Growing up

I am thankful and blessed to be a mother.  I am thankful to GOD who gave me a healthy son who is curious, smart, sensitive, precocious and athletic.  As a mother, I feel guilty for not giving him another brother or sister but this is how life was suppose to be for us. I hope that I am able to provide him with the love, the nurture, the intellect, the emotional stability and mental strength to fly on his own. His father loves him so much and it pains me to realize that his time is ticking.

Growing up my mother always talked about how someday we will understand why we, as parents, make sacrifices and take risks. Why as parents, we stay together with our partners who despise us for the sake and benefit  of our children. Why we endure so much pain and abuse in order to give our kids a better life.  Why sometimes we have to sacrifice a little bit to gain a lot. Why no matter what, we must always do what is best for our children or as how my friend would say, “Always in the best interest of the child”. My friend, after all works for the County of Sacramento.

I never realized growing up that my mother and father never married, yet 45 years into their marriage, they are still together.  I call it complacency. Growing up, I never recall my mother and father arguing. I didn’t know what it was like to live in a house with conflict. I never saw my father yell or shout at my mother, nor did I ever see her cry. What I did grow up with was different type of abuse. Physical abuse, emotional and sexual abuse.  I do not and will not, ever hold my mother responsible for the physically and emotional abuse I endured as a child. I do however hold those assholes accountable for sexually abusing me during a 3 year span. That combination of abuse is a recipe for utter disaster.

My father was an alcoholic. He was what I would call a jolly-happy, go lucky alcoholic. He was never verbally, physically abusive or threatening with us.  The memories of I have of my father were always of him laughing and calling me “Mija”. He was always proud of us. We could do nothing wrong in his eyes. He loved us and always agreed to buy us whatever we wanted.  Of course, for us kids, we just got excited hearing him saying yes to everything we asked for. I’m sure it eventually happened for us, but nonetheless he was a happy alcoholic.

The side we never got to see was that ugly abusive and full of aggression he off loaded on my mother. We never saw him engage in that destructive behavior you see in movies or ever raise his hand at my mother or us. The sloppy, full of rage, verbally and physically violent and abusive drunk that are always portrayed in those movies, my father never fit the role.

Music was always on in our house. Music was always on towards the end of the night. On Sundays, we would watch our Spanish music show called “Siempre en Domingo“. If we were not watching that, we were listening to music as the night came to an end. Music would wake us up as well. We would wake up to music and go to sleep with music. Music was and still is a big part of my upbringing. To this day, I love waking up to music as does my son. It gives me a sense of stability and soothes my anxiety. I can still recall waking up to the song “The Bukis” and the smell of a freshly cut lawn. The smell of fresh flour tortillas, beans and fresh juice. Those were the perfect mornings. If I could only replicate those morning so that my son has those beautiful memories of me like I do of my mother. Those were our typical mornings. Mom making breakfast with music in the background and Dad outside fixing his truck or cleaning up the yard from yet another of his late night party pachangas. Fide and I would race into the living room to watch our Saturday morning cartoons. On occasions, we purposely would leave the TV off just to listen to our mom belt out some passionate love songs. Songs that would give us get goosebumps. She would sing them with such passion that a lump in my throat would develop and my eyes would fill up with tears just by listening to her chords. Her passion. Thinking back, I know she was in pain.  Today, I find myself belting those same types of songs on my commute. It’s love and pain.  We don’t have any other outlet but to sing it through.

Life was dulcechaos living out on the Island, ranch or Holt as a few of us know it by.  We lived off the San Joaquin River Delta.  We  had to drive on a levee to make it to our little piece of heaven or hell.  Stockton was about a 40 minute drive to Lower Jones Tract.  We had one Post office which contained one zip code.  We were surrounded by asparagus fields during the end of Spring season. The fields would then turn into a green massive maze of corn fields during the late summer. I knew what season it was because we would have an influx of migrant Arabs workers moving into the barracks that were on our property. From our red house, we could hear the motor speed boats and party house boats playing good old 70’s & 80’s classic rock and you could hear the music resonate from the levee down to our house.


I am a Survivor!! I am still STANDING!

A Survivor. What does it really mean? I suppose it means that you have survived and have learned to function as a person, regardless of the hardship or misfortunes your life path sent you on. You are the one person who learned how to cope with life’s pitfalls.  You beat the odds. You came through with great courage. You are the one who picked yourself up and dusted yourself off and kept charging forward.  Survivor I am. 



More to come…



What is verbal and emotional abuse?

Is it possible that you can be conditioned into living a domestic life under that umbrella of verbal and emotional abuse for many years and not know it or perhaps even realize it? What is domestic abuse anyway?  Well for one, domestic means in relation to in running a home or family relations.  Abuse means an improper way of treatment.  So what does it mean? What is the legal definition of Domestic Violence in California?

Is it possible that at one point in your life, your life was so horrible that jumping into a new relationship that verbally and emotionally abuses you, let alone degrades you as a mother or woman is a better life for you?  Is it possible that once you hear those verbal assaults about your persona, style, looks, thought process, lifestyle, care giving, cook, friendships,  etc that you begin to believe them and accept them EVEN though somewhere deep inside you have a little girl still wanting to hear something nice? You try and try to impress only to fail each and every time?

Personally, I feel like the battle scars that you’ve endured throughout life and are hidden deep  inside your soul hurt the most.  They are more painful than visual topical scars.  Could it be because we don’t expose them and latch on real tight afraid to feel ashamed or embarrassed?   Visual scars however don’t come with much pain.   When I look at my scars, I have a faint recollection of how I got the scars to begin with.  I feel like mental and emotional scars are tougher to heal because as with cuts, you naturally need to expose the cut to air in order to heal quick. However, you can also go the other route. You can clean your cut, use Neosporin and bandage it up as what we would do with Professionals.  This is why we have many professionals in this field.  You can also choose to go the natural route.  I tend to go naturally and hope that I will get stronger, however if my wounds don’t heal, I will resort to a professional.


So back to verbal abuse. I want to know if there are many degrees of verbal and emotional abuse? What if you are just an overly sensitive person?  What if all your life you were brought up with rainbows, butterflies and unicorns and one day someone made a comment about, let’s say … your cooking and said, “I wouldn’t feed this shit to my dog?!”  Would your world come crashing down into despair or would you take it and say, “Well my dog is gonna eat like a King!”  I feel like this situation can go both ways depending on how you were brought up.  Can I claim verbal and emotional abuse? What if I have a tough core? Should we bring up our kids into developing a tough core so that when situations like these arise, they protect themselves? So what are the different types of abuse? Let’s find out here. types of abuse?

Let’s find out.

Monday 1.6.14

It’s Monday! So many things surface when I have alone time. I’m glad I rarely have it but when I do, I can write and write and write. I want to believe that I may have been a writer in my past life or was given this path in life to experience trauma, tragedy, loss, pain, grief, turmoil, despair, anger, depression, anxiety, emotional, physical and verbal abuse in life. The positive however, is that I have lived in a mental place where I do see seasonal changes.  Not everything in my life has been cold, grey, dark, rainy, dreary and foggy. I’ve seen rainbows, butterflies and unicorns from time to time.

A question I often ask myself is how child sexual abuse and physical abuse effect and shape a male/female into adulthood.  What are the negative effects on these victims when they grow up and become adults.  Do they fail at relationships or become more protective? How is their thought process? How do they continue to love and function? How do they process information? How are their decision and rational skills? Do we inherit our personalities or are they developed as a result of your upbringing and more specifically are they shaped based off your sexual and physical abuse?  I tend to believe that your environment shapes your personality. Your thought process and decision-making skills are based on what you have witnessed and experienced in your environment.  I also believe that you have a sprinkling of nature in you because your personality will remind you of a close relative.  

I am here because I want to help other women, children, mother’s, fathers, sons anyone for that matter who took the wrong exit in life. Not by choice but by force. 

Jan 3 2013 Friday end of the Holidays…

Usually for me, Thanksgiving triggers a roller coaster of emotions.  It ranges from anxiety to pressure to stress to melancholy and finally relief.  But as years go by, I’m beginning to lose interest.  I have my 8 year old son who expects fireworks and hooopla and horray’s but I’m not feeling it as I used to. I used to be this big holiday freak and now I feel like I’ve done that ….35 years to be exact and don’t find the thrill.  I don’t decorate and go all buck wild letting everyone know the holidays are here.  I think it was to do with money. Every time I walk out the door, I spend money. Whether it’s getting gas or something for the house or just a coffee and a snack for my son.  I think it also has to do with the fact that I have a small apartment and don’t have room to store extra needless items. I can see how my sister can go all out for the holidays but I have an apartment. I don’t have a garage to store items.  I don’t do Christmas cards nor ship presents. I find that challenging. More expensive.  Maybe my view will change once I am able to afford the holidays.  Either way, I’m happy everyone in my family go together this year and the holiday spending spree is over. What’s up next… oh my son’s birthday. Here we go!

On to more statement designs for 2014! I design this shirt for my son because it’s what I constantly have to tell him in order to get things done.



Positive statement shirt

New Year! New Life! New attitude and New opportunities!

It’s that time again. The time to start new and fresh. The time to create new goals and review why you did not complete your previous goals.  Many obstacles and hurdles will force you to take a different path which will push your goals out further.  As long as I’m still living, I’ll always keep racing.

This is what 2014 will be all about!!!



Positive statement shirt