I spent the beginning of my life completely unaware of any existence of flaws. I was in love with myself like any care free niñita. Loved the way I walked, the way I talked, the way I looked, the way I would take every breath. I loved the fact that I existed. In love with every fibre of my being and most importantly—estaba libre de todo malo. Free from persecution, self-doubt, and the need for validation.
The voices were silent.
Sin necesidad de llorar.
As I matured with age I realized a lot of things were off. Spending my days in recess alone and my nights watching the man I was forced to call my “papa” drinking away his sorrows. Sitting night by night at his feet in complete silence. Trying to bond while ironically not saying a word for the few hours he would come around. I came to wonder if maybe all the things in my life—at the time—were a reflection of who I was. Maybe if I were prettier, or smarter, or more friendly I would be getting all the amigitos I wanted or a papa who would act like a genuine father.
My mind began to cloud with age. Polluting every aspect of my life and creating a gnawing feeling. I realized I hated every aspect of my being. I hated the way I walked, the way I talked, the way I looked, the way I would take every breath. I hated the fact that I existed.
Y toda via no llore.
I left myself behind and continued on with life without being ready. I lost the most motivating aspect of my life. The most overwhelming love and bliss I have ever felt in my 21 years of living. The love of mind and body. I never let myself mourn in the loss de esa niñita chiquita. I never looked back. La deje morir and it has been following me desde este tiempo.
The transition to college was rough. All the rage from mid to late childhood seemed to fester and grow. My being—from early puberty to then—became to exist for other people.
One of the positive outcomes was that I was allowed the chance to connect on deeper levels with so many amazing women who were similar to me. The fragmented niñita in me was ecstatic at the fact that I had amigitas once again. However, we would often find ourselves enabling the many toxic tendencies we brought together as a group.
As a self-identified follower I found myself drinking my sorrows away just as my “papa” would many years in a row.
On one of these wine night occasions me and three of my other friends planned to drink an entire bottle individually. I of course agreed because drinking meant I could disconnect from all the static in my mind and let my body relax. As I sat on the freshman dorm floor I found myself thinking back to when I would sit at my “papas” feet every night and watch him finish entire cartons of beer in one sitting. That thought stuck with me.
Y todavia no llore.
Once the alcohol hit my brain it quickly dissipated.
I planned on meeting with DR after finishing the drinks with my amigas. DR was the first person in college—and in life at the time—I ever let myself be intimate with. I did not realize how unhealthy my mental state was with him in my life. Looking at this now I am able to see that my choice in men was not only enabled by myself and my peers but by my past as well.
He picked me up near my dorm and we drove to his apartment. By the time I set foot in the parking lot I felt a pit in my stomach. The alcohol hit me all at once and I began to feel queazy and unfazed by any cues.
I let him know immediately that I had a lot to drink. He brushed it off and continued to walk to his apartment. I followed suit.
With each step I felt a level of fear set within me. Who would take care of me if I passed out? Who would watch over me with care? Was this really the place I wanted to be at in this state and did I even have a choice?
I was on the other side of campus, no busses were running, it was dark, and I was with someone who I was sure did not care about me to the extent that I did.
Lagrimas welled in my eyes.
All I remember from that night on was not being able to have control of the situation. I would move my toes and I wouldn’t feel it. I’d do the same for my arms, my legs, my entire body felt numb. Me quite las lagrimillas y me trate de controlar.
I finally laid in the foreign bed. As I stared up into the moving ceiling all I could think about was why I did these things to myself. It continued on until I had to throw up and in a way my body was saving me. I ran to the bathroom.
Why did I do these things? Porque me trato asi?
I returned and all I remember from then on was laying back in the same spot I left and finishing whatever had begun. The night ended in silence and shame as DR expressed his anger for me having to throw up.
Y todavia no llore.
It took me a year to realize what had happened to me. It took a year of therapy and constructive reflection to come to understand the incident and my relationship with him. Pase un mes con mis pensamientos y finalmente con mis lagrimas. It was only then that I was able to realize that the niñita within me never died. I bumped, bruised, and pushed her down. La silencié.
Speaking currently, I’ve learned a lot of things. I’ve learned to lead a life with forgiveness. DR is not a monster, he’s a student, a son, a future father, and most importantly he’s a human being. I’ve learned that all these things do not erase what he did to me. All these things are a part of my story and if I had not lived this path I would not have connected with so many amazing causes and people.
My papa is not a monster he’s a hurt being and a product of generational patterns. I would not be the woman I am today if it weren’t for these people.
Finally, I am not a monster. Soy esa niña de siete años tratando de sobrevivir. I’ve overcome and built off of my setbacks. This does not mean it is not an ongoing battle for improvement. I will always have to battle my thoughts. But that only leads me to become a better version of myself—body and mind.
Now I spend the next chunk of my life aware of and doting on my flaws. Without them, I'd be unrecognizable. Unrecognizable to all those I make laugh, smile, love, and cry.
Although I spent so long wishing I was someone else I can see that the feeling that was gnawing at me was how I thought I was perceived. Even if I were a completely different person that feeling would have never dissipated.
My looks, my jokes, my opinions, my intelligence and lack thereof, every fiber of my being belongs to me. It’s proof that good can come out of bad and that I can find greatness. No one's words or actions can diminish that light. Independent of all things bad, I know my light will bring me great things coming forward.
Now I love the way I walk, the way I talk, the way I look, the way I take every breath. I love my past, my present, and the openness for the future.
The voices will never be silent. I am content if that means being able to experience the fruits of life. Pero esta vez—si lloro—por esa niña y por su felizidad.
