Another trip home in the books. Between scheduling, logistics, a complexity of feelings and then catching covid so close to departure, this was not an easy trip to make on any level. Choosing to leave Reza behind was a tough call to make – but when we were barely clearing negative tests, I had to make a choice for the sake of parental safety. I was really looking forward to having them come with me. What I wasn’t prepared for was the cruel, reinforcing realization that this parenting thing is really a solo job. Even when the asks are minimal at best and in this case, under circumstances of real duress. I see that and I can only count on myself – well, and the friends who show up for both of us better than blood can, without even having to be asked. It was another layer of hard I didn’t plan for but those wagons circled so I could still go on my own since my fares were not refundable and time with Mom is running out. I am so grateful I have people in my life that I can trust, that are selflessly filled with care and empathy. Ingrid stepping in to stay with Reza was something I don’t know how I will ever repay. Somehow, the universe sees me and continues to provide.
By the skin of my teeth I managed to get our recovery in, turn in some art, work, have Reza + the cats covered and tie all my loose ends so I could go with a little less stress. I am grateful that the journey was relatively hiccup free and that Mexico is still practicing precautions and covid protocols – cause I sure as fuck do not want to catch this shit again.
Mazatlan changes more and more with every visit. Buildings get taller, the gentrification creeps in yet in so many corners, the nostalgia remains in the old reliables: the cracked tiles, your favorite ice cream stand still being there and trees growing out of the walls. It was unbelievably warm, swampy, but medicinal in her own ways – gifting me with one morning of a fleeting summer thunderstorm, just like I remembered them.
Truth be told, the majority of the trip was spent at home. Sitting in the room with Mom, naps, helping where we could without getting snapped at by Dad who in his old age only becomes more set in his ways. Change is not welcome there. Of course the eats are always choice but when I am still in covid recovery, things weren’t as easy on or for me. My sisters and I had a couple days under the same roof before the 3 became 2 and now only 1 remains there. It’s a tough spot for everyone, really. Our nightly outing for a walk/dinner was about as much excitement we got but we savored it nonetheless. It had been 3 years since we could and when the time is fleeting, you soak in what you can.
I wish I could say that things with Mom are anywhere that had certainty but the nature of this disease is a lot of variables, unknowns and as it slowly advances, the grief only amplifies. And when you’re dealing with so many different personalities around Her, it’s all very complex and while well meaning, can be challenging within itself. My family has been actively mourning the living for 5+ years now and while we were given a rough timeline of 6-12 months, it could be more, or less. We just don’t know and Dad is so mad about us even having asked what that timeline was. I try to give him a ton of grace and empathy where I can, even if I don’t agree.
We all dance with grief in our own ways and it can be the worst partner ever. It’s so individually tailored and personal and there isn’t one right way to go about it that is right or wrong as long we don’t interject our own process into that of another. There is something so cruel about watching someone you love slowly deteriorate into this shell of the human you remember them to be. A frail and delicate vessel of paper thin skin, a glimpse into the mortality we all face who just so happens to stare back at you with confusion and vacancy, with the eyes of the one that brought you into this world.
It is something I don’t wish on anyone to have to endure.
Leaving gets more and more difficult because we have to treat every goodbye as the final one. I have had to have that “final goodbye” conversation with Her and myself more than once. Over and over… and over…. and while I have made a ton of peace with it, and Her, it is not easy and in ways will never feel right.
I am glad I made it home with a couple days to spare before going right back into the grind. The unwind and unpack is something I will be doing for a good while.
To everyone who messaged, supported, showed up and listened to me throughout all of this process and journey – forever grateful to it and you for being a part of this with me. I am eternally grateful for all of that kindness and generosity.
Time and time again I am reminded that the unsettled feeling underneath my skin is there for a reason and my god, is it consistently proven right.
What’s one more notch on that bedpost of disappointment, right?
July came and went. How is it that more than half a year has already passed? It certainly wasn’t a boring one that’s for damn sure…
Waking up to new music/album announcements from one of your favorite bands
Warming your cold, bare feet on toasty, sunlit concrete
When a flurry of art is sent your way because seeing it reminded Him of You.
Tam Dao scented 1930’s courtship under a tangerine quarter moon ~ I forget how utterly delicious it is to compose and send letters, even more when I know how eager the intended hands are to hold them. November cannot come soon enough to meet that sea with my earth.
The early jump on Halloween loot and finding the perfect spiderweb print bakeware.
The world may be falling apart in many ways but others are celebrating and finding excitement in things like the Webb Telescope images being released by NASA
The biggest full moon of the year
Chipping away at the list of those very big things.
Nostalgia fueled conversations founded in honesty.
Missing you. I fucking hate that I miss my friend that is no more and it sucks because it takes everything in me to not just call him up, or eviscerate him with my words and brown eyed vulnerability or tell him about all the times I have thought of us, how we would just fucking love to share [insert everything here]. Friendship loss is just as, if not as monumental as losing a partner and I cannot help but think about what we had often. I hate that this is where we are now but deep down in there I knew he was always going to be a blue eyed, walking heartbreak. It happened twice and I’m not in the business of third time’s the charm, no matter how much vacancy was left behind.
I have been working through some anger as of late. It really isn’t anger as much as it’s a shield for disappointment. It is so hard to stay hopeful when the world is overcome with this plague of abject selfishness. The amount of mental notes I have made as of late... scribbles…. “holy shit do not act like that, EVER”. And it’s wild to me just how easily people just unhinge their jaw in an effort to squash the small joys that others want or try to have. “Do they not hear themselves? jfc… it really isn’t that hard to keep scrolling”…
Long anticipated and beyond overdue reunions filled with airport tears. If you ever want to feel a bit of humanity, stand in baggage claim one day and watch people reconnect with their most cherished. Seeing Bee is a breath of fresh air.
Rekindling love with my creative muse, even if it’s a slow churning round of foreplay that I am getting heavily impatient for.. let’s get to that deep, clawing, unabashed fuck already.
How gold leaf now reminds us of one another.
Healthy love and care can only exist in places when you trust someone enough to travel down their own path, for the right reasons, for their growth – even if you cannot be a part of it. I hate those kinds of parting of ways and while it wasn’t a goodbye, it was an uncomfortable and sad moment that broke me inside a little. The silver lining there is the beauty in that discomfort because it’s pleading and gnawing at me to ask myself bigger questions about what I want, need and most of all? Deserve. This is a lot of unexplored territory for me.
A necessary weekend getaway to Rosarito which brings me to…
After 2.5 years of pandemic frogger, the child and I finally got the alligator log on the tail end of the month. Covid is a mind fuck, I can tell you that and when you’re dealing with a lot variables and uncertainty? Fuck. I ended up getting put on the antiviral treatment which pissed my delicate system off and my mouth felt and tasted like I had been sucking Tin Man dick.. for 5 days. It was awful. I have been in a serious pocket of feels with this one because nothing like having a ton of time to think (and overthink). I enjoy being alone, I enjoy my solitude immensely but there are fleeting moments where I do wish I wasn’t doing everything by myself and never is it more visible than when I am sick. And lord was I in it for a couple days there. A pocket of pain, nausea, fear and melancholy because sometimes, you just want someone else to take care of you for a change. True, selfless care. Not the kind of care that has emotional leverage attached to it. And when you are so used to doing everything? And not just for yourself? Asks are very hard to come by for me. Yet, somehow I have to force and allow myself to accept it because the amount of care and outpour I have received while recovering continues to be a testament to the circles and connections I have forged. It’s like opening the window and letting the light in even though you want shade. Holy shit is it uncomfortable. Nothing likes endless messages, bags of care, popsicles and my favorite mochi donuts just showing up on my doorstep to unravel a girl into a waterfall of tears. The timing of this contagion couldn’t have come at the worst time due to pending travel to see my family and my sister being here. There never really is a good time but this was most definitely Not. It. I want to hope that things will play out as they’re meant to and if not? Well, I can only do what I can, with what I have within my capacity. We can’t always get what we want all the time.
May the pink lines be singular soon.
Thoughts + joys…
The acquisition of new accoutrements to sleep in and write on. And your monogram being on clearance is always a plus. Pays to not have a basic name. Next to the X and Q.
The pleasure of creating, making, trying and doing new things. Today I made a 2 hr batch of garlic confit. The house smelled incredible and the squash I made for dinner with the oil? Effortlessly delicious.
Progress revealing itself – carving inches off me feels good and satisfying.
Organized chaos. The magic of and in my incense drawer (yes I have a whole drawer)
Trimming rosemary + lavender from the neighbor’s overflowing garden for my own nefarious purposes.
Swapping Our Spanish Daydreams.
The comfort in not giving as much of a fuck in how people view me. I’m wearing the shorts, the tanks, the pasty will see the light of day. I’m not gonna spend one more moment denying myself or pushing off experiences waiting for the right time. Today is the right time.
Cleaning to playlists with a theme around craving You.
Finally completing the month long process of dental work that I really needed and wanted to be over with.
Getting blocked by trolls. achievement unlocked!
Letting things go and change because I know the reasons are right.
My friends who care for Reza like family.
Our boy Lucifer getting thicc.
Receiving positive observations.
The flavors of Summer.
The beauty in decay.
Relocating spiders outside, gently.
The collective awakening.
An artfully packaged, created and gifted tarot deck (thank you Alice xo)
That lifted weight when I get around to making what felt like a wrong…. a right. I really need to work on my procrastination and time management. When I do chip away at that list of things, it always feels good.
I have *always* hated this whack AF “holiday” and now even more considering the state of the country and its so-called concept of “freedom”. I stayed home most of the weekend and took care of all these soul nurturing things: cooking, art, gym, a quiet reprieve at the K-spa. Relishing in moments of silence. Between the way I date myself paired with the quality connections and friendships I’ve made… the bar is so fucking high.
I am not going to diminish or ignore that there are things happening in this country that are awful. I have been processing it and I am not about to throw an anger filled, reactive tirade into the air. I try to be more tactical and intentional with actions and words these days. Response is greater than reaction. This is the thing, despair is a really easy pool to slide into and that water is always inviting. There is undertow there and the kind of thing makes me sick inside. I cannot sideline my progress. I know when I should step back. So instead of doom scrolling and spiraling over things I can’t control, I’m focusing on constructive dialog in closed circles and the things that brought me joy as of late….
Arranging flowers I chose to my favorite soundtrack playlist
The swarm of bees that decided to build in a spot that wasn’t the best but feeling their energy and buzz was astonishing. (they have since been professionally relocated)
Relishing in the care of my plants
Nights that still feel like days
The swapping of messages of mutual admiration across the Atlantic
The black cat that crossed my path
Letting a stranger’s puppy slobber all over my face while waiting in line for coffee
The “I don’t want to go” but did and feeling better after I went.
Learning to love being better to myself and romanticizing my life.
Leaving birthday flowers on the doorstep of one of my most beloved friends.
When you finally start seeing the fruits of your labor
A fresh batch of chemically altered tresses. Good hair days just hit different.
The familiars that watch me cook, clean, work and sleep.
Getting compliments from women
When the good drastically outweighs the bad
“I thought you were, like, 35” (bless your gd heart)
My baby finishing 9th grade and the very welcome break we both need
Peering into old books and sharing the memories they invoked
Getting to see my sister in less than a month
A calendar filled to the brim with wonderful
The wonderful men in my life that get it.
When you know you stopped them in their tracks
Mornings of music, patchouli incense and the sound of wild parrots outside
Candlelit string quartet concerts in a museum with quality company
A work uniform of freshly pressed coffee, loosely tossed bun, boy shorts and a satin robe.
That even when the days feel dark, they also have so much light. I am clinging to hope instead of despair.
Yesterday was the Summer Solstice and the longest day of the year. I went on a very long walk that ended in the weirdest moments of daylight as late as 8:30 pm. My body is pissed at me for all of that especially since I live on a huge hill but nonetheless I relish in this ache cause I know how it got there. A little over a month ago I made the decision to start tapering off of my meds. Truth is I have wanted to for a great while but the outside stressors and abject nonsense that kept getting in my path were just a lot to manage… I wanted to, it just wasn’t right. But things are different now and I am balancing it with a lot of positive change in hopes this spot is sweet enough. Needless to say said on-foot excursion ended up at the pharmacy to pick up what I hope to be my last bottle of meds in a great while. I owe it to myself to try and truth be told, I am not that broken pile of glass I was 3 years ago. I have done a metricfuckton of work on and for myself.
Long gone are my days of doing emotional labor for people who refuse to look in the mirror. Get out of here with your fragile ass shit – I am not a nurse to slap on the band-aids to ouchies on broken people with festering, untreated wounds. Especially men.
Someone else’s comfort zone isn’t a place I choose to reside in anymore. Not sure why being “alone” is so terrifying to some. I rather enjoy it, my company and the seeds I cultivate in my own garden. The other day a friend asked me how I liked being on my own and without hesitation the first thing I said was, “I fucking love it”. Certainty is intoxicating.
I actively choose to surround myself with people who do not make me question them, their intentions or make me feel doubt. It’s wild to me how hard wired we have become to tolerate people’s dishonesty, indiscretions and reward their mediocrity. Basic decency isn’t a podium worthy performance and I am not handing out participation ribbons. Protection of my ease and peace are vital.
I have really come to loathe sarcasm and cynicism. Being either isn’t a personality trait that I find appealing or desirable and I am so glad I’m not like that anymore. My outlook has shifted so much in the past few years and I am finding it far more fulfilling to not only revel in things that bring me joy, but allowing myself to let others do the same – even if its things that I personally don’t care for. You do you. I’ll be over here doing me. Hard pass to anything or anyone who wants to squash those tiny things that make me feel good.
There is something so ethereally nostalgic about cloud filled skies that smell of moistened earth and summer storms paired with some Rock En Español. It reminds me of the moments in Mazatlan when the summer would rip apart the skies to a torrential tropical downpour. I know I am lamenting the tremendous heat that August in Mazatlan will bring but I am also looking forward to a few days away with Reza to refresh the roots with some Pacific kisses and lapping at my feet. Add a freshly split coco and some mangoes from the tree in my parent’s yard. Yes, please. Gotta remind this child where and what they come from.
The veil lifted and with it came clarity. A clarity so thick I could slice it. That blinding kind of translucency that brings me to my knees so it can be devoured barehanded. I am letting it drip onto my chest, while I lick my fingertips and I won’t be bothered till I am done savoring every last crumb.
These knees are going to be bruised with life.
Mi Jefe is from the old school. Mexican with roots of Spanish blood. Virgo. One of 7 children. And if you knew the personalities he grew up around, you would know about the bolt of cloth he was cut from. He’s a complex man… stoic, stubborn, set in his ways and guards a lot of his feelings like his life depends on it. A treasure trove of secrets with no map to X marks the spot. He’s softened up in his age and every once in a while we get glimpses of that soft, tender man that was never allowed the opportunity to be such.
Men of his generation were raised to be providers, backbones, tough and god forbid you ever show anything that could perceive you as “weak”. He has known hardship and struggle. An immigrant who came to this country, that built himself a something out of absolutely nothing, hustling multiple jobs, helped raise 4 kids and still to this day does the best he can with what he was given, even from where his now 83 year old frame stands.
When I became a parent was when I really came to understand and respect a lot of the things he (and my mother) did for us. I came to see them as humans, flawed and complicated with secrets and struggles of their own. From families riddled with expectations, anger, ignorance, toxicity and broken parts, just as much as there was love, even if shown in very bizarre ways. The Garcia Way. He, like many of our parents, built lives from what little they were given or even allowed to have.
It’s Father’s Day… and he is home right now, caring for our ailing Mother. Watching the love of his life deteriorate on the daily and still managing to do it with as much grace as he allows himself to show. Mourning the living for years. How I wish things ended a bit differently for the both of them but such is life and the cruel hands she deals out to play. We endure.
I will say this. I have learned a great deal from Him, far more than he can ever possibly know or understand. It’s from him I got my absolute warrior mechanism from… the one that defends, supports and prioritizes her child above anything and anyone else, just as much as he taught me there are ways not to be and where I can be better so those generational curses are cast off for good.
This is how I like to see him… sneaking that cigarette he knows Mom hated him doing, taking us out on camping adventures and him standing en Su Tierra, where he feels most at home.
Feliz Dia Daddy, y gracias por todo.
(note: this was written last year on a fb post… needed it here, for posterity)
(a random collection of disjointed thoughts)
Coffee with cinnamon + honey and bearded irises are a whole ass mood.
The catharsis of the unsent letter (do more of this). Or even better? Maybe just send it so they know, even if they don’t deserve the gift of my certainty.
Things that I find irrationally unsettling: hair on the shower walls, the stringy white things on oranges, socks with the seam across the front of the toes, signature elastic and having to stick my hand in the garbage disposal.
I can listen to Nothing’s “A.C.D” on repeat and every time it makes me feel different things… but what it reminds me of most is having my hand warmer peeled back to have my bare hand held as I drove. It’s wild how some songs, paired with the right moment or company, can imprint so hard in your memory bank.
..and I will leave you with a bad taste in your mouth…
It has been pretty disheartening how this country seems to be shifting into this blatant culture of misogyny, violence, racism and fear. More than usual. I won’t even get into the serious man and gun problem either (please go to fuckin’ therapy). Anyone that says the USA is a great country, is clearly someone who has never left it. The quality of life here just diminishes on the daily and sometimes I wonder if this is the right place for me (or R) anymore. Looking forward to crossing the borders this year, even if for the brief stints I am planning because this wanderlust is at an all time high and I really need to replenish this unsettled feeling that is looming.
Been taking some steps. Little ones but in the grand scheme of my personal journey to healing, they’re huge. I have pushed so much of myself and my needs to the wayside, tending to the fires of others as mine wane. I am not getting any younger here and even though 47 isn’t a bad spot to be from where I am standing, I know I can be better and kinder to my flesh vessel. Taking care of me is essential and never is it more apparent than when it stares back at me in ways that I know I have the capacity to change.
I doubt I will ever finish unpacking some of the proverbial shit I have gone through in my lifetime, because some of it has been downright awful and heartbreaking. Things come up often more than not, especially when someone inadvertently steps on the land mine you didn’t even know you had placed. But sometimes you see the lining of the suitcase here and there, and I can’t help but be grateful for my therapeutic journey and the open eyes it has given me, even if it started at the expense of a round of gaslighting. 4(ish) years later and I have learned so much about me, life and how to be a better person and parent. I tread on.
The raddest feeling is knowing I am surrounded by relationships and connections that don’t fill me with doubt. There’s a freedom in knowing I can give and expose all these facets of me and they’re received without judgement or that they won’t be weaponized against me. There is so much liberation to be uncovered when the accountability finally starts to take hold and seep into the bones of my humanity – I am just choosing a lot more wisely now.
long gone are the days
of drinking from chipped cups filled with broken promises
not when there are goblets of lustful earnestness
to be wide-mouthed for
and get insatiably drunk on
may it drip
down my chin
*cheers*
Sometimes the thoughts to peer in arrive – especially in those inevitable passings when I am reminded of things that would only sing to your ears. And I look. A window shopper in a store that has since been shuttered. That’s just how it is now.
The death of a muse. Daydreams about sighs under the bridge, chasing moonrises, finding beauty in the often overlooked and the most comfortable of silences. Moments that felt like safety as an empire crumbled around me. And you just watched it happen while hiding the dagger behind your back. A back turned away from mine. Judas.
Your silence and absence resonated. Perhaps that departure was necessary, even if it left me broken, bleeding and without explanation. However, there is something I have learned: Wounds heal better when left to their own devices and aren’t being prodded. A lesson I had to learn the hard way. And that is how I know I was right to let that door get so callously slammed, even when my fingers were still clinging and clawing to the frame wishing it could have been something different.
Solitude can be a place for resurrection, redemption and in many cases the most beautiful and rewarding. I know we both are getting our tastes of it and for that I am utterly grateful. We didn’t fall prey to masking our respective struggles with human shaped band-aids. I know I am better for it because flowers don’t bloom in old Earth – you just couldn’t help but look for the warning sign and ran while I painted images for you in my blood.
We are not the same.
I’m translucent like water, authentic and fearless. I speak truth. I’ve lost so much already, so what more is there to lose? That’s just who I am. I would be amiss if I denied there aren’t fragments of me that miss it and you – and I know you do too… more than you were ever brave enough to admit and I just don’t open the drawers of my heart for cowards. Not anymore.
It’s a shame, friend, because this is the best version of me yet and you’re missing Her.
