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losmonteslejanos · 3 years

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Spoon theory.

La teoría de las cucharas es una metáfora de la discapacidad, un neologismoutilizado para explicar la reducida cantidad de energía física y mental disponible para las actividades de vivir y tareas productivas que pueden resultar de tener una discapacidad o enfermedades crónicas.

«Las cucharas (*) son una representación visual utilizada como unidad de medida en orden para cuantificar cuánta energía tiene una persona a lo largo del día. Cada actividad requiere un número de cucharas, los cuáles serán reemplazadas si la persona “se recarga” mediante el descanso. Una persona que se queda sin cucharas no tiene otra opción que descansar hasta que sus cucharas se repongan. a teoría de las cucharas es un modelo conceptual, utilizado con el propósito de ilustrar las dificultades diarias de personas neurodivergencias, discapacitadas y/o con patologías crónicas que no necesariamente son visibles, por lo que su situación es difícil de comprender para la gente neurotípica y no discapacitada.»

Dicha analogía explica que las personas neurodivergentes o discapacitadas se desenvuelven con una cantidad reducida de energía disponible para ejecutar sus tareas cotidianas.

Las cucharas representan una unidad intangible para medir la cantidad de energía que la persona tiene a su disposición en un día. Cada actividad «cuesta» un cierto número de cucharas, las cuales sólo podrán ser reemplazadas a medida que la persona las recargue cuando descanse o haga otras actividades que no las requieran.

Cuando se acaba la cantidad de cucharas diarias la persona no es capaz de hacer nada más que descansar.

Uno de los principios de la teoría de las cucharas es que las personas discapacitadas, divergentes y/o con enfermedades crónicas (orgánicas o mentales) tienen que planear sus actividades diarias para conservar sus cucharas, a diferencia de los individuos neurotípicos y/o no discapacitados, que poseen un suministro ilimitado de cucharas, así que no necesitan preocuparse constantemente de que se les acaben.

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Spoon theory is a metaphor that is used to describe the amount of mental or physical energy a person has available for daily activities and tasks. The theory was developed by Christine Miserandino as a way to express how it felt to have lupus. She used spoons to provide a visual representation of units of energy that a person might have and how chronic illness forces her to plan out her days and actions in advance, so as not to run out of energy, or spoons, before the end of the day.

Spoons are a visual representation used as a unit of measure to quantify the amount of mental and physical energy a person has available for activities of living and productive tasks throughout a given amount of time (e.g. a day or week). Each activity requires a number of spoons, which will only be replaced as the person "recharges" through rest. A person who runs out of spoons has no choice but to rest until their spoons are replenished. This is not to say that rest is certain to give a person more spoons. For many people with chronic illness, sleep does not perform its normal function of restoring energy. Also, many disabled individuals may have sleep difficulties, resulting in a continued low supply of energy.

Because of this, many people with chronic illness have to plan around and ration their energy throughout the day. This has been described as being a major concern of people with a (fatigue-related) disability or chronic condition/illness/disease because people without these disabilities are not typically concerned with the energy expended during ordinary tasks such as bathing and getting dressed. The theory explains the difference and facilitates discussion between those with limited energy reserves and those with (seemingly) limitless energy reserves.

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losmonteslejanos · 3 years

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Grieving the living: a series of unfortunate events.

I never thought the day would come. The day I’d really never want anything to do with you again. You did this. You pushed and pushed until, finally, I fell off the edge.

I should thank you. It’s weird, you know, to realize that I’m free of you. Even when I no longer loved you in that way, I cared about you. The last 4.5 years of my life were certainly interesting. You were in and out so much that I could barely keep up.

For about two years I was in a relationship. You were out of the picture for quite a long time but we kept in touch. I always cared for you, wanted the best for you. That’s what loving someone is, even if you’re no longer in love with them.

I thought you’d grown up. Honestly, maybe you have. Maybe it was you and me that wasn’t meant to work out, or the way I allowed you to act that made you the way you were towards me. Either way, time passed and nothing changed. I don’t know why I expected it to.

But then you took it too far. You somehow managed to find the one thing that would rid you of me. The one thing so horrible and disrespectful that would finally have me walk away and not care about what happens to you anymore. I hope it was worth it.

I hope you let that wall down. I hope you learn to let people in. I hope you’ve finally learned to love...because if not, life is going to be very lonely for you. You have been given a chance to have everything you ever wanted and I hope you don’t treat it like you treated me. But what I hope more than anything is that you never contact me again. I hope that even when you realize what you’ve done, you leave me out of whatever amends you feel you need to make and just do better. Do better because people who love you deserve better. I deserved better.

I’m sorry I might’ve been the first person to teach you how to love, and I’m sorry that it was never going to be enough. But mostly I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention to the signs earlier, I might’ve saved myself some pain. That being said, I’ll never be sorry for who I am and how I love...and I hate that you made me feel like I should be.

You’re off to a bad start if you were “iffy” about your child. I hope your next saga ends better than this one.

xoxo,

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losmonteslejanos · 3 years

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What COVID-19 made me realize.

While I’m sitting here wondering whether or not I have COVID-19, I’m thinking about how much this global pandemic has made me realize. Like King Kylie once said, “I feel like this year is really about, just the year of realizing stuff.”

These are the 19 things I realized because of COVID-19:

1. It’s okay to be sad about things getting cancelled even if there are bigger things going on around us.

You can be sad about a cancelled trip or concert, or even about not being able to hang out with friends. It doesn’t make you selfish; it makes you human. It’s okay to be disappointed about cancelled plans you were looking forward to and avoiding those feelings will not make them go away.

2. While taking time to allow yourself to be upset about plans changing, still keep in mind that the pandemic affects all of us.

While I find it not only healthy, but necessary, to take time to process feelings about how COVID-19 had affected you personally, it’s important to remember that we are not the only being on earth. It’s important to thing about the bigger picture and how our actions affect others, and follow COVID-19 regulations to avoid further spread. It’s on all of us to fight to end this.

3. Just because we’re socially distancing, doesn’t mean you should isolate yourself from everyone completely.

Make time to socialize with other people. Whether that be a small hangout, a zoom party, or deciding to quarantine with family - there are safe ways to have human interaction that will keep you sane. Text or FaceTime your friends regularly. Call your older relatives. Get a pen pal. Do anything that will keep you sane and keep you safe. Two new ways I’ve interacted with others are: I became pen pals with an old friend from elementary school and I joined a book club.

4. Use this extra time to dedicate yourself to what really interests you.

All this down time has given me time to get back to what I enjoy. I’ve been reading a ton, which isn’t something I’ve done in quite some time. I’ve really enjoyed getting back into that, and into this blog. I had completely abandoned this project but these unprecedented times really did something to my creative juices. Really got them flowing. I’ve even talked with a friend about ~possibly~ starting a podcast, but we’ll see if that plays out. All this being said - you do not have to be productive during this time. I repeat, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE PRODUCTIVE DURING THIS TIME. I know it can be discouraging seeing so many people starting small businesses while you have “accomplished nothing,” but global pandemics are not one size fits all. We’re all doing our best. So if your best is binging ‘The Office’ for the tenth time, so be it.

5. Regular depression + seasonal depression + global pandemic depression is a match made in hell.

Depression sure has had some audacity this year, huh? As if it wasn’t bad enough, let’s add extra time alone with our thoughts. It’s been a scary time. I can’t even imagine what it’s been like for those who have it worse than me. I have a great support system that has pulled me through but others haven’t been so lucky. These past few months so alone with my thoughts got pretty dark at times. I not only got over my fear of dying, but wanted to die at times, not so much because I no longer wanted to live but because it felt too hard to live the way that I was. Help is out there if you need it. Therapy, in conjunction with medication, has helped immensely and I feel lucky to be here. My heart hurts for those who are not. We love you and we miss you.

6. Working from home is a blessing and a curse.

At first, working from home sounded like a dream. I didn’t have to get dressed up, I’d have no commute, and I’d be in my own space. Besides, it’d only be two weeks...a month tops, right? WRONG. The reality of working from home is that I haven’t worn real pants in months, I don’t get the social aspect of my job anymore, I work much more independently and I don’t know how to wake up before 8:30am anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I’m lucky to still have a job. The problem is, I feel a lot less productive at home and fear the adjustment that’ll come when I eventually have to go back to the office. For me, that’s currently set for April 2021, but we’ll see if that gets pushed forward again.

7. We simply do not deserve dogs.

I’ve been working from home since March 16, 2020. That’s 270 days, but who’s counting? Luna, Ginger and Leo have been a God-send. They’re my new favorite coworkers, even though they fall asleep on the job almost everyday. Their constant affection makes everyday better and this all would’ve been so much worse without them. We’ve definitely created clingy monsters but, they’re CUTE, clingy monsters so it’s okay.

8. I really, really wish Madrina was alive.

While thinking of her being alive during a pandemic freaks me out because I’d be very afraid to expose her accidentally, thinking of all the quality time we could’ve spent together this past year makes me sad. I know one could go mad with what could’ve been but I really didn’t get to spend a lot of time with her the last couple of years of her life and I would’ve loved at least a couple of months of having her all to myself. She had definitely been heavily on my mind this year.

9. I do not like not being in control of things.

Surprise, surprise. I’m a control freak. If things don’t go my way, it is an ugly sight. And this year certainly did not go my way. The main thing that comes to mind is bringing Madrina home. Back when she passed in 2019, she was cremated. The plan was always to bring her ashes back to the US to be buried with her husband, but because we couldn’t get the paperwork done in time, she didn’t return on that trip. 2020 was the year to being her home. That did not happen. Cemeteries bring me peace. Visiting my loved ones is part of my healing. It’d be perfect, too, because Duli is buried in the same cemetery. I’d get to visit my two favorite ladies at the same time. But that hasn’t been a possibility yet. COVID-19 took that from me. While I know the plan will come to fruition eventually, and I’ll be able to lay her to rest at last, I’m not at peace because I have no control over when it’ll happen.

10. A lot of humans are, for lack of a better word, stupid.

I’m going to keep this one short and sweet. As if a virus that swept the globe didn’t show us how many dummies walk among us (haha see what I did there? Among us? It’s culturally relevant. I’m funny.), the election really said “hold my beer” and brought all the morons out to play. If you still thing COVID-19 is a hoax or that Trump won the election, please seek help.

11. People will really go to extreme measures to continue to be racist.

Parler became a popular thing this year. An online Ku Klux Klan platform, as far as I’m concerned. Not all cowards wear capes, I suppose. Ugh, disgusting. This made me really question humanity.

Also, PS. Blue lives don’t matter, because blue lives don’t exist. ACAB. BLACK LIVES MATTER.

12. Flu season during a pandemic is scary.

Being sick at all this year has made me a paranoid mess. I’m sure with any cough, sneeze, or fever, we all assumed the worst. Like our minds automatically would jump to COVID-19 as the only possible cause for our symptoms. Not to mention how much worse the panic gets when getting tested is damn near impossible in New York City. I hope you all stay safe and stay smart.

13. Waiting for COVID-19 test results is scary.

I’m sure we’ve all messed up a bit during the past nine months. Maybe we weren’t as careful as we should’ve been and found ourselves in a position where we felt that we needed to get tested. The waiting period to get your results can be terrifying, especially since your results don’t only affect you. It’s so contagious and unpredictable that a million scenarios run through your mind and you feel like you’ve played Russian Roulette with your health and the health of your loved ones. It is not a fun time. 0/10 do not recommend.

14. Taking a break from the news is self-care.

I was glued to the TV when this all started back in March. I was certainly glued to the TV during election week. Since then, however, I’ve had to take a step back. Sometimes being super informed is too emotionally taxing. And that’s okay. You can stay safe and informed without getting an update every hour.

15. Getting rid of things is more therapeutic than I thought.

I’m someone who has a lot of emotional/sentimental clutter. I get very attached to physical things. I have a hard time letting go. I had decided to redo my room to give myself a change of scenery. My old room had begun to suffocate me. I felt trapped there. Since I was spending so much time and money redoing my room, I wanted to get rid of whatever no longer served a purpose or no longer brought me joy. I know, very ‘Marie Kondo’ of me. Starting seemed so intimidating. I stumbled upon the “minimalist game” on Youtube and I found my solution. The premise was to get rid of a certain amount of items each day in November. One item the first day, two items the second day, three items the third day, and so on. I thought it would get extremely difficult towards the end. Thirty items on day 30 seemed crazy. But I’m currently at 924 items on December 11th and the number keeps slowly rising. It’s okay to start small; it can snowball into something big. I feel lighter and having a number goal made the process a lot easier. I just gradually increased the end goal as I’ve gone on. I was able to donate five large garbage bags full of clothes that I had hoarded for years, clothes that held bad memories, clothes that didn’t fit me, clothes that made me feel like crap about myself. I’m sure you can all relate. GET RID OF IT.

16. 90 Day Fiance is actually quality television and you can’t change my mind.

Okay, reality television is trash. I know that. But this show really brings the drama. It’s entertaining as hell and if you disagree, you haven’t given it a fair chance. This shit is hilarious and gets you invested, whether you love or hate a couple. 90 Day Fiance is exactly what quarantine needed. I said what I said.

PS. Tim and Veronica are my favorites on Pillow Talk and I’d love to know yours.

17. Having someone to quarantine with is a blessing.

My heart goes out to all those who have gone through this year all alone, for one reason or another. I can’t imagine being completely alone with my thoughts AND no human contact. That’s scary to think about. I’m grateful for my companions through this, and pray for those who aren’t as lucky.

18. I love myself more than I give myself credit for.

I might be the most self-deprecating person on the earth. The jokes just do not stop with me. And look, I might be my own worst enemy, but I’m also my biggest cheerleader. Doing a lot of self reflection, I’ve realized that while I don’t like everything about myself (who does?), I think I’m happy with who I am, and that was kind of shocking to come to terms with.

19. You do not have to find a silver lining in 2020.

This year has sucked. Bad. Plain and simple. We’ve lost way too many. There has been too much negligence. You don’t have to look on the bright side, even if good things happened for you throughout the year. Good things can happen and it’ll still be a bad year.

Here’s to a better 2021 and a vaccine that even the biggest conspiracy theorist will get. I hope you all stay safe out there.

xoxo

Edit: I tested negative.

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losmonteslejanos · 3 years

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Grieving the living...what’s gone unsaid for far too long.

I’ve given a lot of thought to the concept of grieving the living. If you’ve experienced it, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I decided to briefly discuss this today because Facebook reminded me that it is my paternal grandfather’s birthday today (as if I didn’t already know because birthdates live rent free in my brain). I was slightly triggered because that means it’s been six years since I’ve spoken to my grandparents.

I wasn’t heartbroken or anything. I’m actually extremely apathetic about them these days. About them, about HIM. You know, the ones from that family that have hurt me. I used to fear expressing these feelings too publicly because I didn’t want to embarrass them or hurt their feelings. Frankly, screw that. It is not my responsibility to shelter their egos and hearts when they did not shelter mine. No matter how you look at it, I was the child in this situation and they failed me. Instead of being afraid that they might see this, I truly hope they do. I won’t mention them by name, but I know. And they know. And you probably know, too.

Today is not about my father. His day(s) will come. Today is about the people who raised him and how they had a hand in this mess. How I’ve grieved them even though they’re alive.

An open letter to the people who raised my father:

Thank you. Thank you for creating the “man” who helped give me life, for without you I wouldn’t exist. Thank you for giving the world the person who helped create my mother’s lifelong companion, since he decided he didn’t want to be that himself. Thank you for creating the biggest coward I’ve ever known, for without him leaving, my life would’ve been vastly different and I wouldn’t want that.

Thank you for bailing. I can’t hold you accountable for your son leaving, but I can certainly hold you accountable for deciding to walk away too. I’ve known the ultimate love from a grandparent, being their whole world. My grandma made me feel that. She never let me feel the void you left behind. This isn’t it, this isn’t even close. You didn’t even try. I can count how many times I’ve seen you on one hand, some I barely even remember; I just know that they happened. You were complete strangers to me then, and you’re complete strangers to me now.

When I was 15 you both came to the US. You wanted to see me. I obliged. I want to make it explicitly clear that I had no obligation to do so. I owed you nothing; I owe you nothing. But I went to see you (and was completely ambushed by the arrival of my father who I hadn’t seen in ten years). I went to see you to make amends, to start over, to extend an olive branch - thank you for teaching me some things never change.

A brief thank you for something I’m actually thankful for. You opened a door to some of the most loving people I’ve ever met in a little Pennsylvania town. I visit with them often and they’re all the family I need. Thank you for actually giving me something good.

I was the child in this situation. Why was I making the sacrifices? Being the bigger person? Enduring discomfort? It’s because none of you understand the kind of love that I do. The love I was raised with. The love I understood and had, even at 15 years old.

You were both younger than my mother is now when I was born. The age any normal grandparent would love to be to get to fully enjoy their grandchild, but you wasted that. You’re both young enough that you’d likely live to meet your great-grandchildren. Some only dream of that opportunity. I hope your other grandchildren give you that, I hope you’ve put more effort into your relationships with them than you have with me.

Speaking of age, this story would be incomplete without mentioning Madrina - the woman who stepped up to the role your son ran from. She was 72 when she became a first time parent to me. That’s about how old you are now. Imagine raising a baby at your age? I’d imagine it’d be extremely difficult. She made that choice in adverse times due to the mess your son left behind - and what a beautiful mess it was. It was an honor and a privilege to have her as my second parent. How many can say that about your son? (If you can even call him a parent)

I’d like to end this bringing up the two things I’ve gotten from you: the ability to flee like nobody’s business and your last name. Hopefully with more therapy and extra love, I’ll be free of both of those very soon. I don’t hate you. I want to make it extremely clear that in order to hate someone, you must first care about them. I don’t say this to be mean or hurt your feelings, it’s simply fact. My feelings are a direct product of your actions. I forgive you but won’t forget how easily you pushed me to the side and I will not be opening myself up to be hurt again. I hope it was worth it. I have grieved this loss already and I will not do it again.

With all the love I have in my heart,

Your granddaughter

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losmonteslejanos · 3 years

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The guilt of relief.

The last part of the main trilogy of guilt is a bit different. I don’t carry the same guilt for Madrina as I do for Duli and my grandma. While my grief for Madrina cuts deeper, it does not weigh heavily on on my conscience. I am grateful for that.

My guilt with Madrina stems from two very specific things I did: not going to her when my gut told me I should and for wishing her dead. Let me explain.

I NEVER wanted her to die. I wanted her to be free from herself, from who she had become, even if that meant I had to lose her. She was a prisoner and she desperately needed to break free. That was very evident. But I need to make it very clear that I never actually wanted her to die. I wanted her to be free. She deserved that.

Prison began around nine to ten years ago. There wasn’t a set date that her sentence began and we didn’t exactly know what was happening as it happened, but it’s easy to recognize now. She’s about 86 years old at this point and has only been retired for a couple years (she was actually insane, I know). Retiring took a toll on her. After she left her workplace (where she had worked for the same family for about 45 years) she slowly began to change. The change in her routine must’ve been too much for her. It had kept her sharp but now she was getting duller by the day.

It was absolutely terrible at first. She was hyper aware that she couldn’t function like she used to and she couldn’t stand it. Her entire life she had been super independent and the slightest feeling of incompetence frustrated her to no end. I had always heard that Madrina was cold; that she was mean - but I had never experienced that. Alzheimer’s made sure I met that side of her.

She became a different person. Looking back, I know she was just hurting. She couldn’t understand why her body and mind were failing her - they had carried her for such a long time. She hated herself; that part was clear. But she took it out on me. I was an easy target for her and she said some pretty nasty things to me during that time. That was the first time I wished her dead.

This version of her was ugly. I hated her. I hated that I lived with her. I pleaded with my mother on several occasions to move out. I hated how she made me feel. I resented her but I knew this wasn’t who she really was - I knew her, and this wasn’t it. But I wanted my suffering to stop. Removing her from the equation would do that.

This phase of her illness lasted about a year. She put me through a lot that year, but looking back I can’t recall a single hurtful thing she said. It didn’t matter in the long run. It was never about hurting me, anyway. It was her cry for help when she needed us most.

Things got better after that. Her personality changed again but this was bearable for me...though not so much for my mother. She had been okay during the mean and hurtful phase of Madrina because she hadn’t been the target, but BOY, did she get her day in court. At this point Madrina had a problem with authority. Her independent self could not handle being told what to do and taking orders was not in her vocabulary. My mother only wanted what was best for her so this caused CONFLICT. I often tried to mediate, for I probably understood Madrina better than anyone else, but had the same goals my mother did. This didn’t always end well for me. But I did it anyway because I loved her so much. I spent many meals in tears at the table alone with Madrina feeding her like she was a toddler who refused to eat...and I’d do it all again.

Then came the best and the worst part. The part where I couldn’t have been more conflicted. The part where she surrendered. She eventually gave in. She allowed us to take care of her. She was super sweet...like, more than ever before. It was a new version of her and we loved it. She was funny, she was playful, she was loving, she was kind. She was still difficult at times (some things never change) but she was gracious about it. Most of the time she was just lovely to be around. Some things she just wouldn’t waiver on, but that was to be expected with her. Those times were frustrating but completely bearable. I could live with this version of her forever.

But then came the ugly part, because you can’t have rainbows without a little rain. Her memory was shot. She remembered her childhood but not what happened five minutes ago. None of it made sense. Every time she was reminded that a loved one had died was like a fresh wound for her and, as someone who has known grief, that KILLED me. I couldn’t bear to see her live through that pain over and over and over and over. So we lived in an alternate reality for a long time. One where people were out at the store instead of six feet underground. We kept her happy this way. I wished her dead so she could be free of the confusion. I can’t even imagine what went on in her brain. What she remembered was like a box of chocolates - you never knew what you were going to get. But at least she remembered us.

In my mind I had grieved her already. She was such a shell of herself that I had mourned that part of her that I had already lost and her physical body didn’t seem as important. I was so wrong about that. She was such a security blanket for me that losing her physically destroyed me. I feel so guilty for asking God to take her, to release her. I had to have known what I was asking for, but I didn’t understand the repercussions of getting it.

It was never with malicious intent that I prayed for this, and boy did I pray for this. It was never to make my life easier or free myself from her. It’s because she was miserable. Even when she didn’t say it, I could tell. She never wanted to live this long or age this much. This was never her intention. She never wanted to be a burden on anyone - and even if she didn’t believe it, she never was. I know she loved us and wanted to be with us, but she had been ready for a long time.

April 26, 2019 she gave some signs. She was in Spain at the time and I had called my aunt to see how she was doing. My aunt made it clear that she felt Madrina’s days were numbered. That didn’t completely faze me because we’d had that thought several times over the past few years. But then, something felt different. Something told me to go to her. I contemplated quitting my job and spending the rest of her days with her. I thought about buying a plane ticket to go see her for a long weekend. But then I thought logically. The old her would’ve been pissed if I quit my job. I didn’t have the money on hand to just buy a plane ticket that day. I decided to wait it out. I went to PetSmart, impulsively bought two gerbils to boost my serotonin, and went home. It weighed heavy on my mind but I tried to continue living my life and made plans to try and visit her over the summer. I’ve lived to regret that decision. She died two weeks later. I feel that guilt for not going to her, when my gut told me I should. I know she died knowing she was loved and cherished and that gives me a sense of peace. I feel the guilt of not seeing her one last time but I know we did right by her.

We laughed, we cried, we fought; but most importantly we loved and the memories we have with her we will carry with us forever. After all these years of good times and bad times, she can rest now - we can all rest now. (3/3)

“Guilt is toxic. Reliving the same mistake over and over again is torture. Constantly criticizing and blaming yourself is bullying. Break free of this cycle. Reflect. Learn. Grow. Love yourself. Forgive yourself.”

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losmonteslejanos · 3 years

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The part I hate most.

This one’s the worst one. The heaviest cross that I carry. This one I don’t talk about too often; I have let it get buried under life’s other trials and tribulations for my own sake.

It’s hard to think about Duli sometimes. What our relationship was and how important it is to me might be a discussion for another day. Today is about her death and the guilt I feel associated with it.

Duli was the queen of guilt trips. I don’t think she did it on purpose but she used to drag me for filth when I hadn’t visited her in a while. It honestly made me come around even less. I didn’t do it on purpose but the feeling she gave me when I would go visit her was like negative reinforcement. It was miserable seeing her sometimes. It was hard to understand why she couldn’t just be happy that I was visiting her instead of focusing on when I hadn’t. I think I get it now. She was lonely. She was lonely and I didn’t see it.

For a long time I was her whole world. Years K through 8 I was basically with her at least four days a week. I have so many good memories to share about her and our time together. Those will come later. But things changed when I went to high school. I wasn’t just two blocks away anymore. I was involved in extracurriculars and was getting home later and later every night. I was seeing her like once a week, MAYBE. It was hard on me but I had distractions - she had the void.

Our relationship changed even more once I went to college. Not only was school further away but I had moved away too. At this point I’m seeing her once every couple of months. I felt like she resented me for it. Thinking back on it, even I resent me for it. But I was a kid. I was doing what kids do. I was worried about myself; I was selfish. To a certain extent that was good. I was very focused on my goals and achieving them. My mistake was believing that she’d always be around to see them.

Of course I carry guilt from not seeing her as much as I could’ve. I feel like that’s pretty generic in any pseudo grandparent-grandchild relationship. It kind of comes with the territory of growing up. We get caught up in our own lives and forget the elders in our lives. I’ve worked very hard to avoid that, but it happens. But my real guilt with Duli surrounds the months leading up to her death. Her cancer had come back. It wasn’t going to get better - she was going to die this time.

I knew it was going to kill her. I knew this was it and she did too. She reminded me of that the one time I saw her at hospice before she was sent home. She was a shadow of herself. The hands that had painted several artworks in my home could barely write a sentence. I only had the courage to see her one time after that. I distanced myself. It was too difficult to see her like that. I regret that now. I should’ve pushed those feelings aside. I was twenty years old at that point, I was grown up enough to tough it out and be there for her. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t bare to watch the cancer kill her. And I still feel guilty for that.

She died March 13, 2017. It was a Monday. I didn’t go to class that whole week. I was devastated but the overwhelming feeling was guilt. I was angry I wasn’t given the opportunity to say goodbye (I held that grudge against her sister for quite some time) but I felt guilty that my hands off approach was probably the reason I didn’t get the call. I had distanced myself from her and she certainly felt it.

I’m scared she died not knowing how much I loved her. I’m scared I did that to her. I should’ve reassured her. I should’ve comforted her. I should’ve tried to give an ounce to her of all she gave to me. But I didn’t. I didn’t to protect my heart but I’ve just caused it so much pain due to all I left unsaid.

The last time I spoke to her was March 3rd. Just ten days before God called her home. I was in Spain at the time but I’d be returning soon:

Duli: “Te quiero siempre y deseo mucho verte.”

Me: “Hola Dulita, tu sabes que yo también te quiero mucho. Cuando vuelva de España nos vemos.”

But that day never came...(2/3)

“And then Elsa thinks that she’ll ask Granny in the morning. And then one morning there is no morning anymore.”

- My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry, Fredrik Backman

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losmonteslejanos · 3 years

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Guilt and grieving. Part one of many.

This is a nasty one. The guilt often associated with grief. I hate thinking about this; I hate talking about it even more. Sometimes even though we know we played no part in the death of a loved one, we feel guilty for choices we’ve made and maybe some we didn’t.

I’m gonna take this one all the way back to 2002. I was six years old. Monday, December 16th at approximately 5:32pm. I had gone to school that day and was finishing up homework while Madrina started on dinner. She asked me to take my grandma her Ensure, as I did everyday. My grandma was very sick at this point and her days were numbered even if I didn’t know it. She was unresponsive by the time I got to her. It got ugly after that. I wish I had been older then. It wouldn’t have made it easier, but I regret not comforting her in that moment. My love couldn’t save her but I live with the regret that my words could’ve consoled her. It was her time to go and it was okay to leave us and I hope she knew that.

It took me a long time to recover from her loss, I held on to her in almost an unhealthy manner - probably due to the trauma of watching her die. I was so desperate to remember every ounce of her other than that day that it consumed me. I felt her presence around me and while I liked that, again, I felt guilty. Guilty for every time I picked at my mother’s wound of losing her own mother. Guilty for how inconsolable I’d get if she even came up in conversation. Guilty for feeling like I was holding on to her so tightly that I wasn’t letting her move on. Like her soul so desperately wanted to cross over, but couldn’t because of her love for me. There’s no way to know the validity of that, but I felt it. FOR YEARS I felt it and I tried to move on for her sake more than for mine but for so long, I couldn’t. I felt like letting go of her meant losing a part of my identity and I wasn’t ready to see how untrue that was.

The latest part of my guilt is probably the worst. The guilt of forgetting. I only shifted into this stage a few months ago, but being alone with your thoughts during a global pandemic can do that to you. I don’t remember her anymore. I don’t remember her laugh, her voice, her mannerisms...it’s all a blur. I remember her dying. I remember her dying and not knowing what was going on. I remember paramedics coming and it being too late. I remember the hustle and bustle of trying to save her life while everyone forgot that a six year old me was standing in a corner watching. And THAT’S IT. That is the memory I have of her. I barely remember her funeral a few days after, but even that was traumatic. I had snuck near her to kiss her goodbye and I can still feel how cold she was. And I feel guilty that my tiny little brain can remember the birthday of my best friend in first grade but can’t remember how she’d tell me she loved me or something that we did together. It’s hard to accept that you’re forgetting someone that was the most important person in your life.

And guilt came again when I realized that the only reason I’ve healed this wound, though the scar remains, is because Madrina’s passing opened one so painful, that sometimes I forget that this one existed. I can’t believe I’d see a day when that’d be true. I barely cry about this anymore. Not because I’m done grieving, but because I have now known a greater pain, something I once believed impossible.

If you let yourself fall into that cycle, you’ll carry way too much, for way too long... (1/3)

When my grandma died, my family’s tenant gave me a book to help me with understanding death and what comes after. I come from a Catholic family and I believe in heaven - I was taught this concept from a young age and frankly I find comfort in believing it is true, regardless of what you may believe.

The book is called “What’s Heaven?” written by Maria Shriver. The book is about a mother explaining the concept of heaven to her daughter after a loss in the family and it’s something I’ve kept and referenced to this day, almost eighteen years later.

“Heaven is a beautiful place up in the sky, where no one is sick, where no one is mean or unhappy. It’s a place beyond the moon, the stars, and the clouds. Heaven is where you go when you die...It hurt’s deep inside, because you realize that you will never seen them again.”

Thank you Maria Shriver for writing a book that got me through the worst part of my childhood, and thank you Christine for bringing this book to me.

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losmonteslejanos · 4 years

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What losing Madrina was actually like.

A year ago today I went to work like I always did. I had just gotten back from lunch when I got the call. “I hate to do this over the phone,” my mom said. I knew exactly what this was. I knew the moment that had always terrified me was here. I knew I was living it; Madrina had passed away.

I always knew it was a possibility. That any day could be her last. The last time I saw her was August 22, 2018. I was leaving Spain to come back to New York and I knew very well that it could be the last time I ever saw her. It had gotten to a point where I cried every time I had to say goodbye to her because I never knew when it would be the last. It sucked every time but it only made every hello so much better.

As soon as I found out I knew I had to go to her; I had to see her one last time. So that’s what we did. We got on a plane and went to Spain to say our goodbye. Everything happened so fast that I absolutely lost my mind once I was stuck on the plane for six hours. I sat in the bathroom and cried in such an inconsolable manner that I was almost embarrassed. As silly as it sounds, I’ve never felt more vulnerable knowing she wasn’t on this earth to protect me anymore, and it was scary.

I was in Spain for about 48 hours and I don’t remember much. I was so fixated on her and getting every last minute I could with her, even if it was with her lifeless body. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I could barely even stand the whole time that I was there because of the indescribable pain that I felt. The whole experience made me hope for an afterlife more than I ever had before; I couldn’t live with the thought that it was the end of our story. I needed to look forward to a reunion at some point.

I was blessed to have her for twenty two years...but frankly, it would never be enough. The bond I had with her was a love you’re only only blessed with maybe once in a lifetime..and she was mine. Loving her and losing her has changed me forever. I am who I am because of her and I’ll never be done grieving her. A death like hers is not one you simply get over, and I wouldn’t want to. I’d rather have loved her and lost her, then to have never had the privilege to have loved her at all.

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losmonteslejanos · 2 years

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The good things coming..

I’d become so accustomed to almost every experience having some sort of negative connotation to it. Somehow, some way - there was always a down side. Since this year started, life has been quite a shit show to say the fucking least. While that may be a story for another day, I finally had a positive story I found worth sharing.

I quit my job on Monday. I had been needing to do that for a while if I’m being 100% honest with myself. I was unhappy, I no longer felt like I fit into the environment I was in and I felt demoralized at the end of every work day. Maybe it was because of what I experienced earlier in the year, but I didn’t feel human anymore, I didn’t feel like I mattered as a person. This is no dig at where I worked or the people that I worked with - I have mostly fond memories of my time there...but it was simply that my time there was finished and the sooner I got my ass up and did something about it, the better it would be for everyone involved.

I must have the best guardian angels out there because before I got my ass up to do something about it, opportunity came knocking at my door. I would’ve been a fool to not open that door, which I did and that’s what has lead me to where I am at this point, but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t hesitate. I’ve always hated change and I might’ve felt like shit every day, but I’ve always said that the shit you know is better than the shit you don’t. But in this case I decided it was worth the risk. Was I right? I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far yet. My next endeavor hasn’t started yet but I am optimistic and I believe in the good things coming.

Now, let me tell you how this turned into a huge milestone for me - besides getting a new job. I wasn’t sad about it. That’s it, thats the big accomplishment. Something good happened and I wasn’t fucking sad about it.

Madrina was always the go-to person for anything. Good or bad, she had your back, unconditionally. While I miss her every time I’m in crisis and I wish she could wave the magic wand she had to fix everything, it’s in times of celebration that I miss her more. I have felt sad every time something good has happened since she died - joy killed instantly at the thought that I could no longer share that with her...but this time was different.

Something good happened and I was just happy about it. I’m at a point in mourning her where I know she knows and I know she’d want me to enjoy the good things that come my way, and while it’s still a daily struggle and a point I never thought I’d reach, I’m thankful.

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losmonteslejanos · 2 years

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New year, same me.

I don’t like new years’ resolutions. It’s a constant cycle of making commitments, whether privately or publicly, that we never have any intention of keeping. Change doesn’t come with the new year or “next Monday” or whatever arbitrary deadline we give ourselves. Change comes when you’re ready for it.

That being said, I am making a commitment to myself to simply be a better version of myself. I’m not talking losing weight or finding a new job or taking a big risk - I’m talking making myself a better person. I may have lost sixty pounds last year but guess what? I didn’t do it in a healthy way and it certainly didn’t make me any happier...and that’s the problem. We get so caught up in waiting to be happy; if only I looked a certain way or had a particular thing or achieved a higher “status” are all things we tell ourselves and we look at them as goals but they’re actually roadblocks. None of that actually matters. If you’re not happy with yourself, it doesn’t matter what you have or don’t have.

As cheesy as it sounds, reading Don Miguel Ruiz’s book The Four Agreements really changed my perspective. My biggest critic of this book is that it is HIGHLY repetitive. Once you get past that though, there’s a lot to be learned about how less bullshit directly correlates to more happiness.

Here’s a summary of what I learned and my thoughts on it:

What are the four agreements?

1. BE IMPECCABLE WITH YOUR WORD.

Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

2. DON’T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONALLY.

Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.

3. DON’T MAKE ASSUMPTIONS.

Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

4. ALWAYS DO YOUR BEST.

Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and regret.

“The human is the only animal on earth that pays a thousand times for the same mistake.”

THE FIRST AGREEMENT

“Be impeccable with your word.”

Your word gives you power. As the only creature with the ability to speak, we hold more power than we realize. You can raise somebody up and completely break them down - all in the same breath. Your word can set you free or completely enslave you. Ultimately the choice is yours.

“But like a powerful sword with two edges, your word can create the most beautiful dream, or your word can destroy everything around you.”

The words we say can change everything - for better or for worse...and the line between them is very thin. A lot of the time we don’t realize how we hurt others with what we say, who we say it to and the intention we say it with - and I don’t think we realize how much we hurt ourselves with our words and how we allow the words of others to hold more weight than they should.

Impeccable means “without sin” and according to this philosophy, anything you feel or believe or say that goes against yourself is a sin. There is a difference between being accountable and taking responsibility for your actions...and constantly beating yourself down with your own judgments and berating. That being said, the only way to be impeccable with your word is to be mindful of how you address others AND how you address yourself.

We lie to please others because it’s easier. We talk poorly of others, whether to their face and behind their back. We hear what others say and take it as fact, regardless of lack of personal experience. Words have power because we give it to them, so we have to be more careful with how we use them.

The last, and maybe the most important, takeaway from the first agreement for an emotional piece of shit like myself was to forgive those who have hurt me with their words - not because they deserve forgiveness but to set myself free. As Eleanor Roosevelt once said “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” so take that power back, and let it go for your sake.

THE SECOND AGREEMENT

“Don’t take anything personally.”

I’m a big advocate of this one but I’m guilty of succumbing to it as well. When you get offended by the words people say, on some level you agree with what was spat your way. If you know that something hurtful that was said to you is untrue, do not give it a second thought. Don’t assume everything is about you - more than likely, it is not.

“Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves.”

When someone spews poison at you and you give it power, you take that weight off of them and add it on to yourself...and that is where we hurt ourselves. We need to let go of the need to be accepted by others and be sure in ourselves. Once we achieve a certain level of self-acceptance, words that are untrue cannot hurt us. I have spent too much time letting things I know to be untrue hurt me extremely. It’s been time wasted. I know who I am and what others believe that I am shouldn’t hold the weight that it does. I need to work on that.

“If someone is not treating you with love and respect, it is a gift that they walk away from you.”

THE THIRD AGREEMENT

“Don’t make assumptions.”

Sometimes we see what we want to see and hear what we want to hear...and we run with it. Being afraid to ask for clarification leads to the mind wandering. You can create a million scenarios in your head like Doctor Strange, and 9 times out of 10, you’ll roll with worst case scenario and somehow it because fact in your brain. That’s the problem. While I’m a big advocate of not asking questions you don’t want to know the answer to, the fact of the matter is that sometimes YOU HAVE TO. The truth is much better than a made up nightmare that you created and it WILL set you free. The truth is hard sometimes, but it’s not worse than the hell you can create in your own mind.

Assumptions lead to misunderstandings and misunderstandings lead to fights. Assumptions come from the fear of asking difficult questions...or rather, the fear of hearing an answer we don’t want to hear. But almost always, the answer to that difficult question is better than what we assume.

My biggest takeaways here were:

Your love will not change anyone. If someone changes, it’s because they want to.

We do not need to justify love; it is there or it is not.

Real love is accepting other people the way they are without trying to change them.

If you don’t understand, ask.

Find your voice to ask for what you want.

THE FOURTH AGREEMENT

“Always do your best.”

The fourth agreement brings together the first three. When trying to apply the prior agreements to your everyday life, the most important thing is to do your best. If you fail, try again. Your best doesn’t look the same everyday - and that’s okay. The ideal of having to be perfect all the time is how you set yourself up for failure. You don’t have to be perfect, you just have to do the best you can. It’s all you can do.

If you constantly put your best foot forward, your best will get better. This might be the most difficult, but it will make everything else more attainable.

“Whatever life takes away from you, let it go.”

I’ve always been of the belief that what is meant for me will be for me. While I have adopted that in my mindset most of the time, I am guilty of constantly living in the past. This has caused an immense amount of suffering. While I can honor and accept my past for what it was and where it got me, I need to get better at living in the present, and doing my best NOW instead of living in past failures.

“Say no when you want to say no, and yes when you want to say yes.”

I’d consider myself pretty self aware, and that’s a good thing, because without awareness there is nothing you can change.

We dishonor ourselves just to please other people. We abuse ourselves more than we allow others to abuse us...and frankly, I’ve had enough. One day you realize how you’re living just isn’t it, and you just stop.

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losmonteslejanos · 2 years

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2022.

Starting this year with a heart that is hurting but healing, a body that is hurting but healing and a mind that is hurting but healing. I’m not one for resolutions but I’m hopeful. I lost a lot last year, but not every loss is a loss. I said many goodbyes that were long overdue but I got a lot of hellos. I’m hopeful for the closed doors that lead to open ones and I stand by the belief that what is meant for me will be for me. I lost sixty pounds and a few connections, but I gained a bunny, great friends and the beginnings of a killer back tattoo. Here’s to 2022, even though Taylor didn’t drop Speak Now TV. #losmonteslejanos

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losmonteslejanos · 2 years

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With a heavy heart.

The highs and lows of being in love with someone who just can’t love you back.

Knowing someone loves you but not knowing if they’re in love with you is a kind of torture no past trauma and turmoil could’ve prepared me for.

It’s living every day wondering why you’re not good enough.

It’s wondering why you can’t just can’t do anything right.

It’s rethinking every interaction you have with them wondering if there was something you could’ve said or done differently.

It’s wondering if you’re absolutely insane, only hearing what you want to hear.

It’s thinking you must delusional to believe there was ever a reality where it would work out between you and them.

It’s hoping and praying every second of the day that what makes so much sense to you, will somehow make sense to them.

It’s not being able to function because you’re absolutely consumed by the love you have for this person.

It’s realizing that though they may love you, they either can’t or don’t want to love you in the way you so much wish they would.

I had a lapse of judgment. I thought finally stars were aligning for me. The truth of the matter is that in my opinion there is no such thing as right person, wrong time; or endless excuses or reasons that can keep people who want to be together apart. The truth of the matter, as cliche as it sounds, is that if he wanted to, he would. Life is too short to not tell the people that you love that you love them and to not do what you want for yourself. I’ve learned that the hard way many a time.

If there’s nothing I wouldn’t sacrifice and no obstacle I’d overcome for them, I absolutely deserve that same energy back. There should be no question. The questioning in itself is the answer I didn’t want to hear.

Maybe they’re incapable, maybe they want it, maybe, just maybe, I’m not absolutely insane in the connection that I feel. That this is real, as much as maybe either one of us has denied it at different points in time or as many excuses have come up…but at what cost to myself do I keep fighting a war that I’m fighting alone?

Even the most experienced and well trained soldier gets tired. The uncertainty is making me tired. The heartbreak is making me tired. The sweet nothings are making me tired. The words that have no action to back them are making me tired.

In my heart of hearts I know that I deserve better than what I’m feeling. I know I don’t need to put up with someone questioning whether or not they want to be with me. But if you’ve ever really loved someone you know it’s not that simple. Your heart wins that battle with your brain every time.

I can’t turn my love off. I can’t stop caring. I can’t stop imagining what things could be like, regardless of the possible risk. I can’t stop thinking he must be the idiot if he doesn’t see it. I can’t stop putting their every need over mine…because that’s how I was taught to love. And maybe that’s wrong. But I will give and love and care unconditionally until I have absolutely nothing left.

I don’t want to burn myself out. I don’t want to be the person that this has made me. I want my prayers and pleads to not be in vain because for once I deserve to be happy.

The reality is I love him. And while it’s breaking my heart into a million pieces, he’s still the one that I want putting it back together.

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