Mi vida es un fracaso. Si, un fracaso que no puedo arreglar. No lo puedo borrar. No lo puedo ignorar. Si no fuera por mis bebes, esta pelicula hubiera terminado hace muchos anos. Mi unico triunfo es ellos. Tan bellos, ellos. Tan inocentes, ellos. Me aman con todos mis fracasos y todos mis erores. Hoy siento el mundo encima. Hoy siento que todo mundo puede ver, el desastre que es mi vida. El desmadre que es mi vida!! Cerrare mis ojos por un momento, una eternidad. Cuando despierte espero haber olvidado todo el dolor, la desillusion, y la amargura. Crei en el amor una vez mas, en el amor de un hombre. Termine con un corazon ecajado de cuchillos, sangrando perpetuamente. Me queda poca vida. Cerrare mis ojos por un momento. Cerrare mis ojos por una eternidad. Sera suficiente tiempo para remendar mis heridas? No, creo que esta vez no despertare. Emillia, hija mia, cuida a tus hermanos y ensenales cuanto los ame. Hoy me muero de tristeza, de traiccion, de dolor. Cerrare mis ojos, y dormire.
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Shattered once too many times
You are not pummeling my outsides,
for the whole world to see.
Your words are destroying my insides,
the parts that are me.
My soul, my heart, my self-esteem
gone because of the way you treat me.
You are not a huge man beating a
poor victim. But your tongue is twice as strong and it is shattering my heart.
I turn left, I turn right but no matter
what I do, you are there to prove me wrong.
I am in your prison, don't you see?
I am but a caged bird, don't you agree?
I have been in this cage before, whether by force or by choice. I have been in this cage in which you hold me today. Let me free, let me free, for I am meant to fly. You fear that I can fly. You fear that I can fly.
Enough of the rants, enough of the raves. Don't you see it doesn't stop there. Pretty soon, my face it will be. One human controlling another, that's called slavery. You may have a comeback saying you are stuck with me, but I have shown you the door where you can leave.
Stop! Stop now before it's too late. Don't you see that you are hurting me. I had managed to trust you with my frail heart. Now, I have to pick up that heart, just one more time. Shattered on the floor like broken glass, it will not be so easy to piece it back. Each time it breaks, it's that much harder. I just sit here thinking, this puzzle is much too hard to piece together. It would not break because I had it protected. I let my guard down and you broke my wings, my life, my soul, my heart.
You said there was no need to protect myself, because you were a gentle man. You said there was no need to give a half-hearted try, because you would love me until the end. Now you compare me to what I am not, and ask me why I think I'm special. Fool! You told me I was special to you. Now, I see how special I am.
I blend into all the women that you knew. I blend into all the women that hurt you. Eventhough I care for you, love you, hold you and want you, I will never be but a blending of all the women you went through. I understand this now. Is it fair? No, because my merits are different.
I don't think you ever had the grace of a lady's presence. Whether that lady be sweet as wine, fine as silk, beatiful as porcelain, or ugly and trodden by life's battles, she is still a lady. A lady deserves respect, gentle care, and kind words. I know, to you I am no lady. I am nothing but a blended whore.
The shattered pieces! The shattered pieces are back! This time I will be at work long and hard, trying to put this shattered heart back into one. I have lost so many pieces. I fear it will not look like a heart at all when I am done. Do you care? I don't think you care. I give up, traitor. I give up. I will not piece my heart together again. I am busy licking my wounds away. I know,
I will spend my time building back my stone wall.
I will take all the time I need. I do not owe you a deadline. I do not owe you a time frame. You are an adult. I am an adult. You tend to your wounds and I will tend to mine. No sorries necessary.
for the whole world to see.
Your words are destroying my insides,
the parts that are me.
My soul, my heart, my self-esteem
gone because of the way you treat me.
You are not a huge man beating a
poor victim. But your tongue is twice as strong and it is shattering my heart.
I turn left, I turn right but no matter
what I do, you are there to prove me wrong.
I am in your prison, don't you see?
I am but a caged bird, don't you agree?
I have been in this cage before, whether by force or by choice. I have been in this cage in which you hold me today. Let me free, let me free, for I am meant to fly. You fear that I can fly. You fear that I can fly.
Enough of the rants, enough of the raves. Don't you see it doesn't stop there. Pretty soon, my face it will be. One human controlling another, that's called slavery. You may have a comeback saying you are stuck with me, but I have shown you the door where you can leave.
Stop! Stop now before it's too late. Don't you see that you are hurting me. I had managed to trust you with my frail heart. Now, I have to pick up that heart, just one more time. Shattered on the floor like broken glass, it will not be so easy to piece it back. Each time it breaks, it's that much harder. I just sit here thinking, this puzzle is much too hard to piece together. It would not break because I had it protected. I let my guard down and you broke my wings, my life, my soul, my heart.
You said there was no need to protect myself, because you were a gentle man. You said there was no need to give a half-hearted try, because you would love me until the end. Now you compare me to what I am not, and ask me why I think I'm special. Fool! You told me I was special to you. Now, I see how special I am.
I blend into all the women that you knew. I blend into all the women that hurt you. Eventhough I care for you, love you, hold you and want you, I will never be but a blending of all the women you went through. I understand this now. Is it fair? No, because my merits are different.
I don't think you ever had the grace of a lady's presence. Whether that lady be sweet as wine, fine as silk, beatiful as porcelain, or ugly and trodden by life's battles, she is still a lady. A lady deserves respect, gentle care, and kind words. I know, to you I am no lady. I am nothing but a blended whore.
The shattered pieces! The shattered pieces are back! This time I will be at work long and hard, trying to put this shattered heart back into one. I have lost so many pieces. I fear it will not look like a heart at all when I am done. Do you care? I don't think you care. I give up, traitor. I give up. I will not piece my heart together again. I am busy licking my wounds away. I know,
I will spend my time building back my stone wall.
I will take all the time I need. I do not owe you a deadline. I do not owe you a time frame. You are an adult. I am an adult. You tend to your wounds and I will tend to mine. No sorries necessary.
Friday, December 19, 2014
The Stolen Memory
It was summer of 2009. I was living between Mexico and Somerton, Arizona because my husband had been deported. My three children and I traveled across the border on weekends to keep their father in our lives. It was a very difficult and stressful time for my children and I. We lived by the seat of our pants.
My husband called me and exclaimed, "I found your father's car. I needed a shovel so I went to my friend's house. The guy I was working with all last week. Do you remember? Anyway, he didn't open the door, so I went to the back. There was a makeshift car port and I looked inside. There was your father's car! I found your father's car, but I can't go with you because they'll know I told." my husband's voice quivered with fear. "What? Who? You found my father's car?" I held the phone crying, because I thought my dad's car was gone for good. I felt moronic because I had the car in my care when it was stolen.
I walked out the door one morning to take my father's car to the shop and it was gone. I had parked it right in front of our door. Holy shit! My father's car was gone. I was in Mexico. What would I tell him? My husband had gone out to work and had seen a couple of men knocking next door, so he said. I was sure his brother was somehow involved in the theft, because he lived right next door. I named my husband's brother as the main suspect in my police report.
As soon as I got off the phone with my husband, I rushed to Mexico, only 10 or so miles from my home in the U.S. I went to pick up my husband so he could go to the police department and give them the location of the car. He was adamant he was not going. I swore to him if he didn't go with me, he would never see me again. I had balls of steel all of a sudden. I was going to recover my father's car. My father was seventy-five-years-old and getting his car stolen was the greatest injustice. I was personally going to see to it that I took his car back in one piece. I called dispatch and noone answered. I was growing anxious, so I drove around the streets of San Luis R. C. Sonora until I ran into a unit. He quickly dispatched the car theft unit and we met at the end of the culprit's street. I drove through the back road escorted by a unit, and several units approached through the front. I heard the radio transmits saying there was no car on the premises. My heart sank. Then I heard them say the owner was waiting at the front of the property. I jumped in my car and met the officers. I urged my husband to get off the car but he refused. I went over and asked the officers if they had found my car. "You should know!" said one officer. "The owner of the house is claiming your husband brought the car to her home, placed it in the back and had been dismantling it. She states you were in on the plan and you would be reporting it stolen in the United States." The officer looked sternly at me while I reacted. I must have turned white as a ghost and I felt my muscles disappear from my legs. I was needing to barf. All I could think was I needed to barf. I grabbed on to a tree next to me and out came everything I had in my stomache. I asked fervently if they had found my father's car. Their answer was affirmative. They brought over some lights as it was pitch dark and the detective walked me to the back of the house. As soon as they opened the make-shift car port, I about fell to my knees. My father's car, the only memory he had left that reminded him of my mother, was in pieces staring me in the face. I approached the car, held on to something and started crying. I was crying because I would not be returning my father's car to him, and I was crying because I knew my husband had plotted this from the start.
The detective pulled me aside and all of a sudden started talking to me like a social worker or a counselor. He spoke about my forgiving him before, my covering his mistakes, my taking financial responsibility for his wrongdoings. It was all true. I looked at this man wondering if he could read my mind. I was in so much pain, but his words were so clear. "We have arrested your husband. My officers just placed him in the patrol car. You can either follow us to the station and pay to let him out or you can walk straight to your car, not turning to look at him, and be free from him for good. Let go now maam before he destroys you."
I thanked the detective for his time, walked to the front without turning to look at my husband, got in my car and left. That was the last time I was with him. I picked up the broken pieces of my heart from the floor, placed them in my hand and walked away.
Placing the pieces back together is cumbersome. It's 2014, one month away from 2015. Darn crazy glue does not stick like it used to in the 90's. My heart glues together for a few days and then I have to pick up some pieces off the floor. However, that's a story for another time. For another day. As for now, I bid you good night.
My husband called me and exclaimed, "I found your father's car. I needed a shovel so I went to my friend's house. The guy I was working with all last week. Do you remember? Anyway, he didn't open the door, so I went to the back. There was a makeshift car port and I looked inside. There was your father's car! I found your father's car, but I can't go with you because they'll know I told." my husband's voice quivered with fear. "What? Who? You found my father's car?" I held the phone crying, because I thought my dad's car was gone for good. I felt moronic because I had the car in my care when it was stolen.
I walked out the door one morning to take my father's car to the shop and it was gone. I had parked it right in front of our door. Holy shit! My father's car was gone. I was in Mexico. What would I tell him? My husband had gone out to work and had seen a couple of men knocking next door, so he said. I was sure his brother was somehow involved in the theft, because he lived right next door. I named my husband's brother as the main suspect in my police report.
As soon as I got off the phone with my husband, I rushed to Mexico, only 10 or so miles from my home in the U.S. I went to pick up my husband so he could go to the police department and give them the location of the car. He was adamant he was not going. I swore to him if he didn't go with me, he would never see me again. I had balls of steel all of a sudden. I was going to recover my father's car. My father was seventy-five-years-old and getting his car stolen was the greatest injustice. I was personally going to see to it that I took his car back in one piece. I called dispatch and noone answered. I was growing anxious, so I drove around the streets of San Luis R. C. Sonora until I ran into a unit. He quickly dispatched the car theft unit and we met at the end of the culprit's street. I drove through the back road escorted by a unit, and several units approached through the front. I heard the radio transmits saying there was no car on the premises. My heart sank. Then I heard them say the owner was waiting at the front of the property. I jumped in my car and met the officers. I urged my husband to get off the car but he refused. I went over and asked the officers if they had found my car. "You should know!" said one officer. "The owner of the house is claiming your husband brought the car to her home, placed it in the back and had been dismantling it. She states you were in on the plan and you would be reporting it stolen in the United States." The officer looked sternly at me while I reacted. I must have turned white as a ghost and I felt my muscles disappear from my legs. I was needing to barf. All I could think was I needed to barf. I grabbed on to a tree next to me and out came everything I had in my stomache. I asked fervently if they had found my father's car. Their answer was affirmative. They brought over some lights as it was pitch dark and the detective walked me to the back of the house. As soon as they opened the make-shift car port, I about fell to my knees. My father's car, the only memory he had left that reminded him of my mother, was in pieces staring me in the face. I approached the car, held on to something and started crying. I was crying because I would not be returning my father's car to him, and I was crying because I knew my husband had plotted this from the start.
The detective pulled me aside and all of a sudden started talking to me like a social worker or a counselor. He spoke about my forgiving him before, my covering his mistakes, my taking financial responsibility for his wrongdoings. It was all true. I looked at this man wondering if he could read my mind. I was in so much pain, but his words were so clear. "We have arrested your husband. My officers just placed him in the patrol car. You can either follow us to the station and pay to let him out or you can walk straight to your car, not turning to look at him, and be free from him for good. Let go now maam before he destroys you."
I thanked the detective for his time, walked to the front without turning to look at my husband, got in my car and left. That was the last time I was with him. I picked up the broken pieces of my heart from the floor, placed them in my hand and walked away.
Placing the pieces back together is cumbersome. It's 2014, one month away from 2015. Darn crazy glue does not stick like it used to in the 90's. My heart glues together for a few days and then I have to pick up some pieces off the floor. However, that's a story for another time. For another day. As for now, I bid you good night.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
My Daughter Emillia
When I was pregnant with my first child in 1994, I so wanted a little girl. My thoughts were always of a little girl. At about 6 months pregnant, I was told that I was having a boy. Nineteen years later, I go into my first-born transgender daughter Emilia's first surgery. God has spared me the nerves and the worry until now. She will be going in to have her tonsils (a painful and grueling recovery) plus her uvula removed. I know God will bring her through the surgery. However, I know the pain of recovery that lies ahead for my dear daughter. Emilia wants them out because they have been obstructing her breathing for much too long. They are so swollen, she stops breathing over 500 times a night and kicks and wails like a dying fish when she's asleep.
At 9:30 a.m. she goes into surgery. Everybody on the outside sees her as my brave oldest son. I, on the other hand, see her as my strong but fragile oldest child. The doctors will be there to fix Jose, while I will be there to nurture Emillia. She so wishes she could be on the outside what she is on the inside. Does anyone understand? Honestly, I don't think even she understands. She doesn't understand why she was born a boy. "Mom, I want to change my name to Emilia and change my birth certificate to show I am a girl." Let's find out how.
Emilia was about 3-years-old when I knew she was a girl trapped in the body of a boy. She ran to the girls section at the stores, she loved carrying purses, and she fought her younger sister for Barbie everything. Now, I am heterosexual and I love tools and mechanics. So, I'm not categorizing her based on likes. I can't quite put it into words. I just knew Jose would grow up to be Emillia. I let him grow up to be who he wanted to be. Emillia is Emillia, boy or girl. I love her either way. She is my oldest, my first and none of them came with an instruction manual.
My daughter has suffered through the growing pains of knowing who she is and wants to be. Emillia started by thinking she was gay. However, she wanted to wear dresses, make-up, long hair. Through self-discovery she identified herself as a girl. She has spent nineteen years finding herself. Emillia still has a long way to go. The journey has just begun. For most of us, though, self-acceptance is a life-long process. I just try to remind her that we are family and we love and accept her decisions. Out there she may have to fight to be accepted. Here, in the comfort of her mother's arms, she is my beautiful daughter no matter what is on the surface.
Emilia was about 3-years-old when I knew she was a girl trapped in the body of a boy. She ran to the girls section at the stores, she loved carrying purses, and she fought her younger sister for Barbie everything. Now, I am heterosexual and I love tools and mechanics. So, I'm not categorizing her based on likes. I can't quite put it into words. I just knew Jose would grow up to be Emillia. I let him grow up to be who he wanted to be. Emillia is Emillia, boy or girl. I love her either way. She is my oldest, my first and none of them came with an instruction manual.
My daughter has suffered through the growing pains of knowing who she is and wants to be. Emillia started by thinking she was gay. However, she wanted to wear dresses, make-up, long hair. Through self-discovery she identified herself as a girl. She has spent nineteen years finding herself. Emillia still has a long way to go. The journey has just begun. For most of us, though, self-acceptance is a life-long process. I just try to remind her that we are family and we love and accept her decisions. Out there she may have to fight to be accepted. Here, in the comfort of her mother's arms, she is my beautiful daughter no matter what is on the surface.
Saturday, December 13, 2014
While Sleeping...
There are two things that are guaranteed to us in this world. Those two things are set on total opposites of the spectrum. What are they, you might ask? Can you guess? Let me spare you the agony of having to figure it out. We as human beings come into this world through birth and leave this world through death. Yes, indeed, I can guarantee that all of us share these two experiences.
What one does with the time in between, does not come with an instruction manual.
In God's word it is said that all our lives are written even before we are born. Yet, the Holy Bible also explains that God gave us free will. So, which is it? Do we have free will or are we pre-destined to make every choice, every decision, as it was written? Can we assume that we are just following some scripted lines, and we stay on this Earth until our last scene. Those are quite interesting questions to ponder. I am owner of my own opinion, but I cannot, will not, say for definite what is true. I am human. I am on this Earth. I have completed my first task, birth. I so would love to remember the experience, but I do not. Not one second of my adventurous birth can I recollect.
It was an event to remember, from what I hear. My siblings explained how my mother was dying giving birth to me. She had what now sounds like pre-eclampsia. In 1973 there was probably no such term to explain my mother's agony. The doctors also lost my heart beat. They took my mother into surgery to extract a still-born baby. Instead, here I am today with three children of my own. Was I dead? Inside my mother's protective womb, had my heart stopped beating? Did I live and die before I was born?
Whatever may have happened, I ended up being the last of eight children. However, as I lay here writing, it seems I was born an only child. None of my brothers and sisters are in my life. They all have families to tend. Of course, so do I. Is it my fault that I am so distant from my family? If I knew the answer to that question, it would make things so much easier. I finally accepted that I am the runt. I am the plus 1. Nine years span between myself and my older sister. I lived like an only child with my mother and father. Well, enough of that.
I started writing sometime in the wee hours of the night. I woke up, picked up my phone, and I had written part of a new post. I went to sleep angry so I must of had things to say. So, my thoughts were turned into a post. Funny, I actually make sense writing while I sleep. I just don't remember the point of my writing. Nonetheless less, I'm posting.
What one does with the time in between, does not come with an instruction manual.
In God's word it is said that all our lives are written even before we are born. Yet, the Holy Bible also explains that God gave us free will. So, which is it? Do we have free will or are we pre-destined to make every choice, every decision, as it was written? Can we assume that we are just following some scripted lines, and we stay on this Earth until our last scene. Those are quite interesting questions to ponder. I am owner of my own opinion, but I cannot, will not, say for definite what is true. I am human. I am on this Earth. I have completed my first task, birth. I so would love to remember the experience, but I do not. Not one second of my adventurous birth can I recollect.
It was an event to remember, from what I hear. My siblings explained how my mother was dying giving birth to me. She had what now sounds like pre-eclampsia. In 1973 there was probably no such term to explain my mother's agony. The doctors also lost my heart beat. They took my mother into surgery to extract a still-born baby. Instead, here I am today with three children of my own. Was I dead? Inside my mother's protective womb, had my heart stopped beating? Did I live and die before I was born?
Whatever may have happened, I ended up being the last of eight children. However, as I lay here writing, it seems I was born an only child. None of my brothers and sisters are in my life. They all have families to tend. Of course, so do I. Is it my fault that I am so distant from my family? If I knew the answer to that question, it would make things so much easier. I finally accepted that I am the runt. I am the plus 1. Nine years span between myself and my older sister. I lived like an only child with my mother and father. Well, enough of that.
I started writing sometime in the wee hours of the night. I woke up, picked up my phone, and I had written part of a new post. I went to sleep angry so I must of had things to say. So, my thoughts were turned into a post. Funny, I actually make sense writing while I sleep. I just don't remember the point of my writing. Nonetheless less, I'm posting.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
My Reader, thank you
I am ever so sorry that I haven't come to visit much. I have been thinking about you every day. I read what you send me. I just can't seem to have the time or the energy to write. Usually, writing consumes me. Lately, however, I sense or fear that nobody really cares what I say. Do I make sense? Do I bore you? I take all the clutter that gets cramped in my mind and attempt to make sense of it to try and get my point across. I understand that if it wasn't for you, I would not exist. The words would just fade away into nothingness. It is because of you that I am somebody. You see, when there is no one, I sit and I share my deepest thoughts one word at a time. I scribble away into the morning sunset. Then, there you are. You listen, observe, bring my words to fruition. So you see, I have not forgotten you. You are so very important in my life. I have so much to catch up on in my little books of secrets. Yes, the words will come. They will fill the pages and you will be there to share in my insanity. Thank you for being patient and for hearing my voice, though it may be as quiet as a word on a paper.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Don't Look Back
I started to write a short story about you, then I realized you don't matter anymore. I had accomplished quite a bit on the piece. I suppose I could have kept going. After all, your cowardice and lies make for a great novela. I have grown up. As I read it, I laughed at myself for being so naieve at over thirty. I wasted time with you, but thank you. I never went back to my ex-husband. You were a distraction. I have found love now. I have found a man who loves me and can't be compared with anyone in my past. So, I'm grateful for your lies. I know things are a bit hard for you right now. I suppose you have to lay in the bed you made for yourself. Good bye.
Monday, November 17, 2014
In my thoughts, mother
I'm scared of life now, mother. You left me here without you. You left me here alone. I'm scared to love, mother. So many broken promises, scars slashed across my heart. Two-thousand-six, two-thousand-six replays in my head. Can we skip that year and have you here instead? I'm scared for my children, mother. What will become of them when I am gone? Will they ache for me silently at night like I ache for you? You were my strength, mother. Now I live the life of a hermit, afraid to roam too far. I lay in your bed, all broken and tattered. Yet, when I lay on it after so many years, I still feel your presence. I'm afraid to write, mother. Writing opens my heart and my mind to the void in my life. How dare you bring me here and then leave me? How dare I bring them here for I will one day leave them! Will they be hollow when I am gone? I am hollow. Knock, knock, knock...I can hear the echo in my soul. Knock, knock, knock...I can hear the echo in my heart. Life is not the same. The colors are dull. The sun's rays ache. Smiles seem fake and laughter is painful to hear. When will I heal, mother? I gave birth to my children before you departed. I never imagined losing you would leave a crater in my life. What love I can still bare to give, I give to them. I hope it is enough so that when I leave, they don't ask why.
Monday, November 10, 2014
I Miss You so...Mother of Mine
We are in 2010 and the holidays are over now... As Christmas started to rear its head around the corner, I found myself feeling the longing, feeling the loss...I wanted time to slip by, for January to come and go..But the days were slow to pass...I live in her house now, I breathe a little of her every day...Sometimes I am walking into my room, that used to be hers, and I see her laying there waiting for me to come over and lay next to her...I spent so many hours talking to her about life, my problems, my children, my fears, my hopes...She never wanted for her.
She always wanted more for us, her children..Noone knows this but I am about to blurt it out to the whole world, because she is gone and I miss her very much. She was my best friend, she was my critic and she was unconditionally in love with me no matter what my flaws.. I was her baby...my brothers and sisters, seven of them, saw my flaws, criticized my choices, wanted to have input in my life, but my mother always loved me just the way I was, broken and all...
Four years ago, when I realized I was going to lose her in this lonely world, I cried...Cried does not even explain what I did when I was told she was gone. I howled in pain, I squirmed in agony because the woman who brought me into this world was gone, would never touch me again, would never touch my forehead to see if I had a fever, would never again ask me if I wanted a taco or would get angry at me when I yelled at my children..I wanted all of that back...I wanted all of that with me, I wanted her to be forever..I could not understand why God thought seventy years was enough time for us to have her, that he wanted her with him..I was angry at God for taking her, I would yell into the air thinking that somehow he would hear me and he would send her back.. The day she was to die, I was at home resting, when a strong wind storm came out of nowhere and ravaged the windows, the door, sand everywhere, the whistling of the wind talking to me, letting me know that the angels had come to pick up my mother from this Earth...a white dove stood outside her home when she passed away..when she went to sleep... The doctors said she couldn't hear me anymore because she had a heart attack and she had been without oxygen for seven minutes or more, but when I talked to her when I asked her a question, I saw the tears roll down her cheeks.. My mother, she was a fighter, a woman to be admired...I always think that when I grow up I want to be just like her...she raised us, all her children, protected us like a mother hen, went out everyday to bring back what she could to provide for us...she would have given her life for any of us in a blink of an eye... there will never be another woman like her...she was my superwoman...
As I sit here right now, I want her to come sit next to me so I can lay my head on her lap...I want to stand behind her and unwind her hair and put my fingers through her tossled curls..I want to see her eyes glimmer as her grandchldren go to her and give her hugs and kisses.. My heart still doesn't understand that she is gone, my heart still desires her love like it did in my first memory of my love for my mother...My mother, my love, my angel...I miss you with every breathe I take...You will always be alive in my heart...Te amo madre mia...
Four years ago, when I realized I was going to lose her in this lonely world, I cried...Cried does not even explain what I did when I was told she was gone. I howled in pain, I squirmed in agony because the woman who brought me into this world was gone, would never touch me again, would never touch my forehead to see if I had a fever, would never again ask me if I wanted a taco or would get angry at me when I yelled at my children..I wanted all of that back...I wanted all of that with me, I wanted her to be forever..I could not understand why God thought seventy years was enough time for us to have her, that he wanted her with him..I was angry at God for taking her, I would yell into the air thinking that somehow he would hear me and he would send her back.. The day she was to die, I was at home resting, when a strong wind storm came out of nowhere and ravaged the windows, the door, sand everywhere, the whistling of the wind talking to me, letting me know that the angels had come to pick up my mother from this Earth...a white dove stood outside her home when she passed away..when she went to sleep... The doctors said she couldn't hear me anymore because she had a heart attack and she had been without oxygen for seven minutes or more, but when I talked to her when I asked her a question, I saw the tears roll down her cheeks.. My mother, she was a fighter, a woman to be admired...I always think that when I grow up I want to be just like her...she raised us, all her children, protected us like a mother hen, went out everyday to bring back what she could to provide for us...she would have given her life for any of us in a blink of an eye... there will never be another woman like her...she was my superwoman...
As I sit here right now, I want her to come sit next to me so I can lay my head on her lap...I want to stand behind her and unwind her hair and put my fingers through her tossled curls..I want to see her eyes glimmer as her grandchldren go to her and give her hugs and kisses.. My heart still doesn't understand that she is gone, my heart still desires her love like it did in my first memory of my love for my mother...My mother, my love, my angel...I miss you with every breathe I take...You will always be alive in my heart...Te amo madre mia...
Sombra de Ayer
La passion que siento al mirar tu rostro
el ardor que existe dentro de mi
tus caricias, tus encantos
nunca encontrare algo comparable
cuando ya no estes
cuando ya no seas
que sera de mi
porque seguire necesitando
tu presencia, tu calor
me despierto a encontrar
que mi almohada a recibido
las lagrimas de mi dolor
me duermo para olvidar
o simplemente para sonar
que sigues siendo mio
amandome ijual
donde estas amado mio
quien me a robado tu tiempo
donde estas que no te encuentro
que no te puedo olvidar
Photograph by Anais Zaragoza
Sunday, November 9, 2014
No Escape
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, 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 walking by 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 I knew his name but we just kept talking. By this time Andrew had to go to class so he quickly asked me if I wanted to attend the Senior Bash he was throwing at his house. Everybody was talking about this party, and he was inviting me personally. It was one month before graduation, but Andrew 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 never kissed a boy before. She had never had a boyfriend. She had so much going through her head she barely did any homework that week. She went to work and it kept her occupied. It helped her make it through the week as minutes seemed like hours.
Thursday finally 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 Mariana 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. Mariana felt like her heart was going to explode out of her chest. She stayed knowing they were in for the night of their lives. Mariana was so impressed by Andrew's presence 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 for dinner.
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.
There was no way out of this one. Mariana's parents would be so disappointed at her. 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. When Marians saw him, she would not speak. She would simply hand him the note.
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.
Where I Found Myself...
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 it up as 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 crept into the kitchen to find no one.
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One might ask why I didn't call the police. One might also ask how long its 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 my body 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 on 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 wonder if they are still in time to understand the normalcy of life, to dream, to hope and to fulfill their dreams.
My dreams have 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.
We survived him. 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.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
How Do you Love?
I received this letter by Robert Faz after a long argument about my passion in writing. I could not believe that an artist like him (pencil drawing, poetry, rap) was asking me to curb my inspiration. I ended our argument by falling asleep. I was saddened. I was numb.
Robert Faz said...
(How do I love?)
I, once upon a time, loved my father, but he soon passed away followed by my two brothers and recently my mother....my world was torn into pieces like a love letter found by an elementary school teacher read out loud as to embarrass the love birds that were caught passing it during class innocently in love with one another...
(How do I love?)
My first love betrayed me , if I deserved to be played or not,she played me....
(How do I love?).....My child's mother, whom I thought was the love that I was looking for my whole life, which I planned on marrying..was good to me but by that time I had found another love called Crystal(the drug)Why did i go astray?? ...
(How do I love?) It's not the person that I don't trust, it's LOVE that i don't trust for all those I loved dearly passed, affected me and infected me by a disease that's stereo-typically known as drugs and dysfunctional upbringing.
(How do I love?) I now have a very special person in my life but...I've been nothing but a disappointment based on my actions. My words are excellent, but the outcome of my deeds are never to the satisfaction of how it ought to be for my heart has been crushed and molested long before and the way I should love, I don't know. Lord knows I wanna learn to love not just by words but by actions, I want that more than anything...
(How do I love?)...and I cannot lie, I've failed her with my words plenty of times so that being said...Lord have mercy on me.........
My response...
I cannot tell you how to love others, but I can tell you how to love me. You can't hold me in a cage like a bird. You can't put side-blinders on me like a horse. You can't tie me up like a dog. Love is freedom to be me. Love is freedom for me to stay by your side willingly. You cannot mold me, you cannot shape me. My maker did that long ago. Life molded me until this day. I cannot teach you how to trust. I cannot teach you how to stop hurting me with your words. All I can do is love you, hoping that how you learned to be hurt by love, you will learn to trust love. Trusting love takes will. Please give love a try. It keeps knocking at your door.
Robert Faz said...
(How do I love?)
I, once upon a time, loved my father, but he soon passed away followed by my two brothers and recently my mother....my world was torn into pieces like a love letter found by an elementary school teacher read out loud as to embarrass the love birds that were caught passing it during class innocently in love with one another...
(How do I love?)
My first love betrayed me , if I deserved to be played or not,she played me....
(How do I love?).....My child's mother, whom I thought was the love that I was looking for my whole life, which I planned on marrying..was good to me but by that time I had found another love called Crystal(the drug)Why did i go astray?? ...
(How do I love?) It's not the person that I don't trust, it's LOVE that i don't trust for all those I loved dearly passed, affected me and infected me by a disease that's stereo-typically known as drugs and dysfunctional upbringing.
(How do I love?) I now have a very special person in my life but...I've been nothing but a disappointment based on my actions. My words are excellent, but the outcome of my deeds are never to the satisfaction of how it ought to be for my heart has been crushed and molested long before and the way I should love, I don't know. Lord knows I wanna learn to love not just by words but by actions, I want that more than anything...
(How do I love?)...and I cannot lie, I've failed her with my words plenty of times so that being said...Lord have mercy on me.........
My response...
I cannot tell you how to love others, but I can tell you how to love me. You can't hold me in a cage like a bird. You can't put side-blinders on me like a horse. You can't tie me up like a dog. Love is freedom to be me. Love is freedom for me to stay by your side willingly. You cannot mold me, you cannot shape me. My maker did that long ago. Life molded me until this day. I cannot teach you how to trust. I cannot teach you how to stop hurting me with your words. All I can do is love you, hoping that how you learned to be hurt by love, you will learn to trust love. Trusting love takes will. Please give love a try. It keeps knocking at your door.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
THE END OF TIME
Time was nearing the end. The end of my life, the end of the world, the end of time. The clocks all sped up, moving forward uncontrollably. The world was at war, food was scarce, and there was no mercy. Satan himself had taken control of the world, corruption and heathenism with no limits. Bilzabub stood before the people rejoicing in the sin and avaricious man. Everywhere there was man against man, nation against nation. Believers of God were being slaughtered in all corners of the land. Gunfire could be heard and there was no peace.
They had caught me preaching the coming of Christ and about the heavans being prepared for our arrival. I spoke about a time when we would praise God, with no worldly clocks. A time when we would rejoice in God's love. We would feel no more sadness or pain.
"Do you renounce your God?", said the monstrous voice. I looked over to his soul-less eyes. I felt my body quiver from his evil presence. Again louder, "Renounce your God or you shall die!" "Satan you have no dominion over my soul. Do what you must! I exalt my God over everything." They placed my physical body over the guillotine block and I felt no fear of death." A slicing of flesh, my head severed from my body. My soul released from this Earth.
Story by Susana Zaragoza
They had caught me preaching the coming of Christ and about the heavans being prepared for our arrival. I spoke about a time when we would praise God, with no worldly clocks. A time when we would rejoice in God's love. We would feel no more sadness or pain.
"Do you renounce your God?", said the monstrous voice. I looked over to his soul-less eyes. I felt my body quiver from his evil presence. Again louder, "Renounce your God or you shall die!" "Satan you have no dominion over my soul. Do what you must! I exalt my God over everything." They placed my physical body over the guillotine block and I felt no fear of death." A slicing of flesh, my head severed from my body. My soul released from this Earth.
Story by Susana Zaragoza
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Lessons I Have Learned
Having children is a gift from God. Cherish every moment.
True love is very difficult to find. If you find it, make sure you value it every day.
Relationships need tender loving care to stay strong.
Money has its place in the world. Money should not have a place in your heart.
Every once in a while STOP, breathe in some air and look at the simple pleasures of life.
A true friendship is a diamond in the rough. It can withstand rain, sleet, hurricanes, tornados and more.
One must love themselves before they can love anyone else.
A mansion or a studio apartment are four walls. It is who is within that makes it a home.
There are many more but I'll stop with this all encompassing passage:
Put GOD first in your life and your life will be blessed in abundance and you shall not want for anything.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
My Lifeline
MY LIFELINE
I stand in a room full of monitors, wires attached to her body. Oxygen keeping her breathing. She has had more strokes than I ever thought a body could withstand. She has had so many heart attacks. Her heart is weak, according to the doctors. Her brain is dead, according to the doctors. She was gone for seven minutes, flatlined, before they brought her back. I stand by her bedside and her eyes are open. I caress her hair because that's what I would do when we lay on her bed talking. A friend of the family, a doctor, comes in and tries to convince me that she is gone. He tries to convince me that her brain is dead. He tells me she would not want to live this way, hooked up to machines to keep her breathing and alive. How does he know? He didn't know her like I did. I was sure she was going to pull through, once again. I thought, she had fought all odds for us so many times. I lay my face next to hers, all along stroking her hair. She had black and silver lavishly beautiful hair. It had a wave to it that when she left it to dry by itself, you could see waves of hair in the sun.
Why are you here my best friend if you were already in rehab? Why are you here if you cheated death so many times before and returned to us? I'm sorry I didn't take time off my work and just focused on your care. I could have left my job for weeks and just sat by your side. Sure my children would have missed school. So what! So what! So what! It was a small price to pay for your life, for your presence. I wasn't there and you stopped breathing. I wasn't there and you slipped away. I should have been there mother. I should have rescued you. You slipped through my fingers and I will never forgive myself. I will always regret that I was not by your side.
It was the day after her seven minute flat line. They brought her back from death because she wanted to be brought back. She was a fighter, my mother. She raised eight children, my mother. My mother, I remember staring in her eyes and saying to her, "If you can still hear me blink your eyes." She started crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even after seven minutes she could still hear me. Everyone said this wasn't a life she would have wanted to live, hooked up to all these machines. I went home that night heavy-hearted because I knew tomorrow was her last day. I went home with my little ones, put them to bed and cried to the early hours of the morning. I finally fell asleep some time before light.
The hour was drawing near. Ten p.m. if my memory serves me right. At that wicked hour we siblings would gather and say goodbye that one last time. I had already decided that this was not her day to go. I would tell the doctors that I disagreed and they would keep her alive. I kept thinking of her tears in my mind. She didn't want to die. I was on my way to the hospital when my husband called and said his truck broke down, the kids with him. My heart was racing. I had to be there to keep my mother from dying. I received a call saying they could no longer wait for me. I acquiesced. I received a call a few minutes later telling me she was gone. There was more said, but all I could hear was that she was gone. My sweet sweet gladiator was gone. She had gone to meet her maker. For the first time in my life I felt completely alone. Not the children, not my husband could fill that void. I drove us home as I quietly cried. The minute we got home I fell to my knees and I howled, the heart-wrenching pain was unbareable. I howled and howled until I could howl no more. My mother, my life source, was gone. The love of my life was no more.
I stand in a room full of monitors, wires attached to her body. Oxygen keeping her breathing. She has had more strokes than I ever thought a body could withstand. She has had so many heart attacks. Her heart is weak, according to the doctors. Her brain is dead, according to the doctors. She was gone for seven minutes, flatlined, before they brought her back. I stand by her bedside and her eyes are open. I caress her hair because that's what I would do when we lay on her bed talking. A friend of the family, a doctor, comes in and tries to convince me that she is gone. He tries to convince me that her brain is dead. He tells me she would not want to live this way, hooked up to machines to keep her breathing and alive. How does he know? He didn't know her like I did. I was sure she was going to pull through, once again. I thought, she had fought all odds for us so many times. I lay my face next to hers, all along stroking her hair. She had black and silver lavishly beautiful hair. It had a wave to it that when she left it to dry by itself, you could see waves of hair in the sun.
Why are you here my best friend if you were already in rehab? Why are you here if you cheated death so many times before and returned to us? I'm sorry I didn't take time off my work and just focused on your care. I could have left my job for weeks and just sat by your side. Sure my children would have missed school. So what! So what! So what! It was a small price to pay for your life, for your presence. I wasn't there and you stopped breathing. I wasn't there and you slipped away. I should have been there mother. I should have rescued you. You slipped through my fingers and I will never forgive myself. I will always regret that I was not by your side.
It was the day after her seven minute flat line. They brought her back from death because she wanted to be brought back. She was a fighter, my mother. She raised eight children, my mother. My mother, I remember staring in her eyes and saying to her, "If you can still hear me blink your eyes." She started crying, tears rolling down her cheeks. Even after seven minutes she could still hear me. Everyone said this wasn't a life she would have wanted to live, hooked up to all these machines. I went home that night heavy-hearted because I knew tomorrow was her last day. I went home with my little ones, put them to bed and cried to the early hours of the morning. I finally fell asleep some time before light.
The hour was drawing near. Ten p.m. if my memory serves me right. At that wicked hour we siblings would gather and say goodbye that one last time. I had already decided that this was not her day to go. I would tell the doctors that I disagreed and they would keep her alive. I kept thinking of her tears in my mind. She didn't want to die. I was on my way to the hospital when my husband called and said his truck broke down, the kids with him. My heart was racing. I had to be there to keep my mother from dying. I received a call saying they could no longer wait for me. I acquiesced. I received a call a few minutes later telling me she was gone. There was more said, but all I could hear was that she was gone. My sweet sweet gladiator was gone. She had gone to meet her maker. For the first time in my life I felt completely alone. Not the children, not my husband could fill that void. I drove us home as I quietly cried. The minute we got home I fell to my knees and I howled, the heart-wrenching pain was unbareable. I howled and howled until I could howl no more. My mother, my life source, was gone. The love of my life was no more.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
My Dearest Robert
My Dearest Robert,
It is going to be so difficult to have you go away far and to not know how long you will be gone. It seems right now that we cannot speak to one another without arguing. Whether it's the illness, the fear of losing each other or just all our pain, writing to you what I feel is easier. We have both lived a hard life. We have both been hurt. I think I had to stop my fight or flight response after we got together. I found the way to stop that response through God. Not a church, not a temple, but my best friend God. I believe that my same God gave me a best friend in you. I vow on my own life that I will do everything in my power to make myself better while you are gone. I want you to know that I love you Robert. You are the best friend I ever had and with you I can share anything knowing you won't judge me. I am asking God to send the holy spirit with you to guide you and protect you wherever you are to be placed. I also ask God to bring his holy hand of healing to your body and heal you of your illness. I ask that he make your mind whole and that he comfort your heart. I am strong Robert. Much stonger than people give me credit for and I will be waiting for you. There is no time or distance that will change my dedication to you and my love for you. God let us cross paths and now we have to work to make US work. I love you Babe and remember God is always with us. It's not just empty words. The fact that we are still alive today is testimony that God exists.
Love Always,
Your Marshmallow
Remember this? +Robert Faz
It is going to be so difficult to have you go away far and to not know how long you will be gone. It seems right now that we cannot speak to one another without arguing. Whether it's the illness, the fear of losing each other or just all our pain, writing to you what I feel is easier. We have both lived a hard life. We have both been hurt. I think I had to stop my fight or flight response after we got together. I found the way to stop that response through God. Not a church, not a temple, but my best friend God. I believe that my same God gave me a best friend in you. I vow on my own life that I will do everything in my power to make myself better while you are gone. I want you to know that I love you Robert. You are the best friend I ever had and with you I can share anything knowing you won't judge me. I am asking God to send the holy spirit with you to guide you and protect you wherever you are to be placed. I also ask God to bring his holy hand of healing to your body and heal you of your illness. I ask that he make your mind whole and that he comfort your heart. I am strong Robert. Much stonger than people give me credit for and I will be waiting for you. There is no time or distance that will change my dedication to you and my love for you. God let us cross paths and now we have to work to make US work. I love you Babe and remember God is always with us. It's not just empty words. The fact that we are still alive today is testimony that God exists.
Love Always,
Your Marshmallow
Remember this? +Robert Faz
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
THE MONSTER AMONGST US!
ARIZONA CHILD PROTECTIVE SERVICES
THE MONSTER AMONGST US
In 1998 I joined an agency which had a motto of helping children and helping families. That agency was Child Protective Services with the State of Arizona. The only thing they neglected to say in the interview was that there was so much red tape and paperwork involved in protecting children that you would spend 90% of your day behind a desk. Well, you see, as my nature called me to help these children, I became a rebel. I took time to get to know the families I was working with and to try to be a stepping stool and not a stumbling block. If you don't believe me I have hundreds of papers of conversations with supervisors about how we needed more staff to protect the children of Arizona. You see, the Arizona legislators saw it fit to require CPS to investigate 100% of cases in Arizona with insufficient staff and a high turn over rate. Most of our trainees already had another job lined up before they were even done with training. They knew if they stayed the State of Arizona would bleed them dry. In the present, with new policy that came into play created by a newly baptized social worker of two or so years experience in 2010, they are removing children left and right. All in the name of covering their ass. The assessment that they use to investigate families through Child Protective Services in the State of Arizona is flawed. One because their staff is inexperienced "yes" people who barely graduated from University. Two, the assessment is so damn confusing you don't know your behind from your head once you finish interviewing with this useless assessment. Three because there is so much paperwork attached to covering CPS' REPUTATION that they have no time to check if the children are truly safe in the their homes. Yes, this is my platform, because for too many years, 17 to be more exact, I and hundreds of employees have stayed quiet about the ignorance which exists in the State of Arizona Division of Children, Youth and families. The system has recently, since 2010, been set up to remove children first and then ask questions. Some of you may think that is the right thing to do but it is not. These children will have one true attachment in their life and that is to their biological parent. One day they will inevitably want to know who they are and where they come from. You see, in 2010 I had a nervous breakdown because I had not had a vacation from so much paperwork that came with protecting children. The year before, my Interim Assistant program manager forced me to forfeit 186 hours of annual leave because although I was working over 100 hours every two weeks to keep up with the red tape and demanding paper work, she felt I didn't deserve a vacation. I could have appealed it and won. I could have had my 186 hours of annual leave. Instead, my supervisor at the time brought me into his office and said not to stir the pot. He promised to give me those hours here and there when possible. Funny thing is he was later demoted as we were both guinea pigs in their new task of ridding themselves of tenured staff and I lost those hard earned vacation hours to a promise from a supervisor. Not only that! It doesn't stop there, though I wish it did. We were supposed to work as many hours as necessary to finish our JOB of protecting children (aka completing useless assessments) without pay. The motto was don't tell us you worked overtime and we won't ask. They forgot that our time sheets and the hours we were online have to match. They do not. Believe me when I say that I have documentation and other State workers have documentation of how we were not compensated for our overtime and we were forced to be on-call 24/7 for a whole week about every two months without pay. Yes! I want to get a point across and this is my platform. Child Protective Services thinks that we are too afraid to speak out. The children in the community are not being protected. You want to know why? It takes so much time filling out paperwork to make sure the State of Arizona is not held liable for failed CPS cases that investigators are stuck at their desks. Yes, they are pushing buttons on a computer instead of being out in the field protecting children and teaching families how to work together. Heck, with this NEW AND AWARD-WINNING ASSESSMENT they just skip fixing the family and go straight to removing the children. The sad thing is the State is no better parent. The staff are too busy to adequately parent your children. Yes, you, that got your child taken away! Your child, last I knew got $400 to buy school supplies and clothes for school in a year. Oh and $40 either for Christmas or their birthday. Not both. Tell me if this is enough to even clothe a child for school. Oh and they reduced Foster parent assistance all in the name of saving money. All that meant is that those who take care of foster children better budget themselves to make sure they can carry the task of raising an overflow of foster children. Now, I won't say that every case shouldn't be rectified by its own merit. But, Child Protective Services, why are you so quick to remove children from their home when your own staff spends all their time at work never seeing their own children? If you care at all for the children in foster care, the parents who are losing their children unjustly and the staff who had to work for free since 1993 to 2010, and possibly even now, then share this article like crazy. Make it go viral. Arizona's Child Protective Services needs to be held accountable for their actions and their lack of concern for their own employees and the children they remove. You want to know where we bathed children that came into CPS care? In our restroom sink. If they don't have a home for the child they sleep at the office on the floor. Just press share and you will have helped a family member who had their child taken away or had to stay and work for free while their own children needed them. Press share to let the public know that the Division of Children, Youth and Families Child Protective Services needs to think before taking children away from their families. If you are an employee of DCYF and don't know what to do about what is happening, start documenting everything. If you need my documentation to make your case stronger, I have it readily available. No more silence! No more bullies disguised as administrators! No more loss of dedicated seasoned employees. Don't be afraid and stand up...I said stand up and be heard.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Insurance Meatmarket!
The State of Arizona made a horrible transition into the Insurance Marketplace (Obamacare). They notified me that my children's insurance expired after the fact. Now my daughter Anais is burning up with fever and congestion and has no medical insurance until March. Has the goverment declared a National emergency on the flu deaths? THIRTY in Yuma, Arizona
in one month. Buracreacy is the biggest crock. Yes, Uncle Sam, I have an extra $400 plus deductible and co-pays for the monthly medical of my children although I am single and on disability. As a State employee I used to have no pre-existing, no yearly deductible and a small co-pay. Wasn't this supposed to help families? My daughter deserves medical coverage in a First-world country!
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Addiction
Part two: A little past the witching hour, but I made it. As I was saying, there are two major obstacles in a marriage or relationship that are difficult if not impossible to surpass. Would anyone care to guess the other? You guessed it drug dependency, alcohol dependency and other dependencies. If you have been with a drug or alcohol dependant person in your life, you know the chaos it causes. No one begins to understand what you are going through and what others see is only touching the surface of the problem. When I mention other dependencies I am talking about addictions such as internet porn, sexting, gambling, partner abuse or any other deviant dependency in your partner. It is very difficult to let go of these loved ones because you don't know if they can make it on their own. Believe you me, self-preservation is their main objective. They are like leeches that stick to you and begin to suck the life out of you. These addictions mentioned above need intervention and will not go away on their own. Be realistic with yourself and make a choice. Sometimes the choice is not only for yourself but for your children as well. Remember that what your children see at home growing up will be what they see as normal when they are adults. You are not alone. Many other women and MEN are experiencing the same pain. At minimum, seek help for yourself so that you can help identify what you are suffering and to help identify what you should do. Love yourself enough to get some help.
Monday, February 3, 2014
Infidelity
Monday, January 20, 2014
Three Branches
There is a tree in the fields of Arizona close to my home that stands out from the agricultural fields. Even at their bloom, the wheat fields don't cover this tree. I have stared at this tree many an hour from my outside porch. What kind of tree? I haven't a clue in the world for as much as I know about a tree is that it absorbs water from its roots to grow and bloom. If you look at that particular tree over the sunset you can see that it consists of three branches. One larger branch that grows many leaves. One thinner branch to the South that grows leaves when it wants and a strong branch to the North that never changes. It never grows leaves; it never moves.
The largest branch is directly feeding off the stalk of the tree. It grows beautiful leaves and it sways in the winds of Spring. It's a strong branch though somewhat crooked in several areas. The second branch has some Springs when it sways its beautiful leaves in the wind, glistening in the sun. Other years, approaching fall, you see no branches. It just stays still. The little branch to the North is very peculiar for it grows but it never grows leaves nor does it have any curvatures, just straight. It's strong, no doubt. Just growing straight out.
One day I decided to take a closer inspection of this awkward looking tree. I approached and I could feel some of the roots under my feet. The roots must run deep if they are already sprouting out of the ground, I assumed. I got to the tree and one could see that the bark had seen its years of hardship. There were patches of bark missing. There were saw marks in some areas of the tree as if someone had tried to cut it down. Yet, it stood there holding those three branches, steadfastly.
From the little that I know about trees, I assume that if one branch is broken off, the rest of the tree can still thrive. As such I assumed about this tree that I had seen yonder for so long. One day, as I did every once in a while, I woke up at sunrise to say good morning to the day and that steadfast tree. I sat at my porch bench, took a sip of my coffee and rose my head to see the tree against the sunrise. I dropped my coffee cup as it shattered on the floor. One, two... One, two... One, two!!!!!! I ran to the tree and found that the unpredictable branch was gone. It was not sawed off; it had been broken off and it had been taken. I was saddened for the tree now held two branches but surely it would thrive. I went back and cleaned the mess I had left behind. I surprised myself as I wiped a tear from my cheek.
A few days later, from afar, I noticed no leaves on that bigger branch. Why? It was Spring. I approached and looked at the other smaller branch and it was starting to dry and slant. I inspected the bark and there was a sap-like substance coming from its old wounds. A month later I went back to that same tree. The branches were brittle to touch and the bark, the strong tree, dead.
God gave me three branches such as those I have described. He gave me a love for them that I can never describe. Nothing could substitute their love and vibrancy though they are all different. I am the tree stalk. I live for them bringing them the water they need to grow. God spare me the day that this old tree would have to be without one of its beautiful branches. God spare me...
The largest branch is directly feeding off the stalk of the tree. It grows beautiful leaves and it sways in the winds of Spring. It's a strong branch though somewhat crooked in several areas. The second branch has some Springs when it sways its beautiful leaves in the wind, glistening in the sun. Other years, approaching fall, you see no branches. It just stays still. The little branch to the North is very peculiar for it grows but it never grows leaves nor does it have any curvatures, just straight. It's strong, no doubt. Just growing straight out.
One day I decided to take a closer inspection of this awkward looking tree. I approached and I could feel some of the roots under my feet. The roots must run deep if they are already sprouting out of the ground, I assumed. I got to the tree and one could see that the bark had seen its years of hardship. There were patches of bark missing. There were saw marks in some areas of the tree as if someone had tried to cut it down. Yet, it stood there holding those three branches, steadfastly.
From the little that I know about trees, I assume that if one branch is broken off, the rest of the tree can still thrive. As such I assumed about this tree that I had seen yonder for so long. One day, as I did every once in a while, I woke up at sunrise to say good morning to the day and that steadfast tree. I sat at my porch bench, took a sip of my coffee and rose my head to see the tree against the sunrise. I dropped my coffee cup as it shattered on the floor. One, two... One, two... One, two!!!!!! I ran to the tree and found that the unpredictable branch was gone. It was not sawed off; it had been broken off and it had been taken. I was saddened for the tree now held two branches but surely it would thrive. I went back and cleaned the mess I had left behind. I surprised myself as I wiped a tear from my cheek.
A few days later, from afar, I noticed no leaves on that bigger branch. Why? It was Spring. I approached and looked at the other smaller branch and it was starting to dry and slant. I inspected the bark and there was a sap-like substance coming from its old wounds. A month later I went back to that same tree. The branches were brittle to touch and the bark, the strong tree, dead.
God gave me three branches such as those I have described. He gave me a love for them that I can never describe. Nothing could substitute their love and vibrancy though they are all different. I am the tree stalk. I live for them bringing them the water they need to grow. God spare me the day that this old tree would have to be without one of its beautiful branches. God spare me...
Friday, January 17, 2014
You are There
When I was at my lowest, you raised me up. When I was lost you showed me the light. When I was hungry, you fed me. When I needed warmth in my heart, you sent the holy spirit. When I was lonely, you sent my beloved daughter. You always carry me, especially in my toughest times. That is why I knock at your door today and say, "It is me Lord, your faithful servant. I need uplifting of my soul as I am walking on a mountain so high. I am tired." The Lord speaks, "My Dearest Dearest daughter, I know you may not see it now, but you will make it past this mountain and you will drink from the river of life because you are one of my jewels. Do not look back for you have tread a long way. Keep moving forward."
Sunday, January 12, 2014
My Dearest Friend
My Dearest Friend,
I am saddened by your state of mind, by the turmoil in your life and the pain in your heart. I know you are angered for where has the time gone. That innocent young mind full of hopes and dreams is now slapped in the face by the reality of life. Did you believe life would be heavenly bliss? I knew not, for my thoughts were plagued with sadness at the age of five. Only to explain my state of mind at five-years-old, I was sitting on a step crying over the atomic bomb and how many people it would kill. Does a child think this way? A child who will grow up to self-implode, yes. However, let us not stray from the issue at hand. I want you to know that life is unpredictable. One minute you are here and the next you are there. That is the way life works, forever changing. If you resist the change, you will only anguish that much more. My friend, allow yourself to cocoon so that from that shell will emerge a majestic butterfly. That butterfly will fly free, able to land on fields of flowers. What you feel today, if you let it go, will be forgotten tomorrow. I promise.
With Love,
Your friend
Changeling....
People change like seasons change. Once that transformation occurs, although they physically appear the same, they are not. They are strained by the wind, the sun, the snow, the sleet. Life smooths the edges, create ridges, whithers at a person, creates a new creature. Homeostasis is impossible because two things are certain in this life, change and the fallen tree. So when I am old and frail I will still be me outside but I will have gone full circle many times. I will have become a million me in my heart and in my soul. For every thought and every feeling changes what once was.
Monday, January 6, 2014
The Best a friend could be....
To lose your only friend in life
How mystifying that is to me
To lose your only one true friend
What a devastating tragedy
The friend you knew in pony tails
Who played Red Roses with you
The friend that dressed as a nun
While you dressed like a clown
We stood at Hallmark for hours
Laughing until our tummies hurt
In our youth we danced til dawn
Enjoying every minute together
We were hungry one day in June
We cooked a burnt pizza that day
Funny days, fun days, sad days
We shared them all the same
When she was to be married
I did not go to her wedding
I regret making that choice
But I just couldn't give her away
For a long time we didn't speak
You see I was broken hearted
For I didn't know how to share her
She was my older sister in life
Then suddenly I was by myself
Soon enough we spoke again
Oh how I missed her near me
She traveled the world, had babies
I went to University and grew up
Not one day in all that time
Was there a day that I didn't miss
The jokes, the tricks, the games
Spending 365 days a year together
Now we are half past twelve
I have been through hell and back
Now the game is half way over
She has lived a quiet peaceful life
We are different as black on white
Yet no matter how much time
When we are together we are
Six again, 15 again, young again
We laugh, we cry, we reminisce
This life-long friendship of ours
-Susana Zaragoza
How mystifying that is to me
To lose your only one true friend
What a devastating tragedy
The friend you knew in pony tails
Who played Red Roses with you
The friend that dressed as a nun
While you dressed like a clown
We stood at Hallmark for hours
Laughing until our tummies hurt
In our youth we danced til dawn
Enjoying every minute together
We were hungry one day in June
We cooked a burnt pizza that day
Funny days, fun days, sad days
We shared them all the same
When she was to be married
I did not go to her wedding
I regret making that choice
But I just couldn't give her away
For a long time we didn't speak
You see I was broken hearted
For I didn't know how to share her
She was my older sister in life
Then suddenly I was by myself
Soon enough we spoke again
Oh how I missed her near me
She traveled the world, had babies
I went to University and grew up
Not one day in all that time
Was there a day that I didn't miss
The jokes, the tricks, the games
Spending 365 days a year together
Now we are half past twelve
I have been through hell and back
Now the game is half way over
She has lived a quiet peaceful life
We are different as black on white
Yet no matter how much time
When we are together we are
Six again, 15 again, young again
We laugh, we cry, we reminisce
This life-long friendship of ours
-Susana Zaragoza
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