mydeareastjournal

[mydeareastjournal]

Agradecida por todos los regalos que recibo, desde una postal de una librería italiana, una agenda nueva con mi nombre, la vista desde la oficina. Generalmente daba por sentado lo que tenía a diario, pensando en lo que no tengo. Ahora, trato de agradecer por esos detalles que son regalos, pero también pienso en lo que quiero y trato de actuar para ello. Paso a paso, no es fácil, me desespero, pero estoy en el proceso de aprender a gestionar mis emociones, mi vida, a mí, conocerme. De repente tengo la impresión de que no sé quién soy, no sé que quiero, pero luego vuelvo a ver lo que hay y que doy por hecho, justo ayer pensaba en que soy una persona empática, me preocupan las personas de manera honesta, y aunque trato de frenar el querer correr a “salvar”, ahora trato de ver cómo ayudar sin dejarme en el camino. 

[mydeareastjournal]

#JanuaryFirts #PrimeroDeEnero2023 #2023 #firstday #primerdíadelaño #firstpicsoftheyear

[mydeareastjournal]

Noche vieja / Primero de enero de dos mil veintitrés

Noche vieja: Ir a tratar de respirar y desconectarme al bosque, inicio a escribir mis agradecimientos del año y mis propósitos, empieza una lluvia que no me permite llegar al rubro de: pareja :/ Cena familiar, sobre todo estar en familia, mi sobrina fue víctima, sí, víctima de un accidente, y doy gracias que siga con nosotros, a pesar del tiempo que le llevará volver a caminar. Así que se agradece que estemos juntos, que nos podamos abrazar, mi hermana llora, y yo me aguanto, ella ha sido tan fuerte.

Primero de enero de dos mil veintitrés

Despierto sin alarma a las 7:00, me pongo las gotas en los ojos, tuve hace unos días la cirugía láser pospuesta, que al fin me permite no tener que preocuparme por correr a ponerme o esperar a hacer todo para quitarme los lentes de contacto. Medito 10 minutos, siento frío y me pongo la cobija más arropadora que he sentido en cierto tiempo. Espero que a que mi Mamá se levente, decido pasar el día con ella, y se me apachurra el corazón cuando la escucho hablar al teléfono y decir: se quedó a acompañarme. Cuatro palabras y para mí significaron mucho, tanto, ella estaría sola, yo también, decidí acompañarnos. Desayunamos chilaquiles en domingo, como YH, terminamos de ver una chick flick y vimos juntas “Ruido de fondo”, basada en el reciente libro que terminé de leer, de Don Delillo. Salimos a comer sopa miso, dejé todos los platos limpios junto con el trapeador. La abracé fuerte, pero al mismo tiempo pensé que no quiero que pasemos el tiempo así, sólo estando juntas para no sentirnos solas. Quisiera que pasemos tiempo juntas haciendo cosas, y yo no estando sola, y a veces decidiendo estar lejos, pero también siempre cerca con ella y la familia. Todos dicen que la familia es primero, pero creo que primero soy yo, para poder ser y estar con la familia.

[mydeareastjournal]

Mi viaje por la montaña rusa de la depresión, la psiquiatra, el psicólogo, y de nuevo las ganas de vivir

La logoterapia que intenté por quizá casi un año, no es que no me ayudara, al contrario, me ayudó a darme cuenta que necesitaba ayuda profesional, eso y mi amiga V, quien había pasado por un episodio parecido y que notó que yo ya no era yo, yo lo sabía, pero me estaba acostumbrando a no serlo y pensar que así sería. Busqué en internet, quería una psiquiatra con enfoque cognitivo conductual, la encontré y durante poco más de un año me acompañó e la montaña rusa que fue estar bajo esa nube que sólo te permite ver gris, sin color ni sabor, que no te deja mover, que te hace pensar que es mejor desaparecer, que hace que te duela existir, y sobre todo pensar. Recordarlo me hace llorar, pero también reconocer que salí de ello. Recuerdo claramente que en la primera consulta, todas vía online, le dije: quiero estar bien, quiero ser yo de nuevo.

Fue costoso, monetariamente, anímica y físicamente, pero ha valido la pena, y lo quiero escribir para recordármelo cuando de repente parece que no hay tanto brillo, como hoy. Agradecer, eso me derrite el corazón y me hace sentir mejor, porque es agradecer a la Psiquiatra V, quien me hizo entender que yo no estaba mal por mí, sino que estaba mal y necesitaba trabajar en ello, y lo hice. También al Psicólogo D, quien ha sido muy paciente, sobre todo cuando le dije que me parecía un poco ridícula la manera de abordar las sesiones y entonces no me juzgó y cambió la dinámica y poco ha poco he entendido mejor a gestionar cómo reacciono, aunque no es que lo haya logrado del todo, pero me quiero entender más y mejor.

El nuevo trabajo y sus viajes constantes ha sido también una gran ayuda, estar más cerca de la naturaleza, probar tantos sabores, ver tantos colores y sentir el aire y el agua, sentirlos de verdad.

Las amistades, la familia elegida, la familia de facto, pero las amistades sobre todo, por estar, porque a veces es lo que una necesita, saber que alguien  quien se puede recurrir aunque no lo hagas, para no molestar, para evitar hablar.

El ejercicio que me hace falta y quizá por eso ahora mismo siento ese bajón, pero debo reposar porque por fin me animé a hacerme la cirugía láser en los ojos y después de 24 años dejar los lentes de contacto. Mis amigas del pole dance y del twerk, que se han convertido en amigas de verdad.

Ahora mismo pienso en salir al bosque y caminar, leer, pero también quiero escribir, y quiero leer muchas cosas, pero luego agarro el teléfono, y tengo que cambiar ese hábito, preferir salir y caminar, que me dé el sol en la cara, a que me dé la luz de la pantalla solamente. En eso admiro a mis amigas de la universidad, una ya con su doctorado y la otra estudiándolo, quiero estudiar, pienso, y sé que si me lo propongo lo haré, acabé una maestría, bueno, las clases, no me he decidido a hacer la tesis aún :/

Me subí a un juego mecánico que para mí fue una montaña rusa, pero era un juego de feria en el que sentía que me daría algo, un infarto o algo así por la magnitud de emociones que me hizo sentir, pero se terminó y aunque me costó recobrar la respiración normal, lo sobreviví, y así fue la depresión, parecía un viaje que sería largo, y lo fue muchas veces, pero también cuando la Psiquiatra me dijo que sería mi última sesión y que me daba de alta, pero también me dijo que en algún momento sí tuvo una preocupación real por mí por cómo me vio, siento que fue una montaña rusa en la que hay cosas para sentirte segura pero no te sientes, sabes que es un camino que terminará pero parece que no tiene fin, y al final, luego de haber sentido todo y no poder nombrarlo, sobrevives, sobrevives y volteas hacia atrás y te dan ganas de llorar y reír a la vez, de llorar de alegría de haberlo superado, y de reír nerviosamente porque parecía que no lo harías y lo hiciste. 

Gracias a quienes estuvieron conscientemente, inconscientemente, en persona, a lo lejos, a un mensaje, a una llamada, a una visita, a una salida. Agradecer y escribirlo para no olvidarlo y saber que todo pasa, bueno y malo, pero pasa y querer un futuro, querer vivir, tener ilusiones, sueños, deseos.

[mydeareastjournal]

Logotherapy

I had never take any kind of therapy like therapy, and after discover a specific one called Logotherapy, I decided research about it and start my first session. 

I knew about it after read “Man searching for meaning”, a book suggested to me by the Homeopath lady who I used to go and who had help me with the madness.

And I decided to start therapy because I realized that, since months ago I feel stuck, lost, not focus at all and with any kind of goal in my life. And after that came up feelings like being not enough, guilty, scare and then: the paralysis, which is the worst.

Is kinda particular that I decided start logotherapy in the middle of a pandemic, by Zoom, with a jewish lady (I knew that after the first session), in another country and an hour when my boyfriend is coming back home with his lovely 2 years old baby. But I started.

The first session was good, of course I never considered I will cry and when I did had nothing but my clothing to use it, why not, a pearl small romper that became stretch to get my nose.

Selfcare was one of the highlights with some other words that I could quickly write and still trying to decode, like: tiredness, scare and enjoy where I am.  Abandonment was other one, which keep on my mind and came up meanwhile do laundry, which means push the buttons, put the capsule soap or change from wash to dry.

Yes I was abandoned, but not just me, some 10 years ago my father left the house where He lived with my Mom and my siblings, and he never come back. We never really knew what happened, and I don’t really care. To be honest, I think he left because he wanted or had to, so...

I was abandoned, but like most of the human beings, for a guy who I felt was In love, probably I was more in love about the idea I had about him than him perse, I can almost say that was him, but could be anyone, I wanted to be in love, I didn’t want to be alone.

The most recent abandonment, but again I’m not the only one and won’t be is a job that came up to my life like the hope I needed when I got it, and with that job the opportunity to travel and be more like manager than an operative profile.

One year ago, in the middle of this pandemic I still try to repeat to convince myself that that being where I am, well where I live because I don’t live with my boyfriend, is the best.

Let’s see what the next sessions will say.

[mydeareastjournal]

One year of my own quarantine

In my country like almost the whole world, we started the third month of this quarantine, lockdown, social distancing. May arrived and today is the 44th day to stay at home. Many euphemisms are used for this pandemic that feels like a nightmare. 

I feel lucky for many things like the fact that I don’t really feel this need to go out. And is when I think that since one year ago I don’t want go out...wait, my own quarantine is 1 year here in my hometown. 

And it didn’t started like something I was looking for, is just since I had to come back I just want to be invisible. 

The reason? I do not want to be here...but I know is the best for me, by the moment.

So, meanwhile the morning train passes, and also a light plane flies, and the many birds sings and yelling, and many people are just waking up or still sleeps, because is 8:30 in a sunday morning.

And sometimes I feel bad and lucky at the same time, because things didn’t really change for me so much, except because I’m doing home office instead go to the office that is just 10 minutes away, and I working out in the morning instead go to the studio during evening. 

Yes, my contact with my family is online, but it’s not like I used to go very often with them. I go to the supermarket to get me groceries and that is all.

But I know many people is doing so bad, many people is getting sick, many people is dying, and other many people is looking for trying to escape to have vacations, at least in my city.

Sometimes I believe this third world war, because in many ways could be consider like that, is just bring to the surface like we are really are, like human beings, with the best and the worst.

I feel like we are just expecting something that will arrive, I’m not sure what could be, but I can feel will be not good in general. The big systems are right now just falling apart: healthy, economic, security, and when you live in a third world where  impunity and narco has more power than the Estate, we can just wait the worst, because like in the past -just stronger-, inequality will become the most vulnerable the perfect front line in the permanent war we live.

I really want the best of us can win to the worst, I want to be wrong, but is when I remember that I am on my one year quarantine, because I don’t feel safe in my hometown, I can not breath being out of my tiny place,  that I am a woman in a country where we are killed... andis when I feel lucky that I am alive, and breathing, and working, and enjoying things, even when sometimes I don’t even want to be here.

[mydeareastjournal]

The day mexican women became in mexican sisters

This year was my second time joining me to the march because International Women Day, called it #8M.

The first time the screamings were more about equality and make us visible like women. And was so special to feel all that energy and feel I was not alone, I could have a sisterhood.

However, this second march was so much in everything, was huge, was major. My Mom, my two sisters and mi little nice -just one year old- joined me to go to the march and also my Mom did our purple bandanas!

I was quite nervous because since some months ago, like mexican women we had been so angry about the indifference that every day at least 10 women are killed, 10 women didn't come back to home and more than 10 families will change forever their lives for a very sad one. And I was nervous because didn't know what to expect and my Mom and sisters were afraid about it and decided just leave.

But wasn't it at all, at all. As soon as we arrived, one very kind girl asked us if we wanted to move to the families contingent so we can march with more women with babies and strollers, she leaves us until we joined to that part of the march, which was more crowded that my first one.

We were wearing our purple bandanas and started walking, the vibes this time were so much different, I felt us like in a powerful sisterhood, because all women we were part of it wanted the same: stop feeling afraid, live and live safe, had a voice for the 10 women that every day stopped being with us.

We walked angry, but also with this honest asking for stop violence against us like women, we were walking hoping next generations won't have to ask again for living without violence.

This women walking usually were about 2-3 thousand women, this time we were expecting being 10, and happily we were 35 thousand women asking for stop violence, asking for live without fear, asking for walk safe in our city, in our offices, in our houses, in our everyday.

I saw my Mom, sisters, little nice walking with 35 thousand women that maybe don't know, but we felt like a close friend, like a sister. 

And the next day happened something that will change our country, we did a strike, mexican women didn't go out and the country missed that half of population with  strangeness. 

Many schools closed, many  government and private offices and factories were no able to open and work, women disappeared like a way to protest and like a test for they asked them: what happened if she never come back to home, to school, to the office, like those 10 women that didn't come back never. 

And of course violence affects all genders, the difference is that men don't need all protocolos that women cannot live without, men don't change block because they are afraid about the man in front, they don't receive harassment in every step. The difference is that if a man is in danger in front another person, he probably could be robbed and kicked, and of course could be killed, but had you ever wondering what else could happen with a woman in the same scene? Yes, she also will be rapped at least, because they think they can.

But at this point, they took us everything, everything, even the fear.

#8m #IWD #InternationalWomenDay #elnuevenadiesemueve #niunamás

[mydeareastjournal]

Grammar, don’t hate it!

How can you balance the desire to write interesting, meaningful ideas with the need to be grammatically correct? Since I try to write about items that are interesting or had happened to me, and I really want to communicate them correctly, for sure the balance came out instantly, but I have to be honest and accept that is a fact que I have mistakes, and most of the time these are because I use my native language grammar for built my sentences.

How important should grammar be? I think grammar is so important as it lets us have a standard way to write, which allow everyone understands each other, also, we need to understand that grammar, as language, is a live entity, and that means is capable of adapting and modifying.

[mydeareastjournal]

Let’s talk about ‘Parasite’

A reflection of our age Two differents lifestyle, one selected, the other just given and non accepted. Is Korea, this days, but could be any place and every time. The role models, the aspiration for have a better life, the classism, the nonn justice and the choices that we made, sometimes are just the result of the environment, and some have the possibility to try to change, others...just will play the only role that gas given to them, without even the opportunity to know there are more out of the bubble. We all are actors and play a role in this ambivalent world.

"I'll be nicer if I was rich..." Imagine that you don’t need to be worried about nothing but being happy and peaceful, and your more stressful days are stressing because you host a party. Well, there are some people like that, but in the other side, there are people that are looking for get that, and they know won’t be possible at least you play a role that is not you, but fits in the ambivalent world that we live, where people could be nicer if they maybe didn’t have to be worried about how get something to eat each day.

Two basements, one man Think about a man who has everything to live, but decided to live in a basement, hidden for the r3est of his life. Now think about the same man, just the basement got flooded and smells like you will be miserable the rest of your

[mydeareastjournal]

Keep writing... and pick up your tone

Sentimental I like the smell in the streets when is rainy, makes me feel kinda nostalgic, but not in a bad way, is just that I like to enjoy the fact that I can breath, drinking a cup of tea and being relaxing with any kind of pressure or hurry on me.

Optimistic Waking up to watch the sunrise from my window is like receive a gift every day. Admire the colors and feel the breeze on my mind means like to have a new opportunity to start, like a new beginning for which I have to be grateful and feel myself blessed.

Excited Can't sleep thinking about the second you will knock at my door, had pasted some days since we haven't see each other, and cannot wait for kiss you and you hug me very tight, just thinking about it makes me feel kinda nervous, but in a very good way.

Pic 1 This colorful picture looks emotional, the colors and the frame looks like someone could write a love letter for someone who is missed and loved.

Pic2 For some people this pink kitty could looks so cute, cozy and kind, Im sure more than one will be melted by it.

Pic 3 Being patient is a skill you need to develop, and fishing helps a lot, because you need to be brave to be in the middle of the ocean or in a river, also you need to know how to spend time with the only carry that you bring with you, and time should be your friend.

[mydeareastjournal]

“You've Got Mail”

I did not even watched that 90s movie, but immediately thought about it when saw the topic of the assignment: email and how it impacted our lives. 

For me, the email meant the possibility to save time and “space”, meant the option to say something and throw to a world that was not material. I can even reread the email and the answers, over and over again (still do that and realized is a gender thing, my men friends don't even think about rewrite conversations, my girls friends do it all time).

The impact was such positive for made me feel connected to a cyber world which means the modernity, the new era, was close to new millenium: the 2000 year.

But... like everything, sometimes the purpose detracted, and the waitting pushing F5 to refresh the web site, started consuming a lot of time and mind and feelings. I read in “Glamorama” (by Bret Easton Ellis) a quote that being in 2015, kinda shocked me:  “ You wanna spend the rest of your life on the Internet answering E-mail?”

And well... we live our lives on the internet answering no just email, but messages all the time. Kinda shocked, right?

So, yes the email changed and impacted the world in a such a great way, even when the remint is not a real person, the illusion of receiving is still latent, even when the remittent being a person who lost a relative in a far away place of the world and need your help to spend a money and is waiting for your bank account...

#edx #email #assignment #writing #berkley #writer #brokenenglish

[mydeareastjournal]

The father of the chickens...

In my speaking english trip, I’d been sailing throw several ways to express myself. I can not say I speak spanglish, spanglish is the official language in Puerto Rico, and when I was visiting there I realized about that, so I can say I speak english, but my grammatical structure when I don’t know how to say something, is in spanish.

The other day had a very hilarious moment when I was explaining in english that I was invited (actually, some other friend were, but I was there lol) to go to a place to watch a specific kind of fights, with: cockfights. But I could not remember the word to name the animals, so I helped myself in spanish and just said: the father of the chickens!

Obviously was funny, but I realized I’m still think in spanish on my mind, also, we have a expression similar, but for hens: the mother of the chickens, literally in spanish we use that phrase.

At the end, I said what I wanted to say, in english but in spanish, but now my trick to don’t forget is remember a drink: cock-tail lol.

[mydeareastjournal]

Writing for discipline myself

I used to write because I wanted to improve my writing skills since I was student, but also for living, I worked in a newspaper for almost 7 years. Now, I do because I want to, also because I have to (do communication for government).

Writing for me, started like the best way to express what I had on my mind, soon it became in the only way to clear my mind (today I tried my first meditation, let’s see next times).

I am looking for improve my discipline to write in the creative way, trying to orden my thoughts and skills (I do crochet and practice pole dance).