To raise my children with empathy and respect for humanity is hard in times like these in times when everyone is selfish and individuality is praised In times when showing emotions is seen as week and there is still a stigma about seeking therapy but somehow, my firstborn got the message that money and selfishness are not everything and that finding empathy and compassion for his fellow humans is much more valuable than the idea of individualism and materialism society tries to sell him
An item of my youth I was incredibly attached to was my doll Dandee. I actually had two of these dolls given to me as a young child. The first Dandee was given to me by my aunt shortly after me and my family immigrated to the states when I was 5. This was in 1986. What happened to the first Dandee? Well, it’s a sad story of trauma. When me and my family first moved to the states, we moved into the apartment next to my aunt C and her family. The living situation there was not ideal. Actually that’s the understatement of the year. Here’s a poem I wrote about her:
Anyways my aunt C owned the apartment we were renting so she was our landlord. She was also the one who was giving sponsorship for our green card. At the time we immigrated, we had done so four years earlier than we were supposed to so we lived undocumented for four years. So my Aunt C took advantage of the situation because A) with a call to immigration she could deport all of us back to Peru and B) she was our landlord so she also held control and power over where we lived. It was a terrible situation. Aunt C had a massive 3 year old son J. He was probably one of the most terrible toddlers I’ve ever encountered. Aunt C would not control him and when he would bully me, either hit me or take away my toys, Aunt C would say, “dejalo, es chiquito” which basically translates to “allow him to do whatever because he’s small”. It was hard for my mom to say anything to her or protect me because of the living situation we were in with Aunt C. The best she could do was take me somewhere else. Shortly after Dandee was given to me, he became my most favorite toy in the world. He was given to me by my favorite Aunt Luz. That toy went with me everywhere. However, one day, Dandee was taken away from me by my cousin J, and he wouldn’t give him back. My aunt didn’t do anything to remedy the situation. According to my mom, this broke my little 5 year old spirit and I was inconsolable and cried and cried for days. My papi was upset that my mom wouldn’t say anything to Aunt C. He hated to see me cry every day for that damn doll so even though they really couldn’t afford it (it was an expensive doll), papi went to the toy store and bought a brand new Dandee for me. I was a happy child again taking that doll everywhere with me. Playing with him and my imaginary friend Calincha. Anyways, a few months went by and I was at my aunt C’s house with my mom. I was playing with Dandee and my cousin J came up to me and started trying to take the doll away from me. The adults weren’t doing anything and I got angry. My five year old self could not take the bullying from J anymore and was not going to allow him to take my doll away from me so I punched him and he fell to the floor. I wasn’t punished for it and went back to playing with my doll. My mom tells me that her and my aunt C were surprised by what I did and had no idea until that point that I had a temper. I was always such an obedient and quiet child, it was shocking to them that I had it in me to fight back. Needless to say, my cousin J never messed with me after that day.
So fast forward to 37 years later, that Dandee sits in my bookcase in my room next to the baby Yoda I bought for my youngest son a few years ago (that he didn’t want anyways cause it looked creepy). When I look at Dandee, I’m reminded of my fierce and fiery spirit at 5 years old that I’ve carried with me since then. When I told my sons the story of Dandee, my oldest son said, “Dandee carries your 5 year old warrior girl spirit” and that felt empowering to me. Dandee taught me a lesson in how to take my power back from a situation I thought I had no power or control in.
when it comes down to it, my mission in life is simple, it’s to be a good person and a good mom. that means being able to sleep at night with a clear conscious at night and knowing that I have done my best that day. that means giving my children the best of me most of the time.
my granddaughters will love me even as they rolls their eyes at me- as I try to awkwardly relate to their slang and taste in music- they’ll be like “abue-that’s so special” and while I’ll know what they’re trying to say I’ll annoy them even more out of spite or to make them laugh my granddaughters will appreciate that I’m not like other grandmas
I wrote the poem above a year ago thinking about what kind of grandmother I’d be. One thing is for sure, I won’t be like my mom who goes above and beyond her role of mamacita and is the most wonderful grandmother to mine and my siblings kids. I’ll be different but in a fun way. If I’m blessed/cursed to live a very long life (which could happen because my grandparents on my maternal side have lived past their 90s), I want to be like my grandparents who had a very good quality of life until the end. I want to be as active as possible in my old age.
me with my grandmother in 2014
I also envision myself as a storyteller with my granddaughters gathered around me as I tell them about the olden days before the internet or when we had to take our pictures to the photo place to get them developed. I want to be as candid as possible with them about my misadventures in life and love so maybe they’ll learn from my mistakes and learn to have grace with themselves when they make mistakes. I want to be a safe space for my granddaughters when they have problems. I also want to be like my great-great-grandmother Mercedes who still smiled for the camera in her old age while holding her beer in her hand.
My great great grandmother Mercedes
It would also be kind of ironic if I did live to my 90s and beyond, considering how I’ve been romanticizing death since I was 15. However, at the end of the day, I do love being alive on most days and do try my best to be as healthy as possible to live a long live to annoy my loved ones, especially my granddaughters. I’m kind of excited to see what technological advances I’ll live to see. Like, will AI become part of our everyday existence? I mean, it already is part of mine with Alexa waking me up every day. Will men, gasp, finally do their part and take birth control pills instead of leaving it up to women to take responsibility? Will there be a magic pill for PMDD for future generations of women who can take it so they don’t go to crazy town every month? Will the internet read your algorithms so hardcore they erase any vestiges of anyone you have a falling out with from your phone/social media? I’m not sure if any of these questions will be answered, but it would be great if some of them were.
Relief comes after a nap on Christmas day I woke up with so much joy and warmth in my heart I feel like I’m standing on top of a mountain I’ve been climbing forever A mountain climb that’s had a most treacherous uphill and loaded with many obstacles I’ve stumbled and fallen from many times but the universe, God presented me this gift of contentment for my life the understanding that everything had to happen for this reason to live in my childhood dreams of having my own family who brings me love and purpose every day of my existence
saint tracey assured me my life wasn’t over she showed me love and compassion when everyone else shunned me she accepted me for who I was and encouraged me to follow the path of success she saw the hidden potential in me when other teachers saw laziness she was a prayer from God sent to me to remind me my mistakes don’t define me and that I was still worthy of the love and goodness in the world
Quiero lo mejor para ti-porque te lo mereces, porque tu no pediste ser parte de este mundo pero la sigo regando con mis decisiones impulsivas con mis estupideces y no se como voy a salir de esta última atrocidad cometida que afectará el futuro de los dos
taco love is a healthy kind of love ALWAYS and FOREVER
I thought that for once I had a healthy kind of love but I was wrong- Healthy doesn’t carry lies, toning myself down, or accommodate in extremes Healthy is not running from conflict or avoiding hard conversations Healthy is not hiding the worst parts of myself because I’m too scared to be alone Even now, I’m not sure what healthy is-but I didn’t have it with you
Life on the BPD 