The Bitter Ass Bitches Club

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So, back then when MySpace was around my 2 closest friends and I simultaneously went through breakups aka the great depression. In this sadness driven, emotional dolor, we destructively bonded and created a MySpace group that we called The Bitter Ass Bitches Club. I have to admit I really, really, REALLY was a bitter ass bitch and soon this club of ours became a dumping ground and a outlet for our heartaches and anger and bitter derangement. We met some pretty interesting people, well, not really… the only person that joined our club, besides us, was a girl by the name of Marggie..I think. Should I be changing names for the sake of maintaining anonymity? Anyways, for a brief while we all lived vicariously through her. She got a boob job, became a lesbian, and she engaged in various activities that we wish we were brave enough to do…one which was moveing on. I have to say that being initiated into this club was the beginning of a journey that led me to all the wrong places.

Soon… not really soon…who am I kidding!  Eventually is a better word. Eventually many, many years and one more strike to the heart later, I moved on from my bitterness. The club was abandoned many moons ago and it has become a distant reminder that bitterness lingers and can harden hearts, destroy and darken love, and impede forgiveness.

I have since hung my cloak and stopped paying my dues, but a few weeks ago I was visited by the ghost of Bitter Ass Bitches past. A friend separated from her deceiving husband. To spare the details, I’ll just say that sometimes what people allow us to see is a facade… hiding something much more darker than they, themselves, can handle. OR…maybe in their unhinged mind…it’s hope. Hope that this mask they wear is the reality, and not the (insert bad word here) up truth.  I felt like my heart had broken. All that pain, that I have since left behind, came rushing to me because I understand what it feels like to be hurt…to the depth of the soul. I went home. Cried. And felt her hurt.

Being so close to marriage, this really rattled my cage. The next day, as I was dropping off my sacrament paperwork at church, I saw an old CCD teacher.  She said something that left me unsettled.

Forgiveness is the key to marriage….

Is it?

Sometimes people change, grow apart, mess up. Somehow people find the way to hold on to their marriage…forgiving or not forgiving. Sometimes they don’t… It’s all unknown because we are human.

But really….the fact is…sometimes marriage isn’t forever… sometimes the big shit chingona draws the line y te lleva a la chingada … and yes, we forgive but not for our marriage, for ourselves. And I think that’s OK too.

So, I had a heart to heart with the future husband. I’m not perfect, no one is, but I think that every woman should lay her tamales out on the table before taking the big leap. For me, the struggle within has been so hard. Especially with my heart. Healing from abusive, emotionally draining relationships has been an uphill battle. So, its important to communicate, to be compassionate, to speak my mind, and draw that line that says “If you cross it, I’m choosing me.” Working hard at getting to chingona mode is a victory within itself but also understanding that the most important thing one can do is have LOVE in their hearts. No one can force you to tolerate anything and the truth of the matter is,  married or not, you decide where you draw the line… or, to put it in words a gordita will understand….you decide how much of that Bill Miller pumpkin pie you’re going to eat. You have a choice and that choice is your right. Moving on… choosing to forgive or not…

As for my beautiful friend, she has a heart that can withstand the most vicious storms and no one can put out that fire within.  That’s the beauty of being resilient.

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Mi Cultura, Mi Raza- Hispanic Heritage Month TX Latino Bloggers Tour

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My paternal abuelos Kina and Alfredo.

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A food lover since 1982

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My maternal abuelos Andres and Lilia

I come from a long line of fighters, lovers, chingones, comelones….. My raza is quite  a comidic one, dramatic, and loving, but most importantly, I come from a family that instilled a proud Hispanic heritage. I always remember my abuelita Kina’s words, “Si te dicen que sus huevos cuelgan, tu diles que los tuyos arastran.” And that is what it means to be Hispanic. You persevere, you’re proud , and you keep moving in the direction of happiness. What my parents have sowed, 32 years ago,  grew into beautiful strong seedlings who’s Mexican roots have now become entwined and buried deep in the heart of Texas.

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Mi Papi and Mami

Long before my 5 beautiful sisters and I were born, my parents decided that they would do what ever it took to build a life worth living for their children. Over the years my parents have sacrificed so much for us, and for this I will forever be grateful,  but I think the biggest sacrifice was leaving their roots, their home in Mexico to move to a country  who’s cultura was totally different from theirs. My papi  has said many times that this move has been only for the best. They wanted us to have an opportunity to thrive, to grow, be educated, be free to have options and to choose which ever path we wanted to tread no matter how many times we tripped. My papi  said, “You go to college, or you go to college.” So this country has allowed all 6 of us to have an education, work, a safer place to live.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my Mexico lindo…their papas preparadas, taquitos de la calle, tortillas made in the mollino, homemade milk bolis , and the elotes from my abuelos neighbor with homemade mayo and chilito….Aye, Diosito Mio, That’s my mero mole

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Mami and Papi

It was a  struggle, for my parents, to keep those hispanic roots strong in a country who’s American culture is so different and overwhelming.  I remember my mom pulling me out of billingual class in the 2nd grade because she wanted me to be exposed to English as much as possible. She said a teacher once told her, “School will teach your children English, you will teach your daughters Spanish.” That’s exactly what my parents did. They didn’t allow us to stray and become “Americanized” but yet they exposed us and taught us to appreciate, but never take advantage of, this beautiful country that has allowed us to do so much. I remember my mami taking us to the zoo, to market square, Fiesta…everything that was free…we were there lol…always finding ways to expose us to San Antonio.

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My abuela Kina and I

Celebrating Hispanic Heritage month is so important for us Latinos. I’m a  first generation Mexican-American. A proud Hispana who’s cultura means so much and its important to continue appreciating our roots. When I think about what it means to be hispanic I picture my family gathered around the table playing loteria, echando unas carcahadas, and eating. I remember us as children playing with the mangera outside, in the mud puddles, and my mami screaming at us “vayanse para fuera“…go outside and play….  Stopping the paletro and buying a wpid-img_29465253191960.jpegcucumber with chamoy….

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Rio Frio

Its a beautiful sight to see our cultura thriving in America, in our old San Antonio, in my nephews…in our children. So,  next time someone talks to you in English and somehow…you don’t even know cuando…acabo en Espanol…be proud…because THAT is our Latino culture entangled in America, the beautiful  place we call home.

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Twisted Mix Tape-My Summer musical montage

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So Twisted Mix Tape is back!! I’m excited and ready for the challenge….besides, I’ve been having blogging brain toots and this is the perfect thing to get me going.

My summer was filled with music of all sorts but to be honest with you the ones that I can’t get out of my head are my cumbia oldies but goodies….mostly because my boyfriend recently joined a conjunto band named  Conjunto Sereno and I get excited and sentimental when I hear music that reminds me of my family, growing up, and my days as a quincenera cumbia dancing queen LOL, or so I want to believe that my dancing abilities blow everyone away. Conjunto/ Tejano  is danced a lot different than cumbias so the bf has to push me to dance, but I always secretly want to. There’s a lot of competition from all the old fogies. It’s intimidating!

So, I have spent my summer being chicle (bubble gum) to my boyfriend. I’ve been going with him to the gigs and he LOVES  it,  but wants to be all cool about me being chicle. I’m glad that he’s opened the door of conjunto music for me and I always enjoy hearing him practice….gives me time to blog and get things done.  Anyways, my mix tape is a combination of songs Conjunto Sereno covers. One, because I can’t get them out of my head. Two, because I wanted to post the originals, the way I remember while growing up, but mostly because I have yet to record a gig of theirs….and also because I get a kick out of these music videos.

1. La del Mono Colorado- Los Pedernales.

2. Te He Prometo_ Leo Dan

3.  El Coco Rayado- Ruben Vela

4. Golpes en el Corazon- Los Tigres del Norte

5. Mi Destino- Conjunto Sereno

So while I was looking on YouTube I found this song. My BF caught me singing it the other day while doing laundry.

Home is where the heart is

Throughout our life Diosito presents us with these wonderful progressive opportunities to transition from our current life to different life. Some gracefully skate through these transitions. They embrace their surroundings and glide though these moments untouched, free of worry…music full blast…their confidence intact. I, on the other hand, have always been that chunky gordita, at Skate Land, trying to skate…legs shaking…falling on my nalgas and secretly wishing I was one of those pretty, skinny girls zooming past me. This is exactly how I handle change. Lately, I’ve been hit with a chingaso of change so I feel like that chunky little girl holding on to the rails for dear life. Sad to say, I’m comfortably ok with holding on.

The other day as I furiously went Rambo on my yearly summer rancho ant infestation…ok…so I wasn’t the valiant Rambo I wish I was…I kinda flew over the cuckoo’s nest. I cried.  These are demon ants from hell! They are everywhere, nothing kills them and I’m sure they conspire at night in attempts to drive me out. I imagine them in my restroom aka “The war room” plotting ways to make my life a living hell…So,  in my ant induced stressed and deranged state of mind, my boyfriend decides to ask me to move in with him. I’m happy he wants to be the fearless Darrel (Walking dead ) who rescues me from these zombie ants but that threw me over the bridge. I’m moving at work, I’m going to school, a rekindled relationship…talks of a new car, a washing machine that doesn’t make noise or shake the whole house…anxiety from my grocery list for 2. Seeing all that food on my list threw me into food anxiety mood. I’m not going to lie, I’ve been shedding a lot of tears lately and I’ve had a few food sneaky sneakies.

My home, my casitia,  is…me…my own…my safety. Those cracked walls with peeling paint have seen me through thick and thin.They know my tears and they know my laughter.  I love my little piece of old ranchito heaven…well…I don’t love the crazy ants but I love everything else. Although I love my papasito and I know that it is him I want to be with… my initial reaction was a freak out…at night…in the shower and if I wasn’t always with him all the time, I’m sure I Quotes About Moving On 0043-45 (6)would of had a late night therapy session with my favorite beau, a bucket of dulce de leche ice cream. That is my favorite kind of therapy.

Anyways, that chingaso has really forced me to stop and take a look at what is happening around me.  I feel sad that I’m losing everything that has been a constant in my life even if most of what’s changing I want to leave behind. I feel that in all aspects of my life, all my old chapters are closing. Moving from  mi casita viejita symbolically represents that change. My boyfriend talked about what I don’t need because he can provide and I took it personal. I  felt that all MY old things, my comforts, were being tossed out. Everyone who knows me knows I’m a recovering hoarder. Well…ok…I kinda still, I just like to say I’ve recovered.  I’m aware of this and I’m aware that half of the things that I can’t let go should be let go.  I had a knot in my throat, pero me aguante because I know that I can’t be holding on to useless things. Old things, torn thing, things that no longer serve their purpose….litteraly….and metaphoricaly thinking. But…like always…I can’t help but to want to hold on for dear life…like that chunky little girl at Skate Land.

So…today I went home after school to try to confront my change. Those last staggering rain drops and the smell of tierita  mojada you can only find when you’re  surrounded by sweet mother nature made the walk to my back door a lot harder. It helped that my 3yr old nephew was holding my hand. He saw me crying and he said, “Tia, no llora. Let’s go.”

109564-Great+life+quotes+thoughts+choSo with my nephew there to keep me company, I started going through my things. I took picture frames off the wall…my walls bare, stripped of all memories, but I felt happy and for the first time in a long time I ran with that happiness. I allowed myself to accept the love, embrace forgiveness, allow help….his hugs and kisses, the comfort he gives my heart, and the love he shows me daily. I allowed my anxiety to pass through like that cool breeze that passes though my house on rainy days. I decided that I’m going to embrace all these beautiful shifts, mostly because only by embracing these transitions will I allow myself to let go of the old.

 

 

My Wednesday Afternoon10507823_734690633256512_1665027205_n

Sometimes with the hysteria of life we find ourselves programmed to just get things done. Lately, I’ve been programed to mad cow delirious. Get,a chingas, to work, finish work, get those problems solved, feed the chickens and the burro, take a shower, do this, do that, jump through hoops, do a pirouette…a maroma …. Dispite being tired, I agreed to watch mis amores because I missed them. The boys were peacefully minding their own business outside, my dad was working on his truck, and I found a chair to plop myself on. ” Aye Diosito mio”, is what I said when my pompas met that beautifully rusted chair.  As I sat outside watching mis papasitos chulos, a gust of cool fresh air blew into my face. I asked myself tiredly, “Que chingados Lili,” because, being the loca that I am, I often scold myself in third person. LOL. I KNOW someone out there does the same!  I’m confident I’m not the only kooky out there.  So anyways, I realized that because I was so busy being zombiefied I was missing out on all the beautiful things going on around me. So, I got up. I sat next to my cutie while he serviced my car. He ran to my dad’s tool box and gathered some tools. He said he would fix Tia’s tires and put gas like his papi does. After that he saw his brother was playing with the mangera… he ran, stripped down to his calzoncillos and began playing in the muddy water. Just like 10597314_257812371079268_375757296_nthat, without giving it a second thought. I would do anything to be free like that again. I laughed, took my shoes off, and joined the fun. Underneath all the chaos of 3 boys laughing, fighting, and splashing I heard my dad singing to a old-school bolero on the staticy AM La Rancherita del Aire. I stopped what I was doing, listened, smiled, and took the time to thank Diosito for moments like this that allow me to feel unconditional, unrestricted happiness. It brought tears to my eyes.

To gain, we must lose

While growing up my mami always tried to steer us in the right direction. I remember every Sunday morning we would get up early, go to Spanish mass to sing in the choir, then catechism, then go eat some tacos. When I got older, we would get up early, I would go to Sunday mass, teach catechism, then go eat some tacos. Ok, ok…so I was there for the tacos…lol.

At that time, I have to say,  that my faith was not my own, it was my mami’s unconditional love and faith in Diosito that kept me going. So soon, I abandoned ship, and for literally, most of my 20’s I walked the Earth with no direction and no faith in God. I’ve lived a lot of, in my eyes, melodramatic, unnecessary  heartache, mostly all inflicted by me and could of been avoided if I would of loved myself enough. I always thought love was the answer… all love, universal love, romantic love, self love… it wasi_have_feeling_that_my_guardian_angel_often_looks_like_this__2013-07-02 my way out, my savior, so I searched for it, I followed it, and in my confusion I lost sight of Diosito, I lost everything.   It wasn’t until a few years ago, in total surrender and relinquish of control , that I saw Diosito hadn’t abandoned me like I had Him. A LOT of growing has happened since…a lot of coscorones coming from up above.

This weekend I went to church for the first time in many, many, MANY years.  My faith…well….only Diosito understands it and my need to not conform to any specific space. My love for HIM is here at home and all around me…in my heart. I have this mystic view of life, for that, I have my papi to thank for. You know, reality is,  my spirituality has grown in seeing Diosito  change my life, change the person I am, and change the people around me…. knowing that there is a purpose, a path in our life, a lesson to learn, love to give, people to love and understand makes my faith grow.  Trying to embrace my papi’s spiritual believes and combine them with my mami’s traditional teachings was hard and confusing and it was a hard and grueling  task to beautifully join the two in such a way that works for only me. I know, now, that in order to find God, I needed to lose sight of Him first. Somehow I feel it was all planned this way…and now…this path of healing has led me back to where I never thought I’d set foot again and at my own will.

The Father’s sermon talked about gaining more when you lose. I smiled quietly to myself because, as always, mi Diosito is always throwing hints at me. To be stripped of everything is hard but in the end it’s liberating and what you gain from that struggle is far more valuable. I started  thinking about the things I’ve lost in life…and, in reality, I shouldn’t complain…I came to realize how dramatica I was. I didn’t embrace the challenge, I didn’t trust Diosito enough to know that something better was in store for me.  Its hard to look past my ego’s temper tantrums. I still throw myself on the floor, kick my feet up in the air, throw my shoes off, and cry my crocodile tear like the terca y caprichuda monstra that comes out at times, but I think I have a tad bit, un cachito,  more sense under my belt… now… to get it together.

 We all lose, some loss is far more greater than others,  but none the less, it is a loss and its felt in our hearts. At times of great loss is when we have it all…we have that unconditional love and guidance that comes from our Diosito. He never abandons his children no matter how far way you are from Him.

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Nothing heals the soul like the sand between your toes,

the sounds of the sea mixed with music playing from a speaker,

and leaving all that which hurts us behind.

This is where we begin to rebuild.

The Beauty of Forgiveness

When I was little and I would get into arguments with my sisters my papi would always get after us. He would say, “La familia perdona.”  No matter who is at fault. Aye Maria purisima, Disoito mio give me strength….it would boil my blood. I felt there was a great  injustice being committed against me.  For the longest time I couldn’t accept it. My mami would make us apologize a fuerzas and I would do it only because I feared the wrath of my Mexican parents, LOL.  That childhood lesson laid a very important foundation for forgiveness. My mami and papi showed us the importance of  forgiving one another, although forgiveness doesn’t come easy, it has to come from the heart, if not, it is not forgiveness.  It took me a long time to understand that we have to let go and forgive for the sake of our own soul. Harboring negative emotions slowly puts out our fire.

Throughout my life I’ve stumbled upon great injustices made against me.  I’ve been bullied because I was the quiet one, I’ve been taken advantage of, and  I been hurt because I choose to give my heart out  like free religious “Watchtower” pamphlets….Well, I was going to add, “to all the wrong people.” but I feel that given the priceless lessons that I have learned and considering how far I’ve come along….I was suppose to give my heart out to those people. I don’t regret the love that I choose to give.  I have said, and I stand by my word, that I am a creature of love….despite of that mean little troll that’s made a home in my heart for the past few years.

Recently, someone from my past came knocking at my heart’s door. I peeked through the peephole, locked the double bolt locks, and hid under the table. After I remembered that my parents didn’t raise a coward…but a big shit chingona, I picked myself up and faced the past that needed to be forgiven. But….well….that was hard…Instead, I declared war. I didn’t let him in…I threw my ninja blades, and did my karate chops, and words of resentment  came pouring out of my mouth…and after the storm passed… I cried like the heartache was new and felt like I’d gone against everything my parents taught me. Instead of being retaliated on, he understood everything, is fighting for a second chance, is embracing me, and giving me the time I need for him to show me that he’s a changed man. Something I’d never seen before in him. It shook me to my core and I asked myself…Do people change?  I’d been waiting for this moment…For someone to wholeheartedly apologized to me for what they did and understand what it feels like to be in pain. I didn’t think that anyone would ever have a chance to amend a broken love….broken and all, my ego hates to admit to the world, that love never went away.

So what do I do?  My chingona ego tells me one thing, while my pendeja heart, Diosito bless her soul, tells me something else. I’ve build walls around my heart, I’ve put my foot down, I’ve put on my big girl panties and thrown punches at the world, I’ve become hard and calloused because I’ve allowed that hurt to brew in me….and I feel, now, as I tread with care in allowing this person back in my life…. that I’ve somehow have let the chingona down because forgiveness and this chingadera that I feel for this changing man is starting to seep into my heart. Do I fight it? I embrace it.  I don’t understand, but in the end…after 6 yrs….I’m finding that we are both finally beginning to heal from the pain that path we have been on has given us. That is whats important.

I can truly say that if things are meant to be, they will find a way. That way… whichever it it… or however long it takes… or how right or wrong people may think it is….Is truly just for us no matter what happens in the end. I never thought that I would find true happiness and comfort from being with someone who caused great pain in the past.  Love is Love and when its true, it overcomes great pain. That’s the beauty of forgiveness. It’s not for everyone, but it’s for me. Love is for me. Happiness is for me. Forgiving is for me.

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