Looking Back

This time last year, I found myself in a dark place. I was healing from the surgeries I had had earlier in the year, but emotionally and mentally, I was broken. My anxiety was affecting every aspect of my life.  I was depressed, losing weight, and my hair was falling. I felt completely out of control. My life was off-kilter.
In February of 2018, I had one of my most significant panic attacks.  I had just returned to work, from having major surgery. It had probably been a week when I quietly started having a panic attack that started during a meeting and lasted until I left work a few hours later. I remember my chest tightening and a knot forming in my throat midway through the meeting. My brain stopped processing information, and I was unable to speak. After the meeting, I went to the bathroom, cried in a stall, and then washed my face. When that didn't help, I did a few laps around my building, I sat at one of the picnic tables and again cried. After some time had passed, I once again washed my face, walked into my office, put on earphones, and zoned out until my shift ended.
The job that I loved had become a trigger for panic attacks. I dreaded going into work. I stopped enjoying the challenge of supervising 30+ people. I became resentful, and everything was negative. No matter how hard I tried to turn things around, I could not find the positive. I cried myself to sleep on most nights, I distant myself form everything I enjoyed. I barely cooked, wrote, or took long walks with Ki-Bo.
By mid-May, I had told the program manager of the department that I did not see myself working at CCTB in five years.  It was both the best and worst decision I have ever made. I felt the tension release after I told her how I felt, but at the same time, from that moment on, she would ask me when it was that I was resigning as supervisor. I put in my notice at the end of September, my last day as supervisor of Gateway service was October 1, 2018.
To make things more complicated, In August of 2018, my ex walked into my life once more. After almost two years, since our relationship ended, I saw him again, standing in my driveway with the words  I wished to have heard when we were still together, " I am sorry. I am sorry I hurt you.  I don't want to live with you not in my life."  As much as I loved him and what we had, I knew then and still do now that our story had ended and there was not going to be a sequel.
The same day I decided to put in my two weeks notice I bought airfare to visit my family in Colombia. I did not have specific plans or things I wanted to do. My goal was to find my inner balance once more. After all, I needed to find work upon my return.
As 2019 is nearing its end, I can happily say that I have no regrets on any of the decisions I have made that have led me to where I am today.  Ironically,  I could very well find myself unemployed on January 1, 2020, the company I currently work for will be closing. I've known this was coming since April, but I am not worried, I know that I will find myself employed soon enough.

Like I've said before if NF hasn't been able to break me, nothing will.

Kissing Frogs

As an adolescent, there are certain activities that are a rite of passage; experiences that the vast majority of teenagers live through before they graduate high school. As I have shared, my childhood and adolescent's was anything but typical.   I rarely went to parties, and as for school functions, my friends had to drag me to them. So it may come to no surprise that I did not partake in your typical teenager party games, such as, spin-the-bottle, truth or dare, seven minutes in heaven and countless others.  I was always the spectator, wishing that somehow the cute guy will think I was pretty enough to kiss.
And the one and only time I played one of these games, I ended up in tears and was completely embarrassed.
I was about sixteen or seventeen and went to a classmates birthday party. We were all sitting in a circle, I think there might have been about 25 people sitting in a small living room. The game consisted of spinning an empty beer bottle, and whoever faced the mouth would then dare the person that had the bottom facing them. I sat within the circle, but I was not an active participant.  I was distracted and speaking with someone else when all of a sudden, I heard in Spanish, " I dare you to kiss Angela on the lips." At that moment, my entire world froze.
The room became silent ( at least this is how I remember it)  I distinctly remember him sitting in the circle looking at her and shaking his head, he then looked at me and said, " I will only kiss her on her cheek" I was devastated.  A  so-called male friend egged him on, saying, " come on, just give her a kiss, a small one." The guy laughed and said, " Don't be an ass, I am only kissing her on the cheek." He crawled towards me and placed his lips on my cheek.
At that moment, my world fell apart not only because I was not kissed but also because I was humiliated in front of everyone that attended that party. After the game ended, I called my parents to pick me up, while I waited for my dad, I stupidly told my guy friend how I felt, he could not understand why I was so upset and hurt. To him, nothing terrible happened, he was unwilling to show compassion. 
Now, years later, I am thrilled that I did not get my first kiss from some loser that had been swapping spit with other girls that night. In retrospect, I was actually lucky because in my 32 years of life I have never kissed a frog, and that is something very few people can brag about.

NF Single Lady

~I used to be terrified with the thought of being single because I equated singlehood to not being attractive to the opposite sex.~

I am a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic; I believe in true-deep-crazy love that can drive you insane. Even as a kid, I created love stories for my barbies and also partnered up my stuffed animals.  By the time I was ten or twelve, I had envisioned my own love story. I told my self that I would be married by the age of twenty-five and mom of four by my thirties. Of course, I would meet the love of my life, either in high school or college. We would both be successful professionals that would travel the world. 

But then everything changed. By the time I was in high school, I had started having doubts that I would ever find my prince. After my dad left and moved in with his mistress, my believe in true love had vanished. Despite this, part of me still had that glimmer of hope that one day I would be swept off my feet. This frame of thought continued well into my first relationship. Brian brought back to life the hopeless romantic in me! After my relationship with Brian fizzled, I knew that if it happened once, it could happen once more...

In September of 2013, I met Joe, he and I would date for three years. At the age of 26 years old, I had truly debunked the idea that men wouldn't find me attractive. For the longest time, I kept replaying the words of someone I called a close friend,(someone I had a massive crush on)  that deeply hurt me. On many nights, I would hear his voice in my head say, " Angela will never have a boyfriend because men will never find her attractive." Just because he did not think I was pretty, attractive or worth it does not mean that others thought the same. He was obviously wrong. And to be frank, he missed out on an awesome chick.. me!

It has been over two years since my relationship with Joe ended, and I am perfectly happy being single. I know perfectly well that being single has nothing to do with men, not finding me attractive because I know that I am attractive. The only real reason I am still single is that I am incredibly picky.

I am no longer terrified of being single!

My Biggest Fear

I've always been told by family and friends that I am one of the bravest and strongest individuals they know, but I beg to differ.  A few weekends ago, I opened up to a  friend about one of my biggest fears (driving), without missing a beat she looked at me and said, " how can you be afraid of driving? You have inspired me so much! I will help you conquer your  fear!" She then gave me a tight hug and reassured me that she would help me conquer my fear because she would not let my fear overtake me.
Yes, I have overcome so much, but yet, I feel, at times, like I have not done enough to be called "brave," " strong" " fearless" and many other adjectives that I have heard throughout my life. This has been a focal point throughout the five years I have seen my therapist.  In my most recent session, we talked about the "mountains" I have conquered, and how I must first climb down the mountain I am currently standing on, in order to climb another. My response to him was, " I haven't climbed any mountain, I am just standing on a hill." His rebuttal, " why are you making the mountains hills? Hills are still mountains!" I looked at him, and my response was, " I am minimizing everything I have overcome and accomplished." He nodded and smiled.  It was at that moment, believe it or not, that I realized just how incredibly cruel  I still am to myself.
My next reflection was that this kind of cruelness and self-loathing has nothing to do with the fact that I have NF, see from one eye or my anxiety. It has everything to do with the sad fact that I am just plain cruel.
So in just a few weeks, I am turning 32 years old, and I still have my learners permit!  Part of me is really ashamed and embarrassed because I know how to drive, I just have not taken the drivers test. For heaven's sake, when I was sixteen, I drove the family van!  I just get very nervous and anxious behind the wheel. I swear to you that my legs feel ten times heavier and numb only by the simple thought of me driving.  The other part of me is entirely comfortable with  not driving, but I am fully aware that being comfortable is not always the healthiest option.

My friend has kept her word, she has 'forced' me out of my comfort-ness and pushed me to drive. She has been really great through all this and has given me the confidence to drive!  Not to mention, we have been driving in her car! she has trusted me with her precious car!!
My goal for this year is to get my license and purchase my own car. I can no longer continue living in this comfort zone because I am only hurting myself.  I know I can do this..., right? 

To Kevin

I met Kevin when I was 20 years old. He was 15 years older than me. How or why we ended up chatting for an hour and bounding over NF does not matter because I only saw Kevin that one time. However, that is all it took for Kevin to fall for me. I know this because a few days after we met he messaged me on Myspace (yes, in the era of Myspace) and told me that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about me and that he found me very pretty.  I was taken aback because before Kevin I never thought anyone would crush on me.

It's upsetting that at one point in my life I thought there was a zero percent chance that anyone would fall for me.  At 20, I was still struggling with self-love and self-worth and was continuing to allow the words of bullies to taunt me. Thankfully, all of this nonsense is a thing of the past because I am fully aware that I am worthy of having an admirer or two.

I dedicate this blog to all that have had a crush on me, especially to that guy and gal that I did not like back. Thank you for boosting my self-esteem. Thank you for smiling, winking and flirting, you have no idea the positive impact you had in my life if it weren't for you, I most likely would not have realized that Brian and Joe liked me and wanted to be more than friends.

I have now realized that there were one or two guys in high school that liked me and I actually liked them back. Even though these classmates never came out and said, " I like you," or attempted to be more than friends, having this realization is an incredible feeling.  It has been a little over a decade since I graduated high school, but I can't help but smile, to think that during the years I felt the least attractive some classmates liked me!

Des-parchada

¡Yo le digo “No” a los parches!

Mis papas me dieron mucha fortaleza, supieron que la iba a necesitar. Mi mama, ahora, me dice a veces por molestar, que se le fue la mano porque soy muy dura con ciertas cosas, incluso conmigo misma. Una de esas cosas es con el tema del parche. Yo nunca he sido partidaria del parche, aunque si ha habido varias personas en mi vida que pensaban que era mejor si lo usara. Hasta  hace un par de años atrás la simple insinuación de usar un parche me causaba mucha molestia porque yo nunca he querido tapar mi cara. Sí, es difícil salir de mi casa todos los días y exponerme a las miradas y a los comentarios pero igualmente lo hago.

Sé que quienes me recomendaban usar un parche lo hacían con las mejores intenciones, pero esas buenas intenciones  se volvían negativas y lastimosas  aún más porque yo ya les había dicho que no quería usarlo.  Uno de ellos me dijo, “Te juro que consigues novio enseguida si usas un parche,” otro  me dijo, “Si usas un parche consigues trabajo más fácil y será mucho mejor para tu carrera porque es más fácil mírate a la cara con un parche.” En otra ocasión, unos amigos de la familia llegaron un día a mi casa con parche café. Ellos pensaban que el regalo me iba a gustar y que iba ser el “empujón” que necesitaba para usarlos. Ellos me lo compraron aunque yo ya les había dicho que no en varias ocasiones.

De tanto insistir, yo cedi, intente usarlo en varias ocasiones pero nunca me amañe. Me sentía extraña en mi propio cuerpo. No sabía cómo manejar las miradas que me estaban dando ni cómo responder a los comentarios. Todos los que me insistieron en usar el parche se habían equivocado.  La última vez que lo use, me lo intentaron quitar, esto me pareció una falta de respeto, equivalente a que me hubieran agarrado una nalga. Y al respecto a lo que podía conseguir usando  el parche, también estaban equivocados. He tenido dos novios, y ambos me decían que yo era hermosa y que no necesitaba esconder mi rosto detrás un parche. También he conseguido trabajo sin ningún problema, es más, llegue a ser supervisora de un centro de crisis manejando más de 30 personas.  

Yo no estoy en contra de los parches. Sé que hay personas que los usan y se sienten a gusto. Es más, me imagino que se sentirán como yo me siento con el si no lo pudieran usar. Parche  o no parche es una decisión personal, y yo tome la decisión hace años de que los parches no son para mí. Me siento más cómoda y preparada para afrontar el mundo exponiendo mi cara.

Asi Soy Yo!

Mucha gente que me ha conocido se queda  aterrada al ver que soy  positiva y feliz. Para ellos, es difícil, casi imposible, comprender mi actitud hacia la vida.  Lo que ellos no saben es que tener esta actitud drena a veces. No es nada fácil despertar todos los días y tomar la decisión consciente de que, “yo puedo” “yo soy capaz” “yo soy hermosa” “yo soy fuerte” y más… pero lo hago porque la verdad, la alternativa no me gusta.  Para mí, vivir triste y lamentándome por tener esta condición no es una opción, nunca lo ha sido.  La razón de quedarme encerrada en mi casa, echada en la cama no es una opción es porque mis papas nunca lo hicieron cuando yo era niña. Es más, ellos eran felices viéndome correr y trepando arboles con mis hermanos y primos. 

Una de mis memorias favoritas de niña fue cuando mis papas, hermanos, y mi abuelo Pacho manejamos a Medellín a visitar la familia. En una de las muchas paradas fuimos a una finca que tenía varias lomas. Mi hermano Andrés y yo nos fuimos a caminar, él me tenía de la mano para que no me   callera, pero en realidad, era el que nos hacía caer mientras caminábamos por la loma. Yo podía ver a mis papas en la cima y ellos solo se reían mientras Andrés me echaba la culpa por tropezarnos y caer rodando loma abajo.  Otra de mis memorias favoritas fueron los días que pasamos mis hermanos y yo montados en la casita de árbol que nos hizo mi papá. Y así crecí yo, tuve una niñez típica, obvio, si tenía más cuidado al hacer ciertas actividades, pero mis papas nunca me decían “no”.  Mi mama me inscribió a gimnasia pero lo tuve que dejar porque me daba mareo y dolores de cabeza. También me inscribió al equipo de natación y a clases de teatro y danza. Ella siempre estaba dispuesta a meterme en todo de lo que yo le pidiera, su objetivo, “tú, hija mía, eres como todos los demás”

¿Entonces, como yo, de adulta, voy hacer una injusticia a la forma que me criaron al quedarme echada en mi cama, lamentándome?  No puedo, aunque hay días que de verdad quiero tirar la toalla. Pero es entonces que el universo me hace llegar mensajes que me animan una vez más.  Por ejemplo, recibo un mensaje de uno de mis lectores dando me las gracias por compartir con ellos, o me publican en la fundación de NF o una artista en el estado de Nebraska quiere pintar mi retrato.

Yo no me había dado cuenta del impacto que yo hago para aquellos que si están realmente deprimidos, desanimados o aún más sin ganas de vivir. Parame, poder darles a estas personas un granito de ánimo y esperanza es un triunfo. Es por eso que cuando se me presento la oportunidad de compartir mi historia en una entrevista que iba a tener un impacto para la comunidad latina acepte inmediatamente. ¡No solo eso, si no, también invite a una amiga que también vive con esta condición porque ella también es una guerrera! Hacemos más impacto compartiendo dos historias de fortaleza que solo una.

El 8 de febrero, Aurea R. De Mi Gente Tampa Bay nos entrevistó a Kathy y a mí para la televisión pública. La entrevista aún no está disponible, pero apenas lo este, con mucho gusto comparto el link.