Category Archives: Uncategorized

Self Destruction


Why are people so self destructive? I don’t mean physically, really, I mean mentally. We often times are the creators of our own drama. So much is created inside of our heads, mostly because we care too much about others and we dwell too much on situations. Every day I come across conversations, people venting about their lives and situations. Too often do I hear women go on and on about a million ways their significant other is probably cheating on them. Too often do hear people talk about how horrible their lives are and how much better things would be if this or that just happened.

I’m guilty of this. My life would be easier if I won the lottery. My life would be easier if my ex would just drop dead. My life would be easier if people would just stop being assholes.

We sit here and are so inside of our heads, we just go on and on until we’ve driven ourselves crazy. Why do we do this? The world is crazy enough without us having to augment issues in our minds. Your boyfriend is cheating on you? Maybe? No? Perhaps? You will find out when the times comes, and if that time ever does come, then worry. Don’t just worry, leave the piece of shit. If you feel your life is so horrible, please take a moment and figure out what you can do to make it better. Now, as I’m typing this I’m figuring out ways to do this myself because I have a lot of improvements to make personally. I’m very self aware. I’m not going to give you the same advice everyone else does because it’s all shit.

“Your life is tough but think of Syria”.

“Your life is tough but think of Africa”.

“Your life is tough but think of the Holocaust”.

Shut the hell up.

Yes, there are many things that occur and have occurred in the world much worse than going bankrupt, losing your car, divorce, your children hating you and so on. Sure. That doesn’t make these problems any less real to YOU. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still be upset about your situation. That DOES mean you should be proactive, because you do have control over your life. You have control of who you surround yourself with. You have control over who you let affect your emotions, your well being, YOUR SANITY. Don’t let situations make you feel like your LIFE is a mess, don’t let people have the power to hurt you. Especially selfish people, because they don’t care about you. Hell, they don’t even think about you because they’re so busy thinking about themselves.

I can feel my sanity slipping because of these people, why have I allowed this?

Why have you allowed this?




Christmas is upon us people. A time in which giving is in our hearts. Homeless shelters, family, give give GIVE! A time to spend with our families, to sit around the table and eat yummy food. A time to enjoy the company of close and extended family, where we sing and dance and are merry! A time in which we teach our children about Christmas and what it means, the incarnation of God! In the flesh! He is born! WOOOOOO!





Christmas is upon us. People spending copious amounts of money on their greedy little asshole children, hearing them wail on Christmas morning because they didn’t get the Nathan Drake Collection Playstation 4 they just got the boring normal one that only cost $300! Teenagers crying because they got clothes instead of the Tiffany Diamond earrings they’ve just been DYING to get. Wives putting up with their shitty mother-in-law’s opinions on whether or not the mashed potatoes have enough salt. Cousins smoking pot in the backyard while their parents go on and on about how horrible it is that Uncle Greg is still on meth. Parents who share custody of children, dangling kids over each other’s heads, no you can’t see them today…Maybe after Christmas. Christmas is about GIFTS and DRINKING and TALKING SHIT about aunt Pam and her cheating husband. Sure, let’s go to the soup kitchen before Christmas and serve so we can teach our children ONCE A YEAR how to give back to the community. Let me give this guy $5 to feed his addiction during Christmas time to show everyone in this parking lot that I’m a good person.

Mommy? Why do we celebrate Christmas?

Oh honey, to celebrate the birth of Christ.

Really? Can you tell me more about it?

Honey, go play.

And BAM! There it is.


What’s even worse? People who EXPECT gifts from you, whether it’s because they’re family or it’s because they’re friends. My BEST friends do not expect gifts from me and vice versa. In fact, we don’t get each other gifts for Christmas, birthdays, etc. If we do give gifts it’s because we just decided to, out of nowhere, not expecting anything in return. Just to do it. If I give you a gift and you’re family, it’s because I’m obligated to do so. My mother never uses or likes anything I give her. My dad only gets gift cards because he’s complicated. My sisters are just as picky but grateful for the most part. My grandmother I give to because she genuinely appreciates it and my favorite aunt would appreciate a cork board if I gave it to her, the woman is so down to Earth. I only get my daughter 2-3 gifts, and it’s typically clothes. I don’t expect anything from anyone, ever. Her father never bought me ONE gift, ever, for any occasion. I don’t care about it. If I buy friends a gift it’s because I found something I thought they’d really like and decided to buy it, a fluke if you will. Or if they’ve expressed interest in something specific, I’ll surprise them. I don’t like to be made or guilted into doing things, so I don’t guilt others into doing anything.

My family’s Christmas parties include talking shit, drinking, talking more shit, and being fake. Hi, I’m going to pretend I didn’t talk shit about you earlier today. Hi, yep your daughter still looks like she doesn’t belong to your ex. Hi, your new boyfriends is hot *squeeze*. There are only a small handful of family members who aren’t fake, and I appreciate you all…So much.


And of course this, this happened every time we were on our way to visit family when I was a teenager. 

My mother even said “make sure you buy something nice for yourself to wear on Christmas”. Uhhh, I was literally JUST thinking about wearing a Unicorn onesie and now she hits me with this bullshit?! I love dressing up, but why am I going to dress up just to go to my aunt’s house and sit on the damn couch. “You don’t want anyone to think that you’re poor and you don’t take care of yourself”. FOO I AM POOR! And I DO take care of myself! I just don’t feel like wearing heels all day and night while listening to my aunts scream (talk) at each other because I might chuck one at them.



Next week is Christmas. I’ll get through this. We will all get through this…

The Tank


I picked up my daughter after work yesterday, like any other day. Her father called to speak with her from prison, which I allow, and they have exactly fifteen minutes to talk. I feel relieved that he called during our thirty minute commute back home because I needed a moment to myself to get over the crappy day I had; I always need a moment like this if I’ve had a bad day to make sure my attitude is positive around Victoria. Once finished, Victoria hands over the phone and I ask her about her day, as usual. We talk about the Thanksgiving lunch they had in class and she tells me all that she’s learned about the Pilgrims and Indians. I smile and tell her how much I love her. I always feel the need to reassure her, to make sure she understands that I will never leave her side…

“I love you…So, so much Victoria. I’m so proud of you honey.”

“I love you too Mãe. Thanks.”

“You’re my absolute best friend.”

“Mãe, you can’t be…You’re my mom.”

“What?! Sure I can!! I love you thiiiisssssss much!” *stretches arm out*

“Wooooow that’s a lot! Well I love you thiiiiiisssssssssss much more!” *extends both arms out* *pauses for a minute* “Actually…No.”


“Actually Mommy…I have a tank!”

“I don’t understand amor.”

“Yeah. I have a tank inside of me. Actually Mãe, we all have tanks inside of us. I fill up my tank with love. Love for you, love for Avó, love for Avô, love for Pae and Titias and everyone!”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yes! But my tank is mostly full of love for you mom. You’re my favorite mommy! But sometimes, my tank feels empty. Like when daddy doesn’t come and see me. But then! Then mommy comes and fills it up again! You’re a good tank filler mom.”

“Honey, daddy will see you soon. He loves you so much, he always wants to see you.”

“Yeah…Well…I know. It’s okay, I have you right? Always?”

“Yes, honey, always.”

“See! Mãe, do I fill up your tank?”

“As long as I have you, my tank is never empty”

She moved on to a different topic, as she normally takes control of our conversations. For some reason I couldn’t shake our previous conversation, I wondered where she got that from, or if she made it up on her own. A tank. My six year old has a better concept of how love works than most people, and how it affects us. We all have tanks that can be emptied and filled every day, depending on the circumstance. Some situations empty us, and others fill us, and some people do the same. We all have one, but is it empty? Full? Functioning? Cracked? Leaking? Who fills it? Who do we allow to empty it? Are we in control of this? I spent years with an empty tank not realizing that my “tank filler” was always there, staring up at me. Sitting there in all of her youth…And oddly, all of her wisdom. This little person teaches me something new every day.

I think what I would like to teach her down the line is that we shouldn’t rely on anyone to fill our tank…We should be able to fill that ourselves; everyone else is just the “top off”. How could I, when she’s the only one who fills my tank to the brim? Overflowing, making a beautiful mess inside me of emotions.

Is your tank full?


The Ramblings of a Crazy Woman


I’m feeling strange today so I’ve decided I want to just ramble. I had a strong urge in my chest to write, but I didn’t know where to start or what to end with. I just needed to. Has anyone ever felt this way? Hmm, maybe I am crazy. What’s going on in my head right now you might be asking, or not. I mean, how dare I be so pompous as to think that anyone gives two ducks about what’s going on in my head, or maybe you do. I dunno.

  • Why do people hurt others purposefully? It just feels like a whole lot of effort and energy being put into something so negative and counter productive. What’s worse is people do it to the ones they claim to love or care for and then it’s really confusing! Say what you mean and mean what you say. I’m not sure it gets easier than that .There’s enough hurtful shit going on in the world yet here we are…Wasting time on being hateful.
  • My job is really the most unfulfilling, fulfilling sounding job ever. I mean, I deal with things that are literally not in my job description. Why? Because I have hopes of moving up and out. I’m not sure my hard work is paying off nor is it being noticed, actually, I’m pretty sure it isn’t. Here you go, thousands of dollars above budget, thanks for the smile and the “good job”. “Victoria, here, mommy brought you a ‘good job’. It should keep you full for weeks!” And where has the common sense gone? No really, I don’t remember being that damn stupid at that age. Careless, sure. Downright dumb, I really don’t think so. To some, maybe.
  • Why are people so inconsiderate? Hey you, yeah you, I’m going to make direct eye contact with you before letting this door shut right behind me; you’re young and agile, open it yourself. Oh your mother just died? Mine did 10 years ago, you’ll be fine, really.
  • What makes a man? Is it the bulge in his pants? The hair on his chest? The responsibilities he takes on? The way he treats his wife? The way he treats his family? Paying bills? Attitude? This is a genuine question, I mean, I hear often “well I’m a man dammit!”. Uhhh….K. Not sure why it’s so important to say out loud for most men, but there it is. I’M A WOMAN!
  • Why do people delete posts on Facebook after posting them? Why not really think before posting? Actually, why not think before speaking period? Too often do people say things and then say OOPS I’m sorry, I was just upset. What they don’t realize is it’s been done. The damage is there, whatever it was. That person won’t forget what was said and it can potentially change their attitude towards you forever. Damn that escalated quickly.
  • Do people really fall out of love out of nowhere? Or is it a combination of occurrences that drives that person to slowly fall out of love and not realize it until it’s completely diminished? I never understood that. For me, personally, I either feel it or I don’t. There’s no in between, there’s no backing out unless something traumatic like cheating happens or hitting, etc. I can’t just “unlove” someone. Even if I leave that person for various reasons like disrespect of any kind, it still wouldn’t be because I don’t love them. That would linger until I hated that person so much that my love turned into anger. Maybe that’s what happens, we get so angry that our love evaporates into thin air and is replaced by poison. But why get to that without communicating? Or maybe you did communicate your concerns and that person didn’t care enough to change or consider what you were saying. Hmm…
  • Why are we JUST getting rain in California? It’s November people! We’re way past due! Thank goodness for this rain!!!!!!! I love rain.
  • Why am I so intimidating? NO really, lately people have been telling me that. Resting bitch face? Well damn, I can’t help it! Cut me some slack!
  • I just realized a lot of shit happens in my head in a very short amount of time and I don’t think it’s normal. Maybe I’ll donate my live body to science. Then again, why be robotic and have no thoughts? I think I’d rather have too many than not enough. It’d be almost scary to have empty space in there, like *knock knock* cacaaawwwwww!
  • Anybody else agree that this country has become a big ass circus shit show? I mean, Donald Trump.
  • When people ask you what’s wrong do they really want to know? I mean, is it a common courtesy to ask that? Or is it rude? I mean, it is a bit nosy to ask unless that person is close to you and even then are they prepared to hear about your shit day or family or relationship or job or the shitty yogurt you had for breakfast. I mean I have days where I just don’t want to hear it but then again I don’t ask. Just don’t ask dammit.
  • I really love salad. I really really do.

It’s Her Birthday


My Victoria Isabel is 6 today.

October 22nd, 2009 after 22 hours of labor, I met this gorgeous, fair skinned, red headed little baby. I used to watch birthing videos and think, gosh these babies look so strange and not very cute for the first week or so. I’m very realistic and prepared myself for the same experience with my child, but it was different with Victoria. Her hair was a red Mohawk that I could never straighten out the weeks following. She was pink and had the most beautiful hands and feet. I cried so much when I saw her, all I kept saying was, “Oh my God she’s so beautiful. She’s so beautiful. My baby, oh my God my baby”. I was excited, scared, tired and I felt triumphant. This human that I carried for nine months was here. Familiar yet so unfamiliar. She knew so much about me and I so little of her, yet we connected. She knew I was hers to keep and I knew I had found what I was looking for up until that point. No one else mattered to me at that time, not her father, not my family…No one. In a room full of people (no, really…I let students from the university watch and take notes), I only saw Victoria Isabel. She was quickly taken away to the NICU because she inhaled meconium (her own feces) and was having trouble breathing. That’s when I realized she hadn’t cried, dammit she didn’t cry. I was so scared then, I watched as they took her, cleared her nose and mouth and then there it was. A faint whimper and then a roaring sound, music to my ears; that’s when they rushed off with her and had my ex followed. Suddenly I really was alone. No one but a nurse and a student left behind, checking my vitals. I felt so empty, it was the strangest sensation in the pit of my stomach. I’m wheeled to recovery until I can see Victoria again and when I did, she was all tubes and wires. I was explained to that inhaling meconium is very common and the minor/major side affects it would have on her long term, if at all. It turns out, she’s perfectly healthy and her breathing is just fine.

Fast forward to the present and my little bundle of joy is now all legs and smiles. Never did I anticipate having a child who is so intelligent, funny, and tall! I’m 5’2 at my best and her father is a whopping 5’5, however his whole family is tall. Her hair is incredibly long and her once red locks are now strawberry blonde. Her eyes are as blue as the pictures I’ve seen of the ocean in the Caribbean and her attitude is so flush with mine sometimes, it leaves people in awe. She’s sweet, giving, and understanding. Of course we expect most children to be this way, but they’re not. She carries herself with grace and class, traits that I am jealous and proud of.  Her skin reminds me of porcelain and her laugh is music to my ears. Sometimes I watch her and I wonder what I did to deserve this blessing. I tear up at the thought of ever parting from her and at the thought of her growing up. Of leaving me behind to start her own life. My attempt to savor every moment big or small isn’t always enough.

I want to stop time. I want to hear her voice every morning telling me that she loves me and wrapping her arms around me. I want to drive her to school everyday for the rest of my life and practice translating English words to Portuguese and vise versa. I want her to cry and tell me she’s upset with me for not letting her have cookies for breakfast, and then laugh at her for being so silly only to hear her giggle through her tears. Every time I look at her, I mean really look into her eyes and soul, I see a change. Understanding maybe. A new spelling word conquered. A tooth missing. A darkened freckle on her face. A bruise. The bad habit of biting her nails she’s picked up. A new comeback for her 15 year old aunt Gina who always picks on her. I soak it up. Will I remember this forever? I fear not remembering these moments, but how can I keep them? I can’t capture them and nail them into a wooden box. I can try to relive them in my mind every day but there are so many amazing memories. It’s overwhelming. I want to keep her little. Innocent. Worry free. It’s selfish, but it’s true.

Sometimes I hug her so tight she wriggles away and says, “Mae, I can’t breathe!!!!”. I wonder if she’ll ever get to the point where she won’t want hugs from me every day. Or a kiss on the forehead. Or the occasional cuddle. Too cool for mom. If she does, I hope she grows out of it. I hope we can always have dance parties and she’ll never be too cool to sing at the top of her lungs with me.

No one will ever love her like I do. Not her father. Not his family. Not my family. No one.

She’s a witty, intelligent, gorgeous, hilarious and a jerk at times. I love her every second of every day, I want her to always remember that. We’ve been through a lot together, but the cool thing is, she’s always had my back. And I will always have hers.

Happy Birthday Victoria Isabel, I hope all of your dreams come true.


Stahp It!


I am not the parent of a special needs child. I do not have a close family member who has special needs. I did not grow up around special needs children. I feel that the only people who write about special needs children are those who have them. I understand this for various reasons, one of which is the fact that you don’t know the triumphs and struggles of having a special needs child until you’ve had one yourself or are close to one.

The thing is, I’m a mother. I have taught my daughter that each child is just as special as the next, special needs or not. That we are all to treat each other fairly. Of course, she’s five, this is a work in progress. However, I always marvel at how accepting my child is and I always wonder why adults can’t be the same. Have you ever stood in line at the store and watched a child throw a tantrum right in the middle of everyone, screaming his/her head off? Have you noticed all of the stares? The whispers? The “psshaa if that was my kid…” comments? I’m sure you have, and maybe you’ve done these things yourself. I always watch the parent. The distressed look on their face, the embarrassment. We don’t know what their story is, why the child is acting that way, and how long of a day that mother/father has had. How about the child with down’s syndrome, as loving and caring as he/she is, being pointed at by other children and stared at by their parents? Is this what we’re allowing? Our children to point and say things that are hurtful, just because someone is different? These parents should never, ever be embarrassed or feel like their child is different than mine.

These people don’t need your pity, they don’t even need your friendship. They need our understanding and sometimes our patience as a society. My child can speak to, play with, and interact with whoever the hell she damn well pleases. Whether he/she has blonde hair, brown hair, autism, a missing tooth, whatever the case may be. I have tried my hardest to open her eyes and let her see past all of the bullshit, to really see what that person has to offer in a friendship.

Let’s look at the other side of this. I knew a woman who had a child with autism and she pulled the pity card constantly. I am compassionate and understand how hard it can be; but if you cripple your child and constantly raise this idea that there is something wrong with them, they’re doomed to believe it. We are supposed to lift our children up, not hand them the crutch. We are supposed to have faith in them and believe that they can beat all of the odds. Making these disabilities an excuse is hardly what a special needs child requires. Like any other child they require love, a strong support system and inspiration. I pointed this out to her and was met with a quick “YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND, YOUR CHILD IS NORMAL”. Normal? Normal? My kid slurps ranch off of chicken nuggets, hate pets, dislikes wearing pants, and understands nearly three languages. I’m not sure what this lady’s warped definition of normal was, but my kid isn’t it.

And there it was, my reason to cut this person off. Not only did she act like there was something severely wrong with her child, but she was also a bad influence for mine. I don’t care who you are, you are not allowed to call the shots with my kid. You are not allowed to tell me who she can and cannot interact with or tell her that she needs to “be careful” because he’s fragile. No. They are children. They will play and she will learn to be resilient around other children, and mine will learn to be accommodating when she did have tantrums. And they would be the best of friends. But no. Victoria missed out on a wonderful soul because said friend’s mother is a shithead with a narrow mind.

People are people. Let children be children.

If you’re one of those parents who empowers their children, GO YOU!!!


Oh Brother!


I have four sisters. Jessica, 22, Melissa, 18 and Gina, 15. My mom birthed all of us but the youngest two have a different father who helped raise us for about 13 years before they were divorced. We never considered Melissa and Gina our “half sisters”…Just sisters. Four girls in one house was absolutely crazy, but we made it.

Today…Today I ran into my brother. My dad remarried as well, to a woman with two children. I got along with her and her children really well but lost touch after they were divorced 7 years later. Every once in a while I’d see them and we’d exchange “how have you beens” and “what’s new” and be on our way. When I became an adult I finally reached out to my ex stepmom and we kept in touch on and off over the years, but I could never stop thinking about her two kids. I always wondered what they were up to, how they were doing, if they were doing well in college, etc. I finally added the three on Facebook and have been able to peek into their lives day to day.

This time it was different. I walked into the dreaded Wal-Mart before work today because I needed tweezers for my uni-brow, as to not scare off any of my employees or guests. I usually walk pretty fast and with a major case of tunnel vision at Wal-Mart, no time for mingling or seeing what I can’t ever un-see.

I hear a surprised, “Irene?!”.


I looked him up and down and I couldn’t contain my surprise, but there was something else I was feeling. Something I couldn’t pinpoint right then and there. Who used to be this short, skinny, big toothed boy is now a man. A man standing right before me, taller than mountains, voice deep, emanating maturity like I’ve never seen. I wanted to cry, hug him, ask him a million questions, laugh…Why? I don’t why. Our parents divorced, he’s a step sibling, who cares. Forget them. It’s over.

I couldn’t do that. I think about them often, even though I don’t show it.  My stepmom taught me how to clean, cook, properly slip on pillow cases, keep calm, and trust myself as well as God. She was a crucial part of my upbringing. I was closer to Carlos (who was closer to my age than his sister) than I was to my own sisters. We were young but we talked about everything.

In case you were wondering, he’s on his last year of college. He has this gorgeous girlfriend who he’s been with for five months now (after years of being single). His mother is still single, all of these years and she still lives for her children. His sister is doing well also. I wanted to know more but we had to cut off the conversation since we both had to get back to work.

“It was so good seeing you Carlos.”

“Hey, you too! We have to get coffee or something sometime. It’s been so long.”

“It has been. It truly has been.”

I watched him walk away. Once my brother, no matter what, will always be my brother. I had never had a brother before him, nor did I get one after him. This kid introduced me to Slipknot, even though his churchgoing mother did not approve. I caught him watching porn and didn’t say a word. We griped about our parents together and so on. Sometimes I wonder if we had as much of an effect on them as they had on me. They were my weekend family, my comfort, my home away from home.

It made me realize that people come into our lives for a reason, even if it hurts when they’re gone. Maybe they’re meant to stay or leave, they had a purpose. I always try to keep positive and highlight what that purpose might be for every person who has walked out of my life or has been yanked from my life. Did they contribute? Take away? Teach you a lesson? Help you grow? If you take a moment, you’ll realize that everyone you’ve ever met in your life made some sort of impact and the ones who didn’t…Well…You wouldn’t have remembered them anyway.

I miss them.