losmonteslejanos
LOS MONTES LEJANOS ~ growing through grief
Gabriela | 26 "Because not all monsters were monsters in the beginning. Some are monsters born of sorrow."
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in no particular order.
This year I wanted to introduce a new project: in no particular order.
A series of short poems and essays about my life - in no particular order.
I look forward to diving into this project and hopefully publishing the completed works in the near future.
After much deliberation, ‘Los Montes Lejanos’ is here to stay, but I’m not limiting myself to staying under that umbrella for every project. This has been my passion project and, like me, has room to evolve and grow.
Thank you for staying along for the ride.
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The good things coming..
I’d become so accustomed to almost every experience having some sort of negative connotation to it. Somehow, some way - there was always a down side. Since this year started, life has been quite a shit show to say the fucking least. While that may be a story for another day, I finally had a positive story I found worth sharing.
I quit my job on Monday. I had been needing to do that for a while if I’m being 100% honest with myself. I was unhappy, I no longer felt like I fit into the environment I was in and I felt demoralized at the end of every work day. Maybe it was because of what I experienced earlier in the year, but I didn’t feel human anymore, I didn’t feel like I mattered as a person. This is no dig at where I worked or the people that I worked with - I have mostly fond memories of my time there...but it was simply that my time there was finished and the sooner I got my ass up and did something about it, the better it would be for everyone involved.
I must have the best guardian angels out there because before I got my ass up to do something about it, opportunity came knocking at my door. I would’ve been a fool to not open that door, which I did and that’s what has lead me to where I am at this point, but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t hesitate. I’ve always hated change and I might’ve felt like shit every day, but I’ve always said that the shit you know is better than the shit you don’t. But in this case I decided it was worth the risk. Was I right? I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far yet. My next endeavor hasn’t started yet but I am optimistic and I believe in the good things coming.
Now, let me tell you how this turned into a huge milestone for me - besides getting a new job. I wasn’t sad about it. That’s it, thats the big accomplishment. Something good happened and I wasn’t fucking sad about it.
Madrina was always the go-to person for anything. Good or bad, she had your back, unconditionally. While I miss her every time I’m in crisis and I wish she could wave the magic wand she had to fix everything, it’s in times of celebration that I miss her more. I have felt sad every time something good has happened since she died - joy killed instantly at the thought that I could no longer share that with her...but this time was different.
Something good happened and I was just happy about it. I’m at a point in mourning her where I know she knows and I know she’d want me to enjoy the good things that come my way, and while it’s still a daily struggle and a point I never thought I’d reach, I’m thankful.
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New year, same me.
I don’t like new years’ resolutions. It’s a constant cycle of making commitments, whether privately or publicly, that we never have any intention of keeping. Change doesn’t come with the new year or “next Monday” or whatever arbitrary deadline we give ourselves. Change comes when you’re ready for it.
That being said, I am making a commitment to myself to simply be a better version of myself. I’m not talking losing weight or finding a new job or taking a big risk - I’m talking making myself a better person. I may have lost sixty pounds last year but guess what? I didn’t do it in a healthy way and it certainly didn’t make me any happier...and that’s the problem. We get so caught up in waiting to be happy; if only I looked a certain way or had a particular thing or achieved a higher “status” are all things we tell ourselves and we look at them as goals but they’re actually roadblocks. None of that actually matters. If you’re not happy with yourself, it doesn’t matter what you have or don’t have.
As cheesy as it sounds, reading Don Miguel Ruiz’s book The Four Agreements really changed my perspective. My biggest critic of this book is that it is HIGHLY repetitive. Once you get past that though, there’s a lot to be learned about how less bullshit directly correlates to more happiness.
Here’s a summary of what I learned and my thoughts on it:
What are the four agreements?
1. BE IMPECCABLE WITH YOUR WORD.
Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.
2. DON’T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY.
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.
3. DON’T MAKE ASSUMPTIONS.
Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.
4. ALWAYS DO YOUR BEST.
Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and regret.
“The human is the only animal on earth that pays a thousand times for the same mistake.”
THE FIRST AGREEMENT
“Be impeccable with your word.”
Your word gives you power. As the only creature with the ability to speak, we hold more power than we realize. You can raise somebody up and completely break them down - all in the same breath. Your word can set you free or completely enslave you. Ultimately the choice is yours.
“But like a powerful sword with two edges, your word can create the most beautiful dream, or your word can destroy everything around you.”
The words we say can change everything - for better or for worse...and the line between them is very thin. A lot of the time we don’t realize how we hurt others with what we say, who we say it to and the intention we say it with - and I don’t think we realize how much we hurt ourselves with our words and how we allow the words of others to hold more weight than they should.
Impeccable means “without sin” and according to this philosophy, anything you feel or believe or say that goes against yourself is a sin. There is a difference between being accountable and taking responsibility for your actions...and constantly beating yourself down with your own judgments and berating. That being said, the only way to be impeccable with your word is to be mindful of how you address others AND how you address yourself.
We lie to please others because it’s easier. We talk poorly of others, whether to their face and behind their back. We hear what others say and take it as fact, regardless of lack of personal experience. Words have power because we give it to them, so we have to be more careful with how we use them.
The last, and maybe the most important, takeaway from the first agreement for an emotional piece of shit like myself was to forgive those who have hurt me with their words - not because they deserve forgiveness but to set myself free. As Eleanor Roosevelt once said “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” so take that power back, and let it go for your sake.
THE SECOND AGREEMENT
“Don’t take anything personally.”
I’m a big advocate of this one but I’m guilty of succumbing to it as well. When you get offended by the words people say, on some level you agree with what was spat your way. If you know that something hurtful that was said to you is untrue, do not give it a second thought. Don’t assume everything is about you - more than likely, it is not.
“Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves.”
When someone spews poison at you and you give it power, you take that weight off of them and add it on to yourself...and that is where we hurt ourselves. We need to let go of the need to be accepted by others and be sure in ourselves. Once we achieve a certain level of self-acceptance, words that are untrue cannot hurt us. I have spent too much time letting things I know to be untrue hurt me extremely. It’s been time wasted. I know who I am and what others believe that I am shouldn’t hold the weight that it does. I need to work on that.
“If someone is not treating you with love and respect, it is a gift that they walk away from you.”
THE THIRD AGREEMENT
“Don’t make assumptions.”
Sometimes we see what we want to see and hear what we want to hear...and we run with it. Being afraid to ask for clarification leads to the mind wandering. You can create a million scenarios in your head like Doctor Strange, and 9 times out of 10, you’ll roll with worst case scenario and somehow it because fact in your brain. That’s the problem. While I’m a big advocate of not asking questions you don’t want to know the answer to, the fact of the matter is that sometimes YOU HAVE TO. The truth is much better than a made up nightmare that you created and it WILL set you free. The truth is hard sometimes, but it’s not worse than the hell you can create in your own mind.
Assumptions lead to misunderstandings and misunderstandings lead to fights. Assumptions come from the fear of asking difficult questions...or rather, the fear of hearing an answer we don’t want to hear. But almost always, the answer to that difficult question is better than what we assume.
My biggest takeaways here were:
Your love will not change anyone. If someone changes, it’s because they want to.
We do not need to justify love; it is there or it is not.
Real love is accepting other people the way they are without trying to change them.
If you don’t understand, ask.
Find your voice to ask for what you want.
THE FOURTH AGREEMENT
“Always do your best.”
The fourth agreement brings together the first three. When trying to apply the prior agreements to your everyday life, the most important thing is to do your best. If you fail, try again. Your best doesn’t look the same everyday - and that’s okay. The ideal of having to be perfect all the time is how you set yourself up for failure. You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to do the best you can. It’s all you can do.
If you constantly put your best foot forward, your best will get better. This might be the most difficult, but it will make everything else more attainable.
“Whatever life takes away from you, let it go.”
I’ve always been of the belief that what is meant for me will be for me. While I have adopted that in my mindset most of the time, I am guilty of constantly living in the past. This has caused an immense amount of suffering. While I can honor and accept my past for what it was and where it got me, I need to get better at living in the present, and doing my best NOW instead of living in past failures.
“Say no when you want to say no, and yes when you want to say yes.”
I’d consider myself pretty self aware, and that’s a good thing, because without awareness there is nothing you can change.
We dishonor ourselves just to please other people. We abuse ourselves more than we allow others to abuse us...and frankly, I’ve had enough. One day you realize how you’re living just isn’t it, and you just stop.
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2022.
Starting this year with a heart that is hurting but healing, a body that is hurting but healing and a mind that is hurting but healing. I’m not one for resolutions but I’m hopeful. I lost a lot last year, but not every loss is a loss. I said many goodbyes that were long overdue but I got a lot of hellos. I’m hopeful for the closed doors that lead to open ones and I stand by the belief that what is meant for me will be for me. I lost sixty pounds and a few connections, but I gained a bunny, great friends and the beginnings of a killer back tattoo. Here’s to 2022, even though Taylor didn’t drop Speak Now TV. #losmonteslejanos
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With a heavy heart.
The highs and lows of being in love with someone who just can’t love you back.
Knowing someone loves you but not knowing if they’re in love with you is a kind of torture no past trauma and turmoil could’ve prepared me for.
It’s living every day wondering why you’re not good enough.
It’s wondering why you can’t just can’t do anything right.
It’s rethinking every interaction you have with them wondering if there was something you could’ve said or done differently.
It’s wondering if you’re absolutely insane, only hearing what you want to hear.
It’s thinking you must delusional to believe there was ever a reality where it would work out between you and them.
It’s hoping and praying every second of the day that what makes so much sense to you, will somehow make sense to them.
It’s not being able to function because you’re absolutely consumed by the love you have for this person.
It’s realizing that though they may love you, they either can’t or don’t want to love you in the way you so much wish they would.
I had a lapse of judgment. I thought finally stars were aligning for me. The truth of the matter is that in my opinion there is no such thing as right person, wrong time; or endless excuses or reasons that can keep people who want to be together apart. The truth of the matter, as cliche as it sounds, is that if he wanted to, he would. Life is too short to not tell the people that you love that you love them and to not do what you want for yourself. I’ve learned that the hard way many a time.
If there’s nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice and no obstacle I’d overcome for them, I absolutely deserve that same energy back. There should be no question. The questioning in itself is the answer I didn’t want to hear.
Maybe they’re incapable, maybe they want it, maybe, just maybe, I’m not absolutely insane in the connection that I feel. That this is real, as much as maybe either one of us has denied it at different points in time or as many excuses have come up…but at what cost to myself do I keep fighting a war that I’m fighting alone?
Even the most experienced and well trained soldier gets tired. The uncertainty is making me tired. The heartbreak is making me tired. The sweet nothings are making me tired. The words that have no action to back them are making me tired.
In my heart of hearts I know that I deserve better than what I’m feeling. I know I don’t need to put up with someone questioning whether or not they want to be with me. But if you’ve ever really loved someone you know it’s not that simple. Your heart wins that battle with your brain every time.
I can’t turn my love off. I can’t stop caring. I can’t stop imagining what things could be like, regardless of the possible risk. I can’t stop thinking he must be the idiot if he doesn’t see it. I can’t stop putting their every need over mine…because that’s how I was taught to love. And maybe that’s wrong. But I will give and love and care unconditionally until I have absolutely nothing left.
I don’t want to burn myself out. I don’t want to be the person that this has made me. I want my prayers and pleads to not be in vain because for once I deserve to be happy.
The reality is I love him. And while it’s breaking my heart into a million pieces, he’s still the one that I want putting it back together.
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Spoon theory.
La teoría de las cucharas es una metáfora de la discapacidad, un neologismoutilizado para explicar la reducida cantidad de energía física y mental disponible para las actividades de vivir y tareas productivas que pueden resultar de tener una discapacidad o enfermedades crónicas.
«Las cucharas (*) son una representación visual utilizada como unidad de medida en orden para cuantificar cuánta energía tiene una persona a lo largo del día. Cada actividad requiere un número de cucharas, los cuáles serán reemplazadas si la persona “se recarga” mediante el descanso. Una persona que se queda sin cucharas no tiene otra opción que descansar hasta que sus cucharas se repongan. a teoría de las cucharas es un modelo conceptual, utilizado con el propósito de ilustrar las dificultades diarias de personas neurodivergencias, discapacitadas y/o con patologías crónicas que no necesariamente son visibles, por lo que su situación es difícil de comprender para la gente neurotípica y no discapacitada.»
Dicha analogía explica que las personas neurodivergentes o discapacitadas se desenvuelven con una cantidad reducida de energía disponible para ejecutar sus tareas cotidianas.
Las cucharas representan una unidad intangible para medir la cantidad de energía que la persona tiene a su disposición en un día. Cada actividad «cuesta» un cierto número de cucharas, las cuales sólo podrán ser reemplazadas a medida que la persona las recargue cuando descanse o haga otras actividades que no las requieran.
Cuando se acaba la cantidad de cucharas diarias la persona no es capaz de hacer nada más que descansar.
Uno de los principios de la teoría de las cucharas es que las personas discapacitadas, divergentes y/o con enfermedades crónicas (orgánicas o mentales) tienen que planear sus actividades diarias para conservar sus cucharas, a diferencia de los individuos neurotípicos y/o no discapacitados, que poseen un suministro ilimitado de cucharas, así que no necesitan preocuparse constantemente de que se les acaben.
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Spoon theory is a metaphor that is used to describe the amount of mental or physical energy a person has available for daily activities and tasks. The theory was developed by Christine Miserandino as a way to express how it felt to have lupus. She used spoons to provide a visual representation of units of energy that a person might have and how chronic illness forces her to plan out her days and actions in advance, so as not to run out of energy, or spoons, before the end of the day.
Spoons are a visual representation used as a unit of measure to quantify the amount of mental and physical energy a person has available for activities of living and productive tasks throughout a given amount of time (e.g. a day or week). Each activity requires a number of spoons, which will only be replaced as the person "recharges" through rest. A person who runs out of spoons has no choice but to rest until their spoons are replenished. This is not to say that rest is certain to give a person more spoons. For many people with chronic illness, sleep does not perform its normal function of restoring energy. Also, many disabled individuals may have sleep difficulties, resulting in a continued low supply of energy.
Because of this, many people with chronic illness have to plan around and ration their energy throughout the day. This has been described as being a major concern of people with a (fatigue-related) disability or chronic condition/illness/disease because people without these disabilities are not typically concerned with the energy expended during ordinary tasks such as bathing and getting dressed. The theory explains the difference and facilitates discussion between those with limited energy reserves and those with (seemingly) limitless energy reserves.
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Two years of losmonteslejanos.
Two years of sharing. Two years of healing. Two years of going through it, instead of trying to go around it.
Even though I’m an oversharer by nature, this has been an incredibly difficult project for me. It might sound cheesy to say but, this blog and this journey with grief and normalizing talking about it and healing from it, has definitely become my passion project. I want to post with intention and purpose to hopefully start a conversation, while remembering that this is first and foremost for myself and my own healing. It hasn’t been easy finding that balance.
I find talking about those I’ve lost to be a major part of my healing. It keeps me sane most days, honestly. I will tell anyone who will listen. Whatever helps you survive while grieving is what you should be doing. There is no wrong way to heal. Thank you for coming along the path that works best for me. Thank you for your stories and words of encouragement. Thank you for taking time out of your day, for me and for them.
“I wish that Heaven had visiting hours
And I would ask them if I could take you home
But I know what they'd say, that it's for the best
So I will live life the way you taught me
And make it on my own
I will close the door, but I will open up my heart
And everyone I love will know exactly who you are
'Cause this is not goodbye, it is just 'til we meet again
So much has changed since you've been away”
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Our last goodbye.
On August 21st, 2018, I said goodbye to her for the second to last time. I’d done it a million times before, but this felt different - I knew. I knew she’d never kiss me or hug me again. I knew I’d only ever see her again in a casket.
I kissed her, and I hugged her, and I SOBBED. I sobbed gathering my things, I sobbed packing them all up, I sobbed saying goodbye to everyone else - knowing it’d just lead to me saying goodbye to her, I sobbed going up to her bed and waking her up, I sobbed with every embrace I gave her and every word I said to her. I drilled it into her brain as the last words that I’d ever say to her in person that I loved her, that I would ALWAYS love her, and there was not a soul that could ever exist that would mean more to me than her or take her place, that she was precious to me, that I absolutely adored her...and it sometimes still feels like it wasn’t enough. I know she knew what she meant to me, even with her deteriorating body and mind - she never lost sight of me or what we had. I just wish we’d had more time.
It was a hard realization and it caused an uncontrollable pain as I left her in Sevilla for the last time. I knew that I had to leave - real life was waiting for me back in New York. Part of me was ready to come home and begin my adult life, but leaving her behind due to circumstance was awful. Logically, I know it was the best choice for her and for us…but not spending the last few months of her life with her still seems like a ridiculous thought to me.
Try as I might, nothing seems like it’s enough to honor her. I have shrines to her all over my home and my body and I can’t get enough reminders. I have this need to be engulfed by her presence because I still feel unsafe without it. Almost two and a half years later, I wonder if that feeling will ever go away?
Con todo el amor en este mundo y el proximo, tu cielo
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The beginning before the beginning.
I found an old notebook from when I studied abroad in 2016; a notebook where this project was originally developed. The idea for this space and outlet really began then and came to be in a way I didn’t really expect. Almost two years since starting this blog, I feel a sense of relief getting out a lot of what I’ve held in and have had meaningful conversations about my people while encouraging others to talk about theirs. It hasn’t always been easy, but it has been worthwhile. As long as this platform serves me, I intend to continue putting into this labor of love so that they may never be forgotten and so I may heal in whatever ways I can. Thank you for sticking around.
From my 2016 journals:
“It started with me wanting to recollect as much as I could about my grandma. The thought of forgetting her is hard. I thought I could maybe make some sort of series about her and her sisters ‘Las Mujeres Montes’ something like that. Document their lives somehow because they’ve held importance to me. I don’t know much about Maria because I never met her and she died so young but I think I could make this come alive. I’d definitely need help and this is something that could take years but I think it’d be worthwhile. Tia Isa’s gonna be my biggest crutch with this. She knows it all and is the only one still alive and coherent. Madrina’s story might be the easiest to tell though. My whole life has revolves around her. Writing about when she was well will be difficult but I suppose it’d be harder if she were dead. Time is of the essence.”
Well, I couldn’t have been more right about that. Writing about her was significantly more difficult once she died, but it pushed me to actually start. I’ve got a long way to go but it was nice to see where it really began and see how far I’ve come since then.
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An open letter to Madrina two years after her death.
A eulogy of sorts ~ since I never got to write one.
Writing and giving a eulogy is a way of saying farewell to someone who has died that, in a sense, brings the person to life in the minds of the audience. I guess I never wrote one because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye; I’m still not. When you died I could barely think straight, I was just trying to survive, but your life deserves to be remembered so I’m writing this to you today.
You know I’m no stranger to grief, I hardly remember a life without it, but you were different. Your loss was earth shattering. I almost expected life to end when yours did. My heart couldn’t comprehend how life could possibly go on without you, how the world could go back to normal. I’ve somewhat made my grief a personality trait. I’ve embraced it. I’ve learned that I don’t need to suppress it to survive. That by doing so I was only slowly killing myself from the inside out. By making space for it, I’ve made space for all of the good you’ve left behind. They go hand in hand. I don’t aim to minimize my grief anymore, but for all of the good in my life to grow despite it.
I saw a quote today that really resonated with me. “She gave me my factory settings.” I’ve never found a more perfect way to describe it. That’s exactly what you did. My values, my moral compass, my entire identity came from you. That’s why life without you has been so difficult: you prepared me for everything except life after yours ended. It’s hard to find who I am without you when who I am is completely FROM you.
Losing you has been a hell of a rollercoaster. Describing my feelings has become quite the task because there doesn’t seem to be words worthy enough to describe what I lost.
Our love for each other was magic. Anyone would say so. From the day I was born until the day you died, I was your person and you were mine. There is not a person who could tell me otherwise. Our bond was something out of this world and the fear of speaking of it in any way that would minimize it, is crippling. To say you were my everything is an understatement. There was no me without you. Even now, after two years since you’ve died and about a decade since Alzheimer’s started taking you away, it’s hard to find a me without you. I feel like barely one exists, like I am a shadow of who I once was. Your death broke me in more ways than one. The identity crisis I’ve faced has eaten me alive. We might’ve been two bodies, but we were definitely one soul. A part of you reborn when I came along, and a part of me gone when you died. You were my other half, my media naranja, yo tu cielo y tu mi sol...my life revolved around you, so when you burnt out, how could I keep spinning?
It’s been difficult trying to heal since you died. I didn’t know where to start. You were my savior in every crisis. My security blanket. My confidant. You always knew what to say, when to say it, what to do, how to “fix” it. You took charge in every crisis, mostly because due to the life you lived you learned how to, but you sheltered me from it as much as you could. You kept me kind while life was cruel and often took the brunt of it in any way that you could so that I didn’t have to. You were good that way. I know that even now you’d carry this cross for me if you could. That you’d do anything to take this pain away from me if you were still here...and I love you endlessly for it. Grief is love’s souvenir, and what a love we had.
Feeling like I’ve lost my protector has left me incredibly vulnerable. I struggle talking about my feelings about you because I fear no one gets me like you do. Our bond was so unique, so special...how could anyone possibly understand what I’ve lost? The connection we had was the kind of love you get once in a lifetime and I was blessed to have you as mine. My grief runs so deep because our love was so strong. I’d rather have loved and lost you, than never have loved you at all.
I am in no way done grieving you. Perhaps we heal as long as we live. I will never be the same, nor would I want to be. It’s weird to think that my best friend, my soulmate was 72 years my senior, but you and I had an understanding that few ever experience. What a gift it was to know you, to really know you, and to experience your love.
You lived an extraordinary life. Some might say you lived a full one before I even came around. At 72, you became something you hadn’t wanted to be. You were my second parent, my guardian, my ally, my guardian angel, my everything. You were always in my corner no matter what. You choose me when someone else threw me away and there is nothing more noble than that. You taught me true unconditional love and I am who I am because of you.
When you got sick, I was angry. Angry at the universe for dealing us these cards and angry at you for how you were acting. I know that wasn’t you and I’m sorry for how I acted. I didn’t understand what was going on. Then again, neither did you. That was a hard time for us and I didn’t know if we’d make it through. I’m glad we got in lots of love and laughs after that. That was the ending we deserved.
I believe everything happens for a reason and though I’m definitely ruled by my heart, my mind is still quite logical. I know this was your time, even if it hurts me I know this is how things were supposed to be. I don’t know if your purpose was to save mom and I, but you stayed until that task was done. We are devastated but we are okay. You made sure of that.
God called you home and I look forward to the day we will meet again. The rapture of that union will know no limits. I know you’ll be waiting for me with open arms - though I know that reunion is a ways away.
Thank you for every hug you gave, every tear you wiped away, every night you stayed up, every day you dedicated yourself to me. There is no way I could’ve ever repaid you.
I wish we would’ve had more time. I wish you would’ve lived forever. If your longevity was somehow based on my love for you, you’d be eternal. Our 8,306 days just weren’t enough. I had plans for us. You had plans, too. We got to all of yours, though. For 22 years you lived solely for me, and now I’ll live for you. I’ll get to all the things we didn’t. I know you’ll be watching. Just because you died, doesn’t mean our relationship did. The connection is still there. It’s just different now. Though I know we did, it just doesn’t feel like we lived all we were supposed to live. But we did. You never intended to live this long, you didn’t want to. I don’t know if I changed your mindset on that but I know that you stayed, that you fought, for me. I know you were tired. I know you were ready. I was never going to be. You stayed as long as you could and I’m grateful for that. I love you.
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Holidays are hard, too.
Living through the holidays without a loved one can be very conflicting. Part of you is excited for this time of year but then you’re reminded that there will be a missing place at the table. How do you cope with that?
I learned this lesson very young. My first experience with grief was at age six when my grandmother died. We buried her four days before Christmas. We had to go through that “first” rather quickly. We even had gifts already wrapped under the tree for her. It was a lot at once but it surely prepared me for years to come.
I grew up surrounded by a lot of elderly people. I had an abundance of grandparents we all jokingly called “the Golden Girls of the Upper West Side.” I was surrounded by so much love, and their losses left so much pain. At 24, they’re almost all gone now. With each year passing, there have been fewer seats at the table.
When you love someone so much it’s hard to enjoy things without them. Especially after the loss of Madrina, it was very difficult for me to find joy in anything. It all reminded me of her and the fact that I’d never be able to do those things with her again. Trying to honor her memory with traditions turned to tears very quickly, and if things didn’t turn out exactly the same it felt like wasted effort. Where is the balance?
As time has gone on, I don’t think there is one. I think as time goes on, your traditions change to adapt to the loss you feel. Everyone grieves differently. Whether that means keeping old traditions as closely as possible, or throwing that all out the window and starting new for your own sanity - there is no wrong way to grieve. If there are holidays you skip or days you take off to avoid the cheer of others on specific days, that’s okay. Your pain is valid and hard enough without forcing a smile through something that no longer brings you joy.
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Anniversaries are hard.
My grandma died eighteen years ago. That seems so weird to say. It’s so strange that it was so long ago. I can remember the course of that day like it was yesterday, though try as I might to forget.
It’s weird to think that I’ve been alive for four times as long as I knew her. Of my 24 years, she only got six. She only got six years with me. It seems like almost nothing now...but it was everything then. I wish I would’ve realized how beautiful it all was back then, or at least had realized sooner. They might’ve been my first six years on this earth, but they were her last. She spent her last six years with me, and that was the greatest gift she could’ve given me.
I still mourn her; I’m crying as I write this. As a little girl, she was everything to me. I can’t even describe to you why anymore. I can’t tell you much about her that hasn’t been told to me. I’m forgetting her more and more each day. I was too young to be able to retain all that she gave me. I’ve tried to keep her alive with stories and her possessions, but it kills me to not actually remember. I don’t remember the sound her voice, or what her hugs used to feel like.
But I know she loved me. And I know that she knew that I loved her. That’s what I gave her. I gave her the kind of unconditional love that can only come from a child, the love I didn’t even realize I was giving. I may not remember the first six years of my life, but I know that when it was coming to the end of hers, she remembered. She remembered what the last six years of her life were, and she knew that I loved her.
Safely Home
I am home in heaven, dear ones;
Oh so happy and so bright!
There is perfect joy and beauty
In this everlasting light.
All the pain and grief is over,
Every restless tossing passed;
I am now at peace forever,
Safely home in heaven at last.
Did you wonder how I so calmly
Trod the valley of the shade?
Oh, but Jesus' love illumined
Every dark and fearful glade.
And he came himself to meet me
In that way so hard to tread;
And with Jesus' arm to lean on,
Could I have one doubt or dread?
Then you must not grieve so sorely,
For I love you dearly still;
Try to look beyond earth's shadows,
Pray to trust our Father's will.
There is work still waiting for you,
So you must not idly stand;
Do it now, while life remains,
You shall rest in Jesus' land.
When that work is all completed,
He will gently call you home;
Oh, the rapture of that meeting,
Oh, the joy to see you come!
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Hurting for Sevilla.
Four years ago today, I went to sleep at the Albergue Inturjoven in Sevilla for the last time. My second semester there was coming to an end. I don’t know how to even begin explaining how much that place, and Sevilla in general, became such a home for me.
I always considered Jerez, and Valdelagrana especially, my second home. Sevilla was always nice to visit, but I didn’t feel a real connection there. That changed in 2015 when St. John’s took me there for the first time. During my two semesters there, as well as all the time I’ve spent there with my family, Sevilla really took a piece of my heart.
It’s hard never feeling like you belong. Like you’re never where you’re supposed to be. My heart is always missing someone or something. I’m never whole no matter where I am. My heart is split between New York City and Sevilla. Both feel like home but no matter where I am, I constantly yearn for the other. It’s hard getting used to this feeling. It’s like having a double life. I have family, friends, love, career opportunities, homes, livelihood in either place. I can’t quite split my time like I used to.
One day I’ll have to settle down and finally pick. I’ll have to pick where to lay my scene. I dread that day.
The way things are right now are due to decisions I’ve made along the way. The plan wasn’t to stay in New York after graduation. It didn’t quite work out that way. And that’s okay because everything happens for a reason. I love the life I’ve built here. But when you’re so divided, you can’t help but think about the life that could’ve been.
Sevilla has given me some of the best memories of my life and it’s where I’ve experienced some of the worst. It’ll forever be Madrina’s last home and where I said goodbye to her. We had great times with her there the last few years. Christmas’ with my family in Spain were something we’d only ever talked about but became a reality because I studied abroad there. They gave us beautiful memories. As sad as my last experience there was, I can’t wait to make more great memories with those I love so much.
I hurt for Sevilla. I grieve my time there. It was truly magical and unforgettable. I was so lucky to have met so many great people along the way.
Es como dicen, Sevilla tiene un color especial.
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Grieving the living: daddy issues pt. 1.
Talking about my father is not something I do often anymore; it’s certainly never a positive experience. I don’t have anything positive to say. There’s a lot to unpack when it comes to him and our brief and tumultuous relationship - that will all come in due time. Today is more about what I had hoped for us. At 15, I hoped this time would be different. That after all these years, he had changed. But people rarely change. I had hoped that’d he be a nice asset in my life, for there was never a void for him to fill. I had all the love I could ever need or ask for, but I hoped things would work out. He threw that chance away. His girlfriend aided in that process. I don’t know why I expected anything from a man who only cared for children based on his relationship with their mother. That is not a father, that is a coward.
How did daddy issues become an insult to girls when it’s men who failed as fathers?
You have to stop searching for why at some point. You have to leave it alone.
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Love and loss.
If there is anything I’ve realized over the past few years, it’s that I’m a lot stronger than I’ve given myself credit for. My therapist, Patricia, has pointed out that I’ve not only lost a lot for someone my age, but for anyone. I’ve known more sorrow and pain than some will know in a lifetime, but it’s a testament to how much love I’ve known as well.
I wouldn’t change anything about my life.
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Grieving the living: a series of unfortunate events.
I never thought the day would come. The day I’d really never want anything to do with you again. You did this. You pushed and pushed until, finally, I fell off the edge.
I should thank you. It’s weird, you know, to realize that I’m free of you. Even when I no longer loved you in that way, I cared about you. The last 4.5 years of my life were certainly interesting. You were in and out so much that I could barely keep up.
For about two years I was in a relationship. You were out of the picture for quite a long time but we kept in touch. I always cared for you, wanted the best for you. That’s what loving someone is, even if you’re no longer in love with them.
I thought you’d grown up. Honestly, maybe you have. Maybe it was you and me that wasn’t meant to work out, or the way I allowed you to act that made you the way you were towards me. Either way, time passed and nothing changed. I don’t know why I expected it to.
But then you took it too far. You somehow managed to find the one thing that would rid you of me. The one thing so horrible and disrespectful that would finally have me walk away and not care about what happens to you anymore. I hope it was worth it.
I hope you let that wall down. I hope you learn to let people in. I hope you’ve finally learned to love...because if not, life is going to be very lonely for you. You have been given a chance to have everything you ever wanted and I hope you don’t treat it like you treated me. But what I hope more than anything is that you never contact me again. I hope that even when you realize what you’ve done, you leave me out of whatever amends you feel you need to make and just do better. Do better because people who love you deserve better. I deserved better.
I’m sorry I might’ve been the first person to teach you how to love, and I’m sorry that it was never going to be enough. But mostly I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention to the signs earlier, I might’ve saved myself some pain. That being said, I’ll never be sorry for who I am and how I love...and I hate that you made me feel like I should be.
You’re off to a bad start if you were “iffy” about your child. I hope your next saga ends better than this one.
xoxo,
GG
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What COVID-19 made me realize.
While I’m sitting here wondering whether or not I have COVID-19, I’m thinking about how much this global pandemic has made me realize. Like King Kylie once said, “I feel like this year is really about, just the year of realizing stuff.”
These are the 19 things I realized because of COVID-19:
1. It’s okay to be sad about things getting cancelled even if there are bigger things going on around us.
You can be sad about a cancelled trip or concert, or even about not being able to hang out with friends. It doesn’t make you selfish; it makes you human. It’s okay to be disappointed about cancelled plans you were looking forward to and avoiding those feelings will not make them go away.
2. While taking time to allow yourself to be upset about plans changing, still keep in mind that the pandemic affects all of us.
While I find it not only healthy, but necessary, to take time to process feelings about how COVID-19 had affected you personally, it’s important to remember that we are not the only being on earth. It’s important to thing about the bigger picture and how our actions affect others, and follow COVID-19 regulations to avoid further spread. It’s on all of us to fight to end this.
3. Just because we’re socially distancing, doesn’t mean you should isolate yourself from everyone completely.
Make time to socialize with other people. Whether that be a small hangout, a zoom party, or deciding to quarantine with family - there are safe ways to have human interaction that will keep you sane. Text or FaceTime your friends regularly. Call your older relatives. Get a pen pal. Do anything that will keep you sane and keep you safe. Two new ways I’ve interacted with others are: I became pen pals with an old friend from elementary school and I joined a book club.
4. Use this extra time to dedicate yourself to what really interests you.
All this down time has given me time to get back to what I enjoy. I’ve been reading a ton, which isn’t something I’ve done in quite some time. I’ve really enjoyed getting back into that, and into this blog. I had completely abandoned this project but these unprecedented times really did something to my creative juices. Really got them flowing. I’ve even talked with a friend about ~possibly~ starting a podcast, but we’ll see if that plays out. All this being said - you do not have to be productive during this time. I repeat, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE PRODUCTIVE DURING THIS TIME. I know it can be discouraging seeing so many people starting small businesses while you have “accomplished nothing,” but global pandemics are not one size fits all. We’re all doing our best. So if your best is binging ‘The Office’ for the tenth time, so be it.
5. Regular depression + seasonal depression + global pandemic depression is a match made in hell.
Depression sure has had some audacity this year, huh? As if it wasn’t bad enough, let’s add extra time alone with our thoughts. It’s been a scary time. I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for those who have it worse than me. I have a great support system that has pulled me through but others haven’t been so lucky. These past few months so alone with my thoughts got pretty dark at times. I not only got over my fear of dying, but wanted to die at times, not so much because I no longer wanted to live but because it felt too hard to live the way that I was. Help is out there if you need it. Therapy, in conjunction with medication, has helped immensely and I feel lucky to be here. My heart hurts for those who are not. We love you and we miss you.
6. Working from home is a blessing and a curse.
At first, working from home sounded like a dream. I didn’t have to get dressed up, I’d have no commute, and I’d be in my own space. Besides, it’d only be two weeks...a month tops, right? WRONG. The reality of working from home is that I haven’t worn real pants in months, I don’t get the social aspect of my job anymore, I work much more independently and I don’t know how to wake up before 8:30am anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I’m lucky to still have a job. The problem is, I feel a lot less productive at home and fear the adjustment that’ll come when I eventually have to go back to the office. For me, that’s currently set for April 2021, but we’ll see if that gets pushed forward again.
7. We simply do not deserve dogs.
I’ve been working from home since March 16, 2020. That’s 270 days, but who’s counting? Luna, Ginger and Leo have been a God-send. They’re my new favorite coworkers, even though they fall asleep on the job almost everyday. Their constant affection makes everyday better and this all would’ve been so much worse without them. We’ve definitely created clingy monsters but, they’re CUTE, clingy monsters so it’s okay.
8. I really, really wish Madrina was alive.
While thinking of her being alive during a pandemic freaks me out because I’d be very afraid to expose her accidentally, thinking of all the quality time we could’ve spent together this past year makes me sad. I know one could go mad with what could’ve been but I really didn’t get to spend a lot of time with her the last couple of years of her life and I would’ve loved at least a couple of months of having her all to myself. She had definitely been heavily on my mind this year.
9. I do not like not being in control of things.
Surprise, surprise. I’m a control freak. If things don’t go my way, it is an ugly sight. And this year certainly did not go my way. The main thing that comes to mind is bringing Madrina home. Back when she passed in 2019, she was cremated. The plan was always to bring her ashes back to the US to be buried with her husband, but because we couldn’t get the paperwork done in time, she didn’t return on that trip. 2020 was the year to being her home. That did not happen. Cemeteries bring me peace. Visiting my loved ones is part of my healing. It’d be perfect, too, because Duli is buried in the same cemetery. I’d get to visit my two favorite ladies at the same time. But that hasn’t been a possibility yet. COVID-19 took that from me. While I know the plan will come to fruition eventually, and I’ll be able to lay her to rest at last, I’m not at peace because I have no control over when it’ll happen.
10. A lot of humans are, for lack of a better word, stupid.
I’m going to keep this one short and sweet. As if a virus that swept the globe didn’t show us how many dummies walk among us (haha see what I did there? Among us? It’s culturally relevant. I’m funny.), the election really said “hold my beer” and brought all the morons out to play. If you still thing COVID-19 is a hoax or that Trump won the election, please seek help.
11. People will really go to extreme measures to continue to be racist.
Parler became a popular thing this year. An online Ku Klux Klan platform, as far as I’m concerned. Not all cowards wear capes, I suppose. Ugh, disgusting. This made me really question humanity.
Also, PS. Blue lives don’t matter, because blue lives don’t exist. ACAB. BLACK LIVES MATTER.
12. Flu season during a pandemic is scary.
Being sick at all this year has made me a paranoid mess. I’m sure with any cough, sneeze, or fever, we all assumed the worst. Like our minds automatically would jump to COVID-19 as the only possible cause for our symptoms. Not to mention how much worse the panic gets when getting tested is damn near impossible in New York City. I hope you all stay safe and stay smart.
13. Waiting for COVID-19 test results is scary.
I’m sure we’ve all messed up a bit during the past nine months. Maybe we weren’t as careful as we should’ve been and found ourselves in a position where we felt that we needed to get tested. The waiting period to get your results can be terrifying, especially since your results don’t only affect you. It’s so contagious and unpredictable that a million scenarios run through your mind and you feel like you’ve played Russian Roulette with your health and the health of your loved ones. It is not a fun time. 0/10 do not recommend.
14. Taking a break from the news is self-care.
I was glued to the TV when this all started back in March. I was certainly glued to the TV during election week. Since then, however, I’ve had to take a step back. Sometimes being super informed is too emotionally taxing. And that’s okay. You can stay safe and informed without getting an update every hour.
15. Getting rid of things is more therapeutic than I thought.
I’m someone who has a lot of emotional/sentimental clutter. I get very attached to physical things. I have a hard time letting go. I had decided to redo my room to give myself a change of scenery. My old room had begun to suffocate me. I felt trapped there. Since I was spending so much time and money redoing my room, I wanted to get rid of whatever no longer served a purpose or no longer brought me joy. I know, very ‘Marie Kondo’ of me. Starting seemed so intimidating. I stumbled upon the “minimalist game” on Youtube and I found my solution. The premise was to get rid of a certain amount of items each day in November. One item the first day, two items the second day, three items the third day, and so on. I thought it would get extremely difficult towards the end. Thirty items on day 30 seemed crazy. But I’m currently at 924 items on December 11th and the number keeps slowly rising. It’s okay to start small; it can snowball into something big. I feel lighter and having a number goal made the process a lot easier. I just gradually increased the end goal as I’ve gone on. I was able to donate five large garbage bags full of clothes that I had hoarded for years, clothes that held bad memories, clothes that didn’t fit me, clothes that made me feel like crap about myself. I’m sure you can all relate. GET RID OF IT.
16. 90 Day Fiance is actually quality television and you can’t change my mind.
Okay, reality television is trash. I know that. But this show really brings the drama. It’s entertaining as hell and if you disagree, you haven’t given it a fair chance. This shit is hilarious and gets you invested, whether you love or hate a couple. 90 Day Fiance is exactly what quarantine needed. I said what I said.
PS. Tim and Veronica are my favorites on Pillow Talk and I’d love to know yours.
17. Having someone to quarantine with is a blessing.
My heart goes out to all those who have gone through this year all alone, for one reason or another. I can’t imagine being completely alone with my thoughts AND no human contact. That’s scary to think about. I’m grateful for my companions through this, and pray for those who aren’t as lucky.
18. I love myself more than I give myself credit for.
I might be the most self-deprecating person on the earth. The jokes just do not stop with me. And look, I might be my own worst enemy, but I’m also my biggest cheerleader. Doing a lot of self reflection, I’ve realized that while I don’t like everything about myself (who does?), I think I’m happy with who I am, and that was kind of shocking to come to terms with.
19. You do not have to find a silver lining in 2020.
This year has sucked. Bad. Plain and simple. We’ve lost way too many. There has been too much negligence. You don’t have to look on the bright side, even if good things happened for you throughout the year. Good things can happen and it’ll still be a bad year.
Here’s to a better 2021 and a vaccine that even the biggest conspiracy theorist will get. I hope you all stay safe out there.
xoxo
Edit: I tested negative.
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