I started this blog with hopes to create the words that I could never speak and to help anyone out there feeling alone. There is an end to the suffering. I warn that this story may trigger some people, with brief discussions of abuse and suicide. This is, however, the story I want to share.
I am a first generation American. Born from two hispanic immigrants. Neither came from the same country, yet found themselves like most immigrants, looking for the American dream. — This is how I started my letter to each law school I applied to. I grew up thinking this was what my adversary was. I was so wrong.
Yes, it was hard growing up as an ESL student. Spanish was my first language. Sure, there were obstacles in school and with kids, but I learned to blend in real quick. The truth is, what I was hiding inside was far more difficult than the concept of being a first generation American. I was a young child, growing up in a house that appeared to look normal from the outside, but inside was far from it. This was the story I should’ve told.
I remember when I was growing up, it always felt like the movie Groundhog Day. Except that every day I woke up in a nightmare, trying to navigate my way through hell over and over again.
I was a victim to sexual abuse as a small child. It plagued me for years to come. While growing up, I thought this was my normal. These were my circumstances and these were family members, so it must be okay. Truth is, it was not okay. It took what felt a lifetime to feel like I belonged in this world.
In my teen years, I felt a lot of anger and chaos. I felt lost and alone. I tried to take my life, and ended up in a mental hospital for an evaluation. It was then that my life forever begin to change. I saw a lot of people in pain. There were children with mental illness far beyond what I was dealing with. It was like this whole time I had been lost in this world alone suffering, when in fact there was a world of suffering around me.
Since then, I have tried to get the words out. I AM NOT ALONE. It is heartbreaking to know that this happens around the world more often than we want to admit. The world is always in chaos and people suffer all around us. I think I understand that now. I find the strength to move forward and count my blessings that I survived.
Between the mental breakdowns, the heart aches, the hurt, the pain, and mostly the anger, I realize that this trauma is with me forever. This is a part of who I am, like a scar, it is just but one story of my life. Like the person I’ve become. The mother that I am. A friend and wife. The yoga student, teacher, and lawyer. And while it took all the pain and suffering to get here, I carry it with me wherever I go. My past is a reminder of where I came from. This story is homage to humble beginnings and lighter endings. This is the part of my story that begins and ends now.