Summer thus far….

Solstice rituals and the return of stunning sunsets
Witnessing a run over body on the freeway with a carload of teenagers. An accident I came very close to being a part of but timing and fate chose otherwise. I still haven’t completely shaken that visual.
Feeling more in touch with my body and self.
boba + movie dates.
Unlocking core memories and putting away old ones.
Monarchs dancing in the yard.
A heightened sense of appreciation and gratitude.
The inevitable write-off and disappointment of the disloyal.
Pulling up to stoplights with the windows down, blasting “it’s raining men” and singing with R at the top of our lungs.
Pressing charges on some grown ass creep for hitting on my kid. Between this and the highway corpse I have met my popo quota for the year. Although getting flirted with by the CHP wasn’t something I expected to have on my bingo card but here we are.
Return to art, journaling, writing, walking, moving.
The thought of the dimples I know my portrait of him brought to his face.
Reconnection, reinvention, acceptance, amplification.
The decline of anxiety that was amplified by the pandemic.
Going to the Barbie movie with R clad in corpse paint and sharing not only that moment and ridiculously fun movie, but a bond about mother/womanhood with her.
“I am the way I am because of her” *wipes tear*
Not sharing everything because some things just have their place and sanctity.
The collective joy and awakening that something so simple as a film about a doll or a Taylor Swift concert has brought people together.
Lemon and smokey pineapple fragrances on my skin.
R is now a Junior in high school. JFC where has the time GONE. What a privilege to be here for all of it.
How utterly unabashed I have become. Is this what happens when you’re cusping the last year of your 40’s? I got no time for nonsense.
The impact of being shown reassurance I didn’t have to ask for. The bar is so unbelievably high.
Halloween goodies in July + August and the restraint to limiting myself with them.
The craving for experiences way more than things.
The conspiracy, plotting and countdown to our communing devilry. Encore.

Mercy.

The block of time between April and May, without fail, has always been a flux of significance in my life. It’s when I got married, when that all came to a demise, when I started my new lease on life… I reflect a lot around this time of the year and well, this year wasn’t short of monumental memories and life changing events.

I road tripped on my own through rain, mountains, snow and wildflower clad desert (on the same day!) to spend time with Ginny in Arizona. On my way there I stopped near the dunes where I had my massive femur fracture accident. I didn’t expect to have feelings about that but I did. How can I not? I almost bled to death in that swath of sand and the fact I stood near there 37 years later, limbs intact, isn’t lost on me. Ginny took me to visit Saguaro National Park – got to see some petroglyphs, Rattlesnake Bridge, tons of ridiculously cool cacti & chipmunk butts. The company, laughs and eats were supreme. I’m so ridiculously proud of her for so many things. I really need to tell her more.

Days after coming home from Arizona, Stephen came to visit – getting to see him after 3 years was medicinal. There’s a lot to be said for reconnection with those who have known you, and stood by you, for almost half your life. Shortly after he went home, the call we knew was coming arrived. “She’s gone”.

Life sure has a way of stacking you up with emotionally challenging moments and while I had years to prepare for it, it doesn’t really hit you until that moment comes. My Mom suffered entirely way too long from Alzheimer’s and her life came to an end on April 18th. A mere week away from her and my Dad’s 60th wedding anniversary. I have been intending on writing something a bit more formal to summarize her and her life but it has been such an absolute whirlwind of emotional chaos, while trying to work, parent, processing difficulty and all while trying to keep your head above water at the same time? Yeah. Not quite ready for that one.

We knew it would be like this. The call, the hustle to get home, the saga of a last minute journey to Mazatlan, funerary service and the novela-like comedy that came with it. Let’s face it, when it comes to Mexican Familia, it will always be interesting especially when it’s mine. All things considering we all managed to get there as timely and as best we could considering the logistical nightmare of my family being scattered everywhere. And while the circumstances were not ideal, getting to be in the same place as my sisters, niece, child and my Dad and Tia all at once has its special place – and we brought levity where we could with good eats and getting to sink my toes in some Pacific kissed sand.

Grief is such a complicated and complex emotion and everyone processes it so differently. I will say that this version of me certainly handled things a lot differently than old me would have but having Reza there with me was a full circle moment that meant so much to me. My outlook on death, rite and ritual allowed me to find and truly glimpse into Mom’s transition, even if it was hard to look at that mortality because it shared my features and felt the grit and ash of her remains on my fingertips.

She was there when we arrived into the world and we were there to see her leave it. It is one of the most poignant and beautiful moments of my life. It didn’t really hit me hard until we were departing on the plane, I’m listening to The National and sitting next to my own child – absolutely ready to come home and start healing. Tears in my eyes and her hand over mine. This one is going to take a while.

A common theme for me in everything right now is “surrender”. Right now, I am in retreating and cocooning. I’m exhausted of being seen as strong. Or how people keep adding more daggers to my already heavy rotation of juggling because they think I can handle it. These hands are bloody and tired – I long and ache for more travel, adventure, seeing new things, reveling in everything beautiful. And being in fight or flight all the time is bone breaking and unsustainable. There is a pang that there is something larger on my horizon and as scary and heartbreaking as it is, and will be, I need to let things develop and unfold the way they’re meant to instead of trying to swim against the current.

In the words of El Guapo, “you cannot force open the petals of a flowarrrre”. I unravel on my terms these days. One thing I will say: I have really paid close attention in the past two months about who understands and shows up. Selflessly. My family and chosen family are something else and I am so fucking fortunate for it and them.

I am so fucking loved.

Oh! And I got to see The Cure for the 4th time with my birthday twin B! It was Reza’s first time and I am stoked we got to share that one. Core memory: Unlocked!

The day crept in and then the reminder arrived. Three years ago today I was released from the legal confines of marriage. I won’t say it has been an easy journey, in fact, it is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do and one of the most painful experiences I have had to endure. In ways, it still is. Grief from demise and emotional trauma aren’t things you just forget about, you just learn to carry them differently, especially when it’s something you do for more than just yourself. Yet there’s lessons in hardship and beauty in transformation.

I have learned so much about myself in the past four years… lessons of trust, loyalty (or lack thereof) and even amongst the rubble of a destroyed home I managed to find my capacity to endure, love and overcome. To allow myself to be cared for. A better version of the woman I am and continue to become. A cluster of gemstone hidden in the mud that needed to come to the surface and a lot of polishing. Just because we heal from things doesn’t mean that we’re not allowed to have emotions about them – and I have a vast array, no doubt. They’re mostly reflective and a lot less disappointment than I used to carry.

The calm that arrives after the storm is worth sailing enraged seas. Sure, there will be casualties along the way, but the journey continues because sometimes we elect to change the course for the life we deserve, instead of settling for the one we had. And that arrival is so worth it. This path is peacefully lush. Romantic, living & breathing poetry. I am so glad that choosing the harder path at the fork in the road led to this upgraded version of life. The skies parted and there is so much more light.

Happy Anniversary.

Spring arrived. Does it feel like it? Yes. Does it look like it? No. 12 atmospheric rivers (and counting) and while I love rain, I don’t want it for months at a time. I am all for the green and wildflower blooms but the dark and crispy skies weigh. So much for that “sunshine tax”. Regardless, the sunshine is inside these days – I find it in those little pleasures, serious self care, my family, a new scent on my skin, new songs – shit, even the old ones that take on new meaning, R’s laughter behind the closed bedroom door, His sense of wonder, the self worth I see, exude and won’t apologize for anymore… even if I have to break my own heart sometimes.

The 3rd anniversary of covid lockdown came and went – and if it wasn’t for that and the impact it created for very different reasons, none of us would be where we are in this moment. It’s a mind fuck. Lockdown forced me to look at myself, sit with myself. When you’re walking around with a gaping wound and heart hanging out of your chest, there is potential for so much disaster. This cataclysmic event forcibly kept me from what could have been some serious mistakes. I learned, grew and expanded. It gifted me some really beautifully life altering connections and experiences that I know in my core, would never have happened unless… Would I take it back if I could? I think I already know that answer.

Recently someone special to me turned the corner of another completion around the Sun and it sparked dialog about age and growing older. Maybe it’s the inner peace I have found in recent years, the grips with my own age and seeing how life can be so fleeting in the process, but I have really taken on a new perspective with the whole idea of age. When society does nothing but want to fight the process by trying to preserve youth – and condemns maturity with disposability, I can’t help but want to treat the process with a little bit more respect. I have literally been on death’s door more than once and the fact I am still here isn’t lost on me. I’m fortunate to have made it this far. This is a privilege. I see the women in my life approach their own journeys with reverence, agency and wisdom, and we share in it unapologetically. This doesn’t mean I am ready to surrender to the grey just yet but being where and who I am, in this moment, isn’t such a bad place to be all things considering.

It never ceases to amaze me that even at this point in my life, there are still so many firsts I have yet to experience. And yet somehow, little by little, those “firsts” are claimed or given away. How He manages to consistently check those boxes off without as much as an ask speaks volumes. I guess this is what happens when you commune with devils instead of mortals. They’re Yours.

Some of the greatest medicine comes in the form of having something to look forward to. I just happen to have many doses. Getting visits from some of my best friends I haven’t seen in forever? Taking my baby to see The Cure? The plotting of the Next Great Adventure? Yes. Please.

Warmth, reunion and emergence are on the horizon.