Ode to my best friend: I'm sorry & I love you.

“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.” – Lewis B. Smedes

They say that the only thing guaranteed I life is death, but that’s not true. There are other things that are guaranteed to happen and one of those things is that people are going to hurt you. When people are an intricate part of your life they will hurt you. Some of these people will hurt you intentionally, others with be unintentional. Some will do so absentmindedly, out of selfishness and other’s because they just don’t care. Some don’t realize that they hurt you and others don’t know how to accept that they hurt you. You in turn will hurt people too. It is just the circle of life.

In the last several months, I have been faced with a ton of hurt. Some done on to me and others I have done on to other people and to myself. Recently, though I took a huge step towards forgiving someone very important in my life and it made me want to share with you all just how important forgiveness really is.

I have always said that I have been a “forgiving” person. Looking back on it I don’t know if that is really true. I don’t know if it was actual forgiveness I was giving people or if I was just tolerating shit. It may have been a little bit of both. I do however strongly believe that forgiveness is a very important aspect of moving forward in life, growing emotionally and shows strong maturity. My mom and I have this conversation all the time, in where she tells me she wishes she could be more like me, because of my forgiving ways, since she will hold a grudge until she dies. Like I constantly tell my mom, holding anger and resentment against and towards any one does not harm them, it harms you. I can’t walk around with that level of stress. I gotta let shit go. This does not mean every one you chose to forgive needs to stay in your life, some people can be forgiven and forgotten. But, when you decide to forgive and rebuild, I believe when it is done genuinely, beautiful relationships can flourish.

Anyway I’m sure ya’ll are tired of all that cliché stuff and you’re all sitting there like get to the point Ariel, what’s this blog about? Here it is…Three years ago, I lost my best friend. Just when I needed her the most, when my life was falling apart and when I was at rock bottom, she was gone. It was September 5th and I remember looking around at Aubrey’s funeral she wasn’t there. No text, no call. I was so upset I deleted her off social media, deleted her phone number and for the next three years we never spoke again.

Needless to say she hurt me really bad. Like, to the core. You see it’s very important for you all to know she and I were like one person. We had this ridiculous connection. She’s always felt like my soul mate. So when I needed her the most why wasn’t she there? She had her reasons, as most people do for any decision they make. You may not agree with her reasons, I may not agree with her reasons and at this point, she may not agree with her reasons and/or decision but in the moment it is what felt right for her. At this point in my life, in practicing peace and mindfulness I have learned that it is important to meet people where they’re at, and that’s where she was at in her life in September 2015.

Clearly, the very first emotion I felt was anger. Like is this chick (well not that nicely, but this is a PG blog) serious? I waited for the first couple of days to pass by to hear from her and crickets. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. We share family in common she and I. Her cousin married my cousin (completely by coincidence) and they had two children. One she baptized, the other I did, and still we never crossed paths. I will admit I purposely avoided attending their functions not to run into her. She came up in conversation with my friends, my family members and of course with our mutual people. I heard what they shared of her version of why she was absent and I just wasn’t with it. It just didn’t make sense to me, but looking back I just wasn’t ready to even hear her version. I truly felt like her feelings weren’t valid and mine mattered more. I can be very selfish that way sometimes in prioritizing whose feelings should hold more weight and value. We’re all flawed, I’m working on it. We had mutual friends on social media and those I introduced to her I made them unfollow her, because I didn’t want to see anything pop up and bring about the anger in me again. But that anger turned into hurt and sadness and then a loneliness I didn’t realize was possible.

I lost my children, their dad, myself, so she was nothing right? Easy letting that go I told myself, especially when I put 100% of the blame on her. But it wasn’t as easy as I thought. Often times when a memory would come up on my Facebook I would check her page to see how her son was growing and what other things were going on in her life. I knew when she graduated College and I saw her 30^th birthday photos. I said to myself, I’m proud of her for pushing through and many times I felt jealousy of the people around her that they were enjoying her and I wasn’t. I knew she was working in the field of Child Welfare and I even would ask her co-workers who we had mutual cases with about her. I thought about sending her messages, especially for her birthday and would stop myself. I knew I missed her but the anger didn’t allow me to move forward and again my entitled self, felt like it was her responsibility to come to me. I was stuck in this almost pity state of “woe is me” because she hurt me. Truth is we both played a role in why this carried on so long.

One day, I’m minding my business and trying to rack up on my OT money and offered to assist my co-worker on a removal. I saw her talking with the Case planner and said to her “I had a good friend named Stephanie with that last name before that’s so funny” and thought to myself there’s no way and put it out my mind quickly. An hour later we’re at the home and she calls that same Case Planner and puts her on speaker. I heard her voice and my stomach fell into my ass. I was like “That’s Stephanie.” Stephanie heard me and said “who is that?” My co-worker replied “my co-worker Ms. Anderson.” Stephanie replied hey and that was that. So after everything in the car I turned to my co-worker who is actually my friend in real life and tell her with tears in my eyes what had happened with Stephanie and me. I even called my then boyfriend and told him that I heard her voice and I missed my friend. He says to me okay so call her. Nah fuck that bitch (whoops, so much for PG), still my pride was in the way. A few days later, we’re at court and this was the first time I saw her. She saw me and I stood in front of her talking to my friend/co-worker and still didn’t say a word to her. I felt the tension, I felt the discomfort and I felt the sadness from her with wanting to reach out to me, yet neither of us did anything. I still had an attitude and have this ability to make uncomfortable situations even more uncomfortable. Another flaw…

Fast forward about 8 months later, I’m at a new job and so is she. Her new job, is my old job. I kept thinking what would have happened had I stayed just a few months longer and saw her at work. I’ve actually put A LOT of thought in to this and honestly I would have died inside. I want to believe that I wouldn’t have made it uncomfortable for either one of us at work, but I don’t know if I would’ve been that mature. I’ve asked about her with co-workers I keep in touch with and I’ve heard she asked about me. This was dragging on too long and I often wondered what it was going to take for one of us to break the silence.

Recently, about six weeks ago my Godson’s mother and I are texting and she randomly tells me “Stephanie has told me she misses you, but she’s afraid of texting you because she’s afraid you’ll reject her.” I rolled my eyes because that’s what I do my attitude is atrocious sometimes but it took me less than a minute to realize that I was going to make the first move and end this silent war because I missed my other half. I asked for her number and sent the text…” Hi Stephanie…” to be honest I didn’t expect a reply so quickly and yet twenty seconds later she replied “Hey.” If I know anything about her, she cried as soon as her phone vibrated just as I did when she replied. She and I picked up right where things had left off. We spent that entire day catching up, talking, laughing and apologizing to one another, repeatedly. I promise you all, I felt like I lost 20 lbs. Harboring resentment is extremely heavy. The reason why I decided to make the first move to text her was because I realized regardless of what she was going to say to me, I had already forgiven her. I did not need to hear her explanation, although she felt like she needed to explain it to me. I even told her it’s okay, it’s okay and she was like sis, just let me tell you this… Ya’ll know how I feel about details, not really necessary but let’s just say she genuinely and from her heart expressed her remorse, accepted her responsibility and humbly asked me to forgive her.

I recently read an article on Forgiveness that truly helped me to be able to make this step. For starters this summer has been a shit show and I have been so overwhelmed and going through so many changes I needed my friend. Secondly, the resentment I was harboring was related to Aubrey and I have been trying so hard to let go of the bad feelings I have towards other people because I feel stuck in this turmoil and whirlwind of anger and it’s just plain unhealthy FOR ME. Thirdly, I am trying to mature. Let’s do thirty differently. So I went through four steps to find forgiveness and accept her back in my life.

Step One: Forgive Yourself.

I needed to forgive myself for several things in this situation to move forward. In order to do that I needed to re-evaluate my role in this and honestly accept my responsibility. Just because she was the one who made the obvious and tangible decision that led to the demise of our friendship I was not free of guilt. I could have easily hashed it out with her immediately. I could have told her how I felt and opened the lines of communication with her. I didn’t do that. My pride and my entitlement that I felt like SHE was the one who messed up therefore SHE needed to come to me held me back from communicating with my best friend. We were better than that and I failed us too. I had to sit down and forgive myself for my poor choices over the last three years with harboring anger, committing to poor communication, feeling entitled to my feelings and passing judgment against her for her choice to not be there when I needed her.

Step Two: Forgive the other person.

I told you guys earlier that Steph and I were like soulmates (this is actually her name in my phone) and she and I were one person, so because of this is why I felt like she NEEDED to be there. I didn’t even consider that because of this she couldn’t be there. The pain I was feeling was heavy for me AND heavy for her. She really did not know how to begin to digest my pain and how to be my friend. It may sound like an excuse, and most people won’t understand this but this is where she was at. In order, for me to truly forgive her I needed to be empathetic and understand that we don’t always respond the same to trauma, and the truth is we will all make decision in our lives that make us look back and say “damn, I messed up.” After talking to her I knew she was remorseful and that she understood the weight and damage of her decision. She had been punishing herself enough so who was I to continue to badger her for a bad choice like I was free of bad decisions and free from hurting people. Get off your high horse Ariel. We are all human and make mistakes.

Step Three: Trust yourself.

This was a step I didn’t realize that I needed to do, but it was super crucial in moving forward. I had to trust myself that I was going to be genuine in letting go of my feelings of hurt, anger and give her an honest chance at rekindling our friendship. I could say “I forgive you” but if I’m not being proactive and I constantly hold this over her head, then I’m not really forgiving her. I needed to trust myself in this decision to forgive, that I was going to give it my all AND I was going to be a good friend moving forward to her by being a better version of myself and owning my responsibility.

Step Four: Trust the other person.

This was the hardest thing to do. When someone caused you hurt and pain, it is because they have broken your trust. In moving forward, I had to trust that she had learned from this mistake, trust that she would not make this mistake again and trust that should she make any mistakes in the future she will respond differently and make any and all efforts to fix it immediately. This is so hard because the truth is there is no guarantee that trust won’t be broken in the future. But, trust is given in the hopes that it will be nurtured, appreciated and reciprocated. 

These four steps are important to apply to any one in your life with whom you are considering forgiving and working on rebuilding with. Nobody is free of guilt, hurt and pain. Nobody is perfect, we will all make mistakes and we all will have to ask for forgiveness at some point. Forgiveness is an opportunity to learn humility, responsibility, growth, acceptance, empathy and most importantly to nourish love. There is not one person whom we love, who will not hurt you, the beauty in love is the ability to repair and rebuild.

Ultimately for me and Stephanie it comes down to this… I got my best friend back. Truly, completely and wholeheartedly. I feel like I filled a void that had been missing for years. I am so happy that she’s back and that this time we’re going to do things so much better. Stephanie, my dear, I promise to do everything in the future to make sure you never leave again. I’m sorry and I love you.

"Ariel, cannot be trusted."

“I’m crashing. My cup has runneth over. I need a break.” Monday night, these were the words I uttered to myself as I walked out of work. I had a patient who almost made me snap (a shitload of countertransference there) and I thought, okay Ariel it’s time to check out. In her defense she didn’t do anything but be honest and answer my questions. In my defense, I was not in a good mental space and the snap was coming very soon. It was an intake, and she expressed that she was having non-stop thoughts in which she couldn’t control. She recently gave birth and has been obsessing over the idea that her son could die. I wanted to tell her “You should obsess over this. My daughter’s dead and I never even considered that happening, why wouldn’t it happen to you?” Of course I didn’t say that but just the mere fact that I wanted to, was enough. I needed a break.

These last several months have been so emotionally and physically draining for me and it was all finally catching up to me. Working three jobs six days a week, hustling to save as much money as possible to move, trying to process a break up, Jennessi being in Puerto Rico and me having no communication with her despite trying every single day, Aubrey’s deposition and finding out just how negligent the hospital was in leading up to her death, me not doing anything for myself this summer but being present at everyone else’s activities and events, and listening to people’s issues day in and day out not only at work but in my personal life, all while never complaining and never saying no to anyone -- I was fucking TIRED. See what I did there? That long ass run on sentence where when you read it, you almost can’t catch your breath before it ends? That’s exactly how my life has felt these last two and a half months, like I just kept going and couldn’t catch my breath. I decided I needed a day of solitude because I just wanted to be able to breathe.

In all honesty, I am a thirty year old woman and I do not owe any one any explanations with how I decide to spend my days and my time however; I thought I was being responsible when I texted my sister “I’m calling out tomorrow I need a day to be alone.” She even offered me her house and I declined. I got home and my dad could see the stress on my face. He asked me “Today’s a bad day?” and I told him the same thing “I’m calling out I need to have a day to myself, to regroup” in which he replied, okay, enjoy. Kissed me on my forehead and I went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning early in the morning, jumped in the shower, got dressed and decided to start my ME day early on. I turned off my phone, mapped out what I wanted to do that day and I was excited to disconnect from the world. Typically, my phone rings non-fucking-stop, every single day between emails, group chats, DM’s, FB messages, text messages, phone calls and social media notifications and I just didn’t want to deal with anyone else but myself that day. I made the decision that my phone was going to stay off and for good reason, I did say I wanted to be alone, right? I would have never even thought that a fucking circus act would ensue from this.

I don’t know who started what, but I do know the end result. MASS HYSTERIA. I promise ya’ll, just reliving this is causing me intense anxiety because I cannot even begin to believe that this bullshit even happened and that the people closest to me orchestrated this mess. My friends and family realized my phone was off and thought it would be smart to rile one another up. Long story being long, people were dispatched my NEW APARTMENT where I just got the keys to six days ago, reported me “missing” to security and had them intrusively open my door to not find me there. Phone calls were made to my job, to my ex-boyfriend, they even showed up at his house. I had 10 voice mails and over 35 text messages. It was 3:30pm and a fucking search party was sent out for me.

When I finally realized what the fuck was going on I lost my entire mind. DIDN’T I SPECIFICALLY SAY THAT I NEEDED TIME ALONE? I had a breakdown and cried for about the next 6 hours continuously.

See before you all jump to their defense and tell me that it was done out of love and concern I’m going to tell you this: I have considered that and guess what? Still does not make what happened okay, nor does it justify anyone’s actions. Remember a few paragraphs ago where I said I notified two people? One of who was the ring leader in this circus act. That was more than I needed to do. I am not responsible for the lack of understanding of what “alone time” meant to them nor the lack of communication amongst everyone who participated in this shit show.

Since this blog is about my perspective, let me explain why their actions upset me so much. Everything and everyone I was trying to escape just showed how needy and dependent they are with me, my time and attention, and just made me feel like no matter what I do to have me time, they will always track me down and find me. Their actions were intrusive by invading my personal space and privacy. But the icing on the cake was the explanation “well, we did what we did because we were worried.” I have asked repeatedly “what is there to worry about?” everyone has told me the same thing- “well we know the timing and you being stressed so we worry.” Okay, I get it, August 31^st is this week and we all know that is Aubrey’s death anniversary, so naturally my stress, anxiety and overall emotions are high. Wouldn’t this mean I need time to process? Why is this a cause to worry? Their actions and their worry translated to me as “We don’t trust you to deal with your grief and emotions alone and you need to be monitored.” My next question is, when over the last three years have I ever shown signs of wanting to harm or hurt myself? When have I ever been a cause to worry? And when I was at my breaking point haven’t I always sought professional help?

What they don’t realize is, they took away from my grieving process by projecting their own fears and concerns on to me and negating my ability to cope. So in case you are all wondering why I reacted to negatively to what you all did to me this week it is because you all successfully stole my progression and in turn, pushed me back down the slippery slope I had tried so hard to climb off of by simply telling me “You cannot be trusted.”

I know this was not the intention, but this is how it was received. And quite honestly, this isn’t about anyone else BUT ME, so my impression is really the only one that matters. In being made to feel like I cannot be trusted to grieve, it also implies that for the rest of my process I will be vigilantly watched, my actions dissected and be a cause of worry for people. This is the problem with people when we see someone else go through something we don’t understand. We judge, we label and we assume. I have been labeled as the vulnerable person who’s gone through the unspeakable and so therefore I am so fragile and delicate to the point that now everyone around me, pities me. My grief journey has now been diminished to pity.

Since then, my parents have profusely apologized to me, and so have some of my friends. But I don’t believe they really understood what they took away from me. My opportunity for peace. I have been asked to consider the perspective of others and isn’t that what I do every day? I consider so many other people day in and day out that I don’t ever consider me. I give so much and never give to myself. I wanted one day to just be the focal point in my own life and to focus on my own needs. So often people will tell me “you work too much,” “you need to be selfish and stop doing everything for everyone,” “you need to have time for yourself.” And yet with the way this day transpired, these same people told me “do those things, but under our conditions and in a matter in which we feel comfortable.” I literally got text messages that said “I’m glad you’re okay but don’t ever do that again,” “I don’t care what you think I would do this all over again,” and my personal favorite "you are not allowed to turn your phone off." How dare people tell me what I can and cannot do in my self-care and that my feelings are invalid because theirs were more important.

I am truly having a hard time in even accepting that this happened, because I have sat and thought about it for the last 48 hours and I honestly keep coming to the same conclusion “I am not to be trusted with how I cope and process.” I am overwhelmed. And one thing is for sure, I am very vocal about my feelings, vocal about my experiences and vocal about when I have had enough. I just cannot believe that the very people who depend on me daily to be responsible and reliable do not trust me to be that to myself, when that was the very intention I tried to execute.

My anxiety is now on maximum overload. I am intensely hurt by the people closest to me and now I feel like I need to climb back into my shell and continue the exhausting façade of everything is going just great. Ariel is not allowed to take a break, Ariel is not allowed to need space and time, and Ariel is not allowed to be overwhelmed because in everyone’s eyes Ariel is “the strongest person we know.” Yet, when the strong show signs of weakness, we cannot trust their judgment to help themselves. You guys have no idea what dents you caused in my mental health and well-being.  

I slept the next day for 14 hours. That’s how real my exhaustion was. I barely sleep 5hrs a night on a daily basis. This was three days’ worth of sleep. Today, I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to interact with people and I do not care to hear any more I’m sorry, from anyone. People have said to me “let this be a lesson to both sides,” but no. I didn’t need a lesson and looking back I would not have done anything differently. I needed a fucking break. I still do. I need a day where it isn’t about anyone else BUT ME.

To those of you who were participants and to those of you who are reading, let this resonate with you and be a lesson of listening and empathy. Everything, is not always about you. We need to listen when our loved ones tell us what they need either verbally or by their actions. Sometimes, being supportive means respecting boundaries, respecting personal space, respecting people’s decisions and putting yourself in their shoes in understanding that we ALL need a moment to regroup. You are not the driver of someone else’s car. You cannot always steer the wheels for them, or control which way they are going. We need to trust the people we love will make the right decisions, and if they don’t, you then decide how to move forward from there. Jumping to conclusions, smothering and controlling another person’s process will backfire. And when the trust is gone, there is usually no turning back.

Dear August...

Dear August, I hate to love you.

I didn’t want to write this month to be honest. Well, that’s not true. I always want to write, I just didn’t think I could get through writing this month. I have nothing positive to say. This isn’t one of those posts that will have some Aha moment or some great lesson learned. Fortunately for me, writing is my therapy. Unfortunately for me, writing about my most painful experiences isn’t always as therapeutic as I would hope. Some of these things I have spoken a lot about, others I have not. Regardless of what I share, what remains constant in writing these posts is that putting words on paper make my experiences more real. There’s no escaping it if it’s written down for the world to see. You know what they say, if it’s not documented, it didn’t happen.

As a fun fact, I used to journal all of the time. Like I said, this was my Therapy. My last writing project before this blog, began March 10^th, 2015 when I found out I was pregnant. I decided I was going to keep journals for Baby Cruz throughout their life and on their 18^th birthday give my baby all of my journals, so they can relive their childhood through my eyes. This project ended when I stopped writing that August. Now, here I am three years later in August trying to formulate all of my thoughts to work on a new writing project. This is the ultimate test of strength for me. I’ve been staring at this blank canvas for six days. Every time I decide to write, it’s blank. Since August 1^st, I’ve been consumed with what I was going to write about and how writing this month it just too painful. So here I am-pushing myself beyond my limits.

Before I decided to write today I had some time in between appointments and while being alone in my office, I decided to try to clear my mind. I closed my eyes, counted backwards from ten, took a deep breath and left my eyes closed for about sixty seconds. In those 60 seconds I had saw myself free falling down the rabbit hole, into complete darkness with no end in sight. Although the silence in my room was deafening, with my eyes closed I could hear myself screaming even though no one else could. I covered my ears and lowered my head as if that would make the noise stop. My palms were sweaty, my throat was closing and my stomach felt like it was floating. The realization that I could not escape my thoughts, clear my mind or change my negative feelings couldn’t have been clearer to me than it was in that one minute.

The truth is, for the rest of my life August will be the most anticipated and dreaded month of the year for me. It’s only been three years and I have been consumed with the thought of how many more years are left. August played this awful, evil trick on me. August made me come alive and then killed me. August gave me everything I ever wanted then stole my light, my dreams, my future and my heart and soul. August will forever be embedded in my heart as the strongest intensity of emotions I will ever feel throughout my physical life.

Dear August, I fell in love.

August 17^th, 2015 was the happiest yet scariest day of my life. Although I had already been a mom for seven years, this was my first time giving birth. Add a traumatic birthing experience to that and I was literally mortified. I went into labor at approximately 2am. I had already been hospitalized for three days prior to stop labor, but Aubrey was coming and there was no stopping it this time. When that first contraction came I knew, today’s the day she’s coming. I felt like I had just been rear ended. That’s the best way to describe the shock and impact that first contraction brought me. I tried to self-soothe for about the next hour. I made myself as comfortable as I could in the hospital bed, started watching TV and I even ate a donut for comfort. I kept telling myself, we got this. I knew in that moment there was nothing she and I couldn’t get through together. About an hour later the contractions are more intense and I call the nurse. She tells me I wasn’t in labor because the contractions were not registering on the fetal monitor. I would later learn that the reason for this was because my uterus was too small for the machine to pick them up. So the nurse proceeds to tell me my pain was from dehydration and she hooks me up to an IV. I knew my body though, I was hospitalized before for dehydration with this pregnancy. This wasn’t it. So I forced myself to take a nap and I let this know-it-all do “her job. “

6:30am I literally cannot take it anymore. I’m screaming to the nurse to get her ass in here and do something. Again she argues with me that I was not in labor. I’m like listen lady get me a fucking doctor now. And so she does, because who’s going to keep going against a pregnant woman in pain? Well, well, well… I beg the doctor to just appease me and do a cervical check because I kept feeling like Aubrey was kicking my vagina. And what happened next? I’m being rushed into labor and delivery from antepartum and everyone is screaming and they’re literally running me down the hallway in my gurney. I’m freaking out. WTF is going on? Where are we going? What’s wrong with Aubrey? One nurse comes to me and says listen honey here’s my phone, call your birth partner, we’re having the baby today.

I thought I was going to shit myself from my nerves. Was I really going to give birth? So many thoughts ran through my head. So many questions. Was I ready? Was she ready? Was I going to be a good mom? The doctor came back and apologized for scaring the shit out of me and explains, that during that cervical check, she grabbed Aubrey’s foot. Aubrey was slipping out and was breech. We were going in for an emergency c-section. I was devastated. I wasn’t going to be pushing my baby out? I felt robbed in that moment of the experience of becoming a mother, but I only wanted to best outcome for Aubrey since there were so many more trivial things to consider. This was only the beginning to my being robbed, yet this was out of everyone’s control.

9:40am Aubrey Brielle Cruz was born. 1lb 12oz, 13 inches long, 26 weeks 4 days gestation. My micro-preemie. My beauty. My life. My love. My everything.

I remember being in so much physical pain after that c-section I couldn’t even breathe. I literally thought I was never going to feel any better and I couldn’t fathom how people do this multiple times. I couldn’t feel my legs, I thought no bullshit that I was paralyzed. But the joy, happiness and love that filled my heart made me forget all that pain and I felt like I could run if I needed too. All I wanted to do was get out of the bed and go straight to the NICU. I couldn’t do that of course, I mean well I could but the nurses and doctors wouldn’t let me. Trust me I tried. I kicked and screamed and nagged to see her, but the answer was still no. Everyone else met Aubrey before me. It took me 36 hours to see her. My anxiety was killing me. I couldn’t wait to just connect with her and see this perfect baby girl I brought into the world. My parents, sister and her dad would come into my room to tell me what she looked like, show me pictures and give me updates on her. This just wasn’t enough for me. I needed to be with her and I thought the next day couldn’t come soon enough.

Surprisingly, my favorite part of the day she was born was filling out her birth certificate. My name was registered as MOM. Ya’ll don’t even know how much I prayed to be able to say that. SO many doctors told me that would never happen and here it was. Aubrey and I did the impossible. I remember telling her dad profusely thank you and I love you that day. I know you guys have all read about the abusive relationship I was in with him and how during my pregnancy he continued to spiral and battle with his own demons; but one thing that was for sure, the day she was born was the happiest day of our lives. He and I had been through so much and when we conceived her we did so out of love and hope. I finally had my love baby here with me. Regardless of what has happened between us, I will always love him and appreciate him for giving me Aubrey. That is one thing no one will ever change. He may have done so many things wrong, but Aubrey was the one thing he absolutely did right. And so, for that I am forever grateful.

The next 14 days were the happiest days of my life. I would sit in that NICU for hours and hours on end. I would read to her, help change her diapers, tell her all the dreams I had for her, how perfect life was going to be and reminded her every moment of the day just how much she was loved. She was the smallest baby in the NICU, but also one of the healthiest micro-preemies to have ever entered the room. I was just so proud of my fighter. Every passing day, she beat another odd. Night time was the hardest for this NICU mom. Going home after you’ve given birth with no baby is the weirdest feeling in the world. It’s almost like did this really happen? I know I’m pumping breast milk every 3 hours and this c-section incision hurts like hell, but my baby isn’t here. I would call the NICU at all hours of the night. There was never anything really new other than “Mommy, she’s doing great.” That’s all I needed to know. I was patient because we had a lifetime to spend together. She was worth the wait.

August 30^th, 2015 goes down in history as the second best day of my life. It was Jennessi’s 7^th birthday and it was the first day I was able to hold Aubrey skin to skin. I was the happiest mom in the world. My girls were growing beautifully. They were happy and healthy and I got to touch, kiss, smell, feel and soak Aubrey in. I never wanted to put her down. My sister was with me and took the best pictures of her and me. I was just in awe of her beauty and her tenacity. I swear every moment I looked at her I fell deeper in love. I left the NICU that evening on cloud 9. Aubrey was perfection. That night I got a call from the NICU. She was growing!!! She was 2lbs, 14.5inches long and her progress was phenomenal. This little girl continued to surprise me every day.

The next day I remember waking up early in the morning and send her family members a picture with her new stats. Her two week update. I was THAT mom, who boasted about their child. I wanted to share with the world how awesome she was doing and that the day before, her doctor said she would be home in time for the holidays. There was no greater feeling, until my caller ID read “Montefiore Medical Center” and when I said Hello, I heard her Doctor say “Mom, Aubrey is sick.” The next couple of hours would spiral out of control. I remember every single moment, yet it all seems like a blur.

August 31^st, 2015 12:02pm that same doctor looked at me as I held Aubrey in my arms telling her over and over again “I’m so sorry, I love you so much” and uttered “she’s gone.” I died that moment too.

Dear August, you broke my heart.

Here we are three years later. Just a couple of days ago on July 31^st, I woke up with this intense motivation to find Aubrey a birthday present. This year was quicker though, I found her the perfect gift in a few hours. I guess I’m getting better at it, despite every year it being constant struggle to find the best gifts for her for her birthday and for Christmas. It was so much easier for Jennessi. I knew what she liked, I knew what she needed and she knew how to talk and how to ask for what she wanted.

You can’t just turn around to your dead child and say, “Hey what would you like this year for your birthday?”

I know that sentence is uncomfortable for you all to read. It probably pierced you in your gut, you know like things that make you sigh deeply because you say to yourself damn I really felt that. I toy around a lot with finding the appropriate word and phrase when talking about Aubrey and her death. Deceased. Passed Away. Transitioned. And I do so because the truth is, DEAD is so vulgar and so final and it just makes people uncomfortable. But that’s what happened. This is final. This pain is vulgar. My life is non-stop discomfort.  

My daughter is DEAD.

I cannot write publicly the details of what happened to Aubrey. I honestly just cannot bring myself to do that. Recently on June 29^th, I had to recount in grave detail what happened that dreadful last day of August. I never want to relive those moments aloud again, because I relive that day every day in my mind and saying those words destroys me. I also just recently found out the TRUTH behind her untimely demise and I have way too many emotions behind it to even begin to process. Plus, telling everyone won’t change what happened. She is never coming back.

That first week of September, left me in absolute shock. Between the day Aubrey died and her funeral on September 5^th, 2015 I lost 20lbs. I passed out several times, I don’t ever think I slept, there was not a moment I wasn’t crying and I was completely withdrawn. Trauma does this to you. You become completely disassociated. On two separate occasions, I walked into the street at busy intersections and sat on the floor staring into space. My family pulled me out. They say they were calling my name and screaming to me and I didn’t respond. I have no recollection of this, but all I know was I was in a trance, in this horrible nightmare and I couldn’t make it stop.

The one thing I do remember, was the intense fear I felt having to tell Jennessi that her sister was dead. How do you crush your child’s heart this way? She prayed for her. She experienced pregnancy with me, she was so excited for her sister and our family and now I had to tell her all her hopes and dreams were shattered. I was an adult and I couldn’t handle that reality, how could she? I swore she was going to hate me forever. Luckily for me though, Jennessi does not have that in her heart. I like to think we did a good job raising her to be a loving, kind, forgiving, empathetic and passionate young girl.

The days and months continued to pass, despite me not wanting them too. I prayed for time to stop. I counted each minute, hour, day, week and month that moved me further away from the moments I spent with Aubrey alive. I wanted to be with her, wherever she was, and now all I had left was a box of her things, and a box of her ashes. I will never forget the moment when I decided we would cremate her. The funeral director asked me what my plans were for her funeral. I told him, I don’t know, I’ve never planned a funeral before and didn’t think I would need too. He asked about a burial or cremation and without me even processing I replied “I’m only 27yrs old. If I bury her, I can never leave The Bronx. I have no idea where life will take me and I need her with me for every moment of my life. She has to stay with me wherever and everywhere I go, so cremation it is.” I am still in awe that in that moment I was able to rationalize and think ahead. The mind is a wonderful gift.

It kills me to admit this but for the first 8months after I left her ashes in the box in my closet. I couldn’t bring myself to not only display her but to even open the box. My daughter was in a box, in my closet and I wanted to hide that from everyone, including myself. So many times I would sneak her out, make sure no one was around and just cry hysterically with the box in my hand. I was so shameful of this. I had so much anxiety thinking about if anyone ever caught me doing this. I thought this made me crazy, and I just didn’t want anyone to know this about me. Now, I kiss her every chance I get proudly. But this was a process, one I obviously am still going through.

The stages of grief are intense and they are most definitely not linear. The smallest things trigger you, people don’t understand you and you always feel exposed. I literally hate being around other mothers and their kids at times because I feel like there’s a stamp on my forehead that says “MOM OF A DEAD CHILD” and everyone is looking at me with pity, sorrow and fear. While people feel sorry for me, they don’t want to be me. That’s okay I don’t want them to be me either. I have lost so many nights of sleep due to horrible nightmares. So many days I cannot concentrate because I have flashbacks out of nowhere, or my mind is racing to try to remember all the details about her because I fear I’m going to one day forget her. I feel like I am torturing myself, but I also feel trapped in this rut and I don’t want to come out of this. Although I don’t wish this pain on anyone, this pain reminds me she was real.

I contemplated discussing my experience with the stages of grief but honestly, there’s so many moments in which I go back and forth that I can literally write a book. I will say this much though, each year solidifies a new stage.

Year One August 2016 – Denial and Bargaining was all that consumed me. I was still in shock and didn’t believe this really happened. I bargained so very much with God, myself, my family. The pain of her loss was so intense I didn’t want to feel this way anymore. I begged for ways out, begged for this nightmare to end, and begged for some happiness to come into my life, yet it just wasn’t happening for me. I cannot say I was suicidal, but I cannot say I had much willpower to live. My parents are the reason I never thought of a plan, or seriously considered any ideations. I couldn’t let them live with the intense pain I felt. No parent deserves this, and I love them too much to purposely hurt them this way. Plus, in all honesty, my mother would not have been able to survive that. So I had to no choice but to be stronger than I knew she ever could be.

Year Two- August 2017- Depression was in full effect. Year two was harder than year one. It solidifies the deal. Aubrey was gone and she was not coming back. I was stuck in this nightmare forever. The depression I felt consumed me so deeply. I thought I was not going to ever breathe comfortably again. I was so angry and I was in just disbelief that this was me. I refused to accept this as my life.

Year Three- August 2018- Anger is at the center of this year. Anger with finding out just how my baby girl suffered and died. Anger with knowing that I have to live the rest of my life without her. Anger with knowing that one day I have to accept her death as a part of our journey. And finally anger with myself that as a mother, I could not save my daughter’s life.

I am not yet ready for Acceptance. I don’t know if I ever will be, but every day I pray I reach this stage. I want to be able to accept that for whatever the reason, Aubrey’s death was part of a greater life plan. The problem is, that just doesn’t make sense to me. Why would the universe give her to me just to take her back? Maybe one day I’ll find the answer, but I know today, this year that’s not where I am. So many people tell me “Everything happens for a reason.” I legit, fucking hate that damn phrase. If you’re still reading this at this point, please take heed, don’t say that dumb shit to a grieving mother. If you feel like saying this, look at your child and find a reason why they should die before you, then come back to me and tell me what that is. If you can find a good, logical reason, please share that with me. I guarantee you though, you will not. So please people, stop saying this nonsense. There is no reason for my daughter’s death. Period.

One thing I have accepted though is that the love I have for her continues to grow every single day. That I will live my life with this intensity of emotions until the day I am reunited with her. I knew since the moment I found out she was growing inside of me, that nothing would ever compare to what I felt for her and well, each day just reminds me of that.

If there is anything I can share about this journey, it is that you must allow myself to feel what you need to feel, when you need to feel it. Anger, hurt, pain, sorrow, depression, loneliness, guilt, shame, happiness, love and ultimately, hopefully one day, acceptance. Sometimes I don’t want to be comforted, other times I need to be. Sometimes I want people to ask about her, other times I don’t want to talk at all. This is a never ending cycle of learning how to deal with my own emotions. 

Oh, now that I come to think about it, I guess I lied at the beginning of this post. There is always a lesson to be learned.

So in ending I must say this much, despite all the negative emotions associated with her life and death, one things remains certain I always stayed true to my promise to love her more deeply than anything in this world. This will never, ever, change.

Dear August, I pray one day you bring me peace.

Naked & Afraid: Chapter 30.

It’s 9:30am and I woke up in a panic. My eyes were watery and my palms were sweaty. My primary response was to flee. I jump up and tell myself “I need to get out of the house.” I got up, got dressed, brushed my teeth and decided I didn’t know where I was going but I knew I couldn’t be home. As I’m ready to go, fuck now I can’t find my phone. I go into my sister’s room, and she’s sleeping but I needed to get out so I woke her up – “hey where’s my phone? I need to go out” She kindly breaks the news to me that it was left in our friend’s purse and she was going to bring it to me later in the morning. Shit. I can’t leave without my phone. I felt stuck and I started to panic even more. How was I going to calm down?

My tears came streaming down my face, my heart was racing and I felt like I wanted to throw up. Full blown anxiety attack. WTF is wrong? And why is this happening to me now? I grabbed her phone and called my friend as I decided to take a walk, get some air and grab some coffee.

FYI: caffeine is the dumbest thing to ingest during an anxiety attack and as a Psychotherapist I know this but my desperation for something comforting overpowered my ability to process logic.

I walk out of my sister’s building and immediately see my kid’s father and his new girlfriend. UGH. I’m not in the mood for this shit. They both look at me and she starts her nonsense rambling and making out with him on a bench like this was supposed to bother me. Now I wanted to vomit even more so because I just got sick to my stomach. First thing that came to mind: I’m so glad he’s out my life. I crossed the street and kept walking.

I would later realize this was the beginning of what would cause my understanding of this intense anxiety attack.

As I’m walking I start telling my friend what I initially thought the problem was. It was Sunday. Sunday’s have been so hard for me since my break up because Sundays are my only day off and I usually spent every Sunday with my now ex-boyfriend. It was the one day a week I had for us. Even if I had an event that day I knew I was going to end my week and prepare for the next with him by my side. That was gone and now I had nothing to do. All my friends were with their families and their kids and I was alone. It was very reminiscent of the weeks immediately after Jennessi was taken from me. I thought wow here we are again, I’m really affected by this loneliness.  I felt so sad about my life like once again I’m at this crossroad where I don’t have anything to do unless my attention is focused on someone else. The thought of being alone and having the opportunity to relax, made me so anxious that I couldn’t relax. My mind was racing and I was just overcome with sadness. My first reaction was damn, what am I going to do with myself?

In continuing with speaking with her I tell her about my conversation with Jennessi the day before. I hadn’t spoken to her in almost 3 weeks. I walked into my sister in law’s house and my niece was talking to her over their video games. I talked to her for a whole three minutes because she just wouldn’t say anything. She was short with me, had an attitude and dismissed me with “K, love you too.” I felt like damn, I spent ten years raising this child and I couldn’t even get her to talk to me and to pick up my phone calls. I was so hurt and everything about rationalizing that she was a child and going through her own emotional turmoil went out of the window, because I was selfishly thinking about how much I was hurting because of her being distant with me. All I kept repeating to myself was “after everything I’ve done for her, she doesn’t even respect me enough to talk to me.” 

As if this wasn’t enough I started missing my kids intensely and of course my mind went directly back to Friday and how I had to recount the darkest and deepest moments aloud of Aubrey’s life and death.

At this point, I have a huge knot in my throat. FUCK. I’m trapped in this house, no boyfriend, no kids, my sister going out to live her best life and I was stuck between not wanting to be alone, and not wanting to be around people. I started to intensely cry and pray. I literally started begging God for relief. I felt like I was feeling every emotion at once and I was trapped. Literally within 2 minutes my friend finally comes early afternoon to drop off my phone. This was the change for me. I opened it up, started scrolling and realized it was July 1^st.

What’s the significance of July 1^st? Nothing. Or so I thought. I opened FB and thought hmm wouldn’t it be cool to post about my twenties, since they were coming to an end. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. This is the last month of my twenties. Almost instantly I really felt like I was on a crazy whirlwind of memories that were just popping into my head and I put the phone down to try to catch my breath. I tried to process what was going on in my mind and I started going through the last ten years and the last several days simultaneously and it all made sense.

I was mourning my twenties.

My twenties shaped who I am. The last ten years have been without a doubt the hardest most rewarding years of my life. I accomplished so much including landing great jobs, living on my own, having children, graduating from College twice, advancing in my career, made great friends, fell in love a couple of times and made so many wonderful memories. But I also suffered so much trauma and overcame so many things like Depression, Anxiety, addiction, domestic violence, obesity,  losing my children, having everything I owned gone and losing those people I loved. It was a crazy tough journey. But why was this bothering me now? Today?

Well, all those individual moments I had during the day made me come to the strong realization that I was entering July with a complete fresh new slate but also entering my 30s with so many endings from my twenties. I realized the finality of losing my children this weekend, I lost the man I’m in love with, I don’t have a place to stay that is my own and I immediately felt like I had been stripped down naked from everything that gave me comfort, safety and sanity. I was really, truly starting over. I became intensely afraid.

I thought about the concepts of love, time and death. I had wasted so much time with the wrong man in my twenties but felt so loyal to him because he provided me with my children, the two things I loved the most in this world. I thought I wouldn’t bounce back but then I met a great guy and well then that abruptly came to an end. Now, dealing with loneliness and feelings of abandonment all I could think about was I didn’t have the love of my children or the love of the person I thought was the man I would share my life with and make a family with. I had to face the finality of my daughter’s death in grave detail and it made me realize that I will spend all the rest of my years without her. Time felt like it was moving so slow and I couldn’t grasp an entire lifetime without her, yet I felt like my twenties flew right by me.

The realization that I was starting completely over from scratch and that so many changes had been happening all at once made me feel like I was going to fail. I felt like God had abandoned me and like I was trying to climb out of this hole. I am stressed financially with trying to move as quickly as possible because I am so focused on having something of my own, I missed my children so much but I knew I would never have them again, I missed the man I was in love with and I’m so scared entering the dating world again, I was going to be starting school again and possibly looking to change my career and I was going to have to do all of these things at the same time. I’m terrified.

Then I stopped to think. Okay Ariel you’re scared. But why? Where was this fear coming from? This isn’t the first time I’ve gone through changes. Aha! There go those bricks again hitting me hard- CHANGE. Change is the absolute hardest thing for me to do. Readjusting terrifies me. I feel lost, and I get so stuck in what my routine was that I feel like changing that is going to shift everything and I won’t be able to handle things. Then I went back to why all of this at the same time? Remember that intense praying? God was forcing me to face my fears. I mean I would’ve appreciated him not doing it all at once but I get it. We get what we need and not what we want. I asked for the opportunity to get to know myself and well I’m getting it. This is really me starting a whole new chapter.

It was time to get out of my whirlwind of emotions and do some Cognitive Behavioral Therapy on myself. How can I change this intense fear? I needed to change my outlook. One thing I know about myself is that I love to learn. So I decided, this next chapter is going to be like a new class for me. I want to look at what am I learning? What will I gain? How will this shape me? And how will I grow from this? Rather than being so scared about what is going to go wrong and being so sad about what I am leaving behind. Truthfully though, this is so hard for me to do. Naturally I always worry about the negatives. So I’m going to reaffirm myself every day until that fear subsides. If I had to share the positive aspect of my anxiety and fears, it would be that they both motivate me. Discomfort motivates me and knowing that other people are watching motivates me. It’s something about feeling validated that makes me feel secure.

So here I am. I’m scared, I’m struggling, I’m emotional, I feel lost and confused, I’m anxious, I’m nervous, apprehensive and I’m heartbroken. BUT I’m open-minded and whether I’m ready or not I’m doing this shit. I will be turning thirty with a new education, new apartment, newly dating, new job opportunities, new chances, new people and new experiences. I did say before I wanted to get to know myself right? Well here it is. I really feel like this is a rebirth. I keep complaining that I have nothing that I own except my clothes, but what better way to rebuild, than to step into the future with NOTHING from your past?

Happy 30^th birthday Ariel. I love the woman you have been, and I can’t wait to see the woman you will become. You are my favorite person in the world and I cannot wait to do this thing called life with you!!!

When a Great Guy isn't The RIGHT Guy...

For the last year and a half I was in a relationship with a good man. He provided me with love, comfort, security, safety and support. Everyone was so happy for me that I was "finally" happy, that I had a love I deserved and that I had a good man. I saw my life with him for many years to come. It was safe. It was comfortable. It was promising. Was it reality though? 

Recently, that wonderful, amazing relationship everyone saw, ended. I have gone through every emotion possible. Anger, sadness, hurt, betrayal, regret, panic, desperation, despair and confusion. I have been beating myself up because for all intents and purposes I fucked up. But the truth is… that isn’t entirely true. My mistake was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Let me start off by saying that I still love Juan very much. I know Juan still loves me. And I guarantee I will love him for a long time to come. He has deserved that. We are both angry and hurt, one more than the other, and well break ups are hard and take a lot of adjusting. I was lucky to have him come in to my life when he did. He showed me that healthy love was possible, that there are good men out there and that I was capable of dedicating myself to someone without the fear of being abused and taken advantage of. But apparently, this wasn’t enough.

The biggest lies we tell, are the ones we tell ourselves. He and I had been struggling for months. I would put up a front for social media and my family and friends, I was trying to convince myself that the hurt and pain I felt would eventually leave and I needed to just stay and let it subside and work at it. I’m sure he did too. But we were in love and wanted it to work and relationship are A LOT OF WORK. I still am in love with him and I still do wish it could work, because I keep thinking about all the good things about him, about me and about our relationship. Unfortunately though, the truth is that irreparable damage had been caused many months ago and it just continued to compound.

First let me say this… The fact that we were struggling is NOT an excuse for what happened. What happened, just happened in that moment. The situation just brought the truth of our relationship to the surface.

So what happened ya’ll ask that caused the break: TRUST. It usually always is. I was drunk, he saw something he did not like, he went thru my phone and now he’s convinced I cheated. He has his story, I have mine and well it is what it is. But while that was the cause of THIS time, it is by far not the only thing that was broken, nor did I break it first. This isn’t a blame game either of who hurt who first, whose was worse and why one person can forgive and the other can’t. I’m just saying, I’m not a monster and I have had my share of things I chose to overlook, believe and move passed.  

In moving on with the story, the details are not necessary. He and I know what has been done before and what happened this time. The bigger question here is WHY did this happen?! What was I not being honest with myself about and why did I feel so comfortable to talk to someone this way when I was intoxicated? I was so careless, I didn’t stop to think of my actions, the consequences or how I was hurting him. And while I can say I have no recollection of the incident (because I don’t), I can say that I didn’t remember talking to this person that way (because I don’t) in all honesty if I sit and think I can see that this isn’t the reason why we are broken and why we can’t be fixed. Things changed about 3months ago and I never got over the hurt he caused me. Nor did I realize how deep it hurt. When someone’s ego is hurt, bruised and damaged things can never be the same, which is exactly why now he cannot move forward.

As a general rule us women, are much more forgiving individuals. We put our pride aside, our hurt egos, and most times even our best interest for love. We want the fairytale. We want it to work so desperately that we allow our love to change us. That’s exactly what happened to me. Juan and I are so so so different. We clicked very well and I loved his company, but I had to scale back so much of who I was. It ate at me every day. He would often tell me he felt like I was hiding something, like I wasn’t always honest and he didn’t know how to make me more comfortable, but I was just suppressing certain aspects he did not like about me, to make him happy and he couldn’t fix that. Only I could, but the fear of losing something so stable, safe and secure held me captive.

I can’t blame him for what broke us months ago. He was honest he told me what he felt, and when he asked to fix it I agreed. Because I wasn’t being honest with myself that he had hurt me so badly I couldn’t look at him the same way. It hurt so badly when he sat and told me everything he did not like about me and said hurtful things that played in my head continuously. For months I never let them go. I became detached, so did he, I was angry, resentful and I didn’t trust him. I questioned him a lot, I questioned myself a lot and while we were going through the days and we were trying to move forward, it was not changing deep inside.

Don’t get me wrong, I am sooooo difficult to deal with. He put up with A LOT of my shit. He changed in so many ways himself and I saw it in him how much he was struggling to find himself in this relationship with me. Because he was a good guy I felt lucky, because I was a good girl he fell in love. But like he told me “love isn’t everything and it isn’t enough.” And because I love him, I was consumed this week with wanting to tell him every chance I got that I was sorry and I would do anything. But now because I love him I want us both to live in our truth.

It’s so very deeply hard for me to accept this in this moment because I love him and I wanted my fairytale. But, my fairytale isn’t meant to be found in a man, but rather in me.

I didn’t think I’d see myself turning 30 years old, single, finding a place to stay, no children and heartbroken. But I don’t want to block my blessings either. I have never taken the opportunity and dedicated the time to focusing on ME. I was always doing something for someone else. I don’t even know what makes me happy anymore, what I like to do for fun or who I really am. I have been stuck in this Depression for so long and try to bandage it by overcompensating all the time. Adding jobs, adding degrees, spoiling my friends and family, being in a relationship where my only focus is that person. I don’t stop to look at myself.

There’s no better time than now. People come in to our lives for a reason. To teach us lessons. My last relationship taught me so much about what I will not stand for, what my limits are and how to accept love. This relationship taught me how important it is to love yourself.

See the truth is Juan and I would have eventually broke up because the damage cannot build, they destroy. I have dedicated nothing to fixing my damaged ways and therefore it is unfair for me to expect to build with broken pieces.

I would have loved an opportunity to fix it, mainly because I am a fixer. I always want to find a way to solve the issue. Plus love is tough to let go of. Routine is hard to break and comfort makes you feel safe. I felt like I deserved forgiveness and a second chance because I have forgiven him and quite frankly I’m an imperfect human who made a mistake. And I am in love with him.

What I didn’t realize is that he is giving me a second chance- a chance to love, fix and be comfortable with me. A second chance to find the greatest love there is, and fall in love with myself. He continues to be the good guy that gives me what I need, when I need it without me realizing it. He told me I didn’t give him the opportunity to love me that way he knew he could, and guess what? He was wrong about that. He loved me so much that he let me go to find myself. He showed me that I need to put myself first. He forced me to realize that I need to be honest with myself. And as hard as it is to do, I’m going to let him do just that. I am going to allow him to love me the best way he can and allow him to let me go to find myself.

I know right now he is angry with me, and that will take time. I pray in the future we can cross paths and at that time we are both healed, healthy and in a good place. I have never been the one to be the cause of why things go south, but truthfully, I felt so much missing a long time ago. Missing in me, missing in him and missing in us, that it is unfair that I insist on staying in a situation and ask him to stay in a situation where neither one of us were our complete, happy self.

I feel happy to have had him in my life. He is a great guy and one day he will find a great woman. Not that I am not a great woman. There are so many amazing things about me. Some I know, others I have forgotten and many more things I am still finding out. But, that does not mean I am the woman for him. Only time and God know what happens next with us, but right now, today, we are no more.

I am thankful for the support and love he gave me when I needed it. I am grateful for the memories, the lessons and the challenges. I am so sad to let him go. My heart hurts, deeply.

                                      But I let go of myself and my focus should be getting me back.

I have a list of goals I HAVE TO MEET. I want to learn about me. I want to love me. Before I ever try to love another person again. So thank you Juan, for setting limits and boundaries. For being the bigger person to let go. To hurt yourself and me enough to stop the cycle of just trying because we love each other while we lose our true selves. I love you for loving me enough to let me go and giving me the opportunity to FIND ME….

So while I thought I would be turning 30 with a man I was in love with in my corner, I’ll be turning 30 with falling in love with the woman I am. She needs me. I need her. And this is going to become my best relationship yet.

I am not a victim. I was a participant.

I have been so vocal about my experience as a woman who has lost a child, almost to the point where it has defined a big portion of my identity. There are so many other dimensions to me though, other struggles that have had the same impact on shaping the woman I am today. I guess the reason why I have never shared these experiences in a public forum is merely because I am too embarrassed to talk about and admit to them. But with the recent climate with spousal abuse being all over the news, my friends who vent to me all the time about their relationship issues and not understanding that they too are in unhealthy and unsafe situations, I think it’s time to share my story and how a 10yr battle with Domestic Violence tore me down and lifted me back up. I am not here to shame my ex-partner, nor am I here for sympathy. Just to break my own silence. This blog is a healing tool for me and I need to talk.

Regardless of whether you will agree or not, when you are done reading this, I want you all to understand one thing about my story: I am NOT a victim. I was a participant. I know this is going to piss a lot women off, but hey, it’s my experience. Most people are going to say how could I say this? But the truth is, while Domestic Violence is greatly about power and control there is also SELF ACCOUNTABILITY we need to take. For me it all came down to this: I allowed him to, and created the environment which supported him in being comfortable to do everything he did to me. Whether it was because I was afraid, in love, had low self-esteem, I was comfortable with the devil I knew, I was desperate to be a mother at all costs, I was trying to play a hero or any other reason I could come up with to justify different points in my relationship why I stayed, the truth is I STAYED.

I was not held captive, I was not sequestered. I left repeatedly and continuously went back.

This isn’t meant to have anyone look over at their spouse and dissect their every movement to leave them. This isn’t about regular arguments, or about trying to make myself look like this intensely strong woman. It’s about the lowest point in my life that because I was so unhappy with myself I thought I deserved the shitty treatment I got from my boyfriend. You know how most Domestic violence stories begin with it wasn’t always that bad… that’s not my story. From day one there were signs. HUGE FLASHING LIGHTS. Even now when I talk about it in private with people that’s the first thing I say to them, how it wasn’t always bad. That’s bullshit and I have to stop that. That’s just to make me feel better about even dealing with him to begin with, but the truth is, I knew from the beginning.

The biggest signs were…

Sign 1: He had a drinking problem. The first day he went to meet my parents he was shitfaced drunk. The signs of his lack of control were clear. His substance abuse would continue to get worse throughout the years and he would progress to stronger drugs. He would repeatedly lose control and would always chose the drugs. Nobody could win against his drugs.

Sign 2: He had mom issues. His mother unfortunately was not in his life. He did not have the emotional maturity to understand how her absence in his life affected him. Instead he objectified women, envied women and downright hated women. As I continued to advance and grow in life it infuriated him. He would do anything and everything to make me feel like I was never enough and I was inadequate. This fueled a lot of insecurities in me, but the real insecure one was him. I know this now.

Sign 3: He was extremely jealous. Some jealousy in relationships is normal. When you love someone you’re afraid to lose them. But this was crazy jealousy. He did not want me talking to anyone. He was intensely jealous of the relationship I had with his daughter and did not want me to do anything on my own. He made sure to know where I was at all the time. He would do the cutest things like drop off stuff at my job, but it was always when I wouldn’t answer his calls because I was so busy. It was a manipulative way to verify I was working.

Sign 4: He lived in secret. I knew none of his friends. His family yes. That’s how he pacified the situation. But truth be told he was barely around them. I was with them much more than he ever was. He hid his friends from me, where he was and what he was doing. It took me three years to find out about his criminal activity. I was slapped in the face by him getting arrested because I had no clue. I should have though. He was always out and about and drunk and high. This also allowed for him to cheat on me non-stop.

Sign 5: He was extremely manipulative and ALWAYS apologetic. This man would make me feel bad for being a productive member of society. I was bad for working, I was bad for going to school, I was bad for being a dedicated mother. It was his own way of tearing me down in order to compensate for his lack of progress and growth. He had to be the victim. The reason why he behaved the way he did with me was because I did not give him the attention he felt he deserved. But then when things got out of control he was the best apologizer ever.  

He never viewed me as a respectable woman, as an equal or as a partner. In his eyes I was beneath him because I was a woman and a strong woman at that. Well clearly within reason because I’m writing this blog. But I had a big mouth, I am extremely smart and I was always willing to express myself and fight back. Abusers hate that shit. They don’t want someone who is going to stand up for themselves, talk back to them or have a life outside of what they want for you. The more I did and the further I went in life, the more he felt insecure. In order for him to feel like a man he had to beat me down. He was too limited to do it in any other way but by using violence, and manipulation. My weakness though, I allowed him to see my insecurities which he took advantage of. The biggest one was not sticking to my word the 100 times I said I was done. The cycle was deep and real. I don’t need to count the times he physically assaulted me, forced himself on me or told me the most hateful things I have ever heard in my life. Nobody needs to hear those details either. The phone calls to my parents, my friends, the police. The OOPs, court cases I was too scared to pursue. Those details being said aloud won’t make the situation any better. What’s important is that I was so deep into this rut I felt like I couldn’t get myself out. I felt like I didn’t deserve better. I had this notion of loyalty that I felt to my relationship that I thought I could love him enough to get better. All I really did was I love him enough to make it worse. I enabled him. Everyone around us enabled us both. You know how many times my friends said “If you’re happy I support you.” I needed those friends who would say nah fuck this Ariel I can’t be a part of your life if you’re going to tolerate this bullshit. I don’t blame them, I’m just saying hindsight is 20/20. Because I tolerated all of his behaviors he became so comfortable in knowing that I would never leave him that he easily escalated to the point where there were no longer any boundaries or any limits.

On August 30^th, 2016 my ex beat me so bad in front of our daughter and niece that I was all bruised up, suffered a concussion and was out of work for a week. Jennessi saw. Its two years later and she still vividly recounts the details and subsequently resents her father for what he did. On this day she uttered the only words I ever needed to hear that got me out: “Mommy, I’m afraid Daddy is going to kill you.”  She begged me to leave him for good. And I did.

I may not have had the courage to do it for myself. For whatever the reasons were. I was used to it and comfortable. I didn’t want to start over and I wanted to be this hero and help him conquer his demons. But the humiliating truth is that my then 8yr old daughter had the courage, the intellect and the love for me that I didn’t have for myself.

Her father tore me down. But she lifted me back up.

See, from that day forward I vowed to her and her sister that no other man would ever treat me that way. For so many years I was a hypocrite and it was exhausting. I talked to my friends about abusive relationships, my clients, my peers and I went home to one. I never want to be that girl again. I was tired of being unhappy with myself. I was tired of believing someone else’s negativity about me and I was tired of perpetuating the false notion to the little girls in my life that looked up to me, that unhealthy relationships were acceptable and the norm. Again, notice all the “I” statements. I am taking ownership for everything I facilitated. I finally had to stand up on my own two feet and realize I was just as guilty as he was for allowing this bullshit.

It’s not easy. Domestic Violence is fucking SCARY. I would always tell everyone he wouldn’t really hurt me but the truth is, I’m still afraid he could kill me. This was just my way of downplaying the situation and explaining that If I felt safe, there was no real harm. I really fucking defended this piece of shit because I couldn’t explain why I wasn’t going to leave. I just wasn’t ready so I came up with all the excuses in the world that subsequently filled all those passing days.

I don’t know where I would be if Jennessi hadn’t begged me to leave him, or if Aubrey would have been alive and I had to deal with him. His final control tactic was taking Jennessi away from me. Not because he was the better parent or even wanted to care for her, but simply because he could take her away from me. He HAD to prove he had one over me. Normally, this would have drawn me back in and he knew that which is why he did it. Not this time. I packed her up and she looked at me and said “Mommy I love you and I know you will always be there for me, but I understand why I can’t be with you. This is daddy’s fault not yours.” I was at peace and I felt so free to move on and find healthy love…  

This shit eats at me still. I have nightmares, ongoing guilt and lifelong insecurities. But those negative feelings behind all of this are what guarantee that I won't ever get sucked back into this. I can finally say I know my worth and I won't ever give it up for nothing or no one. 

Anyone who is in a domestic violence relationship, I wish you peace, clarity and strength. Domestic Violence is not only physical and this is the most common misconception. If anyone you are with tries to demean you physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually this is abuse. I hope you have the insight to look within yourself and see what you are allowing and why. If you see that your relationship isn’t safe and you can’t figure out what your role is feel free to come talk to me and I’ll gladly tell you what you don’t want to tell yourself. Ladies please, be honest, be powerful, be respected and most importantly allow yourself to be loved, PROPERLY, FAIRLY and SAFELY.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

AM I or AM I Not A Mother?

Am I or Am I not a mother?

Since I was too young to even remember, I wanted to be a mother. I loved my little sister as if she were my first child. As a teenager, that dream was shattered when my doctors told me I’d never have children. Yet here I am, a mother of two beautiful daughters and still I question myself every day. Am I a mother? Or am I not a mother? I’ve been asking myself this question since I was 20 yrs old, since the moment I laid eyes on my first beautiful baby girl. Every moment of the last ten years I have not only had to endure the traumatic events associated with my motherhood but also defend my title of “MOM.” For those of you who are mothers you know that this is the hardest yet most rewarding job you will ever have. These ten years have been the most joyful and yet the saddest years of my life but I wouldn’t trade them for anything in this world because my journey gave me my children. Yet, the world does not believe those children are mine to claim and keep.

I know as a society we are constantly looking for way to conform and fit in. Nobody wants to be the odd-ball, yet diversity is what makes us all beautiful individuals. So, since I don’t fit into the societal norms of what a “mother” is, does that mean I am not still a mother? It’s funny what labelling will do to people. It honestly is the root to all insecurities. We label people because our own ignorance cannot understand or accept a different way than our own. The insecurities I feel as a mother all come from not being recognized as one. I am constantly questioning my position in traditional motherhood, my role as a woman and my role in the lives of my children because you all have labeled me child-less.

When I look back at my life and my childhood I can honestly say I was never bullied. I have always been a very helping, giving, understanding and empathetic person. I accept people for who they are and for the most part that was reciprocated. You know treat people how they treat you. Yet these last ten years I have felt misunderstood, bullied and downright unappreciated as I started my journey as a mom. The biggest conundrum in all of this, is that the majority of the time it’s another woman, usually mothers, who are making me feel less than.

At twenty years old, I fell in love. OMG ya’ll this little girl stole my whole heart. The moment she was put in my arms I don’t know what came over me but I just loved her. She was about 6months old and had the biggest smile you had ever seen. The biggest head too hahaha. But she was perfect, fragile and had just suffered trauma, yet all I remember was seeing her happy. There was so much hope in her eyes.  See, I didn’t give birth to Jennessi. At the time I was dating her father and she had been removed from her mother for abuse. And well, I had no intention of having a child but it happened. She needed a mom and I just so happened to be willing and able. For the next three years I raised her with her dad. Day in and day out. My whole entire family was involved. Literally everyone. My parents took her into their home and loved her as they would their own flesh and blood. She belonged with us. It never once felt weird for us, but other people couldn’t understand it. Every time she called me mommy, my heart melted. I did everything I could to be the best mother to her. She was my motivation and the love of my life.

3yrs later, 3 ½ yrs old we’re in court. Her birth mother wanted custody. Dad was incarcerated and well I had Guardianship. Judge says to me “The child wants to be with her mother.” I said yes, that’s me. She does not know her birth mother. For her I am her mother. “Well thank you for babysitting, but you are not her mother and she will go back to her mother.” My heart sank. Shit the tears are coming down my face now as I type this. I was not her mother? I nursed her, fed her, clothed her, taught her, played with her, guided her, and loved her. I was there for her first tooth, her first birthday, her first words. When she started to crawl, and walk. When she drank from a cup the first time at 9months old and when she successfully potty trained in one week. The long days I had from school and work and she would wait up for me and cuddle, when she slept on my chest until she was three years old, or when she begged me at 2 ½ to send her to school. Did this count for nothing? How was I not her mother? And how was this going to be explained to a 3 1/2yr old that her mother was not her mother. I still have nightmares you know from hearing her scream. “Mommy please don’t let them take me away. I’ll be a good girl! I’ll clean my room.” And just like that she was gone. Because someone else determined I was not her mother.

I eventually got Jennessi back in my life about a year and a half later. She wasn’t living with me just yet but at least we spent time together and she never forgot that I was her mother. She now knew and understood that I was her “stepmother” but she hated that word. She would always say I have two mommys. She always had a way of comforting me. In 2016, she came back to live with me full time for another almost 2yrs.

2015, I’m pregnant. IT WAS A MIRACLE FROM GOD. Jennessi prayed for me to get pregnant and boom just like that it happened. But as soon as I got pregnant was as soon as the comments rolled in. I can’t even tell you guys how many times people would tell me “you’re finally going to be a mom!” Um… did Jennessi not count? I couldn’t figure out if I was more upset that people didn’t recognize her as my daughter or they didn’t recognize me as her mom. Again, the labels mattered. Every time I would correct someone they would quickly respond “Oh you know what I mean, a real mom.” Ohh so this was like batting practice? Man fuck these people. Because now, at 7yrs old Jennessi was developing an insecurity too. She would tell me, “I wish I came from your body like my sister is. I wish I was your real daughter.” Ya’ll know how many times I had to tell her that no matter where she came from she WAS AND WILL ALWAYS BE MY DAUGHTER?!

August 17^th, 2015 I gave birth to Aubrey Brielle. And I fell in love for a second time. Funny thing was, she was Jennessi reincarnated. TWINS. August 31^st, 2015 Aubrey died. Once again I was child-less. In comes the, oh don’t worry your time will come. You will be a mom one day. Now I’m confused AF! I wasn’t a mother when I was raising a child that I didn’t give birth to, but now I’m not a mother because I gave birth to a child I’m not raising? Here we go again with being put into a box.

Fast forward 2 ½ yrs later. 2018 and almost all my conversations go like this:

“Do you have children?” Yes I do. “How old are they?” Well my oldest daughter will be 10 in August, she lives with her birth mom in PR now but I raised her most of her life and my second daughter Aubrey is deceased, she would have been turning 3yrs old this year. “Oh so you don’t have any children?” ROLLING MY EYES: I guess I don’t have any biological surviving children no.

Once again, outside of the “MOM” box. So what’s left for me? I raised another woman’s child to have her taken away from me on numerous occasions because I was not her mother. I have my own child and unfortunately lost her to medical issues so I am not lucky enough to raise her here on Earth. And all I have left is constantly feeling like I need to defend that I am still their mother.

I put my blood, sweat and tears into both of those children. But more so I put my faith and love into them. You see I may not have them physically with me, but I carry them with me everywhere I go. TRUST ME: I would do ANYTHING to have had the opportunity to legally adopt Jennessi and raise Aubrey. But unfortunately our story didn’t pan out that way. That does not negate my experience as THEIR MOTHER. Just because I don’t fit into YOUR box of what a MOTHER looks like doesn’t mean I’m NOT one.

I am so tired of crying about not being recognized as a mother. I AM A MOTHER AND A DAMN GOOD ONE AT THAT. I don’t want to fit into society’s description of what motherhood should look like. Motherhood for me has meant beauty, pain, sadness, sorrow, new growth but most importantly unconditional love. See Jennessi chose me to be her mother. How many of you can say you CHOSE the woman you admired and loved to be your mother? And my womb was so sacred I was chosen to carry an angel. Ya’ll can’t even begin to imagine the beauty in that pain until you have lost a child.

I more than anyone appreciate motherhood because I don’t take it for granted. I know what it is to have children and then not have them. So the next time you want to label, pass judgment or decide for someone else where they fit in society, do me a favor and FUCK OFF. Oh, and HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY !