On the night of September 23, 2022, I was sexually abused. It has been almost seven months since that horrific incident, yet I continue to carry the deep scars and lasting trauma.
After the abuse, I struggled with overwhelming post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I would see my abuser’s presence everywhere, hearing his voice and even smelling his scent, even though he wasn’t physically there. This experience filled me with paranoia, making me believe that I was constantly being followed and that others wished to harm me. I felt vulnerable, constantly fearing that he or someone close to him might continue where he left off, violating me further.
Being sexually abused didn’t just affect my mental health, it also made me question who I am. It shattered my fundamental beliefs, values, and my connection with myself and my purpose. I lost faith in myself, others, and the world at large. Hope and finding meaning in life became difficult, and the process of healing and recovery became a challenging journey.
It deeply impacted my relationship with religion as well. I struggled to comprehend how such a traumatic experience could happen and why it was allowed to occur. I lost trust in my own strength, resilience, and capability. It left a profound scar on my identity, causing me to question many things I once took for granted.
I found the courage to tell others about what happened to me, and luckily, they believed me. This was an important step forward. However, not all survivors have the same experience. Despite reporting the abuse, the actions taken were almost nonexistent. This painful reality raises a difficult question: Was it worth enduring the suffering and reliving the trauma during the process, knowing that he continues to live a happy life while I struggle with the aftermath?
Sexual abuse makes it hard to understand love and intimacy. Survivors often have mixed feelings when it comes to forming emotional connections. We want to connect with others, but we’re scared of getting hurt again. Trusting and having healthy relationships becomes a challenge.
The experience of being sexually abused has had a devastating impact on my life. It has shaken me to the core and made me question everything. The emotional and spiritual scars are deep, and remind us of the urgent need for support, understanding, and justice for survivors.
What are we supposed to do when arch enemy #1 is something that you quite literally cannot live without. When all anyone tells you is “Oh but you are so pretty! Why would you do that when you are beautiful!?” Easy. We don’t agree with you. We work on that daily. See most days are really good in fact! We are happy, do our list of things that need doing, everything is fine. Until it’s not.
The way you view food and the way we view food are two very different things. You see a big sandwich and think “Ohh that looks good!”, we see that same sandwich and think “How many calories does that have in it? Well maybe if I eat it without the bread, I can eat it then. Well, but someone will say something and ask why. Oh, I’m too fat anyway I’ll just go to the bathroom while they order, and when I come out I can dodge that bullet and just say I’m not hungry.”.
We know it’s not healthy to think that, but when it comes down to it there’s very little you can say that would help in the moment. If anything, when there’s NOT food in front of us give complements that aren’t beauty based, as long as they are true. Because most of the time, reminding us that you see something beautiful within us that has nothing to do with appearance, is the best thing you can do. It’s not your job to “fix” us, and we don’t need to base our opinions of ourselves in what the world says.
Sometimes people think it’s something that needs to be tip-toed around or that they need to worry about us… for us. Most of the time, we worry enough about it that you don’t have to. It’s not the plague, it’s just an eating disorder. We all have different stories and different backgrounds. Everyone’s story is different. For me it was a few moments as a younger child. Only one of which I will share with you.
I was 9 years old in a classroom while my mom was in Bible study. This was a weekly occurrence, every Tuesday at the church in town. We (my siblings and I) would be put with a group of kids whose mothers were also in Bible study, and we would all play and read or really do whatever we wanted under loose adult supervision. One of those Tuesdays I made brownies to take in and share with the other kids. I would also end up offering the “teachers” one as well. Everyone loved them and we went back to playing, when the head of the childcare faculty came in to see how we were all doing. She was in my opinion, one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. In fact, she was so beautiful I hoped that I would look like her when I was grown.
She walked into the room, and I immediately ran over to my tray of brownies and offered one to her; so happy that I had the chance to share something with her. She smiled and said “No thank you honey! Thats so sweet of you but summer is coming up and I’ve got to fit into one of those cute bikinis this year!” and in that moment I became hyper conscious of my body. Well, I mean if SHE was fat or needed to be smaller, than goodness that means I should be way smaller. I was crushed. Because she thought she was too big, and I thought she was drop dead gorgeous and wanted her to see herself like I saw her.
This is a relatively small moment compared to the things that majorly shifted me to that line of thinking, but I am sure others can relate. And that is the goal of writing this. Not only do I want people that do not have eating disorders to understand that it’s not their job to “fix”, and a big way they can help if they really want, and more importantly so that people that do have eating disorders can hopefully feel slightly more seen and related to.
when the days blur
I want to sit back and watch
as the dark clouds of indifference roll in
I want the fog to slowly wind its way into my senses
breathing in the chaos as it breaks the locks
on my self awareness
like a moth to flame
I want to open the door to my demons
welcome them back to the party
toast them in floods of Jack and Coke
dance with them until the sun rises
to shine it’s judgmental rays on the aftermath
I want to let the madness creep into my eyes
forget the boundaries
forged so carefully in steel
dripping in self-worth
I want the urgency of a strangers mouth on mine
in a dark corner of a smoke filled room
I want to throw out the books
and let someone love me so recklessly
that it takes months
to recover the pieces of me lost in them
meticulously glue them bak together
just to watch them shatter again and again
I want to forget the pain hidden in the healing
but remember the ways of casually abandoning myself
to go back to that lonely girl
in a room full of people
screaming to be seen
but it comes out as laughter that’s a little too loud
as drinks spill and cigarettes burn
I want to go back to the days of lying awake
to 3am tears that paint black waterfalls on pillowcases
let’s throw away the progress in letting go
instead of sitting with the grief of what could have been
and counting the breaths until reality becomes clear
I want the new me to toss the keys to the old me
with a wicked grin of callousness
I want to drive off into the sunset of self-destruction
Some words hold more weight than we ever intended them to hold.
The words that the rest of the world see at face value, can hold such a deep connection to the individual person. Sometimes it’s in the name of the local grocery store down the road. Other times it’s the title of a song your mom played in the car before she dropped you off at school, the name of your childhood best friend, or the name of that one person. You know who I’m talking about. The one whose shoulder you cried on. The one who called to ask how your day was and you both end up belly laughing within 2 minutes. The one who you could spend hours with, not saying a single word, and feel like you poured out your heart for hours and was perfectly understood.
The words like that can bring you the most beautiful feelings and memories. If you don’t think you have words like that, think harder. I promise you do. We all do.
As I am moving to the next official phase of my life. I find myself reflecting on the turbulent journey that brought me to this point. I am an artist. My dream is to create an immersive art museum that transcends conventional boundaries and transports visitors into a realm of enchantment. However, my path has been riddled with uncountable roadblocks, including an ongoing health crisis, chronic pain, and the fear of losing my primary job. Through it all I learned and realized what it actually means to embrace failure has become an unexpected source of strength in my artistic pursuits.
From the very beginning, the vision of creating an immersive art museum ignited an unyielding fire within me. I’m a Leo so this comes naturally to me already. I yearned to craft an extraordinary space that would leave a lasting impression on visitors and ignite their imagination. The idea of immersing people in the magic of art seemed like an achievable dream until life threw a series of omnipresent affairs my way.
A few years ago ( about 2 years and 5 months ago), I was hit by a mysterious health crisis that plunged me into a world of constant chronic pain. Doctors struggled to diagnose the underlying cause, I had several nerve tests back in fall of 2022. This left me feeling helpless and trapped in a body that refused to cooperate, listen and ill-used. The physical anguish I experienced was debilitating, but it was the emotional toll that hurt the most. I questioned my ability to pursue my passion, doubting whether I could ever create art again. Imagine trying to create with insufferable headaches, like a heart attack could at any moment due to having the textbook symptoms, and days on end going to hospital on and off staying due to which doctor believed you or not.
In the midst of my health struggles, depression crept into my life like a relentless shadow. The pain and uncertainty seemed unending, and I found it increasingly difficult to keep my spirits high. To add to it, my job in healthcare offered no stability due to a loving but unsteady clients mental health that’s deteriorating at a slow but steady pace, leaving me on shaky ground with the constant fear of losing it and them. Staying calm was the only option despite the intensity making me being more logical than those around me. The weight of financial insecurity exacerbated my inability to focus on my artistic endeavors.
Amidst the darkness, I stumbled upon a revelation that transformed my perspective on failure. I realized that failure is not the end but rather an opportunity for growth and self-discovery. Accepting my limitations and acknowledging my health crisis allowed me to make peace with the moments of inactivity and the loss of income. It was time to prioritize self-care and nourish my soul. Which in detail means that i wouldn’t take on more than i could no matter the reactions for those asking a lot of me, listening to the littlest of details of what my body tells me what I’m putting in it, limiting and finding what the pain cannot take from me when it arises, the power of my voice when I say “no and enough” and trying new activities that boosts my mental health each weekend. I took swimming lessons for the first time, created the beginning stages for my art company, went on my first solo trip to NYC and finally got out of my comfort zone, at last.
As I immersed myself in the acceptance of failure, I found the courage to experiment with my art in new ways. I started creating art that produces music through touch via a buildable circulatory system board, learned about holograms and became educated more than ever. Instead of viewing my prolonged periods of inactivity as a hindrance, I saw them as moments of reflection and introspection. The ebb and flow of creativity became a natural part of my artistic journey, mirroring the ups and downs of life itself.
Each setback and obstacle I faced fueled my determination to build my art museum. I channeled my experiences of pain, uncertainty, and emotional turmoil into the very fabric of my art. My business venture became more than just a pursuit; it became a testament to resilience and the indomitable human spirit in me. Each no or unanswered email only made me go around the people who could change my circumstances and change them myself. Whatever wasn’t given to me was brought in for me on my own personal account and struggle. When a plan of action didn’t work there were six more in place that were more and more fool proof.
Embracing failure has been the most transformative aspect of my artistic journey. Through my ongoing health crisis, chronic pain, and unstable employment, I have learned to find strength in vulnerability and beauty in imperfection. My growing venture, clarity of who I am and how my body works has lessened pain as time has gone on in the last year is a testament to the power of perseverance and the unwavering belief in my dreams and good life can be despite it all. As I navigate the uncharted waters of both my art and my health, I stand undeterred, unmoved and ready to face any challenge that comes my way. In this ongoing failure that I find the true essence of my art, my purpose and that I actually always make progress no matter what.
As Black Friday approaches, consumers are preparing to take advantage of the numerous deals on home appliances. This year, the focus is on emerging technologies that promise to enhance convenience, energy efficiency, and connectivity in the home.
With many retailers offering Black Friday deals, it’s an ideal time to explore these innovative appliances.
Here’s a look at the key technologies that are making waves in the appliance market.
Smart appliances are becoming increasingly integrated with broader smart home ecosystems. These devices can be controlled remotely via smartphone apps, allowing users to manage their appliances even when they are not at home. Key features include:
Emerging technologies are enabling appliances to communicate with each other, creating a seamless home environment. Examples include:
With an increasing focus on sustainability, manufacturers are developing appliances that consume less energy and water. Important advancements include:
Appliances equipped with sensors and artificial intelligence can adjust operations based on real-time conditions. This technology is seen in:
In response to growing concerns about air quality, appliances such as air conditioners and vacuum cleaners now feature advanced filtration systems. These systems can:
Many appliances now offer sanitization to combat germs and bacteria. Popular among these are:
Appliance interfaces are becoming more intuitive, with touchscreens and app-based controls becoming standard. Benefits include:
Space-saving designs and multifunctional appliances are gaining popularity, particularly in urban settings:
As you set your sights on Black Friday deals, consider these tips to make the most of emerging appliance technologies:
By understanding the latest trends in appliance technology, consumers can make informed decisions and invest in products that offer value, convenience, and efficiency. This Black Friday, being aware of these emerging technologies will ensure savvy shopping and satisfaction with your purchases.
Everyone will say, “This is going to be the best time of your life”, but to you, it’s confusing, and it is.
Dating in your twenties has its pros and cons. On the plus side, you don’t have any responsibilities other than figuring out what you like and what you don’t like. Experiences are new, exciting, and thrilling and you will feel harder than you have ever felt before or ever will.
On the flip side, you haven’t figured out who you are. Your hormones are off the rails, and your brain isn’t fully developed, so it’s all overwhelming.
Dating in your twenties is like shopping in a mall for the first time.
You’re overwhelmed by the number of options that are out there and in the beginning you are dazzled by the bright colors, patterns, and different cuts. You’re going to want to grab the things that draw your eyes, or that you’ve seen everyone else has or that someone else tells you you should get and you’re going to walk home and feel great about your purchases. But after a few months, you may notice, “ oh actually that was just a trend. I don’t actually like how that looks on me” or you figure out that this sweater doesn’t hold up in the wash. It’s not very good quality.
Over time you’re going to figure out your own style and figure out the trade-offs between quality and price for some things you’re going to want to get the cheaper version but in other things that you know you want to be in your life for a long time you’re going to invest that time and money to finding the right thing and you know that there’s no substitute for it.
So here are my guidelines for your romantic life.
Not only are you trying to figure out who you are, but you’re also trying to figure out what you want in a romantic relationship.
My advice to you would be to explore every avenue and do it with honesty and without guilt.
What kind of options do you have?
You have monogamy, casual dating, casual sex, dating multiple people at the same time, or going all-in on a person that you spoke to on a bus for 3 hours while you’re traveling from one city to another. Try long-distance, try dating someone older than you, someone younger than you, someone from a different cultural background, someone tall, someone short.
Go where your heart takes you, and as long as you are honest with yourself about why you’re doing these things – whether it’s because you feel strongly, you love this person, or you’re not sure what you want you’ll know you are on the right track.
This is something that you’re going to do really well, whether or not I tell you. But something that contributed to the gradual improvements in your relationships over the years.
At the end of every relationship, you reflected back on what worked and what didn’t. Often, you were the one breaking up with the other person, so those reasons were really at the forefront of your mind. But you also took time to figure out what you could have done better, what became a habit in that relationship that you don’t want to bring into the next one, and how you’re going to work on yourself in between these relationships to figure out how you can do that.
You delved into self-help books, which is now taking up a lot of your time because you started a self-help podcast. (Self-Help Junkie) The desire to not repeat mistakes really helps in your growth. I’m not saying that you didn’t make the same mistake two, three, four, five times, but each time you got a little bit better at it, and you didn’t beat yourself up over failing.
You reflected on it; you dug deeper as to why you did something.
You also moved countries every 2 to 3 years in your time after University, and this also really helped in your reflection and tracking of what you want to do because every physical location that you were in marked a chapter of your life.
One of the benefits of upending your life frequently was that you went to a country where you knew nobody else. This allowed you the freedom to start with a clean slate, rather than having people around you expect that you’re going to act a certain way because that’s how you acted 6 months or a year ago. Instead, you got to reflect on what you wanted to do and do it without any expectations from the people around you.
This one took you a while to figure out.
Being a serial monogamist, you would jump from one relationship to another, and it became a pattern. You had expectations of your partners; you wanted to spend time with them, to have them support you emotionally, mentally, and physically.
While this is all great because those are the best parts of a relationship, you also didn’t know how to be independent.
By many measures, you are independent; you move to different countries, cook for yourself, got yourself through school, and get new jobs. But your happiness often relied on the other person. If the other person wasn’t having a good day or if you guys were in a fight or there was friction in the relationship, this would completely change your mood.
Being alone helps you appreciate when your partner does things for you, but more importantly, it makes you the master of your own happiness. You need to figure out what makes you happy.
How do you spend your time? If being with your friends and being a good friend makes you happy and fulfilled, you should keep doing this even when you’re in a relationship. You should not rely on your partner to provide you with the social, mental, emotional benefits of friendship. That’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to you. Develop your hobbies. You are a very creative person now, but in relationships, you so often just adopted whatever they were interested in.
It doesn’t mean that you weren’t interested in it, but you did not take control; you didn’t actively choose it. You passively chose this, and it makes you start resenting the other person for not doing the thing that you wanted to do, even though you never told them.
Which is ridiculous; stop doing that.
Carve out time for your friends, carve out time for yourself, and don’t be afraid that this will hurt your partner. They will be happy that you are happy; they will be excited that you have passions of your own, and it makes you a more interesting person.
I’m going to mom you right now. You are 20 years old, and you think that you’re invincible. It’s hard to see into the future of what could happen to you because your experiences are so limited.
If it’s hard for you to picture, go read other people’s experiences.
When I say safety, I mean driving safely, having sex safely, and not drinking so much.
Oh my God, you drank so much.
Drinking is exciting because it’s something that you’re not allowed to do, and you have to be an adult before you do it. It’s incredibly handy because you’re nervous in social situations, and you’re constantly worried about what other people are thinking of you. So having a couple of drinks allows you to lose those inhibitions and be able to enjoy yourself.
However, alcohol is incredibly dangerous. It makes you make stupid decisions, it gets you into situations that you don’t want to be in, and honestly, it’s kind of expensive. This doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t drink; it is actually something that is enjoyable. But do it in moderation and do it with people who have your safety in mind.
If you need alcohol to approach a person because you’re feeling nervous, that’s not healthy, that’s not safe. If you don’t feel safe around that person, you should not be having sex with them. If you don’t feel loved and admired and safe, don’t have sex with them. It’s alright to feel nervous; it’s alright to feel giddy. But if you need alcohol to make that choice, you should not be making that choice.
Honesty is really important in this because if you’re hiding something from someone, be it your parents or your friends, there’s probably a reason why. Either you’re putting yourself in danger or you don’t like your choice and don’t want to face up to it.
I remember when I was early on in my relationships, sometimes I would hide it from my friends because I felt like they would judge me for the person that I’m dating. Because I personally didn’t think that they were good enough for me. It’s harsh but they were lacking things that I wanted in a partner. But I was still physically attracted to them and honestly loved the outside validation enough that I was in that relationship. Had I been honest with myself and those around me sooner, I would have realized that that’s not what I really wanted.
If I came to terms with that but still felt like I really enjoy being around this person and I would have been able to enjoy my relationship more for what it was. I would have been present and in the moment rather than worrying about what other people thought because I was doing it either way. May as well enjoy it to its fullest.
It wasn’t until I turned 30 that I figured out, I don’t need to be ashamed or deny myself because of what society thinks or has assigned as good or bad. I get to decide that for myself. And as long as I’m enjoying it and I’m not hurting anyone, it doesn’t matter.
It really doesn’t matter in the long run.
I’m 10 years out from the relationship you’re in right now, and I can tell you right now, I don’t talk to that person anymore.
And lastly, we’re all only acting with the information that we have, and as we experience more, we have more information to make better decisions. Being honest with your partner. This may mean that you hurt them, but denying them the opportunity to explain themselves or to understand why you’re making a decision is hurtful in its own right. And it hurts you because, again, you’re living a lie. You have to hide a piece of yourself.
That’s all I have for you! Only 5 pieces of advice to live by, much shorter than some of the other articles so it’s more likely that you remember some of it.
Good luck and enjoy the ride! You’ll figure out who you are and find a life that you love.
For all the times in
wakefulness, I think of you
my deepest desire is that
you meet me in my dreams.
Then, at least, I would know
how it feels to touch your skin or kiss
your lips.
Yet even in sleep, you elude me.
Every night, I take flight in search of
you only to find an empty sky.
In the morning, you ignite my
thoughts again, I view a sea of faces
in my daily life, but yours is
never there to find.
Like a ghost or illusion that
I cannot grasp or hold.
And so I must content myself with
the image I have of you inside my mind.
For all the times in
wakefulness, I think of you
my deepest desire is that
you meet me in my dreams.
Then, at least, I would know
how it feels to touch your skin or kiss
your lips.
Yet even in sleep, you elude me.
Every night, I take flight in search of
you only to find an empty sky.
In the morning, you ignite my
thoughts again, I view a sea of faces
in my daily life, but yours is
never there to find.
Like a ghost or illusion that
I cannot grasp or hold.
And so I must content myself with
the image I have of you inside my mind.
For all the times in
wakefulness, I think of you
my deepest desire is that
you meet me in my dreams.
Then, at least, I would know
how it feels to touch your skin or kiss
your lips.
Yet even in sleep, you elude me.
Every night, I take flight in search of
you only to find an empty sky.
In the morning, you ignite my
thoughts again, I view a sea of faces
in my daily life, but yours is
never there to find.
Like a ghost or illusion that
I cannot grasp or hold.
And so I must content myself with
the image I have of you inside my mind.
For all the times in
wakefulness, I think of you
my deepest desire is that
you meet me in my dreams.
Then, at least, I would know
how it feels to touch your skin or kiss
your lips.
Yet even in sleep, you elude me.
Every night, I take flight in search of
you only to find an empty sky.
In the morning, you ignite my
thoughts again, I view a sea of faces
in my daily life, but yours is
never there to find.
Like a ghost or illusion that
I cannot grasp or hold.
And so I must content myself with
the image I have of you inside my mind.
I awake to the sound of rushing water. I look at my husband to see if he hears it too. He looks back at me.
“What is that?” He asks.
We get out of bed and follow the sound to the bathroom down the hall. We stand, listening, our heads tilted like confused dogs.
“It sounds like it’s under the floor?”
“But I hear it in the kitchen too! Come here!”
I call a plumbing company and explain what is going on. The woman on the other end of the line is nice and tells me she’ll send someone right over.
I head to the kitchen and start making lunches for my children, when I hear my oldest in the noisy bathroom, vomiting. “Mom, I think I’m sick.”
”Just . . . go back to bed. Plumbers are coming.”
He says nothing, but turns and heads to his room, closing the door behind him.
My middle child has to be at school early so we hop in the minivan to head to the school in the dark. It feels stuffy, so I reach down and turn on the air conditioner. Nothing happens. I mess with it for a couple of minutes until my son says, “Mom! I’m going to be late!”
I pull out of the driveway and head down our street, trying not to notice the lack of air flowing through the vehicle. The windows began to fog over so I switch the knob to defrost. Again, nothing. I crack the windows to let in some air. My son immediately rolls his window back up. “I don’t like it.”
Once I’m back home, it’s time to get my youngest child ready for school. I stress her out telling her to get her stuff and get in the minivan because I need to get her to school and get back in time for the plumbers.
I drop her off, “Bye, Kiddo! Have a good day!” She glares at me as she gets out of the minivan and closes the door.
I hurry home and try to talk our pitbull/boxer mix into going into my room. He’s a guard dog and won’t be too friendly with the plumbers. He sits, looking at me, head tilted to the right. “Hey! I did that same thing earlier this morning,” I said. He just tilts his head to the left.
I grab treats and get his attention. He follows me down the hall to my room. I toss some treats on the bed and he jumps on, happily snatching up the treats. “Sorry, buddy,” I say as I close the bedroom door.
I head back to the living room and hear a knock. I kick some wrappers under the couch and toss pillows that have been knocked off, back onto chairs where they belong, before hurriedly answering the door.
I sit at my desk, and hope to get caught up on some content writing as the plumbers fix the issue.
“Um, ma’am? Has the plumbing always been like this? I mean, when you build a house, pipes travel in a certain direction but your pipes don’t go where they’re supposed to. I don’t know know where they go.”
I listen as he says they may have to bust up walls and concrete to fix the rushing water issue.
“I mean, I don’t know where the pipes are or where they go! I’m pretty sure the problem is in this smaller bathroom, but we’d have to tear it up to find the issue.”
He pauses. “We’re going to go make some calls. See what we can do without destroying your house.”
They leave.
I look at the clock. Its only 8:30.
On April 21, 2023, I participated in a boudoir/private room photo shoot. Anyone who knows me would be shocked to find out I did this. Honestly, I’m a little shocked I did it because it was so far out of my comfort zone, but to understand my “why,” I have to go back a couple years.
I had a baby in November 2020. Overall, I had a normal, easy pregnancy, but I was left with loose skin, lots of stretch marks, ab separation, and almost no belly button. I felt deformed. I lost all the pregnancy weight and then some almost immediately after giving birth, so I didn’t understand why I had a bulging belly. As I started to exercise again after giving birth, I naively thought that was all I needed to do to return to “normal,” but I quickly realized there was no going back to how I used to look.
This was hard to accept, and I was left disappointed for a couple reasons. First, I wasn’t prepared for my stomach to look the way it did after having a baby. Maybe that sounds silly, but I don’t think I had ever seen a stomach that looked like mine–not online, nor out in the world. I also didn’t know ab separation was possible. I had never heard of that before giving birth, and that made me angry. From my understanding, ab separation is common during and after pregnancy, so why does no one talk about it?! Even though I learned that it was common, I still felt alone. I personally didn’t know anyone who looked like me or experienced what I experienced, and it was isolating.
Second, for most of my life, I was known as fit, petite, skinny, etc. I was the one who could mysteriously eat whatever I wanted without gaining weight. I was the one who could wear double zero, extra skinny jeans and still fit into my clothes from high school after graduating from college. Sure, it bothered me sometimes when people made comments about my size or weight, but it became part of my identity. Who was I if I wasn’t the skinny one? Who was I if I could no longer button my old pants or wear form-fitting tops that showed my flat stomach? I was suddenly an alien in my own skin. I looked in the mirror but didn’t recognize the person I saw in front of me. Meanwhile, I was being haunted by other women (online, out in the world, and eventually in my own family) who miraculously fit back into their pre-pregnancy clothes within weeks or a couple months postpartum, who two, three, four kids later looked like they had never been pregnant and didn’t have any visible loose skin or stretch marks. I would also read articles or watch videos that talked about how women “bounce back” so quickly after pregnancy. The answer: they start out very fit and/or underweight and don’t gain more than the recommended amount of weight during their pregnancies. Guess what? I was fit, underweight, and did not gain the recommended amount of weight during my pregnancy (not by choice–I just had a hard time gaining weight). How could my stomach look so deformed? It didn’t make sense to me and left me more and more frustrated, angry, and disappointed, which took a major toll on my mental health. I felt broken.
Several months and lots of ab work later, I was finally able to fit back into regular, non-maternity/postpartum jeans. Of course, I had to search for jeans that were small enough through the hips and legs but big enough at the waist, as my bump had not (and still has not) totally gone away. Still, I felt a bit more myself when I could wear some of my old clothes. But just as I started to feel a little more human, I found out that a friend of mine had suddenly and very unexpectedly passed away. My mental health took a nosedive, and I was at the lowest point I had ever been. For as long as I had known her, my friend was someone who loved life and was always up for new adventures. She had a big personality and was always her friends’ and family’s biggest cheerleader. She loved everyone she met, and everyone loved her. What happened to her wasn’t fair, and it was just another thing that made no sense to me. I suddenly realized how little control I have over things, which was a hard concept for me to grasp.
It took a long time for me to begin to feel better, but as I tried to move forward, I started to think of how I wanted to live my life. I had learned a hard lesson that life is short and unpredictable. How did I want to spend my time? What was important to me? As I reflected, I quickly realized a couple things. One, I had been so miserable because my stomach didn’t look like it did pre-baby that I felt like I had not truly been present for the first couple years of my son’s life. I was so preoccupied with wanting my stomach to look a certain way, to fit back into my old jeans, that I was missing out on the most important thing in my life. Two, I have never been one to be sporadic, take chances, or try new things. So many times over the course of my life, I have put limitations on myself. I have said, “That’s not me!” or “I could never do that!” Oftentimes, I have worried so much about what others would think of me that no matter how badly I wanted to do something, I wouldn’t do it because I didn’t want to be judged. I decided that I didn’t want to live my life that way. As hard as it was, and still is, I tried to care a little less about the way my stomach looked and accept it for what it was. I also started to look for ways to stretch myself and get out of the box that I had been putting myself in for so long. I talked my way into a new, higher-paying position at work; I met my favorite band; and I found opportunities to speak up and not second-guess myself. It wasn’t always easy, but with each experience, I learned new things about myself; I was having fun while becoming a better version of myself.
As 2022 came to a close, I had this idea to do a boudoir photo shoot. It’s not something I had ever considered before, but I saw it as an opportunity to try something new, step out of my comfort zone, and celebrate this new body of mine. Throughout the planning process, I often had thoughts like “This is silly; I can’t do this.” and “This is going to be so awkward! Why am I doing this to myself?!” The week before the photoshoot, I was sick with COVID, and I thought it was a sign that I shouldn’t go through with it. But I charged forward, and it’s an experience I will carry with me forever (and probably do again sometime). I am usually pretty tightly wound and have a hard time relaxing, but throughout the shoot, I could feel myself letting go. Of course, when I changed into the bra and underwear outfit, I instinctively put my arms across my stomach. I had to tell myself that the point of the shoot was to be open, to embrace how I am in my current form. I also had to remind myself that the photographer and makeup artist were not judging me. They were there cheering me on every step of the way. I left the photoshoot feeling more alive than I had felt in the last couple years (and maybe ever). I felt free. I felt powerful. I felt like shouting, “This is me and I’m not apologizing for it!”
In the days following the photoshoot, I found myself constantly reflecting on the experience. I was reminded of how necessary it is to try new things. I have often shied away from new experiences out of fear of being judged, embarrassing myself, feeling uncomfortable, etc. But how will I know unless I try? Maybe the experience will actually be life changing. The experience also taught me to stop apologizing. Stop apologizing for the way I look. Stop apologizing for the way I am. Stop apologizing for the things I like. JUST STOP APOLOGIZING. A couple days after the photoshoot, I saw a quote on Facebook that said, “Never apologize for shining your brightest. The Moon does it all the time and we celebrate her.” I thought it perfectly summarized the way I was feeling.
About a month after the photoshoot, I had the opportunity to view my gallery. The meeting started with a slideshow of some of the photos. There was one of me in my bra and underwear lying back on a bed. I could see a hint of my loose skin and stretch marks, and I instantly felt myself tearing up. I saw a woman who was celebrating what her body had gone through. I saw a woman who wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable in front of strangers. I saw a woman who was finally embracing her postpartum body. And I was proud to be her.
Loving and embracing this new body of mine has been a process, and the frustration comes in waves. Some days I am able to acknowledge how hard I have worked and how much progress I have made. Other days, I still long for my pre-baby body. On days when I’m more bloated, I look down and see a more rounded belly than I did the day before, and I immediately think that I’ve somehow taken a step back. I have to remind myself that bloating is a normal part of being a woman. I get frustrated when I want to wear an older pair of pants but realize they aren’t comfortable anymore when buttoned, but I have to remind myself that it’s normal to outgrow clothes. It’s normal for bodies to change over time. It’s normal for our bodies to tell stories about what we’ve experienced. Mine tells the story of a woman who grew the sweetest little boy, who over the course of two and half years has made her want to become the best mother, wife, daughter, sister, aunt, and friend she can be. It tells a story of a woman who has persevered despite experiencing challenges postpartum. Through it all, I try to remind myself that I’m lucky. I, as well as my child, could have experienced any number of complications during pregnancy, childbirth, and postpartum. I could have had such severe ab separation that I required surgery to fix it. I could have never had the chance to experience pregnancy and childbirth. Around the time of the photoshoot, I came across a cropped photo of a woman showing her wrinkled postpartum stomach. She was holding a sign that said, “For every woman unhappy with her postpartum marks there is one wishing she had them.” Whenever I look at it, I can’t help but tear up. I may not look like I used to, but does that really matter at the end of the day? I look the way I look because I brought life into this world! That’s something only a fraction of people in the world can do, and I should be proud of what my body has accomplished.
The bell rings.
Rain hitting the windows.
A misty rain
Not obtrusive; just rain
On a Tuesday morning
Donuts in a case disappear one by one; reappearing as they disappear.
The television static; not a clear picture
Almost seemingly on purpose
A radio is playing; two people are speaking back and forth.
But the radio is not at a high volume.
The man at the counter is scanning the New York Times
A woman reaches the counter, hands shaking, holding a blue Gatorade and a bag of barbecue chips.
The man, wearing a pale blue sweatshirt and gold watch glistening on his wrist, notices the shaking hands; he pushes a button to his right.
A middle-aged woman appears from behind a swinging door; she places a brown paper bag on the counter.
She vanishes so quickly, it’s as if she was only an apparition.
“Chicken strips, biscuit, red beans and rice”
The woman, with the shaking hands, reaches into her pockets.
The man waves her off.
“Keep the chips and the drink too.”
The woman nods, grabs the food and walks into the rain-soaked streets.
The bell rings, more people moving in and out.
The woman looks back; notices a sign that she did not notice before
Extend life by giving hands.
The man, with the pale blue sweatshirt, tapping the register, as people come to the counter.
Rain hitting the woman’s jacket, she walks into the crowded sidewalks.
Life
In scenes
As women we hear that if a man wants you then you will know. That men make time for the things that they want. That a real man will be intentional about you and never leave you to wonder. But I’m here to say that is bullshit. Society positions women to believe that love is suppose to hit you like a ton of bricks and that it’s love at first sight. But that is the wrong message.
When I met the man that would eventually be my husband. He was attentive and seemed like he was so in tuned with his emotions. He was intentional and made it know that he wanted a future with me. Being the hopeless romantic I am, I just figured that I had finally found a great guy. That I was going to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after, that it was finally my turn to have a good life.
You hear the term Narcissist or Narcissistic Personality Disorder all the time now. But nine years ago it was hardly ever talked about. I didn’t know about the terms love-bombing or reactive abuse. I didn’t realize that there was a thing called coercive control. Triangulation. These are terms you learn after having your sanity questioned each and everyday.
I knew that I wasn’t being treated the best, but coming from a childhood filled of domestic violence, alcohol and drugged addicted parents, I didn’t have the best understanding of boundaries. My childhood made me a giver and a people pleaser. Perfect pickings for a narcissist.
The man that would eventually become my husband made it seem like I was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He told me so many beautiful things like he had prayed for his forever and God delivered you. He told me all about his childhood that he had been raped and that I was the only person he ever felt comfortable telling because my spirit was so wonderful. His time in the military and the three tours of duty he did.
Within weeks he told me he loved me and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. We knew that we wanted to get married and have two more kids together. I already had two and so did he.
Little by little, there was cracks in the foundation of the relationship. Things that didn’t add up, but I chalked it up to PTSD from the childhood rape and the war. Behavior that I made ok in my mind because I wanted to see the good in the person that I thought I wanted to spend my life with.
I moved across the country to build a life with this person. I thought I was happy. Not realizing that I was slowly becoming conditioned to accept subpar treatment. Becoming addicted to the highs and lows of such a toxic relationship thinking that my relationship was the best thing that ever happened to me when my gut kept telling me that something was wrong. I lived each day like I was walking on eggshells and like an elephant sat on my chest.
Even though my spirit was rejecting this man, my heart wanted to see the good in him. So I stayed. I thought my love could help him see that getting therapy and working on himself could set him free and lead us to living the life that he promised me.
I stayed through him flirting with other women, him not consistently working, him getting fired for sexual harassment. But nothing was as bad as when the discard came. A simple fight and my husband left me, our daughter and my older kids. Without a backwards glance, in a manner that was so brutal I couldn’t see anyway past it that to harm my own self.
Even after I got out the hospital my concern was to repair my marriage. I didn’t know what a trauma bond was but I quickly learned. I was so use to the fighting the highs and lows. The bouts of love-bombing and then the lows of the devaluation that accompanied it.
I felt crazy, wondering why my husband didn’t love me enough to fight for us. I went looking for answers because I never got a straight answer from him. So I checked phone bills and made contact with a number that kept calling and find out that my husband was in a full blown affair with a woman who he had around my child.
So I did some more digging and contacted the only person in his family that was willing to tell me the truth about my husband. That he had a horrible past of lying, he had lied about his military career. He had never finished basic training.
He had a past of indecent exposure. He had exposed himself at the job he worked with his ex wife at. He had a past of voyeurism and he had been inappropriate with members of his family and the rest of his family had covered it up.
I couldn’t believe it. I had married and had a baby with a monster. Someone who lies for sport and collects women to use, abuse and discard as he sees fit and I was his latest victim. He told me he had never loved me and he was only with me for convenience.
After experiencing what I was sure was the worst pain of my life, I went on a mission to understand what happened to me. And when I came across NPD I was sure that my husband was suffering from this disorder.
I knew that any hope I had of a successful marriage had been placed on hold because it was impossible with the person I was married to. If I wanted a successful marriage I had to leave my current one, go heal and try with someone else.
Part of me was mad and scared. Filled with hatred and anger because I didn’t deserve the things that had happened to me. I was painted to be this unsupportive, abusive wife and the whole time I was being set up to look like the crazy one.
I write this for you as you close the door and your heart lands in the toilet. I write this for you as you bundle yourself up in long sleeves so nobody will ask questions. I am writing this for you when you put your keys into the ignition and drive into the sunset. I write this for you as the rain falls and your tears shield the last memories. I write this for you when you walk into a building with white walls and say your goodbyes. I write this for you when you are standing in the dark and not seeing any light. I write this for you when you feel like you have no answers, only impending questions.
I didn’t write to add to a collection. I wrote this for you, so you can read it before you feel like you have no time.
Signed, me
She’s the kind of girl who is always fighting.
Fighting so hard with every weight of the world on her shoulders,
she sits in the dark, silently hoping for the day she will finally have enough strength
to stand on her own and walk away –
and lay down all those burdens that have kept her hidden underneath anxiety and fear.
She’s the kind of girl who is so kind and loving to all those around her,
never expecting anyone to repay her
but always hoping that someday someone will love her
so easily in the same way she fiercely loves others.
She’s the kind of girl who admires every color and hue in the brightest sunsets
and falls in love with the softest pastels of the wildflowers.
She sits among the flowers, with the warmth of the sun glowing on her skin.
She feels at peace there because that is where she is free.
She’s the kind of girl that is overwhelmed by every type of feeling,
until her heart is heavy and her mind in spiraling.
She feels so deeply every hurt of those around her
and every so often, she feels her own until it paralyzes her.
So she heals in the only way she knows how –
with a pen and her favorite journal.
She’s the kind of girl with every hope and dream –
That one day she’ll give light and hope to those who need it most,
that her books will be published,
that she will find healing
and help others heal too,
because she too knows what it feels like to be voiceless, lost and hurt.
She’s the kind of girl that always finds the light.
Even in the darkest nights, she keeps hoping –
because she’s the kind of girl that is always fighting.
Traveling by yourself as a woman isn’t always easy. Pictures on Instagram make it look perfect and fun, but real life isn’t always like that. There can be challenges that social media doesn’t show.
Society teaches us from an early age that it’s not safe for females to venture out on their own. Yet, I’ve found that traveling solo is one of the most rewarding and empowering things I’ve ever done.
Over the past few years, I’ve visited over 40 countries—all on my own. While those adventures were not without challenges, the lessons I learned were life-changing. Through navigating unfamiliar places alone, I gained confidence in myself, learned to trust my instincts, and discovered the joy of being fully present in each moment.
Traveling solo taught me to trust my instincts in a way I never had before. When you’re on your own in unfamiliar places, your gut is all you have to rely on.
The first time I went out after dark in Tbilisi, my senses were on high alert. I watched who was walking behind and towards me, stayed in well-lit areas, and kept a firm grip on my bag. After a few days exploring the city, I learned the spots where I felt comfortable and which areas gave me an uneasy vibe. My confidence grew with each day of navigating the bustling streets, and my instincts sharpened.
Traveling solo also taught me not to ignore warning signs when meeting new people. If someone gave me a bad feeling upon first interacting, I learned to keep interactions brief and move on.
Have you ever been around people and just kept yawning? Like you were tired or exhausted, or something inside was telling you that these people weren’t good for you and you needed to leave? That feeling of just wanting to get away – that’s what I’m talking about.
As a solo female, staying vigilant and listening to my gut instinct was key. My intuition was all I had to rely on, and traveling alone made me value and trust it like never before.
As a solo female traveler, I had to rely completely on myself. Everything from navigating foreign transit systems to budgeting funds fell on my shoulders alone. At first, this responsibility was terrifying. But with each challenge I overcame, my confidence grew.
I learned that I’m capable of handling difficult situations. When I missed a train in Hungary or a flight in Ukraine and had to figure out an alternative route, I stayed calm and solved the problem. After that, I felt ready to take on any travel mishap.
Travel has a way of teaching life lessons you can’t learn anywhere else. For me, discovering how strong, self-reliant, and courageous I could be was the greatest gift of my solo adventures.
When you travel solo, regardless of your gender, it allows you to slow down and notice the little details. When you’re with others, you tend to move at the pace of the group and overlook some of the subtle intricacies around you. But on my own, I could linger as long as I wanted and really soak in my surroundings.
One of my favorite things was people-watching at cafes. I’d sit for hours, observing the locals go about their daily lives. The old man in Italy who came in every morning and greeted everyone by name, the young couple nervously on their first date in Prague, the busy mother in Spain juggling coffee and her two kids. These little vignettes gave me a glimpse into the culture and rhythms of each place.
I also paid closer attention to architecture and design. The colorful doors in Tallinn, the vintage signs in Bucharest, the intricate stonework in Budapest—all of these details enriched my experience. Traveling solo, you have the freedom to wander without a fixed agenda, stumbling upon hidden gems around each corner.
The sounds, smells, tastes, sights, and textures in each city were heightened without the distraction of companions. My senses were on overdrive, imprinting vivid memories that have stayed with me. The fragrance of spices in the markets of Istanbul, the taste of fresh baguettes in Nice, the smell of fresh nature in Madeira—all of these sensory experiences were intensified when exploring on my own.
Traveling solo taught me the joy of immersing myself fully in each destination. I learned that slowing down and noticing the particulars, especially the little, seemingly insignificant details, gave me a deeper understanding of each place I visited. These small things I might have otherwise overlooked turned out to be the most meaningful parts of my journey.
One of the biggest lessons I learned was that being alone does not necessarily mean being lonely. At first, the thought of dining, exploring, or even just sitting by myself made me anxious. I wondered if I would feel out of place without a companion and if the experience would be less enjoyable.
As I embarked on my journey, I quickly found that traveling solo has its perks. I could do whatever I wanted without having to accommodate someone else’s preferences or schedule. If I felt like sleeping in, staying out late, or changing plans on a whim, I could. I didn’t have to wait for anyone or ask for input before making a decision. The flexibility and freedom were incredibly liberating.
More importantly, I learned to feel comfortable in my own company. I struck up conversations with people I met in restaurants, museums, and public places. I journaled about my experiences and observations. I FaceTimed with friends and family to share where I was. At times, I was content just sitting, people-watching, and soaking in the atmosphere. The more I did things by myself, the more my confidence grew.
Traveling independently taught me that you can experience life fully while still maintaining connections with others from afar. While companionship is wonderful, your happiness and fulfillment do not have to depend on the presence of friends or loved ones by your side. I gained a deeper appreciation for myself and my own abilities to navigate the world. The solo journey made me fall in love with myself.
After experiencing the highs and lows of solo travel as a woman, I can say with confidence that the rewards far outweigh any challenges. While there were certainly moments of discomfort and uncertainty, the lessons I learned about myself and the world are invaluable.
Pushing past my perceived limitations and embracing the unknown led to life-changing growth and transformation. Though the road ahead remains long, I now walk it as someone brave enough to wander alone.
More details of my travel experiences, recommendations, and thoughts on spirituality can be found on my website https://chi-nese.com/.
uma mulher estranha /a strange woman
num sobretudo branco /in a white coat
olhou-me toda a noite /stared at me all night
e empurrou-me na multidão /and shoved me in the crowd
eu creio que /I believe that
ela queria matar-me /she wanted to kill me
ou dar-me um beijo /or give me a kiss
oh mulher maravilhosa /oh wonderful woman
te quero dizer /I want to tell you
obrigada muito /thank you so much
sou muito grata a você /I am very grateful to you
por dar-me o amor /for giving me the love
da sua vida /of your life.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
It’s the question. It’s ingrained into our (American) brains from elementary school. What’s your goal? Who do you want to be?
I don’t know why we ask these questions to eight-year-olds. Little me took a guess: art teacher. Why did I say that? I don’t know. I suppose it was because I liked art class at the time.
The question comes up again. And again. And Again. In middle school, I said pharmacist because I knew they made money. It didn’t matter that I didn’t like math or science as long as I could earn a six-figure salary.
In 10th grade, we had to do career research papers. I realized I was good at (and liked) writing, so I chose “English teacher.”
I stuck with that until halfway through college, when I realized there was no way I could imagine myself doing that for ten years, let alone the rest of my career.
Not knowing what else I could use my skills for, I switched to an English major. Then, the question changed slightly: “How will you make money using your degree?”
No suggestions. No research papers. Nothing. I remember feeling confused and alone at the time. My professors said, “You need to find something to do until you become a published author.”
How do you tell them you have no interest in being a published author or poet? And, even if you did, how do you know what to do as a career? What’s out there for writers?
I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea copywriting was an actual career until someone came knocking. What do you want to be when you grow up?
Full disclosure: I still don’t know the answer. It’s not pretty, and it’s not something most people share online when trying to curate their brand.
Never waffle. Never wonder. Know what you want and go get it. If you aren’t sure what you want, you must keep searching. Recruiters are watching. Employers are watching. They are judging you.
Unfortunately, these ideas are just part of the curated reality that exists for us on social platforms, which can make those who don’t fit in feel alone. I’m sharing this because I’m sure I’m not the only person with these feelings.
I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I still don’t. Maybe there is no one answer, and we’re all pretending there is. There may be an answer for now and another for ten or fifteen years from now. For some of us, maybe the answer has nothing to do with job titles but more about our desired lifestyles and work preferences.
There is no right or wrong answer, though it feels like there is when you live in a society designed to make you “hustle” forever.
Knowing where to go for care when a sudden illness or minor injury pops up can make all the difference to your health. Because this is when you require quality urgent care, long wait times aren’t ideal. You need a place that will attend to you promptly, without much paperwork or huge bills. That’s exactly what you can expect from CommunityMed Care, the trusted urgent care in Mansfield that helps families avoid the long waits and sky-high bills of the emergency room. Here’s a look at why urgent care might be exactly what you need for immediate healthcare and why it works to keep Mansfield feeling great.
You wake up with a sore throat and a fever on a Saturday, and your primary care physician isn’t open for the weekend. The solution is urgent care. Urgent care clinics are built specifically for non-life-threatening medical conditions when your doctor isn’t available. These places can offer peace of mind and quick relief, getting you back on your feet again. Most urgent care locations are open for hours longer than traditional office hours, removing those long waits associated with traditional hospitals.
Emergency rooms are famous for having some major wait times. Urgent care facilities, however, are created for speedy return times. Most patients at urgent care locations can expect to see a physician in 30 minutes, with times often even considerably less than that. For anyone who’s running between work, home, and errands, this fast and effective solution is often the best. That’s why parents, professionals, and patients are choosing urgent care over long ER visits.
Let’s face it—healthcare isn’t cheap. Emergency room visits aren’t just time-consuming; they’re often expensive as well. With urgent care clinics like CommunityMed Care in Mansfield, you’ll be saving a lot on your healthcare costs while receiving the attention your health requires. Insurance co-pays are also less than for ER visits. So overall, it’s a pretty smart choice.
One of the greatest aspects of urgent care is the collection of services provided. Basically, you can think of urgent care as a “one-stop” shop for most non-life-threatening health concerns. From minor sprains and cuts to flu-like symptoms and infections, the list of services goes on and on. CommunityMed Care provides these services and more to Mansfield residents to effectively care for their needs quickly without the long wait of a typical doctor visit or ER visit—and all for much less time and money than those two traditional forms of healthcare would cost you.
In today’s day and age, we all need convenience. Greater convenience makes for a happier life, right? And urgent care centres provide just that. With locations near where you are and no need to schedule an appointment, you have options and very much-needed flexibility in your schedule to go when you can squeeze it in. CommunityMed Care is very convenient for families, local students, and busy professionals who can’t wait days for an appointment time that works for them. Plus, many urgent care facilities take several insurance plans to make healthcare expenses less of a burden for residents and to truly accommodate everyone needing medical care quickly and effectively.
Urgent care provides you with the care you need at any time. Now that you know urgent care is a faster, cheaper, and more convenient form of care and solution for all of life’s inconvenient health needs, remember CommunityMed Care facility, and give yourself peace of mind to know that they are here to assist you in your time of need!
Mental health is a thing that is very stigmatized in the Latinx community. From calling it non-sense to dismissing the effects through the power of solely prayer. The younger generations of Latines can’t help but feel misunderstood, alone, and silenced by a world that is already so cruel to our well being. When life circumstances happen, the intentions and practices of older generations dismal of mental heath struggles becomes more a trauma wound opened than people realize.
When we are all born, humans are born with love in their hearts. There is no such thing as hatred, evil, racism, stigmatism, discrimination, misogyny or any of the above. But as soon as we are old enough to comprehend a language, this is one of the many first things we are taught to do. We are taught to carry at least one hatred characteristic and then generational cruses that are more contagious than the flu that your mom makes “Sopa de pollo” for as an ‘apology’ instead of words or a hug.
However, despite the generational trauma we carry for the lack of expression we are given about our mental health struggles without it being overlooked. We must first forgive ourselves and realize that the younger and future generations have the power to break these generational curses. We have the power to stop uplifting traditions of hatred and of intolerance. Most importantly, we have the power to pull back to the one thing Humans were meant to do: love others. No matter who you are, what you do, or how you feel. We are supposed to be loving of others rather than intolerant of others when it’s convenient for us.
Our mental health struggles shouldn’t be looked over in society as life is hard enough. This is why as a Latinx college student who struggles with mental health, I want to help others in giving them tips on how to I’ve helped manage the struggles of mental health. As a society and future generation we should learn how to take care of ourselves for our well-being and help others feel seen as well.
FOR OTHERS:
For yourself:
Sincerly, Nati
My brother told me, “I think you are in your doña era,” as I placed my new snake plant on my mantle and talked about checking my home warranty paperwork in my “señora” binders that live under my counter. A doña or a senõra is defined as a “lady or a gentlewoman.” It is used in place of Ms. or Mrs., and is a sign of respect and used regularly with our elders. In a more nuanced way, we use it to show respect to women, who are the matriarchs of their family. In essence, my brother was telling me that I am in my assertive, self-care era and enjoy taking care of my home and family, but in a Latina way.
Signs that you may also be in your doña era include you are always cold, you wear a nightgown to sleep, never forget to do your skin care routine, and you have your favorite cleaning products. Moving into your “doña” era means you have unapologetically began putting yourself first, allowing you to flourish and present your most authentic and peaceful self to and for the people and things that matter to you.
Self-care is often thrown around loosely these days and often associated simply with bubble baths and pedicures. I want to venture out to say that self-care and living your best “señora” life is actually living a life you enjoy and thrive in, and maybe bubble baths is part of that, but only a small part of it.
First and foremost, it is crucial to understand your values and how you wish to engage with the world. You can ask yourself questions such as, “What holds significance for me?” or “What activities make me feel truly alive?” If it’s hard to answer these questions, look at the people in your life and observe how they live out their values.
After you discover and explore this concept, the next step is to figure out how to implement these things into your life consistently (notice the word here is consistently and not the word perfectly). Ask yourself, “How can I live out these values in my day-to-day existence?”
Let me walk you through an example. I value being able to take care of my home. As a result, I created my “señora” binders to keep all my important documents like my home warranty, car insurance, and appliance manuals. I also have a few favorite house products in multiple places in my home to make cleaning easy. Another example is I love entertaining and welcoming people into my home. As a result, I collect white serving dishes, ensuring an intentional and beautiful presentation, and have enough place settings for both my and my husband’s families when we opt for real dishware instead of disposable.
My doña era also encompasses routines and rhythms that promote a positive sense of well-being, such as a simple skincare routine, slow Sunday mornings with my husband, and cute matching pajama sets. Importantly, it is not any one individual element that defines my self-care routine, but rather the combination of these elements that allows me to aggressively and unapologetically enjoy my life and serve those around me without resentment or bitterness.
These practices also help me feel more connected to my culture, my family and my ancestors. I am reminded of the “doñas” in my own life, who were never shy to make that cafecito in the middle of the day, danced as they cleaned on Saturday mornings, and cook for everyone who needed a warm meal. I also think of the “dons” in my life like my sweet dad who wakes up early every morning to make coffee for my mom and who always carried a “hanky” in his pocket. I also think of those who didn’t embrace their doña era, and the things they lacked as a result.
As Latinas, our “doña” era is not just about our present and future but about our past. It is the interweaving of our story with the generation of women who came before us, who showed up for themselves and their community. It is the passing down of stories and life through rhythms and routines and acts of self-care and boundaries. It will be part of what we pass down to our daughters and nieces and mentees. It is teaching them that they are worth the nice pajamas, setting boundaries with those who don’t treat them well, and their partner should have a hanky for them in case of tears or a runny nose.
Living in my doña era means authentically embracing and nurturing myself, understanding that self-care encompasses various aspects of my life and finding joy in the process. Through this journey, I aim to cultivate a fulfilling and balanced existence that aligns with my values and brings joy to both myself and those around me. I don’t always get it right, but I consistently strive to make self-care a priority, knowing that some seasons will be easier than others.
I invite you to explore how you can also embrace your doña era. Maybe you don’t feel old enough or like you have it all figured out yet, and that’s okay. Begin by reflecting on the doñas in your life and one little thing you admire that they do to take care of themselves.
By observing and adopting even a small aspect of their self-care practices, you can begin your own journey into your doña era. It’s not about getting it right, but discovering how you can cultivate a life of joy, fulfillment and peace. As you begin this process, think about the person you dream of being and allow the person to begin to show up in your life As you embark on this path, be patient with yourself and allow the process to unfold naturally. Embrace your doña era with open arms, and let it guide you towards a life that radiates self-care and authenticity.