this ever before. But, has it taken being in lockdown, having so much time on our hands too really see what’s been going on for black people in the United States and that this is the time we will really make a difference, a serious step towards anti-racism?
Before you start thinking that I’m being pessimistic, I am also hoping with all my heart that there will be more than protests and riots and wanting everyone to think – Okay, what do we do now, how do we really change this, besides saying I’m not racist, I will teach my children to not be racist. That is always the first step. Teach love at an early age. Teach that there is beauty in all people and that everyone is equal and has the ability to do as much as anyone else.
Growing up Latina, new in this country in the 1970s and living in a predominantly white community, I learned about biases and racism early—towards myself, my family, and the less than handful black people in our community. I tell my son that I’m not sure when it started or why. Maybe it was a combination of where we lived in Ohio, being foreigners, and not looking like everyone else that I recognized that it was very obvious that it was not okay being different. And also, that 4 years after we moved to this country we could have been one of many families that sat in front of their TVs and watched Roots. That the combination of these things broke my heart and made me always have empathy, awareness, and sadness towards what people of color, especially black people, have to endure. I understood, to a degree, the racism that they have to deal with. Black people have to deal with a different level of racism and bias that if you are not black, you will never truly understand. Both people of color, brown and black, get held back by many because of judgments or stereotypes. Some people in authority want to just round up Hispanics and send them back to their country, while for black people, people in power are just okay with them being killed.black lives matterAs I wrote before, I’ve been talking with my son about what is going on. He is hunkering down about 30 minutes from me in Los Angeles, living with his girlfriend, and trying not to become a statistic because he has asthma and Covid-19 would not be great for him to catch because of his underlying condition. He is 25 now. And, he is half Haitian. For me, this time and moment now, with George Floyd’s death, the protests and riots are emotional because not only is he half black, but that he finally understands how he is perceived in this world.
A few nights ago, after he wrote a Letter from the Editor piece on what was going on (yes, he’s an Editor, writer, photographer for a huge music conglomerate), I told him, like I have probably shared many times, that I’ve been hoping for an end on how black people are perceived. That my heart has always been with them since an early age. That my best friend in 2nd grade was black and I was heartbroken when I was told that I could no longer be friends with her and that I didn’t care how much darker her mother was (my mom did). That when I saw Star Wars that I couldn’t decide who I had a crush on more, Harrison Ford or Billie Dee Williams – I think Billie Dee won that for many years because of films like Mahogany and Lady Sings the Blues. That I’ve not only been slightly jealous of how beautiful they are, but that I have been captivated for years by the Maasai people in Africa and that I would love to go and photograph them. That when I’d later go to college, I chose to take African American History classes over any other history. That I was thrilled to meet Rev. Jesse Jackson before a Rainbow Coalition event. And when there were talks to end Apartheid in South Africa, I cried. I was beside myself in overwhelming joy when Nelson Mandela was freed, became President of South Africa and that I was able to see him when he came to Los Angeles. I still wear once in awhile the baseball cap I got from that day that represents his prisoner ID number. *”Prisoner 46664″ continues to be used as a reverential title for him.” That when I first met Tupac, that I was not only in awe because he 2Pac, but also that his mother had been a Black Panther. For more than 40 years, my heart has stood beside the African American/Black race. Every time a small coverage was shown of yet another death or mistreatment of someone of color, my heart broke. I voted in favor of some black politicians and wanted desperately at work to do a happy dance every time someone mentioned about President Barack Obama being first elected. I raised my son telling him, warning him, that people and especially cops will single him out just because of the color of his skin. But when we spoke after he posted what he wrote about the injustice of yet another black man being murdered that was obviously not resisting arrest or branded a weapon, that he finally embraces and understands what it means to be a black man in this country. I told him that for me and how he should embrace it, that it is beautiful. Black people are beautiful inside and out. They have given us so much. Our dances, music, sporting events, fashion, art, film, food, comedy, have been highly influenced by them. They have been inventors and scientists, like –

The Three-Light Traffic Light, Invented by Garrett Morgan in 1923

Automatic Elevator Doors, Invented by Alexander Miles in 1887

Electret Microphone, Co-Invented by James E. West in 1964

Carbon Light Bulb Filament, Invented by Lewis Latimer in 1881

Color IBM PC Monitor and Gigahertz Chip, Co-Invented by Mark Dean c. 1980 and 1999

Marie Van Brittan Brown – Her original invention consisted of peepholes, a camera, monitors, and a two-way microphone. The finishing touch was an alarm button that, when pressed, would immediately contact the police. Her patent laid the groundwork for the modern closed-circuit television system that is widely used for surveillance, home security systems, push-button alarm triggers, crime prevention, and traffic monitoring.

Patricia Bath—laser surgical device. Bath is a contemporary inventor and ophthalmologist from Harlem, New York. She is the first black female doctor to receive a medical patent. In 1986, she invented the Laserphaco Probe, which has revolutionized the treatment of cataracts.

Charles Drew—blood bank. created the life-saving concept of large-scale blood banks, starting with research into the storage, processing, and shipment of blood plasma during World War II. He was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame in 2015. Drew was born in Washington, D.C. in 1904. As a surgeon, researcher, and inventor, he invented the modern blood banks. Since World War II, his invention has gone on to save thousands of lives.

Frederick Jones—refrigeration machine. Jones was a self-taught engineer with a number of important inventions. His most notable invention was a refrigeration machine used to transport blood, food, and medicine during World War II.

Dr. Daniel Hale Williams – In 1893, Dr. Williams became the first surgeon to performed open-heart surgery on a human. His patient, James Cornish, survived. 

Alfred L. Cralle (1862-1920) received US Patent 576,395 in 1897 for an “ice cream mold and disher,” or mechanical ice-cream scoop, which is the basic design still used widely today.

Lloyd A. Hall (1894-1971) developed a method for combining sodium chloride with crystals of sodium nitrite and nitrite to keep nitrogen in the air from spoiling food—a method still used today to preserve meats—and other food preservation techniques. He was inducted into the National Inventors Hall of Fame in 2004 

Lonnie G. Johnson (born 1949) may be most famous for inventing the Super Soaker water gun (US Patent 4,591,071), but he is also a former NASA engineer who now runs his own research and development lab working on clean energy solutions. In February 2017, the Lemelson Center featured him in our Innovative Lives program series, where he talked about his inventive life and varied career. The list goes on and on.

I could continue with so many more, but I just wanted to point out that they are just as accomplished. That they have shown a resilience that no other race could ever endure, while still knowing that all of us have used what they’ve so willing contributed to society.
Yet we sit here now, starting to come out of quarantine for months with another death of a black person by the hands of a cop. It’s 2020. We’ve made more progress and finally, all cops are not getting away with murdering a black man trying to say that either he was resisting arrest or they were in fear of their lives. Have we made progress? Yes. Have more non-black people stood alongside this beautiful race to say no more? Yes. Do I wish with all my being hope, finally, there will be such an enormous shift that people of color will see and get? Yes.
Do we need to do more? YES! black lives matter
This fight to end racism won’t stop here. We must continue to not forget, let our voices and votes count. We must teach our friends, family, community, and children that they are just like anyone else. Probably even more exceptional because they still get up every morning, smile and greet you, hoping that one day their brother or sister won’t become another statistic.

*Wikipedia

#blacklivesmatter #BLM #georgefloyd #justiceforbreonna

Never take anything for granted

You really can’t take anything for granted. Family, friends, work, a paycheck, bike rides, sunsets, days off, taking pictures, hugs, kisses, holding hands, the beach, the sun, a walk at the beach or through a favorite museum, ACA meetings, eating out, and sitting in the sun for hours.Whatever it is, try to never take anything for granted. And know, that we make this little sacrifice to save lives.

Life can end in a second

A little shaken up.
When I saw all the cop cars racing to where I was and then saw one open his door while the car was still moving with a rifle in hand I knew it was bad. Then in less than 5 seconds three gunshots behind me. I didn’t stop to turn around and look. I ran with my bike hoping all cars stopped would not start driving, trying to get out of there. As soon as I got to the other side of Sepulveda and Venice and behind a wooded fence all I could do is breakdown and cry.
In a split second, you could no longer be here. All I hope is that I left a sweet, touching, or funny memory in every that I’ve met and that the ones that are in my life or in my heart knows that I love them no matter what.

 

#lifeisshort #gratitudeforeachday

When men just don’t know any better?

A few weeks ago I was approached with a job opportunity for an Accounting position. I’ve been out of work for a while and I’m in desperate need because my finances are dwindling down. So, when I was approached with a possible job for a major social media influencer in Beverly Hills, I was thrilled and relieved. Not only did the position seem perfect and I was qualified based on my experience, the pay was exactly what I was requesting and needed. The recruiter thought I’d be a perfect candidate, too. I had to do some testing though before I was sent out for an interview. And, even though I had been approached on a late afternoon I was willing to do whatever was required of me. That evening I researched the employer. The name had sounded familiar but I couldn’t pinpoint who he was. As he came across my screen, I totally knew who he was. I watched a few videos, googled him to see what others said about him, and checked out his Instagram which displayed him dancing with several girls, other posts were he flaunted his mansion and cars but said that wasn’t what he valued. He values knowledge (on how to grow your Instagram account?). Was I really this desperate? He annoyed me and I really didn’t know what he does besides selling falsehoods and everything that is superficial and shallow.
I guess I was that desperate. I have no one helping me out. I don’t have much in my savings, no retirement, nothing really. I had to push my personal thoughts aside. I knew I had dealt with different personalities, probably equivalent or worse. I could do this, I thought. So the next morning I started on the two personality tests and a comprehension test. I began the first personality test. 100 questions, choice questions (either or) to see where your personality was on different aspects, were you a narcissist or not, etc. Ugh. This was getting tedious and weird. After a few questions I saw that this was his very own personality test. Why I knew, they were coming from his website and I had taken personality tests before. Some of these questions seemed different. More personal. And that was just it. They kept getting more personal. Some questions were building upon each other, making me feel more uncomfortable as I continued. Probably 50 questions in I just wanted to stop. Was he serious? What he is asking is wrong. I can’t recall what number this question was, I must have been more than halfway through when one of my choices were – ‘I enjoy having sex with people I hardly know’. Oh my gosh! I’m done, I thought. All kinds of emotions were happening. Was he serious? In this age of #timesup and #metoo, doesn’t he know better?
In the end of drilling through the rest of his personality test with a bunch of, “that’s none of your business”, stopping at should I choose – ‘My body is nothing special’ or ‘I like to look at my body’, I completed the test and the other test, too. I sat for a minute trying to decide what I whelplessas going to do. Should I just follow through and see what happens? Maybe I can confront him face to face. I emailed the recruiter. I declined the position because I found his questions inappropriate, I wrote. She later called me to discuss and apologized. I never responded.
Being an older woman who was raised with no gender roles, where I could do just about everything a man could do and vice versa, I wonder why things are still so unequal? I recognize the beauty I had especially in my twenties in the bright lights of Hollywood and learned the hard way what that gets you. I’ve made myself too aware of the statistics of crime against women inflicted by men and in my belief, the crime is also being committed every day by keeping women down, economically and socially. I became a very capable independent woman and mother that raised a young man to not see women as less than because she has different body parts.
This behavior of inappropriateness has happened for centuries where women are an object. We are only good for breeding, being mothers, being utilized for the hard work without getting any recognition, and to be only what our outer appearances are to the eyes of men. Are we as women getting further away from being seen as qualified and just as competent or closer to being nothing more than having ginormous butts, revealing all to break the internet, subjecting ourselves to countless cosmetic treatments were we don’t look real anymore, so that some of us continue to be objectified to these kinds of personal questions by men?
My years have unfortunately made me well aware of what some men do in the corporate world. We all have heard it on the news. But, why is it still happening? Do some men just not know any better, think they can get away with it because we are naive, young, dumb or just won’t speak up?
Well I’ll tell you this, I’m probably the age of this guy and I have the guts to speak up so hopefully guys like him will think differently, be more accountable, but more importantly so not one more female is subjected to your ridiculous questions that are none of your business and who knows what behavior or atmosphere working for you would be.
Do you just not know any better, I wonder.

You Can Choose

You can choose to stay in the hurt and pain.
You can choose to remain angry.
You can choose to be like them.
You can choose to continue victimizing yourself.
You can choose to live in the negative.
You can choose to throw it all away. 

 

 

 

Or,

You can choose to live with love.
You can choose to live in the light.
You can choose to live seeing and being in nature.
You can choose enjoying loved ones.
You can choose enjoying listening or seeing your favorite band.
You can choose to have that delicious meal.
You can choose going to a city that you love or enjoying the experience of getting to know a new one.
You can choose to bask all day in the sun or to play in the snow.
You can choose to stay in, under the covers, on a cozy couch, watching a great movie.
You can choose achieving those goals that you set forth for yourself that makes you feel accomplished.
You can choose to have that 1st date that you have been anticipating for days.
You can choose to fall in love.
You can choose to have a child or as many children as you desire.
You can choose to learn new things that bring you pleasure.
You can choose to continue doing that thing you are passionate about.
You can choose to get older, being able to look back on your life and smile because it’s been interesting and you’ve loved it, even with its ups and downs. 

  

The choice is yours.
What are you going to choose?

#ACoA #recoveryispossible #12steps

Do What You Love

One thing I don’t share about me too often  is one of my passions – photography.

It’s been something I’ve been loving and doing since about the age of 6. It brings me happiness and it is 1 of the things I actually think I am good at.

 

 

I believe we all should be doing what we love. Easier said then done sometimes. I know. I had to raise a child all by myself and thought I’d be practical and do Accounting. But, now it’s my time to chase my dreams! Even if I don’t succeed, I’ll never give up doing what I love.

Never let go of what brings you happiness.

Making your mark on the world is hard. If it were easy, everybody would do it. But it’s not. It takes patience, it takes commitment, and it comes with plenty of failure along the way. The real test is not whether you avoid this failure, because you won’t. It’s whether you let it harden or shame you into inaction, or whether you learn from it; whether you choose to persevere.
Barack Obama

#photographer #chasingmydreams #acoa

R.I.P. Chester Bennington

Two days and I am sitting in my motel room crying, weeping. After I heard the news I was shocked and cried, but for 2 days I went on with my days in disbelief, numb, heartbroken, in a fog. 

I’ve been known to be “sensitive”, like it was a bad thing to be. What I’ve come to realize is that I am extremely empathetic. I feel for others as if I am feeling their pain. It is not a bad thing to be empathetic or sensitive. But, what I don’t care for is being empathetic when I can so relate.
Trauma as a child sucks. Depression – suicidal depression hits so close to home for me. I feel for the pain and hard it must have been to be you when you were clearly suffering with depression.
As a teenager and for a brief moment as an adult, I suffered from it. It feels like it was yesterday. And, so when I hear of someone killing themselves, much less someone that has brought so much to me and my son over the last 15+ years, breaks my heart.
Again, the tears are flowing.

 

If I was a teenager, I would have said proudly, I had a crush. You helped me, helped all your fans that at one time or another felt the same pain you had so clearly suffered, to release it through your screams of angst in your songs. But, to then mix screams into a softness-mellowness, lyrical flow was to also remind us to go on with the love we needed to find in our lives, living with the pain or trauma, that many of us still carried. That talent was truly magical.
You were strong. You were talented. You had that thing, we all so dearly adored.
Empathetic. Sensing your pain. Feeling our loss. Says so much to who you were this time around, Chester Bennington.

 

Much love to your spirit wherever that finds you. Much love to your family and friends 💔
You will be so dearly missed!

If you are thinking or have thought about suicide, if you are worried about someone you know, or if you just need someone to talk to, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or chat with their counselors online here. You can see more of their services here. All services are free and available 24/7.

 

#endthestigma #suicideprevention #linkinpark #chesterbennington #fightdepression
#depression #suicide #childhootrauma #ripchesterbennington

 

Pre-Graduating Day!!

What a rollercoaster ride of emotions today. I’m experiencing soon one of my happiest and proudest days of my life ~ my son will be graduating from UCLA tomorrow with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology and a minor in Music Industry. It has been one amazing journey to get here with the struggles, disappointments, challenges, laughter, and many all-nighters. And, I’ll never forget all the driving every morning to Brentwood and later to Pacific Palisades.

But, I can’t help to think of the ones that won’t be sharing in knowing and seeing what a great, accomplished young man he has become. The very first one, Tupac (Happy Birthday), that knew I was going to be a great mother ~ Uncle Tupac as he wanted to be. The words of wisdom and kindness he wrote to me while he was away in NY were what I so desperately needed to hear at that time. How happy he would be tomorrow for my son and I! And, then my father, who just passed in December. He brought us to this country for our education. Furthering one’s education beyond high school was so important to him because he hadn’t done it and he knew the value in it. I’m grateful that he at least knew that my son was graduating soon, as we told him in December in the hospital bed. How proud he would be!

So, really, a world of emotions – but good ones. Because in the end it is nothing but pure joy of my son’s accomplished that brings it all to this.

 

 

 

#beatingtheodds #persevere #2pac

Ode to Court today, 5/23/2017

As I sit here, next to you 

I think of all these moments of time.
The moments of my life, so long ago.

My life was adventurous.
My life had promise.
My life had excitement of new loves, new experiences.

Not everyone gets to live the high life of fun times in West Hollywood’s clubs
the glamorous who’s-who parties in the Hollywood Hills
the adoration and reassurance of self esteem of someone like 2pac noticing you.

The moments you and I shared.
The relationship and things we shared.
All I can think,
while I sit next to you here in court – how did we get here?

Why did you choose not to be part of your son’s life
with not even a care in the world to make sure he was properly taken care of.
Is all you have to say to me
when you sit down next to me is –
“sorry”.
#childsupport