The Side Chick

The majority of my life I have struggled with the unsettling idea that I am but a secondary character in my family storyline. Always the one effected but never the one affecting. The sum of my life centered around everyone else's actions or worse the consequences that resulted because of those actions. While most people grow up navigating the discovery of themselves and what everything means I was busy reacting to other peoples stories and other people meaning my family. I was the secondary character in my own show. I was the friend of the main characters who only got enough scenes to be recognized but never enough to have a concrete story line. So I grew up reacting, listening, observing. 

         I think about that often when I am confronted in messy situations that center around my brothers. I think about the disruption in their lives. I empathetically think of their pain in the experiences I witnessed. I create a logical domino effect of how one experience altered their sense of self which then diminished their chance to have made alternate better decisions. I think of the emotional blockade they have. How society, machismo, economic status, my father and even mother deeply influenced how they deal with their emotions or don't. How they had to build coping mechanisms from scratch or sadly learned the unhealthy ones they witnessed. I think about how studies have shown how kids who come from single family homes, divorced homes, below the poverty line, immigrated parent homes can have a harder time adjusting into a "normal" stable adult. I remember trauma lives and breathes in them too.

      The 25 year old me, the worked her ass off to heal, grow and expand me then tries to gently scoop me up off the floor because my heart usually ends up on its knees battered and bruised at this point. I remember all of my disruptions; all of my experiences. I remember how economic status, society, my family all deeply influenced my young girl self. I think of issues I have and how they came to be.  I try to validate myself my experiences and feelings because that's where I've learned my healing can begin. 

     I can't help but think of my family members disruptions but then I think of mine and I become incredibly conflicted. Its easy for me to think empathetically towards them and their experiences but when I'm faced with them in person and they begin to speak to me about anything really I am completely bottled with rage. I feel my upper lip start to curl and I always-always have to remind myself to bring it down and reflect. 

Its hard when you have to push your family away because they bring destruction to your world that you put so much effort into creating. The world you are so desperately trying to build for yourself. 

Si no estan aqui para ayudar me flotar no necesito que me ayudan ahogar

      I am so conflicted. It takes up so much of me to think about it so I try not to. I understand that we are all building from scratch and some people handle things better than others but as my friend Lyz told me "You were not made to hold everyone up." It is not my job to keep or to save. It is

not my responsibility to caress their wounds and hand them solutions. I know all this but it doesn't take away from the pain knowing that my 2 of my brothers are still sleeping in their cars and one has a broken toe disabled in the room next to mine. It doesn't take away from the fact that I recognize patterns and trauma that my mom has had but that I can't trust her to set any type of boundaries. I look at the whole picture but it doesn't take away the pain or the hard decisions I have to make. No amount of empathy will be the solution. That's what breaks my heart I think the most that no amount of my understanding can excuse the pain caused. It doesn't count if I recognize the patterns but they remain unaware. 

      The hard work, the healing, the demolition, the recreating has to be done by each individual and it can't be done near each other because we will come unravel and come undone. I cannot help them and help myself in the same proximity. I built up muscle to help myself stay afloat and no matter how tough no matter how bitter or cold I may seem I have to put myself first. 

Oh, but the guilt doesn't leave me alone.

I am continually faced with decisions everyday to enforce boundaries. I don't know how it looks like from their point of view. Does it look easy? Do they think that its easy for me? 'Cause its not. I don't know if they think I've had it easy. I don't know if they think I'm being selfish or just plain cruel. I don't know if they will ever come to understand how much I want to be okay. How I have come to learn that they unravel the healing, the recovery.

How much it hurts that I have to move forward even if it means leaving them behind.

This weeks song is Heavy by Kiana Lede. Hits the spot. 

What Are Boundaries Even

Okay, so I guess by now we know that I am not good at writing consistently. As I sat on my couch Wednesday afternoon I remembered and told myself I should probably go do that but did I actually turn Hulu off and go do it? Hah nope! Instead I binge watched Veronica Marz some more. Good show by the way, its fun to see all the spots in town I can call out and recognize while watching.

Some part of me really want to feel a bit more relaxed in my posts because of the lack of following but another part of me really wants to um you know... NOT half ass it. They fight. At least now, I don't have to worry about where I am going to plug the computer into or how much daylight I have left in order to see the keyboard. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to write on a laptop while sitting in the drivers seat? My neck and back were both screaming at me by the end of it.

Now I just have to remind myself that self care is also disciplinary care. That taking care of myself is making habits that will create momentum for my inner peace to prosper. Self care can't always look like binge watching and eating cereal on the couch after dinner. Although, it is quite a beautiful experience. I have to make myself do more to cultivate my creativity. I have to incorporate scrapbooking, journaling, coloring, painting, writing into my days so I can help the nagging, dragging demons from making me feel like shit. I can't just continue to jump from one social media app to another hoping to cover up how uncomfortable I feel.

Uncomfortable is how I've been describing how I feel lately. Just unsettled. Unable to find a place I can sit still. I don't want to be at work and I don't
want to be at home yet I do? I feel dead inside or is that just adulthood? Nope, nope its poor people adulthood because you know very well rich people sleep well at night knowing they have an excess of money after bills. Way off topic, one of my triggers apparently?

Anyway,  I think for so long this was the pivotal step. Getting a home and a stable job that can pay for my bills; being able to pay rent on my own. For the longest time that was the goal, for years. If only I can just get there I'd repeat to myself. Once I reach that step then the rest will work itself out. Pfffft, HAH oh innocent one. You all would be surprised to know that managing my money, the calculations and getting creative with allocating the money to last enough to get me through until payday is not the problem for me. Its actually a strong suit for me. The hardest part is setting up boundaries between my family and I.

Enforcing those boundaries while also not allowing them to rip away at me; to completely destabilize my entire being. Finding the strength to not allow guilt to somehow trick its way inside and ruin all the healing I've made. Detaching myself from unhealthy default settings and creating a new rhythm for ones that allow healing and create peace. I don't have any of that down so I keep my mind moving not allowing it to settle down so I don't freak out because I have no idea how to handle any of it. I watch tv while looking through my phone. My job is fast paced but still when I get unraveled by what happens at home then somehow my disposition for getting things done gets scrambled and I have to work twice as hard to actually do my job. My patience at work is whittled down to almost nothing and I'm not sure if that's because customer service does that to a person or if its because of build up from everything else...or both???

I'm unsure of how to navigate all of this but I am trying. I am the first in my family for all these things so the moves I make will greatly impact the domino effect on everyone else lives. I don't have anyone to learn from. I don't have someone elses story to take notes from. I am trying to keep an open mind as well as think things through thoroughly without coming undone.

I'm managing.

There are somedays that are actually quite nice. The rest, well I try to let them go. There'd be too many to keep; I mean where would one store all of those bad days? You shove them deep down inside??? Oh right, crap. Somedays I can feel the shittyness bubbling and I just say nope to the day then strut my grumpy pants all through town. It be like that sometimes.

Have you ever had to put up a boundary or several towards people you are close to and it got complicated? How?

Any thing you've learned from a personal experience or someone else's that you think would be helpful?

Are grumpy pants appropriate work attire?? Explain.

1 Year Off The Streets

Hi again,
Feels nice to back here again so I'm just going to jump straight into it. To sum up some of the reason why I haven't followed up on last my series on no longer being homeless...my sweet grandma died and not in the most peaceful way. Then I lost my lovely little firecracker and best friend of 8 years "Penny" my dog, soon after. 2018 was a year of loss and grieving for me more than it was a year of celebration. How is one supposed to feel happy you have a home when the very souls you want to have in your home aren't here? What is a house if its empty of the company you want? I imagined when we got a home I would create a get together so everyone I know could come celebrate with us but instead all I felt was aching and in no mood for having a party or to even think of a celebration.

Moving on felt dirty. It felt feels wrong.

My heart was broken by the loss of 2 souls. They were stripped from this world in painful ways and I felt feel robbed not just for me but for them. I guess thats how the loss of loved ones goes for anyone though. You stand back aghast with the breath taken out of you, suffocated. Then no one lets you know about that terrible feeling you get every time you remember that time forgets everything as soon as it happens and so you feel like you have to scurry and huddle and gather every memory and any sense of proof that they were once here in order to keep the pain from crippling you over because you have to be alive still even though they aren't.

Did that make any sense? Did you get any of that?

I guess I knew I should try writing again when I would look towards my desk and the computer everyday briefly for a couple seconds. Its felt like something you forgot but knew you needed to remember.

When you begin to realize you are suffocating yourself in order to stay in the same mental/emotional state thats when you know you are no longer meant to be there. Thats when you realize its not the pain holding you back anymore...its you. I guess what it means is feel what you need to feel until you don't anymore, right? I couldn't not (the biggest lump in my throat formed as I typed this) allow myself to celebrate the place that we are in our lives rightnow. The growth. The stability. The handling and navigation of new terrain. I couldn't deny myself that forever. I am now able to side with the belief I've held onto forever that you can grieve and celebrate, you can be sad and happy disturbingly and magically all at once. I scorned at celebration or anything similar to it when it was fresh and wasn't able to see anything other than that until magically one day I could again.

I would like to point out that telling someone who has recently suffered a loss to celebrate is NOT helpful. We must allow anyone going through a loss to progress there naturally. No one wants to hear positive, cliché things when you are fresh in the midst of feeling shitty. It can make the person in pain feel distant towards you and alone.

August 1st will be a year since we've moved in and I feel like that absolutely must be wrong. How can this be? WHAT?? And not because I don't remember paying rent Oh I remember THAT part its the everything else part thats a little fuzzy. Having to make a house a home while grieving can blurr out a lot of memory. I haven't invited anyone over that I would have liked but maybe that's to come. I plan to upload a video of tidbits put together of the moving in process to help me better enunciate all of the feelings that came with this experience.

I feel really vulnerable uploading this. For a second, I actually was trying to figure out a way to make this post without it but then I thought about how I recorded all these things in hopes that I could see them, remember and really appreciate how far we'd come. This time I'm just sharing it with you too.

Home is still being put together day by day. I am still shocked when I sit back to think of it all or when I make a purchase specifically for it. Like buying house plants and patio furniture. I have my own place to put them in?? Crazy. I get to create my home. Control my environment and the ambiance it has. I get to burn sage and I get to shower when I want. I can read books in bed. 

I am still navigating what it means to be the boss of my home and setting boundaries with family in regards to it. I am trying to learn in which areas the boundary lines should be just lightly outlined and which ones should be bolded. I'm learning and healing and its tough work but good tough work. I always said that getting my own home was the next step and now that we're here I'm terribly anxious but grateful. 

I've felt quite lost to be honest with you and I thought I was even done with writing but I am actually feeling a little bit more centered since writing this. 

Next week, for sure.

Okay I'm going to try really hard.

I am.

I will.

Okay, Bye.

The Transition From Chronically Homeless To Not, Part 1

July 17th, 2018:

Spirit buried down deep in our pockets. Sadness permeating the environment as per usual. Deep breath. I drive up the big hill with the clock now taunting me and my anxiety rising. We are gonna be late and we are gonna miss him. Shit. This maps app just said we arrived but the address is not correct. I park on the side of the road. The fear of the car falling off the side of the cliff side runs through my head like a movie scene. I distract myself with looking for the correct numbers. We walk down some stairs and still with no luck we walk back to the car defeated. Spirit being shoved deeper and deeper. Just a waste of time. We should just leave, who cares. Deep breath. I take my phone out and sent a text that we can't find the place. Moments later a reply with directions. Lets just go, text back never mind. We have to be somewhere. Who cares, we wont get it anyway. Deep Breath. Try Again. We drive through an alley like street that's part dirt and black faded road. I better not get a nail in my tire. That's all we need. I find parking and my anxiety is making my hands shake. The dogs better not bark and nobody call the cops cause we are going to be right back. Yes, I know its really hot outside. Deep Breath. That's it! That's the address, we've found it. As we walk up I've already picked 5 things I don't like about it. The newly painted baby blue trying its best to conceal the age and decay of the building. Its working, mostly. Its upstairs. This is stupid. We won't get it so why even apply. Why did we waste gas and energy coming over here. Lets turn back before he hears us coming. Deep breath. We hear a deep voice yell out come in from the top of the stairs. Here we go.

An hour later we walk back to the car in disbelief. He liked us. He really liked us. The dogs didn't bark either. The place is perfect too. I mean, to us it is. The hardwood floors and outdoor space. He waived the application fee when I hesitated. Interfaith, the organization that's helping us find a place said they would cover these costs but since it was all last minute and I had exactly $13 in my account, I had to stall. I tried to play it off with the I don't have any cash on me sorta thing but he simplified it all with "Go the ATM and come back". I don't quite remember exactly what I said in reply but it did not make sense whatsoever. I'm great at this sorta thing. He ended up deciding to waive  the fee and also said he would put our application on top of the pile. We said our thank yous but still felt disappointment. Holding our spirits hostage. Shoving them down deeper in our pockets as to not have a slip up. Not believing this was finally it. It always ended the same. We fall in love with the place. We have a great conversation with the owner. They say excitedly how we have a good chance of getting it then to no ones surprise we don't get it. Its a heartbreak game and this time around we didn't have much left for them to break.

The next day I received a text at work asking if we could come to the house to meet again. My spirit busting out of the darkness upon reading it. Oh shit, he was serious. We might actually get it this time. Whaaaaaaat.

This isn't real right?? We are gonna go meet with them and one of us will end up saying no. There were so many moments during the conversation with them where I wanted to abort mission. Oh, we pay water every 2 months? That's too bad, never mind, bye! Oh, the neighbors are nice? That's probably bullshit, BYE! Yes its close to the freeway but its far from my work so BYE! "What the hell is happening right now and what are we doing???" Kept replaying in my head.

We were outback when the landlord turned to me and asked who would be the main one paying the rent. I tried to seem confident as if i'd done this before. Holding my back straight and trying to keep my voice from cracking I answered. Then with the sun beating down and a smirk on his face he said, "Well, yes. You got the place." It felt surreal. It felt like a play by play from The Price Is Right. Yes, Analaura you are the winner of this not new but new to you houuussse!!! Moving in sold separately.

When it came down to the money talk. I was nervous how do you tell your landlord your reliable but also that you have an organization that's going to pay for the deposit and some of the rent because you can't?

I led on to tell them that an organization helps low income families. Although a little confused they accepted.

This is where it all began. As we walked back to the car I made sure to soak up everything around me. I needed to remember this moment. This walk back to the car knowing this was the moment we had all been waiting for so many years.

Please, Join me next week with the next installation. I

 am very excited to finally be sharing this beautiful change in our lives. Its been long overdue and awaited and dreamed about for so damn long. 

At some point look out for a compilation video of the moving in process.