Did you know, Reyna?

You must have known not to leave me alone with your father. You must have know that I would be different from that day forward. Reyna, you must have known I would blame myself. It was the first time I was ever alone with your father. It only took one day of trust and my life was changed forever. You were always with him; you lived in his home. Did you stay awake when your mother went to sleep? Were you afraid to close your eyes? After that dark day I was afraid to close my eyes, needing light.

That day, when I was five or so, I trusted you and my brother Gonzalo. When you asked my parents if I could go to Yosemite, I was excited because I had never been allowed to be away from home without my mother hen. It was my brother, his wife, my two nephews, myself and her father. We were going camping and I was excited, as excited as I could be going to Yosemite National Park. My parents always worked. They could not give me that luxury. Coming from the deserts of Arizona, the trees and green beauty of Yosemite,  California smelled of life.

You knew and I hate you or you did not know and I wonder how many girls he hurt.  We found a camp site. Honestly, the details of eating or playing are a blur. I remember my brother and you slept in the blazer. Someone,  probably my brother, put up a tent. I remember like it was yesterday that it was Gonzalito, Chris, me and your father. We lay in that order in that tent. Reyna why did you put me in there, the only girl, in that tent? Would you have trusted your father with your daughter, if you had one?

That night everything changed. Thank you for not protecting me, Reyna. Thank you for throwing me in the lion's den, Reyna. I remember the grizzly bear outside the tent. I saw his shadow looking for food. Would it have been better if he had found me? At least I would have been his feast and not your father's toy. It goes round and round my head. You had sisters. They had friends. He must have done it before, your father. He must have done it to you, your father. Why did you not protect me? One night, a few hours with no sleep that seemed like eternity.

I knew he was an old man, your father. I was asleep next to him, your father.  I cry and cry these days because I can still remember his filthy hands touching me. He touched me where my mommy said no one should touch me, over and over. I was awake but did not know what to do. I did not look at his shadowy face. I was silent. I turned around thinking he would stop and he did not stop. Tears roll down my eyes because there and then I knew he was doing something very wrong. I knew he was sick and he touched me with his diseased hands.  How could you let him, Reyna? Did you know!?!?

The sun came out and I was embarrassed.  I was a victim and I thought the police were going to come and arrest me. I did not say anything. I was quiet. I did not look at his monstrous face hiding behind that old man. I thought I did something that made him be bad. It was my fault, I thought. I made them take me home as I was sick. My brother was angry because his trip was cut short. If I had told him, would he have called the police? For over 30 years I still feel like it is my fault. I finally told my brother a few years back and he told me to move on. Thank you brother. I would if I could.

He is buried now. Many years now. I smiled when I heard he died. I thought about our maker and how he would have to face his sentence. None such as him can be forgiven. I want to forget, Reyna, what your father did to me. I want to forgive you for knowingly trapping me in his arms. I cry now for my innocence lost so long ago.

War Within

I woke up this morning and you were angry? An ugly angry that is all too familiar to me. An angry that makes no sense and has no reason.

I thought I was prepared to fight but instead I hid in my depression.  I soulfully mourned my illusions of being strong. It is confusing to face this demon, yet again.

Whatever your name is, I have met you before. Do not think that with time I have forgotten you. You slept with me for fifteen years.

This time I am going to surrender the battle to my God and his angels. They will crush you and destroy you. Then, I was alone. Now I have God almighty by my side.

Tomorrow I will wake up and you will be gone. My children will smile. The breeze will be pleasant. The day will be ours once again.

Do I Write or Do I Stuff My Face with Chocolate?

I decided to do both.  After all both are good for the soul.  My life has gone full circle and I understand it less than I did when the circle began.  Yes some may say that I have a long way to go before my life goes full circle.  See my life has been especially special in many ways.  What did I just say?  Let me know when you figure it out.  Anyway,  I needed to roll some words onto paper so here I am.  All my children are doing good except for my demon child Franky.  He is not a demon he just acts like one.  I names him Franky when I should have named him Beelzebub or Lucifer.  Is he that bad?  You live with him for a week and you be the judge of that.  Nevertheless a woman loves her child no matter how special he is.  Right?  At least that's what I keep telling myself.  And everybody else.  Trying to convince myself.  Oh all of this is just a joke, my little one is the biggest blessing of all because God sent him to me so that I may learn patience and perseverance.  Sadness covers my life, as most days.  My daily chores, my trips to therapy, my trips to the doctor, a mountain to climb.  Yet I am able to complete these tasks day after day.  Anyone who has children knows that in the worst of times they help you make it through the day.  Whether its something they have done or simply because you know you have to keep functioning for them.  This writing of mine is just rambling and if I bore you my apologies.  I have always loved to write ever since I was a little girl.  I see it as an opening to my heart.  But as any open heart it is vulnerable to the cruelties of this world.  I had been thinking today that over the last six months I have learned so many things.  I have learned that all people are looking for love.  But honestly some are horrible at giving love back.  All they know is they want to be taken care of and that will be enough.  Don't forget there is another part to a relationship, a partner.  I asked myself when I would give up on my husband and I came up with an answer.  An answer that surprised even me.  The answer is, "til death do us part."  You give up, I give up, we all give up and pretty soon no one believes in love.  There are so many skeptical that love exists.  I have to keep believing that love does in fact exist and that it is worth the effort.  Love is the most precious and worthwhile part of our lives.    For that I will fight until the last day of my life.  If you care to join the cause, you do the same.  Believe in Love............ 

I am falling.....

Just when I thought I couldn't fall any deeper into the abyss, it happened.  I was doing better for a while but then I went back to the real world and tried being a real person again.  Well that's not so easy when you live a routine, you live a set life and then you go out into no man's land and try to survive.  I have a hole in my chest where my heart used to be.  It's a pretty big hole.  Metaphorically, I could stick my hand through it and transcend to the ends of eternity.  Realistically, it's just a broken heart.  A broken heart that came from this game called life that I am no good at playing.  You all know I'm not good at playing this ridiculous game.  If you give me two doors and say one has a million dollars and one has a cart full of cat food, I would choose the one with cat food; never mind I have never owned a cat in my life.  If you read my blog sometimes it can get pretty intense.  It's because I don't hold back.  I don't care what this world thinks about my thoughts but releasing them into the world, as not to keep them inside me.  The yuck and the soot, the tar and the grime all on paper.... What a healing feeling it is to just let it go.  To keep it inside is to destroy myself, to destroy my mind.  I have been walking around for a few days with all so much inside of me and now I am here trying to get some of it out of my soul, out of my heart.  You all know what I'm talking about; that negativity that clouts your days, clouts your mind.  The trick is how most of us get it out of our lives.  My way is to write, write, and write.  The more I write the less it hurts, the less it hurts the more I write.  I had a big disappointment this week.  I was dating someone, someone who my family would think was way below my class.  Let me explain.  There are two types of men in this world, those who are educated and have a career and those who are not educated and although may not have a career, are working.  Well my family prefers I date the latter and at least one of my siblings makes it very clear.  Well I decided to listen to my conscience and I let him go.  With all his loving kisses, with all his special hugs, with all his tender words; I let him go.  He did not fit the mold and he knew he did not fit the mold.  The instant I let go I regretted it.  Only it was too late because what I told him made sense.  Why fight for something that doesn't or wont belong to you.  Now I sit here alone wishing for those good mornings my sunshine, I love you-more, and so forth.  It's gone.  It was there one minute and now it's gone.  There is no chance of getting it back.  Even if there were, I don't have the energy to go after it.  I don't have the energy to fight.  I lost that energy a long time ago.  That gusto that made me want to get up in the morning and be me.  That wind that blew through my hair and said, this is a beautiful day, that desire to make myself presentable to the world.  For  now, despite how much medicine I take, the difference is minimal.  I take care of my daily chores; those that would keep my children in good state.  Me, however, is a very different story.  If you saw me you would be scared.  You would wonder who this woman is, this ghost of a woman.  I walk, I talk, but I do not live......

Was this the lowest in my Life?

I stood outside the van, looking into the smokey colored passenger window.  I could see a piece of aluminum foil in his left hand and a home-made cut straw in the other.  I could see the white smoke floating into the air like a cloud covering his face.  I stood outside the door with my hands holding the window pane, my hands stretched and pushing in as if I could break the window with my mere strength.  Tears rolled down my cheeks as I cried incessantly begging him to stop.  I yelled, "You mother fucker, don't you care about anyone but yourself?  Don't you care that your children need you?  I'm here looking at you use that fucken shit and you sit there sucking up that shit like if I were not standing here in front of you."  "Stop, stop, stop, let me in, stop what you are doing, for God's sake let me in the fucken door!"  I thought of breaking the window but then I thought, if I break the window the neighbors will call the police and I will get arrested.  Then this monster will be left with my children or worse, both of us will go to jail and the children will end up with my family or with social services.  Either option sounded horrid to me.  I went into the trailer and closed the door as I slipped slowly onto the floor with no reason to live, no desire to be.  I fell to the ground crying as I leaned on the door banging softly and asking God why I had to be here, why I had to be me.  Then I realized it would not be long before he came in the door and then I would see the wrath of the devil before me.  I got up, not really wanting to keep this farce going but I could not  open the doors of my home to anyone.  I could not lose my children, I could not face the world as they realized what a lie I had been living for so many years.  I stood for a moment and wondered what my next step should be.  I went to my room, grabbed a chair and locked myself in the room with my little one, now two-years-old.  His pudgy little face was looking at me as if understanding that his mother feared for not only her life but his as well.  I waited quietly, almost afraid to breathe.  Nothing came, no door opening, no yelling, no banging on the door.  I must have waited for hours before I finally fell asleep, my child having slept now for some time.  We woke up a few hours later and I dared to peek out the door.  Then I slowly creeped into the kitchen to find no one.  There were no noises in the house.  I stood there quietly trying to see if I heard anything outside; I looked out the window and I could not see my husband.  I went outside and found that he was nowhere to be seen.  I knew that he had left.  He had the strength of his high, the strength of that poison that so often controlled his body and mind.  He had chosen to leave and I was relieved.  At least for now we were safe from the monster that took over his body, the contorted monster that so often said things that made no sense, called me a demon, a daughter of Satan, a puta (whore).  I could hear the resonance of the threats, one being more clear in my mind than others.  "You fucken whore, I'm gonna kill you.  I'm gonna use this knife and I am going to slit your throat."  One might ask why I didn't call the police.  One might also ask how long it takes for the police to arrive at a home.  I knew that before someone came to help he would be there holding a knife to my throat leaving me life-less.  At least that was what was in my mind.  I didn't understand then that the only power my husband had over me was that which I allowed him to have.  All those vulgarities, the stealing, the lying, the pawning our lives away could have all stopped if I didn't want to keep up an appearance, if I was not embarrassed to be the victim, that woman that could not hold her home together.  I could not call for help because that would mean defeat and I was bound and determined to beat this illness.  I was sure that if I willed it to be, that I could make my husband change from a monster to a responsible human being.  I wanted my children to have a father, I wanted to have a husband and most importantly I desired to have a normal life.  What I mean by normal, now I really don't know.  Even now that he is gone, I don't feel that I have a normal life.  The distortion of my mind, the memories of the horrid near-death experiences don't leave me.  The knife at my throat, the fist in my face, the times when I was knocked down to the floor, the smearing of mayonnaise in my face, the beer dripping down my face as he called me names.  How can anyone be normal after that?  Even now when I look at my children I realize what I sacrificed, what they sacrificed and wondered if they were still in time to understand the normalcy of life, to dream, to hope and to fulfill their dreams.  My dreams had long since died along with the love for myself and for my husband.  I was disappointed in myself for allowing the death of my soul, I was disappointed for allowing the destruction of my home.  Now it was time to rebuild, to bring life and joy back into the life of my children.  The problem was I no longer knew what joy was like, I no longer knew how to repair those walls with so many holes, my soul that had grown hollow from the pain and the suffering.  My children sitting in the living room doing their homework, my mind traveled through time, to a place where this would have never been possible.  With that in mind I thought to myself, we have begun to heal. 

My Love-A Tragedy

Even if I cry a thousand tears for a thousand days, you will never be mine. You have other plans. I wanted you to be my lover, my friend. I don't want to go on without you. I refuse to go on in this world void of you. I think, what statement of my undying love can I make as I end my life. If I send you a letter telling you that I'm gone, will you cry? Will you fall to your knees and regret? I remember the day I saw you in the campus lawn, leaning against a huge oak tree. I pretended to be lost just to get your attention. I recall being flustered because you didn't notice me. No matter, it gave me an opportunity to look at your stern but beautiful brown eyes. I saw how your lips puckered with a tinge of red. It made me want to run and kiss you. Of course, you would think I was a total lunatic. I re-plotted and decided to walk by the tree and accidentally fall. You couldn't ignore me then because a gentleman must always help a beautiful student in distress. So as I activated my plan, not suspecting I would slip and fall, no acting needed. I landed bum first on his legs, my books splattering everywhere.  I'm not sure who was in more pain. Although I am quite sure it was him because he had broken my fall. I apologized frantically for my stupidity regretting I had even thought of it in the first place. He slowly helped both of us to our feet, picked up my books and groaned a quiet groan, trying to save face. Once everything was in its place he stood and looked right in my eyes as I apologized. I knew him as one of the smartest, if not the smartest person on campus. He apologized even though it was clear that I was at fault. Then out of nowhere we both started to laugh. I knew he was the one for me a year ago;  I was right. I didn't need to look any further. I was already thinking of our wedding day as he was asking me my name.  "Oh, my name is Mariana and you, of course, are Andrew." It surprised him a bit how she knew his name but they just kept talking. By this time Andrew had to go to class so he quickly asked her if she wanted to attend the Senior party he was throwing at his house. It was two months before graduation, but he knew he wouldn't have time closer to the end of term because of cramming for finals.  She gave him her number never really expecting him to call.  Mariana went on with her usual week, trying to keep up with school and a part-time job to help pay tuition.  Her parents helped where they could. Andrew was always in her thoughts. Early Thursday she got a call from Andrew. He was wondering if she could come to his house and help everyone with decorating. She rapidly agreed to be there by 10 pm after work.  Mariana sat in class and imagined him holding her and giving her a passionate kiss, a scene she had replayed in her mind hundreds of times. Then she worried he might not like how she kissed. She had so much going through her head she barely did any homework that week. She went to work and it kept her occupied. Thursday came and she was able to get to his house on time. She was let in right as the last person was leaving. They had finished decorating before she got there so they sat in the living room talking and he grabbed her a coke and some pizza. The decorations were fabulous and half the campus was expected to be there. Andrew asked her if she wanted to go up to his room for a bit to listen to music and show her his acceptance letters, yes with an s. Sure, she thought as she followed him up the stairs to his room. He said casually, "I have to be at the dorms by midnight. That gives us some time to talk." He put on some music and she sat on his bed feeling butterflies in her stomach. The minute he sat next to her both of them knew Mariana should leave. She stayed knowing they were in for the night of their lives. Mariana was so impressed by him that all she thought was about pleasing him. They made love the entire night;  curfew, parents, everything out the window. They fell asleep only out of exhaustion. In the morning they sneaked Mariana out of the house. She called her mom and said she had stayed at her besties because she had to cram for an exam. She was exhausted but finished the day. She went home and crashed until early evening when her mom woke her up. She got a call from Andrew about an hour later. He said he hoped she could be at the party, that he had a great time and then he slipped in a question. "Are, are you on birth control? I'm going to medical school and all." Mariana's heart stopped. She took a deep breathe because for the first time she realized they had not used protection. "Yes, of course." Shit Mariana...what had she done? She didn't go to the party that night and avoided Andrew like the plague because she wanted to know. He was going off to med school. His plans were clear. It wasn't until three days after missing her period, test after test, that she knew her life was over. She took the test for reassurance but she already knew. She figured out the way she would die, nothing else mattered. She wrote a little note which she planned on quickly giving Andrew and walking away. Instead, two days before graduation they found her body splattered outside Andrew's dorm building. In her pocket she had a note that said, I'm pregnant. She had wanted to give it to him a thousand times and a thousand times she failed. While he was in class she had text him the words "I'm sorry."  He didn't understand what she meant until he got back to his dorms.

Où est ma vie ?

After so much pain; after so much sorrow, the fear and grey never goes away. I have lost so much that no matter how fast I run I can not catch up. I have lost the rising sun. I have lost the full moon.

Où est ma vie ?

I have changed to a person I do not know. I look in the mirror and see a skeleton of what I used to be. I used to be some one's little sister. I used to be some one's best friend. I used to be some one's wife. I was even some one's lover. Wind violent wind that shook the walls, lifted the sand and whispered my name, bring me back.

Où est ma vie ?

I am shackled to my bed. Comfort, I find, only in my mother's room. Imprisoned in a house that was made by my grandfather's and my father.  Even here the grey exists but I can close my eyes.  I hear my name, I see the shadows, but I can fall asleep.  Slumber is my Alcatraz.

Où est ma vie ?

I was the last of eight. Maybe there was not enough left to make me.  I got pieces that yearn to be whole. In 2009 I ran out of heart, I ran out of soul.  In 2009 I was no longer a mother, a sister, a wife or a woman. Curiously, people see only what they want to see.  I did not know how to ask, but I cried and I cried for their help. No one came.

Où est ma vie ?

Did I make my children whole? I pray to God that they have all the pieces of the puzzle. They have lent me enough strength to be their mother. What kind of mother? One made out of pieces. A mother, nonetheless,  I am. With each "I love you" the glue stays on a little longer. Enough to hope I'm here tomorrow. 

Où est ma vie ?

Life went on without me. It rushed through, almost pushing me to the ground.  My children have grown alone. My father has shed many tears.  Soon he will be ashes. The walls are held with tape.  These pieces of me yearn for understanding;  yet, no one comes.

Où est ma vie ? Où est ma vie ? Où est ma vie ?

Heart, Soul MUTE

I feel a burning sensation where my heart should be. It is a sensation like no other I have ever felt. I sit here cradling myself, rocking back and forth with a river of tears flowing down my cheeks. Maybe if I hold on tighter the burning sting will diminish. Am I dying? It feels like I am dying. Am I having a heart attack? Yes, that must be it because I am holding on for dear life. I am gasping for air. There's no oxygen! Gasp, gasp, gasp...

Stop crying you idiot, no one is here. Stop crying so the burning might stop there where your soul yearns. You insolent woman no one cares.

I'm dying because, because the burning of my soul, the flames scarring my insides, the smell of rotting flesh. I know I cannot be. I don't want to be. Just stop beating, stop thinking. Do not remember that he is gone... Do not remind yourself that you will never see him again.

You will never touch him, your fingers whisping through the air. Why are you reaching out for him? Your burning soul is consuming you. Your heart will stop soon... Tick tock tick tock the pendulum has stopped. The voices are mute. Your soul no longer mourns. There is nothing left. The river has dried out. You are walking, dead.

Good Morning America?

Good Morning America! Are we still shutdown or are we open for business? Did the Senate and the House of Representatives already wake up to put on their nice expensive tailored suits to go chit chat at work about the budget for yet another day? While they do that, I hear food pantries all over the nation are being overwhelmed with requests for common staples. Federal employees that always provided for their families are having to maneuver the system to survive. I'm not being condescending to those who have used food stamps, cash assistance and other social services in the past. Believe me, I a mother of three, always accustomed to providing for my family for about 20 years of my life. Suddenly I found myself having to ask the State for medical and food assistance. I remember sitting in front of my computer, filling out the necessary paperwork, only to find out that only my youngest son and I qualified for medical coverage. Four years later, my two oldest children still have no insurance.  How frightening is that to any parent? Especially when you have earned your own security and that of your children through a government job and excellent healthcare for almost 15 years. Now, the debt celing deadline is tomorrow.  Truth is we ran out of money for the Federal fiscal year a few weeks back. This is what our 2014 fiscal budget looks like for the year to come, when it gets signed:
http://useconomy.about.com/od/fiscalpolicy/p/deficit.htm  So my advice to you is tighten your belt just a little more because we are in for some rough years. However, the more the American people tighten their belt, the more likely we are to go into a recession. I say, "Wall Street bonus checks should go straight into our deficit." Furthermore,  Congress should stop voting to buy wine glasses for US Embassies all over the world that cost in the range of $400 to $600 a piece.  One wine glass costs more than 1 American makes in two weeks working full-time to raise his/her family. Outrageous!

Illuminate New World Order

Do you run and hide or cringe when you hear the word Illuminate?  Illuminate,also known as New World Order, is not a novice idea that came into play in recent years. The first thing you might ask yourself is if I am a lunatic with conspiracy theories with persecutory delusions. I keep hearing Jay Z, Madonna among other famous people are a part of the Illuminate. 
Although the name illuminate would dictate the meaning of shedding light on something the facts are contrary to this idea.  Any affiliation with a secret society would emphasize the word secrecy. These are sects of people that are fundamentally engrained in world economics and religion without being able to identify who they are by name. They, a powerful and technologically saavy generation of a wealthy few, do in fact dictate the course of our history, our present and our future.

"The minority [New World Order], the ruling class at present, has the schools and press, usually the Church as well, under its thumb. This enables it to organize and sway the emotions of the masses, and make its tool of them.”
- Albert Einstein

It is a secret society of centuries dating farther back then the 1600 hundreds. They are wealthy, powerful, well-situated in critical positions around the world. They are by no means limited to the boundaries of the United States. We are not that important,  although we would like to believe that we are. There are shifts of power, deaths of leaders, even the resignation of The Pope of the Vatican that pertain to the type of power we do not want to believe dictates our lives.  We as typical daily workers, the general population, do not even figure into the equation. The pawns used by these secret societies are States, countries, religions. It is believed that it all started with the idea of a few men that the World should have one government and one religion orchestrated by a complex order of hierarchy. Since then this phantom society has caused cataclysmic events in the world. What was there purpose in history? Perhaps unity as a people under one rule. What is the impetus now? Power, glory, control and the almighty power over money and lives.

We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal. That they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights. Among them are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
-Preamble to the United States Constitution

You might say, why is this New World Order important to us? It is important to us because we are not important to them. We are nobodies;  we are casualties of a game of chess.  If they choose so, we the people will starve, live under a tree, have no medical care, die if that helps to put in place the current master plan. I say the current master plan because even in secret societies there is a passing of the staff. When one leader dies, the World is at the mercy of the next in line.

Can a technological super power cause a catastrophic seismic movement, earthquake, in a set location? Simply put,  yes. http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2008/06/top-5-ways-that/ Can tornadoes be initiated by mankind? Again, yes.
Nevermind destruction artillary such as the atomic bomb and chemical weapons that are readily transferred from government to government. 

One of the untouchables of the world has recently been penetrated by a newly formed entity in 2009 called the International Tribunal into crimes of Church and State. The Pope of the Vatican stepped down and the Vatican in Rome is at risk of being dismantled. How? Impossible!

So, ask yourself, in the scope of New World Order will the United States continue to be the number one world power? Does anyone care that our government is shut down and that it takes money to pay our bills and feed our family? A resounding No.

Eyes Wide Shut

I want to give you a snapshot about myself..just so you know what to expect. I have been interested in writing as far back as I can remember.  I'm currently writing a novel that I hope to publish by Summer 2014.  However,  so many issues, so many thoughts go through my mind everyday and I hope that putting those thoughts in writing will entertain, educate, enchant my audience. I work on short stories, prose, political debacles (I mean debates) and anything that might be on your minds. I have a wealth of knowledge to share and boy do I like to share my opinion.  I'm not crude but I am a little rough around the edges. This blog is not for those weak of stomach or highly sensitive. I am blunt and to the point. So with this we start our journey of a lifetime...welcome to my world.