Oh how the feels fill the room….

Rereading the last story before this one has me feeling as if nothing has really changed since last month, but it has in very subtle ways. Our Coma Cool, Chela has left us. Ironically exactly one month after Yoya. It still really hasn’t hit me, it may never. I barely met Chela in Cancun, but I felt like I knew everything about her. We got very close on vacation and she was someone I was happy to have crossed paths with along with her daughters. My heart breaks for them. They still needed their mom, it was evident, but in reality everyone does. It breaks my heart because I still have my mom and sometimes, more than I like I still take advantage of her. I wish I wouldn’t, I don’t want to. I don’t want to blame her, I really don’t but I’ve come to the realization that I resent my mom. A lot. And I wish I didn’t. I wish I could just get over it and accept her as she is, but I struggle. It hurts because I never thought I’d have these strong feelings toward her. As a child I always assumed this about my dad, in fact 7 year old me would be shocked or pleasantly surprised that my dad did a complete 180. She’d be happy to see that I didn’t hate him, but instead have a lot of love and respect for him. We’re proud of the person he is today, which is why it hurts to feel this way toward the woman who always protected and fought for us. In recent years it’s just felt like a lot more work to get along than it ever has before. I’m a lot like my mother, I know it and I see all the ways we are alike, some things I love, others I cringe and despise. We’re not perfect and we won’t ever be, but I would like to lessen the weight of my flaws and their effect on other people. This past month grieving has gotten better, but I can’t but feel and acknowledge that I feel the exact same way I felt a month ago when I wrote the last story.

The Good—

Last week I spent a week in Ohio to visit the office/meet my coworkers and see family. The 6 hour drive to Columbus had me excited for the second I arrived back home. My cousins which are whom I thought were very critical, phone-obsessed and negative — pleasantly surprised me. Wine and dined me with awesome food, gummies and total relaxation. A week with them was exactly what I needed. My motivation at work increased this week (most likely anxiety driven, but still). Got some cute small business goods, had carcajadas, ate well and even got a little deep. I have a lot more empathy toward them and am very grateful to have stayed. I hope I continue to make an annual visit at bare minimum, mostly because ❤Brassica❤. ILY CBUS

The Uncomfortable—

While in Ohio I made the effort to cross one thing off my mental list — reconnecting with my older brother. We celebrated my nephews birthday at D&B’s awkward that it had been almost 2 years since we’ve seen each other. I was happy to make the trip knowing it wouldn’t be the most comfortable and slightly awkward. We quickly caught up at dinner and I asked their other family members about life. I was quickly reminded of Pastor Rich’s hospitality sermon. I was feeling very unwanted at this dinner/small gathering, not by my brother and his family, but by hers. Everyone seemed different and I had to remind myself people can change and grow up, etc. in 2 years. I felt as though the same respect wasn’t given back or no one was interested, which I guess is fair and maybe I’m overthinking it because I was on my period. Nonetheless I’ve never felt so unwanted, uncomfortable and it hurt and I felt emotional about it. I felt a lot of anxiety. I tried not to acknowledge it but I felt as though that’s all I could acknowledge. I brought up the the pandemic unfortunately and with much privilege benefitted me. It was true and I can’t deny that. While millions died, covid helped me and maybe even saved me. It gave me time to spend with my close friends, to explore, to lessen the weight of anxiety and to soak in the good that was in my life, despite things that weren’t/hadn’t gone my way. It helped me look inward and begin writing this journal. It helped me remind me of the good in me and that everything passes with time. Especially that things are not what they always seem. And maybe that it was in this very moment where I realized things from last month HAD changed, and maybe so have I.

I started therapy. For real. Patricia is the GOAT. She’s of latin descent and she worked her magic in the very first intro session. 2 sessions in and her tips and advice has already begun wiring in my brain. I’m becoming more open speaking things that weigh heavy on my heart, things that aren’t always so easy to talk about and things that are uncomfortable yet I don’t want to continue shoving under the rug. I am desperate for change within myself and I feel immense amount of shame and guilt when I contine to indulge in self destructive actions when I’m being advised of the change that needs to occur. I feel all my shame and guilt from the last two years and last 6 months. I feel shame and guilt every time I lash out at my mom when she does something that hurts or frusturates me. I feel like I’ve been feeling everything and at times it becomes just too much to bear. I truly do think it’s the therapy that’s making me more emotional, I’m not bottling my emotions as much as before. But I don’t like how it makes me react. I want to be able to express my emotions without crying. I’m realizing in this moment I have to have more compassion for myself. I’m doing things my previous self would never do. Putting herself in uncomfortable situations like talking about death. I did try to give compassion towards people I will admit. But sometimes I wish I was still my cold hearted self that didn’t care. It’s hard feeling all the feels, things were so much easier (in the moment) when I didn’t care.

I guess looking back I’m not exactly as I was last month. Still feeling all the feels in waves, but slightly practicing a little more compassion and hopitality. Slowly. I need to remember to not forget to have compassion toward myself. When I think about these last 2 years and all the times I was happy and didn’t worry about anyone if only myself, I have to remember I was truly happy in those moments and that we’re allowed to live our lives for ourselves. I don’t have to live my life for anyone else, so I don’t have to feel guilt for not spending those times that brought me lots of happiness with other people. Those were the moments that kept me going to the place I am now. If it weren’t for those moments, maybe I’d still be sad, smoking heavy, not have incorporated a fitness routine, not have loved myself in those moments. I haven’t felt good about myself obviously. It started mentally and now it’s physically too, despite the fact I know I look better than I have the last few years. I guess I acknowledged how unhappy I currently feel and it was all sparked once my aunt passed away. I don’t think I’m depressed, but maybe I am. I don’t know.

Here’s to taking it day by day.

Riding whatever wave, high or low.