Please Pray

I never thought I'd be in this situation. Especially on Christmas Eve. I don't know why I felt like my family, just wouldn't be here. But we're here. My Dad is in the hospital. The same hospital where I work part-time. In the ICU. And I have this horrible feeling, in the pit of my stomach. I'm just praying. Because I don't really know what else to do.

Just a little background here. My Dad has epilepsy. He hasn't had a series of seizures in a while. In over a year? At least over a year. I'm thinking, that it's been longer. But yesterday, he had 5! People...5! That hasn't happened in forever. As in, longer than I've been alive. That's at least 27 years. Yesterday, my Dad had 3 during the day. Then 1, right before we tried to get him to go to bed, for the night. During that 1, he hit his head on the tile floor. There was blood. And his lips were turning blue. He was really sturggling to breathe.

I just knew that this wasn't the "normal" type of seizures that he has. Something was very different. Very different. The actual seizing wasn't the same. And he was so incredibly mean and irritable all day long. Not the norm here. So when he hit his head, and was struggling, I called 911.

Usually, my Mom and I are able to take care of him. We know what to do. And as long as we can get him to rest and take his medication, in a few days, he's back to normal. But this was different. I knew he'd be upset that I called the ambulance, but it was necessary. Completely necessary.

So I stood in the rain. In the middle of the street. In my PJs, and my Mom's slippers, waiting for the ambulance. My Mom taking care of my Dad. Making sure that he was breathing. It was crazy to see my Dad being loaded onto an ambulance. And later in the ER. Where he had yet another seizure.

Through it all, I had to be the strong one. My Mom, I know that she was scared as heck. As was I. I was able to call my oldest brother. And I told him, it was up to him to call anyone else. I just needed to be with my Dad.

Last night was spent watching my Dad. He underwent a number of tests. And I'm so relieved that the doctors let me go with him. I was able to keep him calm. And thankfully, nothing horrible was wrong. We're still trying to figure out what happened. What caused this last series of seizures.

Sometime around 1AM, my Dad was moved into the ICU. We had to wait about an hour in the waiting room. That was so the doctors could evaluate and monitor my Dad. My Dad is still struggling to breath. And at this point, the main concern is pneumonia. My Mom and I spent the night with him in his room. My Mom is sleeping. And I'm relieved. I have a feeling, this is going to be a long haul. And we need to stay together. It's the only way we're going to make it through this.

I know that I need to call some people. Like my Auntie and Uncle. And some family friends. As far as relatives, I'm leaving that up to my brother. He needs to help out here. And our family is just too big, for me to track them all down. Oh, and it doesn't help that I have no one's phone number. I need to get on that.

So I know that you are all busy, but please keep my Dad in your prayers. I know that this is the holiday season and that there is so much going on. But my Dad really does need your thoughts and prayers. If you are someone that we know in "real life," please send me an e-mail or call me. I'll let you know where we are. But whatever you do, please keep my Dad in your prayers. We really do need it. ♥

Crossing a Line

I know that I probably went too far with my Dad today. I know it. But I'm suffocating in my own body. Just trying to make it through the day. Literally, I feel like someone is trying to kill me from inside my body. And today, the fight with my Dad, was the last thing I needed.

Did I cross a line? I think I might have. But this is me. Carrying all of this. Not just what is happening right now, in the here and now. But the stuff from my past. The stuff that I'm working through in my counseling and therapy. This stuff, it would KILL my Dad if he knew. My parents wouldn't be able to deal with these facts. So I don't tell them. I carry them. And the only person that I really ever talked to about it, well he's in heaven now. Patrick left this world with my secrets. The things that weigh so heavily on my life, heart, and soul.

I did tell my Dad that I wished I'd die. Die right there. Because maybe then, I wouldn't be such a burden for him. Did I tell him I wished a semi truck would hit me on the road? Yes. And it was also me that said, maybe some weirdo will kill me in the night, in my hotel room. I said these things. Because it seems like I'm a burden to people. To the people I love. That I only bring misery and stress.

If I died today, no one would have to pay anything. I decided a while back, I would donate my body to science. That way someone would learn something. And my family wouldn't have to worry about the expense of my death. It's all in my Will. Just a way for me to deal with it. I have no bills, beyond school. So it wouldn't be a financial burden. The only kind that really bothers my Dad.

My brother hates the fact that I go to my parents' house. The other day, he told me why do I have to come so often. Why am I there? Literally, I sleep the night, and I'm gone in the morning, to the next town to work! But it bothers him. In his words, "I ruin his entire week!" What would Dad have to say about that?

I know it bugs my Dad that I haven't graduated. But again, I'm trying. I work hard. I get good grades. But financially, I can't keep up. So I'm a burden, a failure, and just a bundle of stress to him.

So I told my Dad, that I wished God would just take me. Take me anyway that he needed to. Be it in a car accident, a murder, a massive heart attack, in my sleep, a shooting...whatever means necessary. Because I feel like then, I wouldn't have such a negative effect on people's lives. You know what I mean?

Tonight, Dr. B told me just what she thinks of me. In the middle of a meeting with my professors, who I'm supposed to be teaching with this week, she told me I'm nothing but a failure. I'm never going to make it. I'm just causing her stress, and she doesn't need me on her team for the week. There you go.

I disappoint everyone. My professors, my supervisors, my parents, my family, my friends, the people I work with, and Dean C. But I'm only one person. Trying to do it all. Maybe if I died, it would improve the life of others. It's not that I want to die. But it seems the only way to make people happy.

A penny for my thoughts? Maybe then, people would listen to me. Really hear what I'm saying. See that I'm not as strong as I appear. That I'm just human. Holding it together, the best way I know how to. No need for tears. Because I've had a pretty good life. No matter what tomorrow brings, I've done the best that I could. ♥

My Only Constant...Money Problems

It's been 1 month. One very long month. After Labor Day, I found out that Dean C and Dr. S had changed my schedule. They didn't tell me. They just did it. They wanted me to take all these classes and to do my internship. It didn't matter that I couldn't afford it. Or that I was already registered and taking 2 classes. They made the change. And by the time I found out, I couldn't change my schedule back.

No one ever listens to me. It's not that I wanted to just leave. My internship had become my entire life. And living a life as lonely and sad as mine, it was the only light in my life. The only thing that made me smile. It made me happy. I was doing something amazing. Helping innocent babies grow strong. Saving lives. It gave me hope. And to be honest, it was my only reason to get out of bed in the mornings.

But with the growing costs, and less and less gigs, I had no options. Do you want me to tell you the truth? I'm still paying J for money he lent me for the 2010 Spring semester. I know he doesn't mind. In fact, he's told me time after time, to just wait until I graduate. He doesn't need the money. Heck, maybe one day we can break even. I can be his kiddos' doctor. To be honest, I think he's hoping I'll just tell him yes one day...

All of that makes me uncomfortable. So I work. I sign over my checks to him. Every payday, I just sign my check and leave it on his desk. And anytime I have extra money, he gets it. I'm so determined to pay him as soon as possible. I know that my friend loves me. And I know that he would do anything for me. But I don't want him to think, that I use him for money. First and foremost, he's my best friend.

I also don't want to go down the route of Student Loans. Not yet anyway. I know, one day I might have to. Heck, I know when I get to Medical School, I'm going to have to. So I don't want to do it now. But that means, there are sacrifices to be made along the way.

So where am I going with all of this? It's been a tough month. I've tried to figure out ways to pay for school. I've looked at upcoming gigs. And how much money I'm going to make. I've thought about asking J to lend me more money. I've thought about leaving school for a semester. I was offered an amazing job with the Border Patrol. But I couldn't take it. Why? Because as an intern, I'm required to work 100-120 hours a week! And I have to be ready to travel at the drop of a hat. So with the internship, I couldn't work at the Border Patrol.

That leaves me with over $15,000 to pay by December. Half of which is due Friday. I've borrowed $3500 from J for books. Dr. S paid my insurance. Which is another $3,500. You know, he's half at fault for this. My other friend, Dr. M, he paid for my scrubs. I'm still left with almost $8,000 to pay. I've paid over $1,000 in tuition. Thus far, I think that's good. I've done it on my own. And I have a balloon payment due on Friday. $3,500 for my internship. And the difference in my tuition. I have to at least have $1,750 paid.

It's midterm. And I don't know where to turn. I've carried all of this. Just like ever other semester. I've carried this burden, this stress. I didn't want to be here. That's why I was only enrolled in 2 classes. I knew I couldn't do it. I have no support. No one to lean on. No one to talk to. I could handle 2 classes and $800. I didn't even buy the books for those classes. That's how tight money is. But this...$15,000, an internship, and 28 credits...I can't handle this anymore.

This is about the time I'd call Patrick for advice. Just wanting to hear his thoughts. Asking for advice. I'd never ask my parents for help. They have a business to run. It's bad enough that everyone else in the family uses them for money. I'm determined to stand on my own two feet. But I don't have Patrick to call. I have no one to lean on. It's just me. Alone, scared, stressed, worried, and falling apart. No one to talk to. No one to listen to me. To really sit down and listen to what I have to say.

Sunday, Dr. S yelled at me for at least 2 hours. Trying to talk me out of this. Come on. $3,500 isn't going to fall from the sky. I don't have any money! I work and work and work some more. I'm just not making the money. And then, Monday night we talked on the phone. I told him there was no way I could do this...

So this morning, I was supposed to work with him. At the hospital in my hometown. I came last night. My Dad was bugged. Not in any kind of mood to talk. This is why I don't talk to him about these things. Because he gets so mad. So I didn't say anything. I couldn't sleep last night. And after that horrible conversation with Dr. S, I knew it was over. I knew all the things I had worked so hard for and sacrificed for, they're over.

I'm only one person. I can only do so much. I can only carry so much weight. I've been carrying the weight of the world since I was little. Trying to make peace within my family. Taking everything that my siblings have to dish out. Being the peace maker for my parents. Being strong. Holding my family together. Keeping people happy. Being everything that everyone needs and wants me to be.

Today, I was leaving. Heading south. For my 4 hour road trip, to work. And as I was leaving, my Dad knew something was wrong. And as I tried to calming explain it, he blew up. This man, my father, the person I'm supposed to turn to when life is falling apart, he just blew up. He doesn't understand. I doubt that he ever will...

All of a sudden he wants to run in and save the day. Write a check for $200. And that's supposed to fix this. Come on. And he blamed me for it all. Let's be real here. He knew I was having trouble. He knows how much it costs me to go to school. He doesn't ever want to talk. You know, because of my brother. I'm pretty much at midterm. And last week was the first time he offered me money. $250. I'm grateful. But in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't make much difference.

So when he's yelling at me, I just have to sit and think. Does he get it? NO! I'm drowning here. And he's on the sidelines watching. Criticizing everything I'm doing. But he's not willing to walk a day in my shoes. I'm trying. There's not a single thing I can do. I mean, you can go to my house right now. There is nothing in my refrigerator. I have a few cans of food in the cabinet. I don't go shopping. I can't tell you the last time I went out to lunch with friends. I don't do anything.

I sincerely have no money. Besides the $250 my parents gave me last week, which I'm using to make a payment for school this week, I have $25 in my bank account. $25 people! Yes, we go on trips for gigs. I do what I have to. I go to the rehearsals, the performances, and whatever else appearances we have to make. Then I spend the rest of my time, in my room. Because I most certainly can't afford a meal in Las Vegas. Heck, I can't even afford to stop at Taco Bell, when we're playing gigs near home!

It's that bad. And all I can ever get from my Dad is negativity. He doesn't get it. I don't want his money. But I do want some support. Some compassion. For once in my life, I want him to tell me that he loves me and that he's proud of me. That's it.

I look at the things I do in life, I do them because I want him, to be proud of me. That's it. I've given up men that I love, a career in music, and even my happiness. But it's never enough. I fear that even when I become a doctor, it's not going to be enough. How much more do I have to do? I go without eating and sleeping. I'm trying to get myself through school. I just feel like I always come up short with my Dad. That my Mom and me will never matter. No matter what we do. ♥

Music Heals

It's been a little over a week. The pain is still here. My heart still feels shattered, incomplete, and heavy. I cried on Friday. So many sad songs came on the radio. Just as I reached the small town where Patrick grew up.

I cried. Long and hard. Yes, I was that woman, parked on the side of the road. But it felt good afterward. To have let all of that emotion out. To just feel for a moment. No matter how raw, broken, and fragile it made me feel. I needed that. And here are a few of those songs that were playing on the radio...











I'm sure, this was Patrick's way of telling me that we were both going to be OK. He's in a better place. Not suffering any longer. And I, well I'm a better person for knowing Patrick. "Angels Among Us" will always remind me of Patrick. I told him for years and years, he was my "Angel on Earth." Now I know, I truly have an angel watching over my life. And as for the songs, they will always remind me of this amazing man that I got to call "friend." ♥

Crazy Neighbor?

I've been thinking about this. Because it really did scare me. And it's really out of the ordinary for my neighborhood...

Yesterday, we got back to town. It's been a crazy couple of days. Heck, I can go out on a limb and say, it's been a crazy couple of weeks! But we made it back. Sanchoncito came back with us. Completely unexpected, because I thought he was going back to Mexico. But as you will find out, I was so completely grateful that he came back.

From the airport, we had an hour drive home. And I rode with Memo and Cari. They dropped me off at my house, and I'm assuming, went home. I was completely exhausted! All I wanted to do, was get home and get some studying done, pack a bag for today, and crawl into bed. I should have gone with my instincts...

Well, I felt gross from the flight and decided to take a quick shower. Don't think I'm crazy, but I went to my car for my comfy sweats. Yes, I have an overnight bag in my car. Because many times, I get a call and have to go on a road trip in a few minutes. Or I get stuck at work. Yes, working at a hospital is insane! And it requires a bag of clothes and basic grooming products. So I went to my car. Which is parked in my carport.

As I was walking from the carport back to my front door, my neighbor past by. And like every other day, I waved. I wave to all the neighbors. Heck, I wave to the people that walk and run through our neighborhood in the mornings. I live in a friendly neighborhood. But not like most days, my neighbor stopped. And he introduced himself. His name is John. At least, I think it's John. And he's lived in his house for 4 years? I think that's what he said. He also told me that another one of our neighbors had died. Very sad. That's 2 neighbors in less than 10 days!

Like my friend that lives across the way, he told me that if I ever need anything, just "holler." I said OK. He sounded nice. And it was actually nice, to finally talk to this man, that I always wave to. Before he left, he mentioned that he was going to be roasting some green chili and grilling some ribs. It was for his kids' birthdays. He's a 30 something year old, single dad. They were having a nice meal that night. He asked if I liked ribs, and I said yes. I wasn't going to lie. He asked, I answered. I thought nothing of it.

Well, he left. And I went back into my house. And before getting into the shower, I decided that I should probably go workout first. Because I had a feeling, that the rest of the day, was going to be pretty lazy. Let's face it, my suitcase was still sitting next to the front door. In the exact place, I had left it. So I changed clothes, and went for a run.

When I got home, the little old lady next door, came out of her house. She looked a little shocked. And she told me that John had come by my house. Looking for me, she guessed. He knocked and hollered for me. Which scared her. And she came outside to see what was going on. She told him that I had left. So he eventually left.

About an hour later, I got home. That's when I talked to the little old lady. I was confused. I had no idea what was going on. But I was tired. And covered in sweat and dirt. So I decided to go shower. And right after, I fell asleep. I'm not going to lie. I was exhausted. And when I woke up, it was evening time. I figured, I'd get some yard work done. You know, it consumes my life. This yard is just too big for one person. But I needed to water and get some of the weeds pulled. So I changed into some "too big for me" jeans and an old t-shirt. I fought with the hose, which busted, while on. I dug up some grass in the flower beds. And tried to water some of my plants and flowers.

John came over just as I was wrestling the old hose out of the shed. The little gate was locked. I was on the gated side of the fence. Completely covered in mud. John couldn't get to my side of the fence, because the gate was locked. But he came with arms full of food. A frozen container of enchilada sauce, some bags of freshly roasted green chili, a plate of ribs, and a bucket of fresh eggs. Um, what?

I didn't remember saying that I needed food. But I was being polite. Heck, Jan next door, used to always bring me food. Granted that we knew each other really well, and at least sat and talked once a week. But like I said, I live in a friendly neighborhood. Heck, the entire town is friendly like this! I told John "Thank You." It was way more than he should have done.

He continued to talk. About some fire pit that he has behind his house. And how he was going to be having a fire that night. OK. Well, he invited me. And I told him that I would probably be working and studying...maybe next time. Again, I was trying to be polite. All I could think about was getting some sleep.

He left. I went back to working. I unlocked the gate. Watered the plants and flowers in the front. I left the gate open while I had the sprinkler on in the front yard. Because the other hose had busted, I had to leave the gate open. And I continued to pull weeds in the side yard. But near the back. John came back again.

This time, he was walking. And he came to bring me his phone number. Just in case I ever needed it. I thought this was insane. But whatever. Other neighbors had given me their phone numbers. But we had known each other for a while. And we lived closer. And took care of each other's homes. At this point, I was just tired. And trying to get my yard work done. John kept talking. I kept pulling weeds. But I was starting to feel increasingly uncomfortable. Finally he left.

I was uncomfortable, tired, and hungry. The mosquitoes were biting me. And well, I was ready for a break. Heck, it was already almost dark. So I put all my tools away. Locked up all the gates. And headed inside. I put some enchiladas together, threw them in the oven, and put some rice to cook. Then, I headed to go take a shower. Remember, I was covered in mud!

Just as I got in the shower, I heard someone banging on the screen door. And then on the front windows. Screaming, "Hey! Anyone there?" Um, I had just gotten in the shower. I was tired. I wanted to have dinner. It was nearly 9PM! I just wanted to scream "GO AWAY!" But I was in the shower.

I tried to ignore him. But I guess the light from my laptop was enough to keep him there yelling. The entire house was dark. Except the light from my laptop, which was sitting near a front window. And the light from the bathroom. Which you can't see from the front of the house.

I showered. Heck if I know how long I was in there. I was tired. And seriously, I was falling asleep while trying to shower. Every time I would hear him yell, it woke me up. And the dogs were going nuts outside. I showered, got dressed, turned off the stove, turned off the oven, and quietly made my way to lay down. I really didn't want to deal with this man. I maneuvered through my dark house, and just laid down.

And I lay in bed for at least 30 minutes. The dogs are going nuts! And I was getting frustrated. Seriously man, if I'm not answering the door, and 95% of the lights are off, it's time to go home. But he wouldn't. As I was getting ready to call my "Cop Friend," who lives down the other side of the street, I heard my other neighbors get home. The little old man, from across the street, came to my rescue!

He cussed out John. Told him he had 30 seconds to get off my property or he was going to call the cops. I love that old man! John and the little old man began yelling at each other. It was getting crazy. And I think more people were becoming aware of the situation. So John finally left. The dogs quieted down. And I still lay there. Not moving. In complete darkness. I was scared. My neighbors probably assumed I wasn't home. Lots of times, I catch a ride with a doctor to the hospital. Or I walk to school. Or something of the sort. It's not uncommon to see my car at my house, and I'm not home.

But what was up with this man? I didn't ask him to bring me the food. Heck, it's all in the freezer. Not sure I'm going to be eating it. I didn't invite him to my house. And I didn't tell him that I was going to his house. He is sure nuts. Don't you think?

Well, sometime after 10PM, I was still scared. And not getting a damn thing done. Just laying in bed. In complete silence and darkness. Just waiting for this crazy man to come back. So I called Sanchoncito. Who I knew, was at his own house. He could tell I was scared. The second I said "Hello," I could hear him turn off his TV, and head out the door. I didn't ask him to, but he was coming over.

In record time, 10 minutes later, Sanchoncito was at my front door. I had never been so happy to see this man! As he pulled into my driveway, I peeked out the window. Relief took over my body. I ran to the front door, and I hugged him. I let him into my house, and I told him what had happened. He thought the entire situation, was just as crazy as I did. Sanchoncito told me, there was no way he was leaving me there alone, for the night.

Just as we were sitting down to watch some TV, John came back. Was banging on the windows. Screaming for me. I freaked out. Sanchoncito got up. He told me to lock the door behind him. He went out the front door, I locked it, and he went out the locked porch. I could him them arguing. And I called my "Cop Friend." He was on duty. And actually down the road. Lights and sirens on, he was in front of my house before we got off the phone.

He came and told John he needed to leave immediately. And if he was caught there again, if there was any trouble at my house, or anything whatsoever happened at my house, they would be going after him. John was beyond mad! I think he honestly figured that Sanchoncito and I were dating or something. He wasn't happy that I wouldn't answer the door for him, but this other man, I let him in.

My "Cop Friend" took a bunch of information down. Made sure I wasn't going to be alone. We talked about my schedule for the next 2 weeks. And he assured me that he'd be patrolling around the neighborhood and taking extra care around my house. He also made sure that Sanchoncito was going to be around for at least a week. No one wanted me to be alone. Then he left.

Sanchoncito knew I had to leave early this morning. Knew I had to work. But he didn't want me to stay at my house alone. So he stayed with me. I made him come with me to my room, so I could pack my bag. It was like I expected John to pop out from under the bed or from the closet. And then Sancho took my bag to my car. I then had to do some work for the hospital, and Sancho sat quietly reading some book I had on my bookshelf.

I was still too rattled to sleep, so we watched whatever dumb shows come out in the middle of the night. It was that bad! He sat on the couch. I was on the rocking chair. It really didn't help that it was super windy outside too. There was a big storm blowing in. And before I knew it, I was sitting right next to Sanchoncito. Every noise scared me. When in the world did I become so scared? I swear, I've lived here for 9 years. I've never been scared. I've never been afraid to be alone. Last night, I was practically sitting in Sanchoncito's lap.

Well, eventually, I fell asleep. On the couch. Sancho stayed awake. I think he feared that I'd sleep through my 4AM wake up call. He sat in the dark. On the rocking chair. I remember this, because at some point during the night, I saw him sitting there. I slept on the couch. Aren't we hilarious? I have a 3 bedroom house. And I sleep on the couch.

At 4AM, Sanchoncito came to wake me up. I swear, I about died. I don't know what I thought. If someone had gotten in. Or what. But I freaked. Sanchoncito calmed me down. But he could tell, this man had freaked the crap out of me!

I got ready. Sanchocito made us some breakfast. Um, does it count if he just made instant oatmeal? Ya, it does. Because that's all I really had in my house. And I got ready to leave. Sanchoncito and I locked up my house, and he checked out my car. I got in. He got in his truck. And he followed me to the gas station, and then out of town. Literally, he followed me for about 20 miles, before turning around, and heading back to his house. He just wanted to make sure I was going to be OK.

But this has really freaked me out. Like what am I supposed to do? Should I call the cops and report it? Should I tell him to leave me alone? Will the dude go all psycho on me? Should I keep my trap shut? Maybe I should just call my "Cop Friend" and ask his opinion.

Honestly, why do all the weirdos find me? Yes, I have four restraining orders already. Two weirdos found me at school. Both girls. Both insane! The other two are for crazy family members. I stopped going to church at 7AM, because of that weird old man. Now this? What do I do? I mean, I don't feel safe in my own home now.

Tonight, I'm staying at my parents' house. Because I'm working in town today. And tonight is Patrick's Rosary. But I really don't want to go home. I have to. But I don't want to. And I highly doubt that Sanchoncito, is still going to be there for a few more days.. Even if he is there, what am I going to say? Can you stay at my house? You know, I'm scared...

Um, I can't do that. I could stay at his house, or at J's. Heck even Memo's. But what would that solve? I would still feel uncomfortable at my house. And I don't want to tell my parents. They'd freak out. So I think I'm just going to enjoy the safety here, tonight. And tomorrow, I'm going to go see my "Cop Friend" when I get home. He's a professional after all. I'm sure he'll know what to do. ♥

He's My Soft Place to Fall

Yesterday, I got 5 calls from my parents. In about a 4 minute time frame. All followed by a page. Then a pretty serious text. But I was on my way to Javi's wedding. With all my friends and their kids. Not the best time to take the call. I knew it was going to be serious. More than likely, bad news.

As soon as the wedding was over, and Sanchoncito and I had sang, I made my way to that little room. It's small, with the old fashioned seats. And a small vanity. I'm supposing, that is where the bride waits, before the walk down the aisle. I went to make "the call."

I didn't notice, Sanchoncito was right behind me. We hadn't had a chance to talk that day. Earlier in the day, we past each other, in the hall of the hotel. But I was trying to help my friends with their kids. And I missed him. We met at the Chapel that evening. But again, we were busy. We were trying to help friends get situated. And get ourselves warmed up for the wedding. And we just didn't talk. No familiar hug...

But at that moment, all that was on my mind was "the call" I had to make. And I made "the call." I got the incredibly sad news. I tried so hard to hold it together. I was brave. I bit my lip as my Mom told me that Patrick had past on. The day before. And my mind was suddenly overflowing with memories of this incredible man. I didn't want to fall apart while talking to my Mom. But the minute I hung up, I fell apart. Patrick was so incredibly special to me. This is such a HUGE loss!

And who was there for me? Sanchoncito. I hung up the phone. The tears came streaming down. And he came to scoop me up. I was like this little rag doll that he just picked up. He just let me fall apart. He let me cry. Like the "old days." When I was falling apart, during some tragic part of my life. Like when my aunt and my uncle past away.

It was so welcoming and comforting. He was the soft, warm place I needed to land. Isn't that crazy? The man who I haven't really talked to in a year and a half. The man that I got into a huge fight with over a year ago. The man that I told, I never wanted to see or speak to again. The same man that was so very rude last Fall. The man that my friends couldn't stand, and my boss punched, in the middle of our rehearsal. The same man that I barely talked to that very day. The same man that I had just sang "Somos Novios" with. And looked me in the eye like he used to. That man.

I don't know what I would have done without him. Because I really did fall apart. I cried for what seemed like a lifetime. I kept replaying memories of Patrick in my head. Thinking to myself, I'm never going to get to talk to him again. He's never going to give me another hug. We're never going to get to take picture #2, 3, and 4. He's never going to visit my home. I'm never going to be able to bake him another cake. He's never going to call me Ms. D___ again. He will never see me accomplish my goals. The same goals that he encouraged. I was devastated. My world felt so empty.

And in those moments, this man held me. Let me cry. Didn't ask what had happened. Was just there for me. It makes me wonder. Is he the one I'm supposed to be with for a lifetime? Who else would just be there like this? Who else would hold me that tight, and literally try to carry the weight of the world for me? Where else could I feel this safe?

As my tear soaked face sank deeper into his chest. As my breathing was labored. As my world was crumbling around me. He just held me. At one point, I know someone came into the room. Who? I have no clue. He just whispered, that we'd get to the reception on our own. The door closed. And he held me tighter. Like my life honestly depended upon it.

When I was done crying. When my tears had dried up. And my breathing began to return to normal, he placed his forehead against mine and whispered, "Amorcita, is there anything I can do?" The look in his eyes, so honest and sincere. That was the man I had once loved, with my entire heart and soul. The man, that I once imagined I would spend my life with. We'd have babies and grow old together. Always singing and playing together. At one time, I had thought that would be our life.

Ironically, I had once talked to Patrick about Sanchoncito. About the amazing man that I could tell was stealing my heart. The man that I was giving my heart to. But his few thoughtful words, in that instant, they opened the flood gets yet again. And Sanchoncito held me even tighter. Tucked my head under his chin, and wrapped his arms around me. It was like, he has been the only person, who has completely understood me.

We sat there for what felt like hours. I don't know how long it was. Just that he was my soft place to fall. He held me together. He didn't mind the tear stained shirt. Or the lipstick on his tie. He didn't mind that I stole his handkerchief because I had no Kleenex. And that we missed the cocktail hour, of one of his best friend's wedding. He didn't mind and didn't care about those details. He only cared about the woman that was falling apart. His only concern was making me feel better. He didn't mind those other things. At last, I was attempting to regain my composure, as he called for a car. A car that he had to pay for. And on the way from that little room to the wedding reception, all I needed was to hold onto his hand. He didn't mind. He was perfect.

It's crazy. So much has happened. So much time has past. He has angered so many people. Most of all...he had angered me to my very core. I was even disappointed in him and the things he was doing. We haven't talked in such a long time. But last night, he made sure I was OK. He stood by my side almost all night. He never told anyone what happened. Or asked me what that call was about. He gave me his mini dessert plate. Just to get me to smile. And put a pretty red rose in my hair. He helped me with all of our friends' kiddos. And managed to find me some ice cream to go with the yummy cake. Just for me.

When I needed a break, he came with me outside. And just sat there. Let me be. We danced. I danced with other friends. He got the musicians and DJ to play lots of my favorite songs. And I tried to enjoy the moment. Not for me, but for my friends. I tried to celebrate my friends. And their new marriage. When it became too much for me, Sanchoncito took over.

At the end of the night, he made sure I got to my room. With my favorite little girls in tow. We managed to get everyone to bed. And he sat with me. Looking out the window of my big hotel suite. Right outside these huge windows, the whole world was going on, like nothing had ever happened. This man, my shoulder to cry on, my soft place to land, my safe place, with the perfect nook for my head to land, was there for me. We sat. And watched the people move about. And I tears steadily rolled down my cheeks.

In the last 9 years, he's the person that has been there for me. Every single time that I've needed him. Every single time my world has exploded. When my Nanie got sick, and later my Auntie Chuchie. When I almost died in that car accident. Later that week, when my Auntie Chuchie died. When my uncle died a month later. That summer when I had surgery. And refused to tell my family. When I started working through my problems. When my Auntie Jo died. And then when my Uncle Al died. He was there. Always there.

I don't know if we'll ever get back to where we once were. Or if we were ever meant to be a couple. But I do know something, he is an amazing friend. Because no matter what has gone on between us, he's been here, when I need him. It scares me, to think that he might not be here one day. But for now, he's my soft place to land. And I'm glad I have him. ♥

Holding True

There's this man. I loved him. I love him. I'm not really sure if it's past or present. But in my heart, it feels like it's still there.

I've never thought of love as being complete. You hear women say it all the time, I'm looking for the man that completes me. I'm not. I need to complete me. I'm looking for the man that compliments the woman that I am, that challenges me to grow, that will help me to be a better person. That's what I'm looking for.

This man, he's an amazing man. Talented, hardworking, loving, caring, and so funny! From the same home state as me. But he grew up north of where I did. We share the same religion, passion for music, and love of life. But our dreams and hopes for the future, lead the two of us, on two very different roads.

He recently started a blog. And I'm not sure what to think of it. I know how he feels. I know how I feel. But does that make something like this logical? I'm not sure...

Yesterday morning, I watched this video, read this tweet, and read this blog post. It just made me think, I need to stick to my guns. He has a lot to prove to me. A lot to apologize for. And he needs to work on gaining my trust again. I didn't do anything wrong. And I'm not compromising who I am, because he suddenly woke up.

It's crazy. He was the person I went to for everything! We'd hangout at school. He'd bring me a peanut butter sandwich between classes. I would have class from 6AM-10PM. We'd talk about life. Things we wanted. How many kids we wanted. What we'd name them. Where we'd live. The fact that I want to stay home with my kids. And he always felt like he needed to be able to support a family on his own.

When things were really bad, I went to him. There were many nights, that he helped me out. Just listening. Helping me to work through one of the worst things that could ever happen to a young girl. Something that I had buried deep down inside. Never told anyone. To this day, the only 2 people I've told, are him and my counselor. And as a young adult, it came bubbling to the surface. He helped me through it. Encouraged me to get help. And to work on putting it behind me.

He was also the one I ran to when I lost my uncle. I cried. I held on to him like he was the sole reason I was alive. He reassured me. Held me tight let me cry. And arranged for me to get home for the services. In mere hours, I was on a cross country flight home.

This man, held my hand before surgery. Before a surgery that I didn't tell my parents about until 4 or 5 years later! He was there. Took care of me. Literally helped me do everything I needed to do for weeks after. Besides my mom and grandma, I don't think anyone else has ever washed my dirty clothes. But he did. And bought me groceries. Tried to cook. Carried me to and from my house to his truck. Drove 90 minutes my doctor's appointments and back again. He was there for me.

He knows more about me than any other single person on this planet. Everything! My deepest and darkest secrets. The horrible stuff that I endured as a kid. The loneliness I felt growing up. My insecurities. All of my accomplishments. My likes. My dreams. What makes my blood boil over. How to get me to fall asleep. He knows it all.

I never felt safer, more loved, or more comfortable than I did around him. His hugs, they were like a warm blanket, that wrapped around my soul. He made me toes curl with a single grin. And my heart race every time he sang. No place felt more safe, than tightly wrapped in his arms. Listening to his heart beat.

He was the one. We joked many, many times about getting married. At 19, I almost did. In "Sin City." We were working a gig. And as poor as they get. We had just realized, we could get some help with our tuition, if we got married. It would cost less than $100. We seriously considered it. But ended our night with a mini wedding cake instead. When he got the big job in Florida, he asked me to marry him again. For real this time. Ginormous diamond ring included. Down on one knee. Tears in his eyes. Arms held out. Because he loved me. And he wanted us to have a life together...

We talked about. About marriage, life, work, careers, moves, homes, and babies. But I knew he needed to chase after his dreams. He wanted to be a musician. And he had every right to do it. He worked hard for this job. I didn't want him to give it up for me. To one day regret not taking the job. And blaming it one me. I knew he had to go. And I knew that I needed to stay here. To work. To go to school. To accomplish all those things my parents wanted me to do.

So I stayed. He left. We tried to make it work. And it was going OK. Until he moved out of the country. And our lives really took different paths. Jealousy set in. Accusations started. The fighting began. The horrible fighting. I couldn't stand to hear his voice, much less see his face. Every single time we saw each other, it turned into WWIII. No lie!

And last summer, it was like the volcano erupted. Just everything the two of us had been holding in, came out. 6AM, in the middle of my front yard. I'd worked 4 days straight. Just drove into my driveway. And he had just gotten back from a tour. I knew in an instant, he had changed...

This wasn't the same man. He had hatred in his eyes. It was like his soul was empty. Missing something. The life, it wasn't shining through his eyes anymore. That, was the last time we talked. The very last time.

Because we have the same friends, work similar gigs, and well, have to see each other from time to time, we've become civil. Not that it's been easy. He did get punched out in a rehearsal. And was asked to leave. Not by me. But by our boss, and my friend. It was shocking. But real life. Slowly, we've begun to heal. We e-mail each other from time to time. But we haven't really talked.

A very close friend of ours, she wants us to talk. She sees both sides. She travels with him and her husband. She's one of my best friends. She really wants us to sit and talk about it. To work through this. We were the "Happy Little Couple." Everyone just expected that one day, we'd make it official. I'm not so sure anymore. But I would like my old friend back. Especially since, we still have to sing together. In less than a month, we're singing for a friend's wedding. Then a show 2 weeks after that.

But listening to the end of this video, reading this tweet, and reading Kandee's letter, it makes me think, I don't ever want to compromise my beliefs, values, and morals. I'm 27 years old. Successful. On my own. No man, and I mean NO MAN, owns me. I'm a person. Not a piece of property. And I deserve and expect to be treated with respect.

It's funny. So many men, they just want sex. That's it. Plain and simple. Being a female performer, I see this a lot. Guys think they're all that and a sack of potatoes. Throwing around cash. Acting like fools. Thinking that will get my attention. Funny how it doesn't. What you see on stage, that's a character. I get paid to be that person. When I leave the stage, I wash off the makeup, throw on a pair of sweats, and comb through my hair. The HUGE and oh so fancy hotel suites, well, I go back alone. To read, study for my classes, and to go to sleep. I'm really not that exciting.

He got that. He understood. I think he actually preferred me in sweats, no makeup, and my out of control hair. He never pressured me into anything. Just realized that I was me. And I had my own time table for things. Beliefs in life. For love.

The ring I wear on my left hand. It's more than a piece of jewelry. It means something to me. I don't care if I'm 27 or not. Or if people think I'm an "Old Maid." That doesn't matter to me. It's a ring I bought for myself. A promise I made to myself. Because one day, I'm going to find the right man for me. That loves, honors, and respects me, for the person I am. Maybe it will be him again. I don't know...

I guess, only time will tell. But I do know, I have to stay true to the woman that I am. I'm special. I'm the only person that is like me. No one else even comes close. Because God has made us all unique. Maybe I'm not right for this man. But there is someone out there. Someone that God made just for me. I just need to be patient. And I can never lose myself in other people. It hurts too much. And through these 3 very different women, I got the message. Loud and clear. I need to be true to me. Because in the end, it's just not worth it to lose yourself in a man. ♥

Miserable Day

It's sorta funny when I think about. The entire day was pretty bad. It started with me waking up at 2AM because of the shooting pain in my hands and arms. I couldn't sleep. They felt like cement. I couldn't move. And it hurt so bad. But what could I do? Nothing. I have no health insurance. I have no money. Welcome to America.

I spent the next 20 minutes trying to get out of bed. And another 15 minutes trying to open my front door. Where I sat in the silence of early morning. Praying to God. And hoping that the pain and fear would go away. I know something is wrong. This is not normal. I've worked in health care too long to let this fall at the wayside. And the feeling in my gut, that spoke louder than any other person could.

Sometime after 6AM, I called my Dad. I knew he would be up. He's always up early. Just to talk. Maybe talking about nothing at all, maybe that would take my mind off of things. No, it didn't help. The only thing I could get him to talk about was the donut he was eating. And sometime after 7AM, when my Mom woke up, I was still miserable. Add to all of this, the miserable cold I got from getting caught in the rain.

But my Mom and I had a good conversation. We talked about a lot of things. And she was in such a great mood. It helped to lighten my own mood. Not the same type of conversation that my Dad and I had early this morning. But I'm coming to realize, the only time he has any kind of a real conversation with me, is when they fight...

So I went on with my day. I managed to drive myself to the library. I needed to get on the computer for school related things. Never mind that I have a laptop at home. But I have no internet access. And I need a new power cord...

I got some stuff done. But I couldn't finish it in the 1 hour they give you. That's right. You get 1 hour, of computer time, at your local library. Not much I could get done with 2 numb hands. So I headed to work. In pain. I still couldn't feel my hands and arms. And it was becoming difficult to breathe. I Thanked God that J wasn't home. That's all I needed. Was to be lectured by him, because I was feeling so bad and needed to go to the hospital.

From 9:30AM-5:30PM I worked. I locked myself in my office, and I finished all the paperwork for the guys. They're leaving early in the morning. Headed to the next job. I started payroll. And I had a million and a half things to do. Let's not get started on the fact that I couldn't feel my hands. And I've been panicked about that ALL DAY LONG!

I missed my session. And I got the usual call to my cellphone. Which I ignored. Guaranteed Dr. D. was at my front door knocking away. But I had to get through work. And honestly, I was in no mood to deal with all my crap today. I had already called to cancel. Guaranteed, he didn't believe me. So I call my parents when I get home.

I should have known when they didn't answer, that something was up. Because I can always reach them between 5-7PM. ALWAYS! Because they're usually eating dinner, or just finishing dinner, or having dessert. They're like that. On a schedule. But nothing. Not after the 3rd time I called on Dad's cellphone. Not on Mom's phone. Not another 5 times on Dad's. I knew something was up...

Oh ya, the crap really hit the fan tonight. I don't know what started it. Nor do I care. But honestly, I swear to God. If my husband ever told me the things my Dad has, I'd beat the man senseless. I'm not trying to be mean here. But there are certain things, that you should never hear about your parents. EVER! I don't care how mad the other is.

But that is what happened when my Dad called me at almost 6:30PM. I don't know how to put it. But it's time. It's time for them to walk away. There's nothing left there. No respect, no trust, and I'm doubting any love...

It saddens me. But if it will bring peace of mind to the 3 of us, it's time. It really is time. How many times can my Dad imagine things happening? How many times can he put HIS kids in front of my Mom? Hell, he tries to do that with me. I just don't let him. How many truly hurtful things can they say to each other?

That right there, that is the sole reason I run from relationships. I know it. No one has to tell me. I know this. For 27 years, I've heard the same fights. Seen the same things happen. And I usually sweep in, and fix things. But you know what? My own life is going up in flames. And I can't be there to fix them. I'm trying to save myself.

I happened to mention my brother. Oh, that really pissed my Dad off. But how many times can I tell him, he is a big part, of the current problems. How can a man, that is older than my Mom, live with them? Does my Dad really think it was going to be OK? My brother doesn't respect my Mom or me. That's why I've avoided going home. Yes, I used to go home a lot more often. For a week or 2 in the summer. But how can I now? Oh ya, in front of my Dad he acts like this saint of a son and brother. But he's not!

And the neighbors, my Dad doesn't want to know the real reasons why they won't talk to them. The neighbor across the street approached me about my brother. What was I supposed to do? Lie? I just didn't say anything. They showed me the papers they got. But whatever. "We're" not supposed to talk about it.

There are so many things going on. And when I mentioned to my Dad that perhaps my parents should see a counselor. Or maybe each of them talk to a friend. Forget it. He didn't like it. But how in the world, does he think, it's OK to throw all of this crap on top of me? I see a counselor and a psychologist. Just trying to deal with this. All of it! I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Sometimes, we just have to admit what's wrong. It's the only way we're ever going to fix it.

Can I tell you something? I've had a horrible day today. Just plain out horrible. I've never in my life had this kind of pain. Not even after my surgery. Never. Ever. And I've never struggled to breathe this much in my entire life! But I can't afford to go to the doctor. I don't even want to think about what it would cost to go to the ER. And I've never, ever in my life, felt like I've needed to go more that I do today.

And on top of that, I was supposed to go talk to Dr. S. tonight. There is no way I'm going now. I'm late. Seriously late. After my Dad and I got off the phone, I was way too emotional. And already 45 minutes late! Dr. S. was probably planning to just yell at me anyone. Because no one can understand that I seriously can't afford school anymore. I'm broke. And my job is just not cutting it anymore...

Do you know that my life is in absolute ruins at the moment? I feel like I'm in free fall. And nobody, not a single soul, could give a damn! That's my life. I can rely more on my friends than I can on my family. It's just fact. They're so wrapped up, in drama that they create for themselves, that I'm left flapping in the wind. It's always been this way!

And then my Dad has the nerve to tell me that he wishes he would just die. He wants to die right now. Are you freaking serious? He absolutely has no clue. None whatsoever. And here I am. His daughter. His youngest daughter. Over 3 hours away, I can't feel my 2 appendages, I'm struggling to breathe, and you tell me this. How on earth do you think, that is not going to bother me?

I swear to God, I can't win for trying. Not in anything in life. Not in trying to talk to my Dad. Not in music. Because he didn't want me to have a career in it. Never mind that I made more money playing birthday parties, than I ever did at the hospital. I enjoyed it. And I was at least able to afford school and food at the same time. It never mattered to anyone that I nearly killed myself trying to work and go to school. That at one point, I was malnourished. Because I was trying to pay for school. And I honestly couldn't afford food.

Never mind that I've had to walk away from the only thing that was keeping me afloat...my internship. Even with all the violence I had to endure, being held at gunpoint and all, that was all I had. An internship where I felt useful and productive. I'm scrapping what little money I have, just to pay for tuition. I know I'm going to have to do without books. I picked up an application for the National Guard yesterday. That's how desperate I am.

But nothing matters. It doesn't matter that I've been on the Dean's List since I started college. Or that I have a 4.0 GPA. None of that matters. Because people are too wrapped up in their own lives. All my Dad can ever see is, this child that is his daughter. And why in hell can't I graduate already. I feel like a failure in his eyes. I always have. No matter how hard I try.

My brother is so freaking paranoid that I'm going to walk away with everything, that he had the nerve to put me down when I left last week. I almost told my Dad. ALMOST! I was so close to telling him just what my brother said. Because he always waits until no one is around. Grow a pair. Be a man, and say what is on your mind in front of our Dad. If you have the guts to tell me, tell him too! Are you honestly going to tell me crap about bringing home groceries? Because Lord help me, my parents bought me some food. Free willed. I never told them that they had too. Or that I needed it.

This while he stays in their home. It's been almost 7 months. He doesn't buy food. All summer that I've gone, he wasn't working. But he feels like he has the right to tell me something about my groceries? Oh, bull crap! Do you even know how to clean the bathroom you use? Can you offer to do the dishes after I cook? No. You eat, and you run to your girlfriend.

Do you know that soon after he moved in with them, he said something to me? Ya. Something very hurtful. Something that made me refuse to go to the store with my parents. Something that stuck in my head. That had me avoiding my parents' house. I wouldn't let them buy me a loaf of bread. I hardly went to visit them for a long time. Then when I would go, I would avoid being at the house. I'd go to the library during the day. And the office at night. Because of what he said. But our Dad never knew the truth...

Then sometime during the summer, I said to hell with him. If he gets to live there for free, and eat for free...who is he to tell me anything, when my parents buy me some groceries? So when my parents wanted to take a road trip, I was game for it. Or if they felt like buying me some groceries or a couple of shirts, I figured, it was THEIR BUSINESS. NOT HIS! It's not like I'm running off with THEIR money. Or only going to see them for food, trips, and shopping. I go to see them. BOTH of my parents. Because I think he forgets that MY MOM is just as important as OUR DAD! I still only eat 1 meal a day. And a little something when I take my medication. I still live off of very little money. But I do this on my own. Can he say the same?

But that is what I'm dealing with. I just pray to God that he helps my parents. They need all the prayers they can get. Whether it's time for them to part ways or not. Maybe they shouldn't have listened to their 5 year old daughter, 22 years ago. The daughter that begged them to get married...

And I also prayed to God, that if there is something serious wrong with me, just to take me. I can't handle this much longer. The pain. Both physical and emotional. I'm sitting here an empty shell. Unable to let anyone love me. I can't trust. And I'm starting to lose faith in this game we call life. I really have no faith in people. Not Mr. Blue Eyes who wants nothing more than to help me heal. And to love me. Not the Cowboy who makes me smile, with the sound of his voice. Not Sanchocito who I really thought I could let in. And most certainly not J. The man who would do anything for me. But I can't.

These are my friends. What they don't realize is the hurt and the pain I've lived through. My inability to trust anyone. Or to truly believe that someone can love you without, expecting something from you. Or hurting you. I'm so afraid of being hurt. But honestly, how much worse can it get? This horrible secret that I've had stuck inside me, since I was 7 years old, I could never ever tell my parents. I would never know how to begin...

Let's be real. They have enough going on. And maybe I was only sent to earth to try and make peace of their lives. I don't know. I sit and ask God every single day to give me strength. To help me along. But at this point, not only is the world fighting against me. My own body is turning on itself.

I don't know how much more I can take. I really wish Memo or O was here. I need someone to just listen to me. To reassure me that I'm going to make it until tomorrow. Because I'm really not sure. Everything hurts. My heart, my head, my soul. Physical pain. Emotion pain. Mental pain.

People see me. They really think I have it all together. How else would they trust me with their kids? What else would motivate people to ask me to be their kids' Godmother, or their Madrina for their wedding? I'm not sure. I want to be as strong as people think I am. I'm just not sure that I am. Or that I have the ability anymore.

I've always said there is a lot of fight inside of me. But when there is nothing left. And you're an empty shell, where do you dig for what you need to survive? I'm at that point. I want to call someone to talk to. But the only person that comes to mind, he has enough on his plate. A serious illness that has returned. And do I really want to burden him with all of this? Do I want him to see this disastrous side of my life? The side that makes me not believe in love or in people.

At this point, I know I'm in the world alone. I know that for a fact. After today, that was made blatantly clear. From a parent that felt his emotional needs were greater than my physical ones, to the loss in humanity as a whole. I wipe away the tears, I try to gather strength, and I pray to God that he gives me another day to live. No matter how hard you work, life is nothing more than a dog fight. ♥

1 in 8

Well, my mission for the day was to find textbooks. I didn't find what I needed. Looks like I'm going to go without books for the semester. I just can't imagine spending $300 on books that I will only use for 4 months. And for classes I would not be taking, if I had the money to continue with my internship. So there you go.

I was starving. Mostly because I didn't eat breakfast this morning. And I spent a little longer than I had planned to, looking for my books. I wanted to stop at Carnita's Queretaro or even Taco Cabana. But I have no money. Seriously, I have $4 something in my wallet. And what I have in the bank needs to go to school. Same song...different verse.

So I made the hour trip home. And made myself a sandwich. And most people would be pretty upset. But I was grateful to have bread, cheese, and some turkey. No lie! There have been times when I had no food. Nothing in the freezer, refrigerator, or pantry. And I was hungry. There were a few times when I went to the local soup kitchen. And I was very grateful for this.



I work(ed) for the DOH. And I saw many people barely making it. On food stamps, WIC, and still needing to go to the local Food Banks. These people would break my hearts. Especially the small children. But they got some help. I never could. Because I own "too much" property for a single person. At least in the government's opinion. Um, I have a house. And I'm single. But it doesn't mean that I don't struggle too.



I learned about "Food Insecurity" in school. Being that I study nutrition, public health, mental health, pre-med, and fitness you learn about these things. I still remember that day. My professor was talking about it like it was just common knowledge. This was in 2005. 1 in 8 people were "Food Insecure" for 3/4 of the month. Meaning, they can't afford food. And have no way of getting it. The really sad part is, now it's more like 1 in 6 Americans are in need of food. In 1 year, it rose from 1 in 8, to 1 in 6. In my state, it's 1 in 3.



Immediately, I thought to myself, that's me. It really was. And still is. My parents would kill me if they knew. But I'm 27 years old. In college. And work a part time job. My money goes to overpriced tuition and books. And some stuff for my health. It's just life. And it really saddens me. But guaranteed, if people saw me in real life, they'd never have a clue that I am "Food Insecure."



I love to cook! And to be able to share with my friends and family. But there have been nights when I have gone to bed hungry. Now, I'm just grateful when I open the cabinet and see a small box of pasta and a can of tomatoes. I'm not looking for sympathy. But to share some knowledge with you. I hope you took the time to click on those 4 links.



Don't judge people for what you see. You sincerely need to walk a day in their shoes. See what their life is really about. On the outside, I'm sure people think I have it all together. But when you see me, there is a lot more going on. Think about your 8 closest friends. Can you figure out which one is suffering silently? ♥

They Don't Get It

Sometimes, I'd like to scream. More because people don't get it. My 11th hour Hail Mary...well, it didn't come. And today, was the day I had my meeting, with all the people that are associated with my internship. And no one understands, I really want to stay in my internship. I just can't afford to.

It's black and white. No grey areas at all. I just can't afford it. I'm looking at close to $15,000 a semester. I'm carry pretty much all of it, on my own. Paid at the end of each semester. It's tough. And at times, it feels nearly impossible. I borrow from J a lot to make the last few payments. Or in the case of the last year, I've heavily depended on him. It's impossible for me to do this on my own anymore. In fact, it has reached impossible. My Dad just doesn't get it. Not at all. I sit and explain to him a thousand and one different ways. He still doesn't understand.

And my Dean, professors, internship advisors, and academic advisors, well, they don't get it either. I can barely handle tuition/books or internship/insurance. I just can't handle both anymore. And they just want me to get a loan. But I want to finish school without one. At least until I hit medical school. Because I know what the costs are going to be there. So there we are. In a hole.

I need my internship to take my classes. But I can't afford it. So I'm taking 2 classes in the Fall. Praying that a dietetic internship comes available before December. And I'm looking for a real PAYING job. Because I'm not making it. So 2 classes, no internship, and a paying job. That's my plan.

How in the world did I afford it before now? I worked. I worked in a band. A few bands. But 1 in particular, I made 99% of my money with. I busted my rear end, traveled, played and sang...and never spent the money. But now, the guys are getting married and having kids. Our band is more of a casual hobby. And I'm pretty much out of work. So I have no money.

My parents helped a little with tuition last Spring. But I was still carrying 85% of the costs. And now, well I have no money for books or tuition. So the internship is out the door. And it crushes my heart and soul. But what am I supposed to do? The only big assets I have are my house and my car. Both are pretty essential. All of my money that I saved since I was a baby, well it's tied up in CDs and bank accounts with my Dad. He doesn't think I need it...

It's beyond tough to walk away from your dream. Especially when so many people are pulling for you. And it's all you want to do. And I'm good at it! Damn good. But I can't do it. I need to work to continue with my internship, but my internship doesn't allow much time away from school and the hospital. It's a total Catch 22.

Today really sucks. My soul feels empty. And my heart is broken. I feel like I've let so many people down. But most importantly, I've let myself down. And then, my Dad yells at me. Seriously? I'm the only one trying to halfway make a better life for myself. Doing it on my own. And he has the nerve to yell at me? I just don't get it. So much for calling my parents this evening.

For now, I have to reassess things. Figure out what my next move is. Seriously contemplate if I should be in school or not. And I need to find a decent job. I don't mind scrubbing toilets and changing diapers. I just need a job that pays halfway decent. I've never really been a big spender. You can definitely tell from my house. I've been here for 9 years, I still don't have all the furniture I need. Heck, only 2 rooms have curtains. So you can see, I sacrifice. I'm just not sure if those sacrifices are paying off.

I need to go now. Wipe away my tears. Hope that my eyes don't continue to look blood shot. I'm working tonight with the Mariachi group. And I have to look nice. I really do hope my mood picks up a bit. Because I feel a lot like this weather...gloomy, dark, and rainy. Not the best when you need to put on a show. But I'm hoping, at least my friends understand. And maybe they can help me to find the next road I need to take in life. ♥

D Day

I feel sick to my stomach. Today is the day I sign my internship away. By Monday, it will be final. All the hard work, sacrifices, dreams, hopes, wishes, long shifts, sleepless nights...they're over. And it's tough for my to swallow. But I have to.

I need to put on my "Big Girl Panties" today. And I need to go have this talk with all these people I respect. Casually, my parents and I talked about it for 5 minutes before they went to breakfast this morning. My Mom gets it. She really understands the struggle I'm in. My Dad, he just doesn't understand. And no matter how many times I explain it, he just doesn't get it.

So here I am. Trying. Trying to hold it together. I have a 3 hours trip south. And a 4 hour meeting lined up. Not the way I wanted to start my weekend. But what can you do? I'm poor. And I need to come to terms with that. I hope they can too! Because the cost of my internship is eating me alive.

Until now, I relied heavily on myself. And my ability to line up gigs with the BBs. But at this point, I can see that it has become more and more of a hobby for the guys. But I still need the work. And as the economy continues to sink into the ground, I'm screwed even more.

It still surprises me that our student athletes gets so much scholarship money. While me, a Dean's List student, Crimson Scholar, and I have a 4.0 gets $50 a semester! How is that fair? I'm not sure. And our athletic programs are not even very good. There you go. That's what our education system has come to.

My parents, I'm sure they'd like to help. But honestly, they have a business that they need to take care of. And I know how much it costs them. I also know that between May and September, it's the toughest time of year for them. So I'm not going to go to them for the money. I'd feel like I was an inch high. Literally taking money from them.

So here I am. No money. No help. And needing $4000 by Monday. I guess I'm praying for a Hail Mary. Knowing that there's not one in sight. But hoping against all odds that I get to continue in my field. Because honestly, it's all I have in my life. I have no family (besides my parents), I don't have many hobbies, or much of anything. My work and school, they're my life. And I just know, it will break my entire spirit if I had to leave. ♥

Lazy Sundays

I'm not used to being home on a Sunday. Especially with nothing to do. Sundays were always our busiest days at work. So this felt wrong. Very wrong! But that is exactly what I got. Stay home on a Sunday. A Sunday with nothing to do.

I went to mass. It was nice to go to church like a "normal" person on a Sunday. And to enjoy the great music, feeling, and faith with so many people! I go to mass every week. But I'm usually going to the Chapel Service at work. With a bunch of the kiddos from PEDS. So it was nice to go to church. I skipped the whole breakfast thing. Because I had to do some shopping. You know, for those essentials in life. Nothing glamorous and fun. Just deodorant. shampoo, and some bread.

By the time I got home, it was getting really cloudy and rainy. It rained pretty steadily all day and through most of the night. Which was nice. And I really enjoyed it. Because I really like rain. And rainy days. Rainy nights are my favorite! But it really dampened my plans for the day. To work on my yard. Which really needs some TLC!

Instead, I opted for a little journal writing. Which was much needed and enjoyed. Something I do every single day. But this was just a nice and enjoyable afternoon, of writing out some things that were on my mind. And I also did some crocheting. Which is becoming more and more necessary. So many of my friends are expecting right now! So that's what I did.

But mostly, I watched the rain fall. It's so soothing. And comforting. And relaxing. Something that I've needed to do for such a long time! Around 6pm, I got hungry. And searched my house for something yummy to make. The only thing I could manage to find, was pasta. So I made some spaghetti. Yummy! And it made my entire house smell like home. :) And then, I decided to scrub down the kitchen. From top to bottom, I cleaned. Everything and anything I could find in there. It also helped that the local country station had some really great music! So I danced and sang as I cleaned. :)

That was my day. I'm so not used to being home on Sundays. I'm really not used to having nothing to do. I guess this means, I really need to find a job ASAP! But it was nice to be "normal" for the day. Even if I couldn't figure out what to do. It was kinda nice to just be "normal." ♥

Life is Funny...

One minute someone is telling me hurtful and awful things. My heart is broken into a million pieces. And I'm just drained. Physically and emotionally. Then I walk into church. A place that I feel so safe and loved in, and start to feel better. My heart and soul begin to heal.

I go to mass during the week. At least twice, sometimes 3 times. And it makes me feel better. All of a sudden, people aren't judging me. They're loving me. I'm surrounded by God and people that really do love me. Not because they have to, but because they want to. At the end of the day, I can say that much. My friends love me. And their kids, there is nothing I'd rather see than those smiling little faces.

As I felt emotionally spent and completely exhausted, I turned to God tonight and asked him for patients, his love, his knowledge, guidance, and a little faith. I needed it. I know people say things without thinking them through. But it doesn't make them hurt any less. Words are powerful. And they sting.

But tonight, when I walked into church, I was met with a hug from Papa Rene. And these smiling little faces that I love so much! Welcomed into the pew where my friends sat. And I was surrounded by love. Love that is much needed and Welcomed. I forget how important love is. And a night like tonight, it was Welcomed and needed.

The words we heard in mass, were powerful. And about love and forgiveness. Very fitting for the day I had. Holding babies, who tightly grasped my fingers, and feeling hugs from little girls, it just helped to heal my soul and my heart even more. :)

I didn't grow up with this kind of love and affection. And forget very easily, just how important it is. But tonight, God sent me all this love. Because he knew, I needed it. I needed it as much as I needed air. And the big bear hug from Memo, well it's the kind of hug I wish I could get from my own Dad.

At the end of mass, like every mass I go to, Papa Rene hugs each of us individually. And blesses us. I got an extra little prayer tonight. I think he just knew I needed it. And Memo invited us all over for dinner. But I was spent. As much as I needed my friends, I needed some rest too. Memo understood.

He slipped me $10 to go pick up something to eat. And told me to go home and rest. Isn't that such a "Dad" thing to do? I think so. I skipped my grocery shopping. Drove to get a burrito and came home.

I spent 30 minutes watching the birds and eating. Trying to remind myself of all the good things I have in life. Of all the good that God has sent my way. Remembering how strong I am. And how much I've survived. There has to be a reason I'm still here. And then I get that call. From the tiny little voice that I love so very much. And heart just grew with love. It was Sarita.

My dear Goddaughter who is fighting for her life. She called because she told me that she knew her Nana needed some love tonight. Her "Angel" had told her that. She definitely put a smile on my face. And we talked for almost an hour. About 'Rella and Papa Memo. About the birdies and what we are going to do when she comes home. I miss her. And I now realize, there are more important things in life. Beginning and ending with the people that really matter. The ones that make your life better, simply by knowing them.

I know that. I've always known that. My little angel reminded me of that tonight. No matter how hard life gets, you can't give up. If Sarita can fight cancer, I can fight all these things that are coming at me. But most of all, I've learned how powerful love is. We just know when someone needs our love. Don't be afraid to pick up the phone and tell someone just how much you love them. It might just make their day! ♥

Overload of Emotions

It's crazy! Today was supposed to be all about me signing papers. The papers that would say, if anything were to happen to S and D, Maribel would become my daughter. Yes, I'm her Nana. And her parents asked me to take her in case anything were to happen to them. They asked A to take Marissa and Mariella. And they asked us if we could co-parent the girls. We are both very honored that they trust us so very much!

It was a big day. Later in the summer, they'll do the same for their new twins. They'll go with their respective Godparents. And it was a big day. I felt a HUGE surge of responsibility. Like one day, Maribel could possibly be mine. I hope I don't screw this up! She is their daughter, and I want to do the best I can. How on Earth do they think I can do this? I guess people see more good in me, than I see in myself.

And that my friends, was supposed to be the emotional day I was to have. Ending with a quick lunch and me heading back to work. But someone out there in the universe, thinks I need more emotion. And they sent me truck loads today. It began when I returned to work after lunch. And Dr. S was all up on me. Because he received his paperwork that I will be finished with my internship on July 9, 2010.

Why? You probably want to know that. Well, I was supposed to be done with it back in May. I'm dead broke. I have no money. And I actually have to pay for my internship. I don't get paid a red cent! But I've managed. At least, thus far. Now, our gigs are farther and farther apart. The little bit of money I make working for J goes to me getting better physical and mentally. The whole computer dying...well it didn't help my bank account either. It leaves me with no money for school. Much less an internship that costs nearly $8000 a semester.

I had managed to save up some money. Some money I was going to use for my Fall tuition. But Dr. S and the Dean of Ag managed to talk me into just one more semester of my internship. I wasn't sure. But when Dr. S agreed to pay for my insurance. And the Dean threw in $500, well I couldn't say no. How could anyone?

So I pitched in my almost $1200. Dr. M bought my scrubs. And I borrowed the rest from J. I knew it was a temporary fix. But it allowed me a few more weeks on the job. And that, I couldn't resist. I know there are many people pulling for me to succeed. But sometimes, the desire, passion, and talent are not enough. I just can't do this anymore. I have no money. So the next semester for my internship begins July 12, 2010. I won't be there. Therefore, I'm forfeiting the remainder of my internship.

It saddens my heart to no end. I cried for weeks knowing that it was coming. But there is nothing left for me to do. Not a darn thing. Believe me, I've tried. But I just don't feel right asking my parents to help me. And I can't possibly borrow another cent from J. He's too good of a friend.

So today, instead of Rounds, I sat in Dr. S's office and got yelled at. For 3 hours. I tried to keep it together. But the tears came. I couldn't hold them back. Because this is what I want to do with my life. I just don't have the means to do it. I respect Dr. S to the ends of the Earth. He has made me the "Doctor-in-training" that I am. And now, Dr. S is mad and disappointed in me. And in a few short weeks, I won't work in the hospital. And I won't work with my kiddos...

It was bad. I cried. I couldn't look at Dr. S for the rest of the day. My heart broke every single time I saw one of my patients. This is what I was put on Earth to do. Be a pediatrician. But I can't do it. When it came time to leave, I was slightly relieved. And looked forward to a peaceful evening...

Then I'm on my way home. It's been a hell of a day! And I just want 5 minutes of peace before I have to go to church. My Dad calls. He never calls me. I have to call them. And if I don't call every single day, it's like having to face God and Satan at the same time. I usually call my parents when I get home from work. So this was HUGE surprise! And my Dad never really talks to me on the phone. Our conversations usually go,


Dad: "Hi. How are you? How's the weather? How was work?"
Me: "Hi Dad. It's hot. Really hot. Work was work. I'm on my way home. How's your leg?"
Dad: "It's hot as hell here. My legs OK."


Then I usually hear him ask my Mom if she wants to talk to me. We will usually talk for 30 minutes to an hour. But not today. Dad was pissed. I could just tell. And he talked. And said all these sideways comments. And I knew he was mad. And I was already all emotional. My eyes still stung from crying earlier. And it really was hot in my car. I was trying to make the hour drive home. That was quickly turning into 90 minutes because of construction and traffic. Oh the heat was bad!

And my Dad kept on and on and on. I knew he was mad. Then I said something about having to go to the store after mass. He just blew up on me. I pulled over. Because, well, no need to cause an accident as my Dad is telling me off. Over what? Because I need to go buy some water. Sorry, but we're in the middle of an extreme heat wave. In case he's forgotten, I don't have AC at home. I might be the only one in the entire Borderland without AC. I need some water.

Yes, all I mentioned was that I needed to go pick up some water. And maybe some groceries. Because you know, I get hungry from time to time too. Lord help me for needing to eat and stay cool. And he just went off. Honestly, a few bucks is not going to make or break me at this point. I have no money. What's $2 in water? And maybe $10 in groceries. But I made the fatal error of mentioning a trip to Costco with J tomorrow...

That's when the yelling began, and my tears just flowed. Why does he have to constantly yell? Shouldn't he be happy that I have someone to lean on a little here? I don't have a Costco card because I can't afford it. And honestly, I only need to go maybe once a year to buy some toilet paper and laundry soap. So what's the big deal? My Dad has known that for over 2 years, I haven't had a card. And I've never asked him for one. I know he gets them for his employees. But I don't need one. Not for 1-2 trips a year. He just started yelling at me because of J. Would it be so bad if a good man like J wanted to take care of me? Apparently so...

At this point, I guess I'm not good enough to be a happy person. I should be miserable at home. And no, it's not OK for anyone, especially a man, to lend me a helping hand. Funny thing is, I don't lean on anyone. I might cry a little when things get bad. And yes, I'm not going to lie, I go to J or Memo to talk about things. And well, yes, I usually cry too. But it's not like J is doing anything for me other than being my friend.

But honestly, tomorrow, I'm meeting J to pick up a thing of toilet paper, some laundry soap, and maybe some tuna. And if I don't find water again tonight, I might buy some tomorrow. It's not that big of a deal. But to my Dad, it sure as hell was. And he yelled and yelled. And told me how ungrateful I am. And why is he even living because no one appreciates him anyhow. Um, Dad, you taught me to stand on my own 2 feet. To not need anyone, to do things for myself. I'm just trying to do that. And grow up. But he just yelled. Which made me cry...

And why was that? Because I try so hard to make him proud. And I try so hard to be financially independent. And I can't do it anymore. And I'm falling apart here. And I don't want to burden my parents. And I most certainly don't want to disappoint them either! But my Dad doesn't see it that way. I don't do enough in his eyes. I'm dropping the ball everywhere he's concerned. And why in the hell am I spending my own money on some of life's necessities?

I had to remind him that I'm 27 years old. I've lived on my own since I was 18. And I need to do these things. Whether or not I struggle, it's part of growing up. Hell, most people in my family, at my age, have at least 3 kids. But here I am, trying to make it through college, and everything I do is wrong.

Well, the fight with me was interrupted by some other fight. With who? I have no clue. But he hung up on me. And there I was. On the side of the highway, crying. Because my Dad just doesn't get it. Maybe my 59 year old brother is OK with being a full time mooch. But I'm not. And if I have to leave school for a while, and live off of boiled macaroni, and sweat all summer long...well I will.

And no matter how much yelling Dr. S does, I can't responsibly sign up for another semester of school. And no matter if I have no food, I will never go to my parents for a handout. Because I'm an adult. I have to stand on my own 2 feet. That's what responsible adults do.

And then I think about earlier today. 2 of my very best friends are trusting to raise their daughter, if they are not here to do it. So I must not be a bad person. They have to see some good in me to trust me with someone as special, loving, and as important as Maribel is. That right there, softens my heart a little. And reminds me, there is good in this life.

Now it's time for me to go. Or I'll be late to mass. And tonight of all nights, I need some love from God. And my favorite little girls. I'm proud to me their Tia/Nana. And big hug from Memo wouldn't be so bad either. He really is like a father figure to me. And Bless your soul if you made it this far. You really have a special place in my heart, simply for caring this much. ♥

Can Stress Break a Family?

In short, yes it can! I'm still in shock about the series of events, that have unfolded in the last 26 hours. I'm probably just in shock. I can't believe that I feel this bad. Or that things have gotten this bad for myself. But I'm just one small part of this equation.

Somehow, complete strangers can see past the smiles. Past the strength I try to show. And they see me. The real woman inside. She's a shattered person. Somewhat representative of this woman that I once was. But so far away from that same person, it leaves me in shock. In complete shock!

The other part of my equation is my family. The same family that I am supposed to lean on and depend on. But I can't. Because I'm having to carry them along with me. I'm having to carry their burdens, their pain, and their anger. Why? Because I'm supposed to be the strong one. The one that fixes all their messes. The one that is supposed to make their wrongs into rights. But it's too much.

Do I think work is partly to blame? It sure is. Do I think all the extra family drama is to blame? Heck ya! The 1 extra person...that makes a big difference too! I don't care who you are, you also need your own space. Privacy. As a young woman, I couldn't imagine having to live with my parents again. You lack that privacy. In the same respect, how do they function with another person living with them? All this stress adds up. And it boils over.

If you are like us, we hold it inside. Each of us dealing with it differently. I hold it in, until I'm about to explode. I don't talk to anyone about the issues that bother me. I don't share at all. Until it breaks me. And I'm usually around J when that happens. He is my rock that I lean on. God Bless my friend. Because Lord knows, he has to deal with a lot! My mom, she also doesn't talk. Then one day, 1 thing goes wrong, and well...she just goes on this yelling thing. My dad, he calls me and unloads everything on me. And in any case, I'm the one trying to make it better.

Not only am I currently trying to hold my life together, but I'm holding every one's life together too. It's beyond difficult. It's more than just my stress. More than trying to put together $3 for bread and noodles. It's holding lots of lives in my hands. Trying to make everyone come out the other end. Making sure we are all OK when this blows over.

I'm too tired to deal with all of this at the moment. I'm going to start another 36 hour shift. Trying to make it until Monday. Scared out of my mind. But sure that God will be right at my side. Guiding me. And with that, I know we will all make it. Somehow, I'm still not sure how. But we will make it. ♥