Have you ever been in love? I mean that can’t eat, can’t sleep, head over heels, drive you crazy throw your phone across the room while running simultaneously to catch it to ensure that you won’t miss a phone call? I’m talking about Nicholas Sparks’ The Notebook meets Pablo Neruda’s Veinte Poemas de Amor y Una Canción Desesperada (Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair) kind of love? A love that is with you, everywhere you go. A constant presence that you cannot evade because its dwelling resides within you. There is no escaping it. It is a force that bonds you to its magnetic field, and all that is left to do is to surrender.
As I get ready to bring in the new year, I have one person on my mind: Ronda Rousey. She’s the last person I would imagine I would be thinking of, but the recent image of her latest fight in the octagon is at the forefront of my mind.
It’s been over three months since my last post. After writing Dear Michelle, I became a marathon enthusiast of Netflix, in addition to taking long naps and consuming plenty of fast food which contributed to my weight gain (I’m usually toggling between five to seven pounds). Each time I sat with my laptop and placed my fingers on my keyboard, all I could do was type jibberish (ndkwldmfkthslsiekdkdeldk).
I was born February 29, 1968. A leap year baby and true Pisces. From the early age of four, my dream was to become a Super Model. I would gaze in front of the television; sit as close as possible to the screen when the Barbizon modeling commercial would air, “Barbizon, become a model.” ( I would do the voice over.) You had to be thirteen or older to enroll. Every year I grew with anticipation of attending. Until then, I practiced on my own.
Sunday morning came accompanied by my usual ritual; I open my eyes, wonder where I am because for a brief moment all is a blur, that is until my eyes gain focus and then in an instant I remember. I reach for my cell phone to confirm the hour, stretch a bit, and then rise, but wait; I’m not alone. Lying next to me is The Judge telling me I should have gotten up sooner, along with The Drill Sergeant who points at my stomach and pudgy arms demanding that I drop (in the voice of my son) and give him 10 push-ups, (I can’t even endure one) and The Victim who tells me to simply pull the cover over my eyes and go back to sleep.
Have you ever wanted something so bad that it caused you great pain, anger, depression, confusion because you didn’t get it, only to later thank God that you didn’t receive what you asked for because the absence of what you wanted propelled you to a greater version of yourself?
Moving forward often requires stillness. In order to reach a destination, we must travel a road filled with stop signs. The stop signs, red lights, and detours are all beacons that are guiding us throughout our navigation in life.
Have you ever felt rejected by someone you love (mother, father, lover, friend)?
While attempting to find understanding you ask yourself, why? (which draws further confusion and anguish because your question is answered with an exasperated version of facts that would deem anyone insane for not reciprocating love.) After all; you…are…wonderful! You keep record of all the things you have done in spite of your own gain (or at least that’s what you tell yourself, ignoring how good you feel when you serve others).
I am grateful for the life lessons I’ve learned from my mother Reyna Cruz. Her birth name is actually Amalia Hernandez, however, my mother changed it when she was a rising superstar (singer/artist) of Maricahi music (Mexican Folk) to Reyna Cruz. The translation for Reyna means Queen, and Cruz means cross. This is how my mother has always carried herself, with grace and a royal air to her, like a queen.