As another Mother's Day passes in the United States, I got another opportunity to reflect on my relationship with mother. I am not sure what it is about this holiday, but each year it passes, I am overwhelmed with many feelings, particularly grief.
Her mind buzzed with excitement and worry, unsure of what path to take next. As if in a knee jerk reflex, she decided to walk to the art gallery and distract herself for the afternoon until she was truly ready to decide for herself what she should do. Standing in the art exhibit, surrounded by an array of beautiful and unique displays, she found herself caught in a trance, as if one piece spoke to her. In a dark corner to her right a single ray of golden sunlight danced, highlighting a delicate artifact that was suspended by a single golden thread. In harsh contrast, a frail rusted birdcage that was weathered and old, housed the delicate creation.
I’m sure nearly all of us can relate to the pain of a first heartbreak.
My father actively avoided my mother for the next couple of weeks. In fact, when school returned, he learned my mother’s route and took heed to never walk in the same hallway. As the local paperboy, he significantly sped up his walk when approaching the Castilla’s household and avoided glances in incidents when the girls were outside. He later told me that he regretted taking the time to repair his ego, because when he finally cracked my mom's hard exterior, it was—as he puts it—bellisima.
For my mother, her fifteenth birthday was not only a mark into womanhood with her quinceañera celebrating the transition, but also the dread of missing her period.
Published 9 months ago
Life really knows how to smack the shit out of you. Being a human is hard, shit, being a human in America is really hard. Breathing is even a difficult task it seems these days. I'm an 18 year old, not in college, winging it... to say the least.
I was once married to a man who I thought I had wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Well that feeling was mutual until I fell pregnant with both our kids. When it came to him being faithful at first, I had nothing to worry about but one day he started to basically beg me to find a boyfriend to be there for me on the nights he was out as late with his friends. I did not want to do it, he begged me for two years and I found the man who would wind up being mine and my children’s saving grace I just did not know it at the time.
I once read: “Tip of the day: When you look back in 2018, don’t think of it as a year of pain but a year of growth. You made it through each day. You should be proud of yourself. You are a better you, despite all the hardships. Take a deep breath and enter 2019 with hope and confidence."
We have all seen it floating around social media, the “rules to dating my son/daughter.” We have either loved, liked, hated, had a laugh at it, or we were shocked about it. I saw this post a while back. I was on the receiving end of that rule list posted about me. My blood boiled, the anger living inside me woke up. I was beyond hurt and upset about it. I had been married for two and a half years at this point. I just didn’t understand why anyone in the world would post such an awful thing. “This goes for being married too" was the quote above it. The immediate reaction was to call the person in question. Then something inside me said stop, take a minute, take a deep breath. Take a deep breath! Take a deep breath!? Yeah right, I’m fuming. My hand has balled up into a fist and I’m ready to unleash a shit storm.