Because I am one

Today, I walked through the most beautiful of thunderstorms. The only thing I could have done without is my feet getting so damn wet.

I love a good thunderstorm, I didn’t always, but I think I love a good storm because I am one.

Like, your girl has come a long way from her days of being so terrified of storms that she had to believe it was just God bowling against the Devil and kicking his ass (true life that’s what made me feel better).

My (step)grandfather, the only man I’ve know as such even though he is not my blood, actually taught me how to appreciate a good storm.

Sitting on the stairs of his beach house and watching a storm roll in is freaking amazing man.

I am forever in awe of nature. It reminds you of how small you are, how many things you take for granted, how beautiful even the seemingly ugliest of things can truly be.

Your girl is not scared of storms anymore, because she is a storm.

Me and all my complexities, I am a beautiful storm. A storm that is going to leave everyone in awe. A storm that is a lot to handle, but worth withstanding for the beauty that comes at the end of every storm.

It’s easy to get caught up in the bad things in life, it’s easy to not live life out of fear of having to weather a storm, but in my life I’ve found that storms are always worth sticking out. Beauty and good truly do come of the ugliest and worst things.

As us Latinos would say “no hay mal que por bien no venga”.

Nunca soy

Voy a escribir algunos de mis blog posta en español desde ahora porque yo quiero practicar el idioma de mi patria.

¿Preguntes pero Victoria, su patria es los Estados Unidos?

Si, técnicamente, este desorden de un país es mi patria, pero no pertenezco aquí.

Cada día es una batalla de declarar mi posición y identidad en este mundo.

Es algo que pesa mucho en mi mente. Nunca me siento segura en mi identidad y no se como resolverlo.

Creo que hablando el idioma de mi gente es un paso en la dirección correcta pero también creo que no es justo que nunca soy suficiente para nadie. nunca.

Goodnight Anxiety

Anxiety is annoying AF because as much as I don’t wanna think about last night’s ordeal because I’m going to bed now and wanna actually sleep, I can’t help but think about it.

I think the thing that really has me shook is how scary it was. I genuinely felt like I was losing my shit. Like I can’t even really describe it, but your girl was not all here for a few minutes.

I genuinely do feel better, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared it was gonna happen again.

I don’t think it will though.

The biggest thing stressing me out has finally been tackled. I’m determined to be done with this dang sociology paper tomorrow night (aka today cause it’s 1 am) I know I can do it, and I’m ready to. The sense of relief that is going to come over me when it’s done is gonna be amazing.

I’m actually really proud of myself. I was scared of this assignment. So scared I emailed the professor for clarification, and if you know me, you know that means I was in need.

I have most of it mapped out so when I get to typing everything will be perfect. I’m still stressed given that I’m a perfectionist and I have no idea if it’ll be good, but I’m not as stressed as I was, I’m happy.

I’m ready to be done with this one and conquer the next two.

So in a weird turn of events, we’ll actually not so weird because writing is one of my coping mechanisms, I’m not so anxious anymore. Goodnight y’all

It’s been a while..

This is it, the end of Victoria as people know her.

I’m having then most anxious freak-out I’ve had in a while. It almost feels like I’m not even in my body.

I’m hot, I’m cold. My heart rate is.. 

I started writing this post last night, in the middle of the worst anxiety attack I have had in a long while, and clearly was not able to finish it.

My heart rate was elevated, my stomach in knots, I couldn’t breathe, and my body couldn’t decide whether it was hot or cold.

Last night I was fighting a bad fever and when I finally got around to feeling better and tried to go to sleep, I woke up to all of the aforementioned things going on. So, my cold or sickness or whatever it is I have been fighting the past couple of days definitely played a major role in last night’s terror.

Waking up this morning, I did not want to deal with life. I feel so different, last night’s experience was unlike any other sort of mental breakdown I’ve ever had. Even now, more than half way through my day I don’t feel the same, and I want nothing to do with people but I have to work with them.

I feel like a fraud walking around as though she is okay, knowing damn well that I’m not.

I don’t really know what the next step is. My mind is no longer racing with fear or self- deprecating thoughts, but I know I should do something.

Given that I was physically sick, I don’t know whether to see a medical doctor or to go talk to someone. I don’t know that a physical doctor would be able to help me much unless what is really going on is something chronic that can be found through tests, because my symptoms have now subsided.

It’s been a while since I’ve experienced something like this or felt the way I feel, but I’m going to do what I have to to make sure it doesn’t happen again .

Leave me afuckinglone

I truly don’t get how people don’t let other people just live.

Am I sometimes a judgmental prick? Absolutely, anyone who says they don’t judge people every once in a while is in denial.

I do not, however, push my fucking beliefs on to people though. I don’t think I am right enough about anything or perfect enough to force anything on anyone.

I truly can’t stand people who do, like I’m literally surrounded by them.

For one of my classes, we had to read a brief excerpt of some of Gloria Anzaldua’s work and she said a lot of things that really resonated with me. One particular concept she writes about is this “shadow-beast” living within her that essentially does not want to be defined by anyone else or live by anyone else’s rules.

I have a “shadow- beast” within me as well, and she fucking hates being told what to do. She’s the reason this blog even exists, but let me stop playing and tell you what inspired me to write this post.

My roommate will not leave me the fuck alone.

Firstly, she does not understand that I am an introvert who values her privacy and her downtime. Like, when I’ve got my headphones in and I’m cleaning the apartment I want to be left alone.

Most of all, I do not want to be asked every other fucking day if I will go to church with her or why I don’t go to church. Do pushy people not realize that they are the reason people don’t wanna do the shit they are pushing them to do?

After having to explain to her why Donald Trump is a horrible man and not someone appointed by God to do the lord’s work of hating on gay people and people who do any of the things a two thousand year old book may or may not condemn, it’s time for me to speak the fuck up and let her know she’s gotta quit it.

I can’t do it, like my life is just fine homegirl, worry about yourself.

Mrs. Cole

The title of this post is my new married name after attending tonight’s J Cole concert.

That man is everything. The show was everything.

For a minute, I was a little aggravated with him because he seemed to be veering too much into like thinking he was a prophet or something. I don’t really know how to explain it.

But tonight, my faith in him was restored, my love for his music renewed.

He makes me wanna cut all of the bullshit outta my life and chase my dreams. Tonight’s concert was like that church sermon that feels like it was made just for you.

I’m tired as hell and can barely type this, but I’m feeling inspired and ready to keep showing the world who the fuck I am.

On being alone..

I’m sitting in my office enjoying  bangin ass lunch I made for myself, and contemplating life before I have to commit the next few hours of it to reading.

This morning, on my drive in from work I thought about how I constantly find myself wanting to be alone while also consistently feeling lonely.

Right now, I could be out in the hall conversing with colleagues over lunch, but instead I am in the safe space of my office. Safe from what you ask? It’s not like I am in any danger out in the hall.

This is true, but I’ve been really anxious lately, and sometimes it just helps to be alone in my own space. Is that necessarily healthy? Quite honestly, I don’t know, but it works for me.

Sometimes being alone is the exact opposite of what I need though. Sometimes I need to be alone with someone. What does that even mean?

I am the type of person who values time with others in several senses. I love doing things like essentially going on dates with my close friends, but I also love just being near someone while watching a movie or doing homework in complete silence.

I can’t be alone with just anyone though, it requires a certain level of comfort and safety. I don’t really know how to describe that safety besides it being an overwhelming feeling of being safe. Like I can just be me as I am, I don’t have to think about anything and everything is all good.

So, why the hell am I writing about all of this?

I guess lately with this whole new life I have got going I have been really focused on maintaining a balance between being social and having alone time. It is a lot of work, especially given that sometimes I know alone time is not what I need.

Some types of alone time are dangerous because I spiral into this feeling of being completely and utterly alone, as though no one can understand me and no one really cares to.

I think with the colder season and midterm assignments approaching I am worried about whether or not I’ll be able to keep the positive outlook that keeps my loneliness from spiraling out of control.

It is my hope that writing about it will help, and that maybe someone reading this will have suggestions on how to cope with it or will feel as though they can relate and are not alone in a struggle similar to mine. We’ll see.