If I Don't Write I Might Explode

I am not sure where to even begin. I need to be writing daily, more than once daily, but with Dany here it is a bit hard to fit it in.

Being back is a huge transition, a bit bigger than I thought actually.

I want to embrace everything and everyone, but am then reminded that people are pre-occupied with other things here...their hearts aren't quite as open as mine at this moment. And I get disappointed...but I wanted a big hug and a genuine hello, I think to myself, and got just the opposite....where is everyone? why can't you be present with me?

as much as i have been challenged for the last seven months, i have also been greatly privileged. I have lived around people who genuinely care, genuinely take time, and genuinely hug. have eaten food, real food from this earth, nothing processed, nothing that comes in a box. nothing shipped in from other countries. been surrounded by a city that is a live...ah, i feel like i have so much to say, but need to give myself time to say it all. i need more time with myself, to write, to think, to reflect. i feel like i am on super drive right now. como fast forward, like everything is happening, but fast, and its hard for my mind to calm down.

i want to share my experience without assumptions. i want to sit down, for someone to listen, to really want to know, and to not judge. i need to release, but have found no one to release to yet. although i know it will come, i am impatient. trying to find patience for myself.

being back here reminds me of the little things. why can i not find masa, or fresh squeezed juice? why do three pounds of tomatoes cost ten dollars? why is each peach one dollar? no wonder people who earn little in this country are sick. it disgusts me. i am tired now, needing to sleep, but also needing to release and to write. again, much more to come, much more, and breathing, breathing through it all.

but wait, before i go....some people here just have no freaking clue. live their lives as if there is nothing worse than that is going on in their own. conversations are typically pretty senseless. we are so stuck in this world. it is time to begin to share others. before i begin to rant i will go. until next time, soon. peace.

California is not Mexico

At all. Transitioning, big time...too tired to write, but more to come. Much more. Good night.

My family stresses me out.

The title says it all. Blah. Leave me alone. Sometimes you have to remember that I was 18 FOUR years ago. I know its hard, but please try. Thanks.

Coming Home.

I am home. Home to my home in California. After 6 months and two weeks in Mexico. I feel....so much. Dany is with me, which definitely helps. I have a piece of my Mexico with me. She scared me in the airport. It took her almost an hour to come out of Customs. I thought I was going to have a panic attack. They couldn't take her back from me!!!
As I had just broken into tears out of worry, there she was, crossing the line, into the United States. She made it. There is something about that girl...I have never had a friend like her. She is locked deeply into my heart, and I don't think that compartment can ever be unlocked. Not sure what it is....but it is there....a true friend, and it means the world to me.

Yesterday I went to the Beach, Bolinas actually. I don't know what it is about that place, but it always calls to me. I have never been to Bolinas on a more beautiful day. It was absolutely gorgeous. The sun shining, the water perfect, and the sand warm. We took a picnic, buried ourselves in the sand, ran with the water, found seashells, and made sand angels. It felt so good, and so freeing to be there.

Came home and tried to make quesadillas with Da, which just don't come out the same here. Food is sooooooo much fresher in Mexico it is not even funny. It is going to take awhile to adjust to it all here. Even the markets, no one is there to help me or stop to talk with me because they have time.

It all came crashing down last night, my feelings, I mean. I suddlenly realized I was home, that I had left Mexico. A huge transitioning point, and change. I began to cry, but not out of sadness or anger, just feelings, I began to feel for the world, for the people I met in Mexico, for everything that was given to me and everything I had given. I have gone through a lot in these last seven months. A lot of pain, anger, frustration, work. A lot of love, compassion, children, and friendships. And I feel it all right now. Throughout my body, my chest, the water that runs from my eyes. It feels good though, I feel strong, and ready to move forward, but I feel like I want to continue to tell my story of Mexico, the people that I met, the lessons that I learned, all that I saw, felt, and heard. I feel like I want to give justice to my experience, especially the people that came across my path. Absolutely incredible people, families, parents, children, and grandparents. I feel like I can write a book simply explaining the people. Wonderful people, people whose lives are filled with pain, violence, anger, and joy. Love, and compassion. So I have decided to continue to write, to continue to express myself as a therapy, but more importantly to share with others that in which touched me so, inspires me, and impassions me to keep going. There is a huge light at the end of my tunnel.

More to come. Much more. I am excited.

Home Again.

I never thought I would feel so free coming back to the place I started here in Mexico. I have just spent about three weeks with a new family, which was a wonderful break, rest, and experience, but as soon as my bags were packed and I was in the car on my way to Estela's again I felt like taking off my clothes and dancing my heart out in the street. I got to my room, swept the floor, put copal in the saumador, and walah! here i am again, and it really does feel like home. its crazy what six months can do to you. made my bed, took a shower, unpacked, etc. feeling good. waves of excitement to go home. SO much to catch you up on but tonight is not the night. SO much to do this week. trying to recover from being sick. blah. not used to my body not wanting to go, move, or function. it will be good to have it back again. alright, until pronto. jj

And It All Came Crashing Down

The image of Mother Earth with a huge dagger stuck through her middle and ripping her open races through my mind.

I have just had one of the most emotionally intense 24 hours I can remember.

After my work at the orphanage, I bought 24 pink and white colored roses for Ana and hopped onto the bus to Cuentepec. I was tired, a bit dillusional. In and out of sleep. It began to rain. I covered myself with my raincoat. It began to pour. It was hard for the bus driver to see in front of him. We made our way in the overcrowed bus, filled with exhausted workers, slowly, very slowly. Through the tear drops of water pounding overhead and through the newly green and chocolate colored earth, ready to be planted and produce for the season. Into the clear air, surrounded by exhausted workers. Making the journey to be able to put food into their children’s mouth. To feed their families and offer them shelter.

The bus finally creeped its way to Cuentepec. It was downpouring. I descened the bus, and although had a hood over my head, was dripping wet within 30 seconds. I made my way down the cobbled stoned road to Dany’s house. The road was already flooding, and I felt like I was walking through a running creek. People watching from their windows and front doors. Watching me trudge towards Dany’s house, dripping wet, carrying my weight and sadness and anger and resentment and loneliness along with me. I knocked on the door. It was immediately opened and I was hugged deeply by one of Dany’s sisters. I was dripping wet. Get inside, change your clothes! I was ordered immediately. I was hustled into Dany’s room, and thrown three different pairs of pants to try on to change into. None of them fit, so Dany decided to rip open a pair of her own that she had taken in and re-sew them for me. Just like that, as if it were nothing, and before I knew it, I had a dry pair of pants to put on my soaking body. Through this whole process, I was standing in my underwear, and Dany’s cousins, nieces, nephews, sisters, mom, and dad were coming in and out of the bedroom, trying to escape from the falling goblets of rain. I was then hurried into the kitchen. Was sat down and given a warm piece of chicken soaked in the deepest red salsa I have ever seen, and wrapped in potatoes, epazote, and nopales. There were two fires set up on the kitchen floor as stoves. One held a huge comal and the other a giant clay pot for the mole. The kitchen was a mess, strewn with food, pots, plastic plates, and food already eaten. I ate in silence, with a feeling that tears were going to begin to flood to my eyes. Dany noticed it first, of course. She gave me a large hug and we shared tears together. But before we could let any more go, it was time to cut the cake. I was encouraged to stand by Ana. I was touched. The tears began to flow again. They were unstoppable. Crying, laughing, trying to keep calm and collected in the rush of all of the other guests. I sat down next to Lourdes. She looked at me deep into the eyes, and thanked me for who I was as a person. That her family has never connected with an American, and that I am loved by all of them. If only there were more people in the world like you, she tells me, the world would be a better place. She sees through. I couldn’t let go of her. She is a bigger woman, and it felt comforting to hold on. I have never had someone thank me so sincerely for who I am as a person.

What happened next is a bit of a blur. Ana began to push her boyfriend around. She didn’t want him to go. He left her for the evening, and she pushed away her feelings by opening a bottle of tequila. I drank very little, as I did not want my feelings and emotions to be erased, covered up, or carried away by the alcohol. The rest of the girls did otherwise, however. Down went the tequila, and Ana felt it first. Although it was pouring rain outside, we went across the street to the neighbor’s house, who had a live band. We started the party, four of us girls, began to dance in the pouring rain and mud soaked ground. It was a release, it felt wonderful, the mud on my feet and the rain on my face. But then dynamics began to change. I couldn’t really tell who wanted what, but before we knew it Ana got sick. We took her back to her room and she began to froth at the mouth and vomit. Dany took her under her care and arms. The girls were hiding it from their mom. Dany encouraged us to keep dancing, so that her parents would go with us and not know about Ana’s condition. So outside into the rain we went again, dancing to distract and hide reality, more than anything. I couldn’t’ enjoy thinking of Dany and Ana back in the house. And there was a boy waiting outside for Dany. I couldn’t dance knowing about Dany and Ana. I headed back into the house. I don’t know how we all ended up in the bathroom, but all of the sudden, Dany, Angelica, and I were in the bathroom, and I began to bawl. I have never had anyone hold onto me so tight. Dany held me in her arms and I became uncontrollable. Bawling, screaming, whining. She was encouraging it the whole time. Ya, sacalo. Puedes llorar aqui. Gritalo. Gritalo. Sacalo. Suddenly Angelica was bawling at our side as well. We were all bawling and holding eachother so that we wouldn’t fall onto the floor. Bawling in a small square room made of cement, used for showering. Dany’s mom and boyfriend came over, Dany left with him, and Angelica began to talk nonsense to me. I wanted to sleep, she wanted to dance. Was telling me that if we didn’t go and dance, her parents would be worried that we weren’t okay, and how it is important that we go and have fun. I left to dance with her in the rain again, but couldn’t enjoy my time like before. I felt trapped. Not sure what to do. Followed and watched by Dany’s parents, who wanted to make sure I was okay. We continued dancing in the rain and the mud throughout the night.

I was mind tripping about theories we have been reading about, about the two epistemologies, and how I was seeing all of the intersectionalities, but my discomfort within the intersections. I was surrounded by small Nahuatl speaking mothers and grandmothers, with their traditional clothing and faces that tell more than one history, from beginning to end. We were all dancing to Norteno, Bando, Rancho music, pink streamers over our heads and a cake the size of a table to serve us all. Many of the elders were drunk. Woman were being pushed around, men crying, faces of sadness and burden surrounded me. Pain, sorrow. I am not ready to write about this yet. But slowly and surely, their lives and beliefs are being taken from them, and I have a great fear, that pains me to no end, that in another 15 years, the originality of Cuentepec will disappear before our eyes. We are loosing our old customs and traditions, and losing them quickly. It makes me sick to my body to think about it.

I couldn’t’ be there anymore, I needed to go to bed. I motioned to Angelica but she pulled me back. She wouldn’t let me go. I couldn’t’ understand it. I started screaming at her and pushing her away from me. I ran. I arrived at the house and ran to my room. Angelica began to have a tantrum. A tantrum so fierce that she fainted. She had been screaming and arguing with herself about her fear that her mom was going to be unhappy with her because she had broken up with her boyfriend. I watched from the window. I couldn’t’ understand as they were talking in Nahuatl, but here was Dany, her boyfriend, her mom, dad, Monica, and Erica, all trying to calm and hold stable Angelica. I don’t know who or why someone was finally able to calm it all down. Angelica went to bed. I tried to sleep. Dany came in the room, shivering. I fell into a light sleep, only waking up later to hear Dany’s boyfriend crying. I looked out the window, Dany was consoling him. His crying didn’t stop until I fell asleep again. Dany came into the room at 5:30 to shower and leave. The boyfriend was still there. He wanted to come in, he wanted a hug, a kiss. Dany’s running around. The mom comes in, the boyfriend hides from the dad. Dany leaves with him. I fall asleep until 9am.

I wake up to Danys dad still drunk and crying to himself in his kitchen, mumbling about how he couldn’t go to work. His wife and mother-in-law ignored him, his daughters told him to go to bed. The women began to clean the kitchen. I showered. I waited for a taxi or bus for almost an hour and cried. Watch it all around me. Analyze, sadness, reality, beauty, grief, heavy lives, drama. I saw and felt it all. I don’t know if I have ever felt or experienced so much pain, tears, screams, and grief in one night.

I arrived in Xochicalgo and began to cry. Hugged myself. Realized how lonely I feel, almost abandoned. I let the mountain heal me. I lied on the rock, sang to the wind, and breathed in beauty, forgiveness, strenth, and faith. Feeling better yet drained and filled with emotion. I have more to release. It goes back for years. It hurts but is good, and important for me.

Exhaustion

I am tired. Exhausted, really. And it does not hit until I walk through the door when the day is over. And this is when I give thanks to the beautiful warm meal that is waiting for me. For the folded laundry that smells wonderful. My eyes hurt and my head feels heavy. I need space but haven’t figured out how to fit it into my long days. I am done with dinner by 10:30 and I have no energy left. I get into bed and crash until my alarm goes off the next morning.

The house I am now living in is changing with my presence. When I arrived they had been buying all of their tortillas. Now we make them. And the daughter, Karen, who is 14 loves it and makes herself the cutest little tortillas you have ever seen. Graciela, my host mom, still has trouble making them so she leaves it up to us. It’s cute. And she is constantly asking what I like to eat so that I can eat what I like and eat well. And because I do not eat meat, her family is taking a break from meat as well. Both she and her husband hold me that their stomachs feel lighter from not eating so much meat. Wheee! Also, they were drinking huge glasses of milk at night, and with me around, milk is changing into herbal tea. Good habits… We will probably make some granola soon too.

It is important for me to continue to reflect on my experiences at the Orphanage, so here goes…the children are in so much pain. They hurt, they are sad, they are angry, feeling lost without a place or someone to love them. They are aggressive, demanding, sassy, and abusive to one another. They hit, scream, and cry instead of using their words. And when they do begin to cry they have no one to comfort them. They are on their own.

Today I sat watching a two year old sitting on the grass, by himself, crying. And no one came to his rescue. The caretakers could have, but did not, and I realized they cannot because if they rescue one child, they have to rescue all of the others as well, and there are simply too many children and too little rescuers. I am pained inside to think of the emptiness that these children grow up with. Who will they become in the future? What are the odds that they are not abusive, addicts, or estranged and violent to and with the world? They are too young to feel and experience what they feel, but it is a reality. It gives me pain inside. I want to reach out to all of them, but they are almost already out of control. And the control they are given, and control they know, comes in the shape and form of aggressiveness. They are spoken to and taken care of aggressively. They only listen when the command becomes a threat. Again, I don’t mean to be generalizing or assuming, but this is what I have seen (in two days, that is). And maybe my perspective will change.

But it is not easy. Not enough staff, not enough money, not enough healing, caring, and compassionate programs. I want to reach out, to learn how to create true healing communities for children who are lonely and sick in the world, like the children at the conviviencia.

And it pains me even more to see how the majority of the children are a bit deformed, or have special needs. One doesn’t walk right, two are in a wheelchair, more than have have expressionless eyes, as if their souls are already lost to the world. Were they abandoned from their families because they didn’t come out “normal?” I hope not, but one can only question…it hurts and gives me pain inside…and I can only imagine their hurt and pain…..we have lot to pray for.