Relationship

See, I thought that when I got in a relationship, that everything would flow together so simply. I figured we would float on hand-in-hand being able to secretly read each other’s minds, and fill that gaping hole that exists in both of us. I thought we would fall together like a beautifully draped window frame overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Birds would sing, and so would we, because happiness and joy would constantly overcome us and our special time together.

Sure, that happens. Sometimes. There are times when I am cuddled up in my boyfriend’s arms and I feel so warm and special that I never want to leave that place. There are times when he surprises me with things like Disneyland on my birthday that makes my heart skip a beat. There are times when I look at him and I feel so lucky because of how well he treats me.

There are also times where things are so hard that I don’t know how I am going to make it to the next day. Looking at someone in a relationship face-to-face everyday is a real test of all the scars that we have come to accumulate over the years. All those things I have been hiding for so long are now directly in front of me.

During therapy and a psychology course, I learned something valuable. I learned, in more or less words, that whatever bothers us in someone else is because we see it in ourselves. I’ve written on this before. Whatever bothers you about someone else, let’s say you notice how someone’s appearance isn’t right, it is because you are self-conscious of your own appearance. If you say people are so “judgmental,” it is because you feel judgmental yourself, and on and on and on.

So, getting in a relationship to me is putting a direct mirror on my beautiful partner to all my own insecurities. It is scary sometimes. I see him get angry. It frustrates me so much because I fear anger. I fear anger because I grew up in a household that wasn’t always quiet. Things got loud and my home could be very chaotic at times. Being with someone makes me see how much that did effect me and how much it still does. It gives me anxiety. I am not naturally “touchy” because I never saw that kind of vulnerability in my home.

When my partner does certain things, it will trigger something in my past, and I do not react to him, I react to what happened to me in the past. This isn’t always of course, there are certain times that he really drives me up a wall and I do the same to him. That is when we have to have actual conversations. Serious conversations are another thing I am not well-versed in. I try though, and we work through things with our words, in the best way that we can.

Being in a relationship, if you’re doing it honestly with one another and trying to show your true face (as well as you can) is really a test. It is a test to see if you can see those things in yourself (that you don’t like) in your person and accept them anyways. It is a test to see if you can let things go. It is a test to see if you can forgive. Them and you. It is a test every day.

I know that I have a tendency to talk in a tone that is less than sweet. I don’t do it on purpose and I honestly don’t know that I am doing it when it happens. Sometimes I can come off as very mean though. I’d heard it from my mom sometimes that I’d have these fits of moods that I couldn’t seem to shake myself out of, that I could be really, really mean if I wanted to. Sometimes, I put that meanness on my partner because of something going on inside me, and I don’t even know that I’m doing it!

He is a direct reflection. A reflection for me to see him in all his wonderful flaws and be with him anyways. To accept myself for all my wonderful flaws. A relationship to talk about what bothers me. A creation of space to be able to lay our masks on the table.

Jealousy is an emotion I have never been fond of. I always thought jealousy was weak. If I didn’t get something that I wanted and someone else did, it was never meant for me. Little did I know… There was jealousy underneath that well put together facade. There was. I never let it show though. I had some excess build up in this relationship from all my years of “playing it cool.” There have been people in my past that I wanted to be in a relationship with, and I watched them walk away in another’s arms, like it was no big deal at all. It showed strength, or so I thought.

I know now that front was a lie. It was a shield to my heart. It was a cover up to not show what was truly inside of me. Showing my heart was impossible back then. When my parent’s divorced, I didn’t cry or vent once about it for 6 years. I think I had so much pain pent up in me and so many walls over my heart, I didn’t know what I was doing was untruthful. What is really inside me can be a real fuck-up sometimes. She can be jealous, hateful, mean, and come up with crazy scenarios. She can still think all of that needs to be tied with a nice ribbon, not honest. I’ve done my best to stop using the ribbons, and to get completely honest.

In my relationship, I have a place to talk about the things that upset me. I used to feel this paralytic sensation when I would want to tell someone how I felt. If I wanted to express jealousy or hate, I’d clam up and say nothing at all, or tell a joke. Now I can walk through all of that silence and break it. I can express my hurt and my pain without fear. We have a white board in our living room. It has a column on it that says “values” and a column that says “feelings.” This is what we want to give light to in our house. Honesty is the first word on that board.

My partner talks about his feelings often. He does so much more than I do. This gives me the opportunity for growth. He has shown me how to let what is inside come out, no matter how scary it is. I can talk about the fear that surrounds that. I have got to show him a different way of treating himself, of self-care that can ease his mind in times of stress. We have helped each other grow, of this I am sure.

While thinking a relationship was going to be all butterflies and no effort, I kept my heart safe. I remained naive and ignorant of what a relationship is. A relationship is work. No one ever said that to me. At 27, maybe those words came a bit late, but I am happy that they came. A relationship is working through good and not so good times. It is being so mindful of one another. It is working together to make a comfortable space to share our spirits. It’s ever-changing, just like the world around us. Like my life, views, wants, and needs all continue to change, so too do we.

This is my experience. This is my love.

Yin and Yang

In second grade, I was a sweet little angel. The world was sweet. So I was sweet. I was quiet, and did my very best in school. I got A’s on my report card and never complained. Then my brother came into the world. He would push my limits. As much as I tried to keep my cool with him, I realized I had to fight for survival. It was the only way. I let him annoy me uncontrollably until age 10, when I realized I could beat him up, and I would successfully do that for many years. By third grade, I am bullying the boys on the 4-square court. I would tell them that they sucked a lot at everything, and I would always say I could beat them in any sport we played. I had a unibrow too, so I was tough. Real tough. I was “cool.” Yeah, real cool in third grade.

Growing up, I started to realize that I run on extremes. When I’ve been bad, I’ve been bad. When I’ve been good, I’ve been real good. I lost myself trying to be the most rebellious girl, and again trying to be the perfect saintly girl. The truth is my core was closer to the rebellious girl. By nature… but I am not only one thing. I am not only this saint who doesn’t like to be wild ever, nor am I the girl who was falling over and embarrassing herself at the party. Although I have been both of those things, I am neither one or the other. I always felt that I had to choose one though. As of the past few years, the saint girl has been running the show.

I went to Spain during the month of August. It had ups and it had downs. Some parts were amazing, some parts were not. I loved. I hated. I got kicked out of an air bnb. I got in a verbal fight with the owner of the place. Don’t you judge me, though. What did happen was some serious miscommunication and (likely) some already bias toward my American-woman self and his Russian-man self. I can’t be absolutely sure why it went as awry as it did, but I did stand up for myself. 

In a time where before I know I would have avoided this… where my “sweet persona” would have taken over, where the “no it’s okay, avoid all conflict” from the little buddha breathing down my neck would have taken flight, I fought. I fought him when I was certainly in a state of less power. I stood up for what I wanted. If you want specifics, go read the air bnb reviews, because no way am I repeating this story again.

My point is…

We are not all just one thing.

After I stopped being a kid anymore, I always thought that I had to choose. I am this. I am that. I am too masculine. I need to be more feminine. I am “bad.” I am “good”. I am “cool”. I am this. I am that. I wasn’t that kid anymore who just did what she had to do, and didn’t overthink every little thing. Fighting became “bad” too, no no, none of that. No need for bad here. Only peace here. No need to stir anything up. I am so at peace. Do you hear me? Nothing you do phases me! Right

I wanted to say I hate you. I wanted to say you are wrong. I wanted to say don’t do that, it hurts me. But I bit my tongue and I didn’t say what I wanted, because I am being “good.” I say nothing because I am being “peaceful”. That is a lie. Every time I played “peaceful” when I wanted to fight, I felt deep anxiety. The fight and flight response in me lit up. The fire in me wanted to breathe. It wanted to come out so badly, but I wouldn’t let it. I wouldn’t let it speak the truth! 

My truth, and I think the truth of everyone is… I am feminine. I am masculine. I am saint. I am sinner. I am peaceful. I am wild. I am all these things at once. It took all these experiences up until now, and I think Spain, for me to see that. Going to Spain awakened the fighter in me. Maybe my Latina bloodline fed me my medicine I needed to wake up to my natural self. A little bit of the “bad.” The real. 

The fighter in me has been shut out for so long. I think she scared me.

I know not every fight is worth fighting… not even close, but some most certainly are. I have to fight, and the saint doesn’t fight. Life won’t always be pretty like my meditation tells me every day. It won’t. And I don’t want pretty all the time. I won’t grow with pretty. I won’t change. I want to live and be crazy and wild and sweet and soft all in one. I am all of these things. I am done labeling myself as all one thing, or thinking that I am all one thing because I am not. I can be sweet and I can be mean. I am up and I am down. I am me. That’s all I can be.

nightmares and nice

*not like my usual writing… perhaps a bit more raw and definitely a bit angry, also lacking in punctuation*

last night i had a dream that unsettled me deeply. there was a guy i used to date in it and he was so drunk that his eyes were rolling in the back of his head. and i went up to him and asked him what he was doing. it made me so angry i woke up just then at 1:30am in the morning. it really shook me. the dream was so dark and eerie that i got scared. i had to turn the light on above me which was ridiculously bright. i felt incredible anger towards him. i blamed my nightmare on his existence. i judged him. i judged him so fiercely. i woke up thinking what a loser he was for drinking so much, all the time. i judged, and judged, and got angry in my head. be nice, be nice, be nice. i kept repeating this, yet my mind continued to go to extremes and feed my anger more and more.  


the anger continued on my commute to work. i hated it. commuting. i realized how much of my life i’ve wasted commuting. commuting is stupid. the guy at starbucks. i didn’t tip him. i always tip the guy at the coffee shop. be nice,be nice, be nice. his smile angered me though. i get to work. people are saying hi how are you, “i’m not great”, i say i’m fine but it’s easy to see on my face how i actually feel. i am angry at that guy from my nightmare for being a sloth in my dream. it repulsed me. i was so angry, with no where to put my anger. shall emotions need a place to be “put?” 


i get behind the front desk. the first guy is this ultra nice dad. he is saying the people in the room above him kept him and his family up all night. he is going on about how unbelievable it is that anyone can possibly stay up the entire night. i asked him if he’d ever been them, and stayed up all night. not the right question for customer service, yeah i know. really not the right question. but i don’t know where it came from. he was nice though, so i gave him some money back and he was grateful. as that finished i write this now…


i asked the man in front of me to have some empathy for the people in the room upstairs. how could i – who is tearing apart an old flame (because of a DREAM) in my mind over and over again – tell this man that his feelings are wrong? how could i feel so high and mighty as to tell him to be compassionate? of course, this belief is at my core. to understand others and to put myself in their place whenever possible. but just saying that does not mean that i can always do that. be nice. be nice. be nice. but how, how could i possibly be nice in this moment? what if instead of telling myself to “be nice, be nice, be nice” i said “be curious, be curious, be curious.” maybe, then i could come from a place of authenticity. maybe then, i could come from an honest place.


because we all know. niceness is not always real. i feel the fake nice. i’ve seen the bullshit nice. the nice that is only nice to possibly get a return. i’ve been “that” nice before. many times. be nice, be nice, be nice doesn’t work for me anymore. curiosity, because maybe then, i’ll be able to dig deep and ask a question first. i’ll listen to why i don’t feel like being nice, because there’s a reason. i’ll listen to what is bothering me. i’ll listen to myself before i go out and take my anger out on people, or lie niceness to their face. i’m not saying don’t be nice and if you’re mad go hulk on the world (cough, dad), i’m just saying take a second. take a second to explore why that anger is there. don’t just cover it up with the niceness, because that is called repression.

a lot of times i played nice to feel safe. i was nice to get out of a hard confrontation. i “played” nice. i didn’t want to be nice. how many times have you seen emails signed kindly, or please, or happy whatever, when you know damn well that email did not come from a nice place. when you know it’s not real. “playing” nice is not real. playing nice is just suppressing what you feel inside. being nice is beautiful, but being nice all the time is not always truth. unless you’re buddha or a monk, if you live in this world i highly doubt you honestly feel good and nice all the time.


i’m off track though – judgment – all this begin because i saw someone else judge someone. or what i thought was judgment. instead of swallowing down niceness, i got curious. there right in front of me was my lesson for the judgment. by me calling the dad judgmental, i am expressing what is going on INSIDE of me. i only see this as judgment, because that is how i feel. he is not being judgmental. i only feel that he is judgmental, because i am feeling judgmental.


i tell this story to ask you what bothers you SO MUCH about people.


guess what? it bothers you because that is how you are. that is the only reason. you see in them what you see in yourself. i see it in every single person i know. in me, too of course. that’s why i try to shut up more than i used to. what you say bothers you is literally what you are. what you say about other people is how you see yourself. i swear it. also the reason i curse the guy in my nightmare’s existence is because i used to get very drunk and sloth like. i am judging him, because i used to be him. i hate his drunk because i hated my drunk. i hate him because i hated me. he is me.


so yeah, judgment. and nice. sometimes, the nice is not real. i guarantee you, curiosity is real though. because once you get curious about your negativities, and why you don’t feel like just being “nice” you’ll understand others too. look inward before you say anything about anyone. look, and you’ll see. this blog lacks any tie and ribbon on the top of it like most of my writing on my page, but this is written in honest emotion. it’s not “nice.” it’s real though. i didn’t even use proper capitalization. muahaha.