Category: bravery

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The Prophecy

“And it was written

I got cursed like Eve got bitten

Oh, was it punishment?”

-Taylor Swift

Most people learn about themselves as teens, and make the big mistakes in their 20s. Unfortunately, I didn’t have that privilege, I was sheltered from a young age and I couldn’t move from that for a very long time. For example, I wasn’t allowed to have or be at sleepovers. The first time my mother allowed me to go to a sleepover was when I was 16-17. These were people I knew since I was 12-13, but it took heavy convincing, and I was never allowed to have one at our house. My mother thinks this is why I’m always angry at her which is fucking laughable. My anger is due to her tone deaf comments, insensitivity, her emotional unavailability, which have never subsided, and by the way, she thinks that her helping me with homework as a child was her going above and beyond? I wish I was kidding, anyway.

She’s also very religious so she didn’t want me to be influenced by non-Christians, and it didn’t matter if they practiced another religion, for her they were all wrong because Protestantism is the one true religion (she’s changed her tune since then). I wished she was right, I wished that it was drugs or alcohol, or reckless sex, but it wasn’t (because she’d be right), it was sleepovers, movie nights, going to the movie theatre, and listening to all kinds of music, that’s what me and my friends did that she didn’t allow me to do for a long time. On this note, she says that I was a good Christian girl until I was brainwashed in college, again, not exaggerating.

I have always craved having a mother that I could tell things to, I remember being jealous of my friends because they had a close relationship with their moms. Throughout my life I have tried including my mother, only for every time I do, she reminds me why I don’t. I remember being a teen and telling a friend of mine that I liked him, I shared that with my mother after the fact, I was like 18, her reaction to that? “Carolyn, men don’t like women that, women that are forward. You need to wait for them to make the first move.” When I was 27, she told me I ruined her Christmas when I told her I got a nose piercing, I was well out of her house by then, now she recants.

“Please

I’ve been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don’t want money

Just someone who wants my company

Let it once be me

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo the prophecy?”

So you see, on one hand I was struggling (mostly alone) with the idea that no man would ever like me because of my personality (thanks mom) and on the other, I have always been fat, so I also thought no one would like me because “who likes fat girls?” (thanks society). A perfect combination for a fucking mess. Moving out of her house gave me the space to start figuring out who I am. What I like, what I don’t like. This proved to be surprisingly hard. Turns out that even though I hadn’t practiced Christianity for years at that point, everything they taught me, all the things I had heard at church in my formative years had taken a very deep hold on me. Intellectually I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong, and I wasn’t, but emotionally, I felt bad about those things.

“Slow is the quicksand

Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand

Oh, still I dream of him”

All this story is a precursor, a summary if you will, so you understand why it took me so long to find myself, to like myself and to actually believe someone would want and like me.

I had to make conscious choices to change that way of thinking. There’s not a manual to guide you through it. Hating your body and thinking people won’t love you, makes it really hard to find someone, because if you hate yourself, how is someone else supposed to love it? Daniel Sloss has a great analogy where he says that if you love yourself 20% and someone comes in to love you 40%, you think that’s a lot, but it is literally less than half. But if you love yourself 100%, someone has to go above and beyond to love you (It’s from his special Jigsaw on Netflix).

So relatively recently I made it, about two years ago I hopped back on dating apps, matched with someone who seemed to be into me, that kind of pushed me to want to look better, dress better, I wanted to impress him you know? I shouldn’t have made all that effort for that person, BUT all the progress I made, feeling better about myself, actually liking me for once, didn’t go away when that ended, which I’m very glad for. Around the same time I had started CrossFit, if nothing else that gave me a boost of confidence for trying things out of my comfort zone. And I haven’t stopped since. All those cute clothes I used to think I couldn’t wear, I have worn, even lingerie, I started liking myself in the body I had.

“…I howl like a wolf at the moon

And I look unstable

Gathered with a coven around a sorcerer’s table”

Simultaneously, I stopped thinking men couldn’t like me. I found that there is actually a bunch that do (whether they’re good for me or not, is a whole other story lol). Unfortunately, every time one didn’t work, I’d find myself reverting to unhealed me and wondered if I had really healed. Because I’d find myself wondering what was wrong with me. I didn’t, and sometimes still don’t, understand why they didn’t work or why I keep crossing paths with the wrong people. In retrospect, I know that before I couldn’t really attract people, not because I wasn’t attractive but because putting myself down isn’t really attractive, I’d tell guys I liked them by saying some variation of “I know you don’t like me, but I do” and remembering that makes me ugh. But now, I was in such a good place, I made so many changes to myself and felt very good about me, how I looked, how I was portraying myself, I was emanating confidence. People took notice, yes, but still I’d get “you’re too good for me/you deserve someone better”, there still wasn’t anyone that liked me, that would fight to keep me in their life, so I wondered if all that work was worth it. I didn’t do the work for anyone other than myself but fuck, I still wanted people to notice. I still wanted to hear someone cared about me, I wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by someone.

“I’m so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I’m just a paperweight

In shades of greige

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It’ll be okay”

As a child when I played with my Barbies, they’d get married at around 22 so they could have at least two babies before they were 25. That was learned, a product of my environment. As a teen I grew up disliking the gender roles my mother clung badly (and the ones she taught us). What I never accounted for was that my Barbies didn’t have careers, they just had their houses and cars just because. At 22 I was in my fourth year of my undergraduate degree (finished at 23), then at 25 I was working on my doctorate degree, which I finished at 28. Two degrees under 30. A Latina woman, in STEM, first woman in her family to finish a doctorate degree, second member overall. Who is working in her field. A woman that is many things, kind, thoughtful, wears her heart on her sleeve, gives a lot of herself and will go to the ends of the heart for those she cares about. Yet, she still feels inadequate. I figured once I finished grad school all the chips would fall where they needed, and they haven’t. I am still working through the fact that changing opinions is more than saying you don’t believe something anymore, you have to go in and put in the work, if you don’t all those things you used to believe will come back and bite you in the ass. That Barbie story, even though I don’t believe that I should have (or even could have) had a child at 22, I feel I’m behind, I am finding I haven’t actively changed that thought. I am a fucking doctor who feels hasn’t accomplished anything, make it make fucking sense. That just goes to show what the emphasis on success I was taught by my parents and society, ironically for a long time my mother was a single hardworking woman. I have to redefine my expectations on life, which I hadn’t reevaluated (I hadn’t realized), I don’t have a Time Machine.

I’m starting to make my peace with the fact that it might never work for me. That I have to be perfectly content being the single aunt, that has pets, and travels the world. But I do want the black picket fence, the kids, that suburban life. Will I get that? I don’t know. I do know that I can’t put my life on hold waiting for that, I have to live my life to the fullest, I have to make myself happy in whatever situation I am. Otherwise a lifetime will have passed me by and I would have only been miserable.


Some days I wake up with hope. Not because things are looking bright —they’re still looking bleak but I get glimmers of hope. I deserve good things, I deserve to be loved, cared for, looked after, I deserve to be first choice, and hopefully affirming those to myself will manifest them to life.

As Always,

With Love,

Carolyn

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Spain: Motherland Part II

Next stop in my Toledo tour was The Primate Cathedral of Saint Mary of Toledo. Like I’ve said before, I love going to Cathedrals, I love vaulted ceilings, which places like this have enough of, they also have stained glass. And pipe organs. But look at all that art, all the details (in gold and marble looks like).

That night was my birthday eve and I went to a bar crawl, I was having a lot of fun, visited several bars, it was about 2AM, I had enough, and decided to go home. I get an Uber, and as I’m waiting for it, I stop at a nearby food place, and in a crowded street, a guy starts harassing me, I tell him no, move away from him, but he walks into me, I push him away, I thought that was the end of it, when I realize I don’t have my phone, I had just used it to pay for the food, so I go back to the food place to check I didn’t leave it, it’s not there, then I realize I had to have put it on my coat pocket and the guy stole it. I tried to see if I saw him and he was gone. I started freaking out, wasn’t sure how I’d go back to the Airbnb, because, my cards were also attached to my phone. A guy on the street told me to calm down but I couldn’t, I was in a foreign city, far from my airbnb, with no knowledge on how I’d get back. So I did the only thing I could think of, which was go back to the bar and try to find the group I was with so I could try to get in touch with my dad, so he could block my phone. The bar crawl guide wasn’t super helpful apart from letting me borrow his phone to talk to my dad (didn’t help me getting back to my airbnb) but three people I met two hours before offered help, one guy even told me to log into my apple account from his phone so we could track mine, and he’d go to get my phone, but in the stress of it I couldn’t remember my password. The girl helped me breathe, told me that everyone’s gone through that, to which I responded I hadn’t, so she said “well, now you have”, which wasn’t funny then, but it is now. After using her phone to get in touch with my dad, he blocked my phone, and deletes everything from it. I always use my GPS to get around a foreign city, I don’t usually remember the address of where I am staying, for some reason, I remembered the address of this Airbnb, I don’t know how, but the why was so I could get back. The third guy got cash and paid for a cab for me to get back. I get back to my Airbnb, and from my watch I text a friend of mine that has an iPhone, he helps me with communication between me and my dad, since my dad doesn’t have an iPhone I can’t call him through the watch. At the Airbnb, and as I’m talking to my friend about what happened, I started having an anxiety attack. I didn’t even eat my food until it was cold. By then I had lost all appetite. I was going to attempt to get my iPhone replaced in Madrid, that morning I was meant to check out, so my friend sends me the address of the closest Apple Store, I walk there that morning with all my shit. I am on high alert and on edge, so much that I snapped at a lady on the street trying to sell me flowers, she got too close and it triggered me. I got to the Apple Store but unfortunately I couldn’t change my phone there as it was from another country (Apple might have changed that policy now), so I went to a phone store nearby and got a new phone, oh, remember I said he stole my cards too? Thankfully I had ONE on me, I never use debit cards on international trips so he just stole my credit cards, which was unfortunate, but I had a debit card, which I used for the remainder of this trip. The fucking phone cost me more than an iPhone replacement and it is the single most shitty phone ever. It was literally easier to open instagram, take a picture, download it than opening the phone app. I swear. Also the quality of pictures was shitty so bear with me the rest of the trip’s pics.

My last stop in Madrid was my dear Santiago Bernabeu, the home of Real Madrid. It was under construction, but it was still pretty majestic.

I got to see the stadium where a lot of my favorite stars had played at, where football history has been made. Unfortunately for me, they we playing away games when I was in Madrid, so I couldn’t see them, I think they had played as locals the week before and they’d be playing there the following week, so in short, bad timing.

That afternoon I took a train to Barcelona, another fast train, a 385 mile trip, roughly 6hrs driving took around 3hrs aboard the train, and it’s weird? It’s going really fast but you barely notice it, even as they travel around 186mph. I don’t have pictures of the interim because all the down time I had waiting at the train station, and on the train I spent setting the fucking phone, and calling credit card companies to cancel my cards, calling Apple to report the phone as stolen, which fun fact, when you’re calling from a Spanish number, it redirects you to a the Spanish brand EVEN if you’re calling the US number, so I had to get them to redirect me several times. All that process was SUPER fun. I think I slept some on the train but not much and even if I had slept the whole way it wasn’t a long trip. Anyway, I get to my Barcelona Airbnb, late, around 9 or 10pm, I think, tired as fuck. I shower and fall asleep as soon as I can, I was supposed to go to a bar crawl in Barcelona that night (birthday night), however I skipped it because, well, hadn’t slept for over 24hrs. And because I’m a masochist bitch, I had scheduled a tour of the Camp Nou the following morning at like 10AM, so I didn’t have lots of time to sleep if I went out.

For my football fans, specially those familiar with Real Madrid’s and Barcelona’s rivalry, I know, okay, I know, however, I was in Barcelona, there was no way I’d miss the stadium, and unlike Santiago Bernabeu they weren’t under construction and had a very thorough museum. If I took a photo of the stadium it’s lost in the shitty android Spanish phone (very sad). They had replicas of Messi’s Ballon D’or, several of them in fact, and I think he donated one of them so it was the real thing. If you keep scrolling, you can see the stadium, in several views, the entrance the players use to enter the field, and there’s a chapel in that tunnel as well.

I stopped at the Barça café and had a little coffee, which, cute.

So okay, this is the key of the Airbnb I stayed at, I had to be taught how to use it because I could lock anyone inside if I locked it a certain way, so essentially when I walked out, I’d just close the door and it was locked.

I asked the Airbnb person for a spot to watch the game Barça was playing that day –I had figured if I couldn’t watch Real Madrid, at least I could see FCB in person, but because I have shit luck, they were also playing an away game… so I figured the next best thing was to go watch them play at a bar, with locals, and indeed was the best thing. I got a mojito, mozzarella sticks, but that wasn’t even the best thing. You know how as an English speaker, the English or Australian accent is hot? Well Spanish accent is that for my ears, you see the girl in front of me, the guy she was with did the most Spanish thing ever and said something along the lines “joder tío” (roughly translated to “fuck dude”), when a player missed a goal, I swear I almost squealed. Barcelona lost that game against Almeria, 1-0, so the fans were not happy. It was unfortunate but regardless the atmosphere was on-point.

Part II consisted of days three and four, so I will finish this trip on a third blog as to not make it overly long and bore you to death. But for your information, the last leg of the trip was excellent it’s soooooo worth it to stay tuned.

As Always,

With Love,

Carolyn

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This is me trying

“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting… I have a lot of regrets about that.”

-Taylor Swift

I had never seen a therapist until a good friend of mine passed away back in 2017, and I was in a foreign city, by myself with no support system. Since then I understood the importance of talking things through with someone that can help. I’m a therapist’s dream, I talk so fucking much.

Unfortunately finding a good one is hard, I changed therapists twice because I felt I wasn’t getting anything from it, she just listened and never challenged me or helped me understand things. After searching I found one I loved, only to have her change jobs and unfortunately does not see patients anymore. So the search for a new one was an uphill battle but I made it.

I think it was match made in heaven because for one, she’s named like one character from my favorite show. She listens when she needs to but she also makes me think about things. In the time we’ve known each other I feel she’s gotten a good sense of who I am as a person, like I’ll walk in and she senses my mood is off asks me if need a hug, and she never misses.

“And maybe I don’t quite know what to say

But I’m here in your doorway

I just wanted you to know

This is me trying”

I went to her about this whole ordeal with Jack (if you missed my previous two blog posts go here and here), she said she has never seen me that down (my friend said the same thing), that’s just me overwhelmed by life, this situation with Jack isn’t exactly making things better, on top of that the pottery studio I’ve been throwing clay is closing (I’ll talk about this at a later time), which is a new hobby where I had the space to channel some time and energy into, all of it feels like the end of the world.

I know that’s not necessarily true and it’s just one of those when it rains it pours kind of situations and it’s hard to control the emotions when you feel problems coming back to back with no end in sight. That’s why I have been channeling some of that stress into the gym, working out for longer, my body is exhausted about the extra work but the dopamine really helps ground me.

Until I sat down that day, all my therapist knew was that I had some fun with Jack who I had gone out on a date with months prior, and that that was all it was, fun. I updated her on the realization I had that I wanted more than that because how he made me feel. I showed her conversations between the two of us and she thinks he could be thinking things through, I did spring brand new information on him and maybe he can’t make the switch that quick (plus he started seeing someone, fuck my life) — which is fair. I’m at a point in my life where if you’re not sure of me, I’ll just fuck off, I have no time for someone unsure of me, but for this, for him, I am making an exception. Why? Because I said no first, I was unsure first, I came around and hopefully he will too, but I don’t know that, I am not necessarily waiting as much as I’m letting time pass. If he comes around and the feelings are still there, we pursue things, if they’re not then we don’t or maybe he never comes around. That’s the shitty thing about life, there is a lot of uncertainty.

“And it’s hard to be at a party when

I feel like an open wound

It’s hard to be anywhere these days

when all I want is you”

As I sat down on her couch, I told her I’d be hugging a cushion and holding onto the tissue box, I’ve cried on her couch before, but I think this is the first time I’ve walked in teared up and had a hard time getting coherent words out. She listened, then gave her advice. I blamed myself for the situation I found myself in with Jack, if I had just seen him last year like I am now, maybe we could have had a good relationship, instead I concerned myself with thinking I knew what would happen if we dated. At the time I was heartbroken and I was trying to avoid feeling that way again, so I skipped it altogether. Big mistake, because I was now regretting it.

The thought that keeps playing around in my head is that if that asshole made me lose out on a great person, I’d be so upset, Peter left me very heartbroken, it took months and a lot of situations for me to get over it. I am often told “what’s for you won’t pass you by” and that may be true but it’s never helped the uncertainty or given me comfort. I never thought I’d see Jack that way, not because of who he is, just because of who I was. Who I was changed, so I changed how I saw him. And because life is shitty, the timing’s off.

A big thing that’s fucking me up big time is that Jack is someone I vent to, when something’s shitty, when work stresses me out, when a date goes wrong, and he’ll make a joke to try to make me feel better, or be sweet and tell me it’s going to be okay that one day we’ll find someone who’s crazy about us. You know the shitty thing about liking a friend? You kind of lose them, the relationship changes, he’s there for me but I can’t exactly be a good friend to him can I? Specially when he’s seeing someone. Add to that that he can’t read a room for shit because I was clear on not wanting to know anything about who he’s seeing and after a “how are you?” text, he tells me he’s driving home from a city about an hour from him, and that prompted me to ask “what’s there?”, and he replies with “the girl I’m seeing”. Cue tears and regrets aiming to overwhelm me again.

I did all I could do with Jack, as in, I told him how I felt, I was direct (and naughty) about it, just so he knew I meant business, so he knew that I wasn’t just smitten —because I’m not, so he knew that I was a damn fool for missing him the first time around. I was clear so he knew I wanted him. After that, there’s not much I can do. Ball’s in his court. All I can do is sit back and stress about it, if you know anything about me is I can’t sit back and relax.

Just before I left the session, my therapist gave me homework, she asked me to make a list of five things as to why this situation with Jack is not all my fault. I felt attacked so my response was “me? take the blame for everything? NoOOo.” We laughed, because it’s exactly what I do and what I’m doing right now. She said that relationship (whether, that’s friends, between a therapist and a patient, romantic, etc.) stuff doesn’t all fall on one person, it falls on both. So I had to sit down to ponder, why isn’t it all my fault? It certainly feels like it, we went out, had a great time, and I didn’t give it time, we didn’t see each other in person again for me to know if we should or should not pursue things, I just made a decision based on little information.

But the question remained in my head. The first thing I thought of was that I didn’t know and to be honest, still don’t know, if he was/is into me. Having fun together means nothing in this regard, many women (and men) make that mistake, something can just be physical and not mean anything more than that. If I’m being quite honest it didn’t mean much to me either, it was just a good time, it just happened that it took that for me to realize I wanted more but it wasn’t due to one good time. I remember his sweet text after I told him I didn’t/couldn’t pursue things further and thinking maybe I made a mistake. He flirted more with me after we called it off than during. In his words “If I’m being quiet and awkward I’m actually trying to figure out how to flirt” —which was all of our date if I’m being honest (remember this is the guy that shook my hand after our date). I want to think that if I knew he was into me, I would have thought twice before calling it off. I wouldn’t think I’m one to reject someone I think is cute even if I wasn’t feeling yet at the time. I also have to think about how our first date went, it was something like me asking if he was ever going to ask me out and within the hour we were out at a bar, but after that he didn’t ask me out, so I didn’t think the interest was there. Could I be wrong? Yes. Could I have asked him? Yes. So how is it really not my fault? I don’t know.

This is what my list looks like:

  1. I didn’t know if he was interested in me
  2. He didn’t initiate dates
  3. I don’t know
  4. I really think it’s my fault
  5. I don’t know if my therapist is right on this one

I don’t think I know more than she does but it’s hard to see it any other way. But I’m also in the midst of it so I understand not seeing it from someone else’s point of view.

Regret is a very painful thing, on the one hand, Jack deserves someone who cares for him and if the person he’s seeing is that person, then I’ll be happy for him, and my feelings will go away, but on the other hand, I’m mad/sad/jealous that that person is not me. How can I tell him that I’m happy for him with a straight face when I don’t mean it? I do but I don’t.

Can I just wish upon a start? Or make my 11:11 wish that he sees me like I see him?

Will it work? Probably not.

As always,

With love,

Carolyn

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I’m the problem, it’s me.

I’m the problem, it’s me.

When you don’t look like society’s standard of beauty you grow up being ridiculed because you’re “too fat” or whatever attribute they deemed ugly, it would get pointed out. At one point in my life I weighed 150lbs, and I remember feeling too fat, too ugly, too little. Mom and sister both were skinny, I was the only fat one. Dad was fat as were a lot of the men in my life, but for some reason they’re not held to the same standards. I felt inadequate. They couldn’t relate. It didn’t help that everyone around me would make the same idiotic comments: “Carolyn, you’re fat, that’s not healthy for you. Maybe you should lose it.” Well gee Aunt Tina, I did not know that fact, thanks for letting me know! My parents were no better, and I get that the comments from certain people were coming from a place of love, and care. But at the same time, when they’re 1. Unsolicited and 2. Given without any solution, the comments are useless. I own a mirror, I know I’m fat and I know it’s not healthy. None offered to join me in a gym, none cooked healthier foods for me (when I was a minor and not in charge of my own meals of course). I always figured there’d be a time where I’d go to the gym and I’d lose the weight. Only problem is that I always postponed that. For whatever reason, I’d always find an excuse. Not one of my greatest moments. Looking back when I was “fat”, I was quite literally a few pounds away from a healthy weight. I’ve been suggested Herbalife, I’ve been criticized for how much butter I put on a toast… think of criticism, I’ve probably gotten it.

I’m the problem, it’s me

Taylor Swift

Since I have memory I have always wanted to be skinny. Even when I was 150lbs. Whenever I look, at the rare pictures that exist, I could have lost a few pounds, was I as fat as I thought? No, absolutely not. I have always felt I needed to lose the weight to feel good with myself. Until I lost it I wouldn’t feel good. I didn’t like feeling inadequate, ugly, fat, or that I was taking up too much space. At several points in my life I have joined gyms. I would go, highly pumped… for a whole month, and because I wouldn’t see results in that short time, I would get discouraged and I stopped going. I was expecting results in a month for something that had been years in the making. None of the people that would critique me ever joined me. All encouraged me from afar, no one put their money where their mouth was. I’m not proud of the times I quit, but it is what it is.

I’m not proud I quit, but it is what it is.

Circa 2008. What the fuck am I wearing? 😭 I was living in a tropical island, it was hot. Why am I wearing and ugly ass shirt and an ugly ass jacket? Don’t get me started on those baggy jeans… Oh and you can’t see the hair, but that’s another hot mess.

I always had this idea that fat = ugly and I felt bad about myself, I just wanted to hide. I hated cameras! There’s evidence of those times, but not a lot (hence the really bad cropped pictures I am showing here), I really lost a lot of memories because I didn’t like capturing my fatness, I didn’t want to be reminded at the time. That’s how bad I felt about myself. And it’s sad, no one should be made to feel like that. I look at pictures of my friends in high school and I’m not in a lot of them, I would take them but I’d never be in them. And the ones that do exist I look fucking terrible. For fuck’s sake, I would dress so bad. But that only speaks to the level of confidence I had at the time, which was essentially none. Oh and on top of it I’m tall for a woman, so not only was I fat, I was very tall, everything about me was very difficult to hide. It pains me to look back at those pictures, not because I was fat, but because I see that insecure little girl that never felt pretty enough because she was fat. I also missed out on so many things. I didn’t do a lot of things, I didn’t take enough pictures, I would wear the most hideous things ever, again, it’s very sad I lost so much because of that.

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby
And I’m a monster on the hill
Too big to hang out
Slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Taylor Swift
Circa 2010. This wasn’t any better. Two shirts, a longer one hiding my arms, and then one on top? Why did I think this was okay?! Here the hair is more noticeable…

My confidence had always been close to zero, fat people can’t be pretty can they? So why would I feel any confidence? There’s not much representation of fat people in the media, no one looked like me. Insecurities built up, for me this translated into baggy clothes, long sleeves, layers of clothes all in order to hide the fat. Of course, I was not hiding anything, I was just looking fucking terrible in the process. I mean, that’s all looking at it retroactively, I am pretty sure at the time I thought I looked great. Well, never hot, I had never found myself looking hot, there are always Jennifer Annistons walking around, I could never measure… Even though I loved it, part of the reason I cut off my hair into a pixie cut (inspired from Ginnifer Goodwin), was because I would not know how to handle my long hair. I never felt I could do or wear “girly” stuff because I was fat, you’ll see that I looked like a tomboy for a hot second there, that’s all I felt comfortable in.

Circa 2017. I doubt I ever wore this dress outside without a jacket or a cardigan. I hated those arms.

There’s not a lot of fat people portrayed in the media, though we are seeing more each day, but not when I was a kid. Those that were, were just made fun of. Being fat is funny (sarcasm). The fat character was always the comic relief. They were never the love interest, they were the funny-reliable-relatable best friend. I never felt identified with any character on TV, the were not a lot of fat people, much less fat women. There’s this moment that replays in my mind every once in a while, I was in elementary school and girls are forced to wear skirts (even though pants cover up much better), very little schools allowed us to use pants, but even then, sometimes we couldn’t afford both the skirt and pants, so skirt it was… anyway, there was this kid I had a crush with, and I guess he knew, not sure, so I’m walking upstairs and if you were standing below them, you could see up all of our skirts, he’s standing below and looked up and said “eww”. It’s almost 20 years later and I still remember, that clearly scarred me. Outside of school I’d never wear a skirt, if I did certainly not one short enough that you could see my thighs (there were some rare occasions but just know I was very uncomfortable). I would never wear sleeveless shirts, or dresses, my bathing suits consisted of shorts and a shirt, I encountered many instances of going to a pool and having anxiety because it stated that bathing suits were required. I would always be wondering if I’d be allowed in or if in this instance I’d be kicked out. Wearing shirts with sleeves allowed me to hide my chubby arms, but who was I really fooling? You can still see it, you just can’t see the skin, my mind lied to me that this was better. First time I wore a sleeveless dress, that was just right above my knee was 2017/2018. I was 24 years old, this means I had basically spent most —if not all— of those 24 years, hiding my body. It also didn’t help that I was raised in a pretty strict-Christian household, it was nowhere near as strict as what my parents encountered when they were growing up, but strict. In the church, there seems to be this idea that to appear Christian, you have to look bland, I’d call it ugly, but I don’t know what they would call it. If I had a penny for the amount of people I saw looking the ugliest a person can look… I’d be rich. And this is not talking at all about their physical appearance, this is talking about their dress choices. I get that there’s modesty involved with being Christian but you can be modest and still look good, something the people I encountered growing up did not know, or chose to ignore, I’m not sure. What I am sure about is that I inherited insecurities from the adults around me, not necessarily on purpose but it’s what happens with people, we project our insecurities onto others. “Cross your legs, ladies do not sit like that” or “lower your skirt! There’s people around!” or my very favorite, the chaos whenever your bra strap slipped over, as if people didn’t know women wore bras…. And don’t get me wrong, we don’t want people looking up our clothes and we want to be modest but at the same time there shouldn’t be the taboo there is.

Circa 2018, Blue Lagoon. This is the only image I have of me ever wearing a bathing suit without any shorts. I did not want that documented.

Summer of 2018 I took an impromptu trip to Iceland, when I went to the Blue Lagoon I had a one piece bathing suit, one of the first times I had ever worn one. With a short pant of course, you can’t be showing thighs, fat thighs are ugly and no one wants to see that… my friend and I had to use bathrooms far from each other and she had my shorts in her bag, I can’t recall why. So when I’m putting my bathing suit on, I found I didn’t have the shorts with me, so I had to put my metaphorical big girl pants on and walk out wearing only the one piece bathing suit. By the time I found my friend, I had lost the shame and I decided to just not wear the shorts. I was still nervous when I went in and out of the water, but I did it. That was the first time I’ve ever worn a bathing suit without any cover up. It wouldn’t repeat itself until this year, but instead of a one piece, I wore a two piece, high waist bottoms, sure, but still. After a lifetime of feeling ashamed, in 2022, I finally felt comfortable in my own body. But I’ll get to that later. The summer of 2018 was important in my growth, it was the first time I had worn a sleeveless dress and a one-piece bathing suit without shorts. I would go to wear more dresses, makeup, especially a matte-red that everyone compliments on me. It also didn’t help that the world closed in 2020, I gained weight, lost the weight. I don’t like to think I’m the person that looks from validation from other people, but I am, though now that I know, I’m aiming to validate myself. I don’t need someone to find me pretty to feel pretty. That summer was also the first time that I liked someone and I wasn’t concerned about whether or not they wouldn’t like me because of my body. I was slowly shedding the insecurities.

2022, Puerto Rico. This woman is living her best life. You see that smile? I was also in Puerto Rico, my homeland, that I hadn’t seen in over two years. Wearing this two-piece bathing suit, short-less and very happy.

I was slowly shedding the insecurities.

Summer of 2022, I matched with a guy on a dating app, I wasn’t sure about him, too young, his profile pictures were terrible, but I decided to give it a shot. He was very attracted to me, and at any given point he’d let me know. This made me want to look pretty for him, I’d go on to dress up so he’d see how pretty I was. In doing so I started feeling myself. I started wearing things I would have never worn, I bought lingerie, leather skirts, bodysuits, I realized I had nice clothes, but there were even nicer things I could get. In my mind there was a line on what stuff fat people could and couldn’t use. Turns out it was a fucking lie. I found out I look smoking hot wearing a leather skirt, that it accentuated my fat? Yes, did I still wear it? Also yes. All of this was in part for him, that’s how it started but then somewhere along the way, it started being for myself and if he liked it was a huge plus. It felt very nice to be wanted. It took me a while to understand that it needed to be for me, rather than him, because it got to a point that I was looking for validation from him. He needed to tell me I looked hot, to feel hot. This was also the first time I looked at myself and thought I was hot, it was no longer a label exclusive for the Jennifer Anistons of the world. At the moment he withdrew his validation, I wavered, man did I waver… But then I found myself, I realized it had never been for him, it had been for me. His loss really. He met this very insecure woman and unknowingly allowed her to find herself and when he left, she was not the same person, again, his loss, who doesn’t want a woman that feels confidence in herself, her body whichever way it looks at any given point? I still want and like to be told I look good, who doesn’t? But I also don’t need it to feel myself or to wear something I like. I sent my aunt a picture and she replied with: “confidence looks good on you.” And that’s something I had never felt. I walked out in public wearing a leather bra, skirt, and a sheer top. I WOULD HAVE NEVER. But did I? You bet I did.

Carolyn, 2022, Toronto, Ontario. I am officially calling this the “Carolyn leather era” (sounds naughty in Spanish lol). See the difference? I am fucking feeling myself. I still feel a little conscious but fuck it.

Confidence looks good on you.

My aunt

Am I the problem? Abso-fucking-lutely not. The problem is society fucking up with anyone that’s not a size zero. This is not in any way of form criticism to size zeros, it’s to the people that tiered who deserves to be respected and who doesn’t. I deserve to feel happy wearing whatever I want to wear. I realized I gave people too much power, I get to decide how I feel about myself and no one gets to dictate what is good or bad for me. No one is walking in my shoes, I am, no one knows what I go through, what goes through my mind or what I am working towards.

2022. As I post this, I feel a little conscious about how you can see how my fat looks through this skirt, something I’ve spent years hiding. But I am deciding to concentrate on how fucking hot I look.

My goal with this post is to, hopefully, inspire you, if you’re anything like me, my best advice is to fuck all the people that have made you feel inadequate, wear whatever the fuck you want, if you love it, wear it. Wear it confidently, or fake it until you make it. Do all the things you want to do, don’t follow in my footsteps and don’t miss out on things, your family, friends and people that love you, will thank you. You will regret all those instances where you missed out. I know I do. But no more.

As always,

With love,

Carolyn

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When We Were Young

When We Were Young

“Everyone here is watching you because you feel like home” – Adele

Due to life and human behavior, last year I ended a 8-year old friendship with one my best friends (whom we will call Sam). It was with the help of a another friend but nonetheless my decision. Seeing the response to my distancing text (which in retrospect should have been a conversation but honestly I had had enough), my then-friend responded distant instead of trying to keep me close and maintain our friendship. How we got there came from numerous places, a lot which I don’t remember. What I do know is that I could have been more vocal instead of letting him get away with a lot of things for the sake of our friendship. Which is why I needed help in taking the final step. But I think a lot, if not all of the problem that led us there started years ago, we just weren’t truthful with each other. We met during high school started being friends and I had a crush and similar to your cliche rom-com, it was not reciprocated and God knows why, it took me years to get over it. While telling myself I was over it, of course, it’s just now, looking back that I realized I wasn’t. To some extent still am not. Difference is, back then, things used to bother me so much more to the point of affecting me and affecting my actions, not to say that nothing gets to me now but I’ve managed to try not let as many things get to me as before. He would say things I wanted to hear so I wouldn’t keep pressing on it and both of us were wrong, I shouldn’t have pushed, he shouldn’t have said things he didn’t mean to do. But he would, and I would go along with it instead of being firm and calling it out. So I guess we’re both to blame there.

A year passed since I “broke up” with Sam, a year of wanting to pick up the phone and wanting to fix things, that’s what I do, I try to fix things. Maybe I don’t but at least I tried. A year of enduring a lot of shit by myself because I didn’t have my best buddy to call or to get to stop by. But I had to keep reminding myself that while yes, I told him to stay away, more than what I said, his actions (and mine) led me there. But it still didn’t make me feel any less crappy. And I would have been the world’s biggest hypocrite if I picked the phone and called because I needed something after calling it quits… I’m a very touchy-emotional person and having to break with one of your best friends was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. But I did for the good of my mental health. The last few months, whenever we saw each other it was nothing but little fights and passive aggressive comments and when I sent that definitive text didn’t get nothing but a goodbye text instead of a “let’s try to talk this out, this is too rash” or called me out like “this isn’t you, what’s going on?” so I figured I made the right decision; Sam didn’t care so why should I? But I did, so much that a year later (aka., a few weeks ago) I decided to send out a text, not expecting anything back if I’m being honest, Sam is not one to reply too often, I figured that after everything he had blocked my number or that had even changed numbers; I sent it because I felt bad how we had left things. Turns out we were finally on the same page. Figure that one out! He had been wanting to reach out but out of “respect” to what I said, hadn’t. I think it’s bullshit, if you want to reach out to someone, do it, they might be feeling the same way. Clearly, we were but sure, I understand that I drew a very definitive line. We went out and managed to work it out. But I missed out on a few good (and bad) things that happened so I’m still bummed about that. To be honest seeing him against almost felt like no time had passed. Yeah, I missed important things, but he was still the same person (except eating habits, vegan? Really?). The topic of how I decided to walk away came up and he replied that he knew I didn’t arrive to that conclusion by myself, when I questioned how he knew: “because I know you, and that wasn’t you” which was nice to hear. Guess he does know me indeed, but he agreed that I had to look out for myself first even if that was what I had to do.

This post is titled after Adele’s song from 25 and it started with a quote from the same song. This is due to several things. We used to fangirl to Adele a lot (so I thought it’d be a nice reminiscing thing) and I hadn’t listened to her music in a long time and recently got back into it and remembered how much this song has always reminded me of him. Not necessarily because the story is familiar but because the description of the guy fits him. He might not think so but people adore him, either because he’s utterly oblivious or because he’s that humble and doesn’t think they should. Who knows? But I see it often, girls get so smitten, I can’t blame them though. I said before “to some extent I still have a crush” yeah, that shit got stirred up when we met again. Things that I didn’t know were there came knocking at the door. Had you asked me a year ago: “hey, do you still like him?” I would have said no and wouldn’t have been lying. But now? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe it’s just all the excitement of having my friend back. Neither of us thought we’d see each other again. And it’s not like I’m siting in a corner waiting to hear how much he likes me either. I’ve done the “liking your friend that doesn’t like you” before at least twice, it sucks for all of five minutes and you move on. I’ve learned that as long as you know boundaries you can be friends, heck, best friends with someone you like. I’ve seen it happen. Some of you on the other side might be groaning “friend zone!” or “that’s a crappy situation to be in” and you could be right, but also, situations are what we make of them. I can choose to feel crappy because they don’t like me back or I can choose to feel good because I have them as friends. Not the same, true, but why feel crappy on purpose? Am I supposed to cut off every person I like because they don’t like me back? No, we’re grown ups and grown ups can learn to work with the situations they’re put in (or are supposed to haha). Count your blessings and don’t care where they came from. There are not a lot of good people on this planet and the ones that choose to spend their time with you even if it’s not how you wanted still warrants affection and respect. Time is precious.

This seems like “omg she’s settling for the friend”, and not really. Look, I’ll admit it sucks liking someone that doesn’t like you back, but it also feels good as hell to have adult relationships where you’re both mature and can keep being friends in spite of a silly things like that. I mean sure, I’ve also lost friendships for the same shit (if you’ve read the previous blog posts you know what I’m talking about, if not I talk about it in The End is a Beginning and Live and Learn and I also mention a little bit of what happened with the friend I talk about here) but that’s just an example of how not all people are the same. And the ones willing to stick with you in spite of circumstances are the ones that are worthy of you and your time. So choose your friends wisely, your time is valuable; so is theirs. Appreciate it.

This started like a sappy post and I guess it ended like one. But I am honestly happy. It’s not everyday you get to welcome back your best friend. After doing one of the hardest things I had ever done, and having solved it 13 months after, seems like it was in vain, and maybe, but I also think we needed time, maybe not 13 whole months, but that’s how it happened and there’s nothing we can do. We could have handled it better for sure… but I guess we’re now stronger because of it.

I’ll keep you guys updated 😉

Carolyn

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The One Where Carolyn Turns 25

The One Where Carolyn Turns 25

Back when I was still friends with this guy (who had never been to NYC, but really wanted to) I figured we could use my birthday as an excuse to visit it. I’ve been there a couple times and while I think I’ve been there enough times already, it is still always a fun experience to go to. My favorite place is the Chelsea Market because you can find the nicest Mediterranean food place over there. Anyway, that didn’t happen so I was struggling to come up with something to do – if anything. So I was talking with my cousin, she’s 7 and when I traveled home over Christmas break, I taught her how to FaceTime me, and she’s been doing it. While talking to her, I asked her what should theme should I use for my birthday. Her wise, cute response was “What is your favorite thing?”. Sitting in my couch, I started thinking. I started looking around my living room, the movies I had, pictures, looking for something and then I saw it… My F.R.I.E.N.D.S. complete DVD collection… (Spoiler Alert: I love F.R.I.E.N.D.S.) So there it was. My birthday theme.

Of course, I took advantage of that and made this banner:

Later, I thought it would have been even better if I had used this theme for my 30th birthday, but maybe I’ll do a reprise. I wanted the cake to have the couch, but fondant’s too expensive and it wasn’t worth it. I went to this bakery, I told the person what I wanted, she told me she’d make the logo and the frame and write F.R.I.E.N.D.S. on it. I was excited! I went to the store, bought plates, cups and paper towels (everything purple of course).

The cake looks pretty, right? It was a damn shame that it didn’t taste that good in comparison. Oh well. Moving onnn. A lot of insecurities came knocking around my head. Maybe people weren’t going to come, because nobody likes me. Or the opposite, that too many people were going to come and I wasn’t going to have enough cake or food or space for them. I told everyone that was coming in to bring an appetizer, something small, if they could. After some cancellations, the people that did came in brought stuff. We had fun. Played Cards Against Humanity. Watched a movie. Ate a lot.

We tried to, you know, separate them prettily, but there’s only so much you can do when there’s so many candles! (I’m old!)

After blowing the 24 candles (because I was not going to buy a whole other package for just ONE CANDLE, OK!?) I did the stupid little dance, because I didn’t want my friggin’ fire alarm going off. And of course, the frosting all over my face had to happen!

This is not the best quality, but it’s a tradition to get your face full of frosting when it’s your birthday, so here’s the moment it happened!

More people came eventually, but they just had to leave earlier. Anyway, look how cute we look with the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. photo-booth thingies. Shout-out to the girl to my left that has hers backwards hahaha.


I felt like a total babe.

I received messages from my dear friend all the way from Europe. He thanked me for being his friend. It was so cute that he remembered. I honestly don’t remember his, but then again, I’m horrible at remembering stuff.

In conclusion, I enjoyed this birthday very much. For a moment I thought it was going to be the worse one yet, but no. Thankfully, I have been blessed with people that, while they’re not as close friends as I would want them to be, are there on special occasions like this. It made me miss home a little bit less. Normally, back there I would be out with my best friends, either eating out somewhere or gathered at someone’s place, probably playing Cards Against Humanity and ordering pizza. But like my first Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve alone in the States, what I was expecting to be sad evenings, instead turned out to be really fun!

-Carolyn

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An open letter to the friend that broke my heart

An open letter to the friend that broke my heart

I’ve held onto this for a few weeks now, debating whether it required a post for itself or not. I read it a few days ago and decided it did. So here it goes:

As fate would have it, I met this boy at a random party, to be honest we didn’t talk then. But by chance, we were in the same class and it was an instant click, we had a similar sense of humor. From talking before and after class, our relationship developed into sitting together. I had a new friend, yay! Then, we had conversations through Snapchat and eventually texted. A lot. Look, I talk a lot so that’s normal for me, but it’s rare to find someone that will let me talk and not mind. I told him to let me know if he minded because I am not the best reader of people and he seemed to be fine with it. For a little bit, I thought he liked me because he would say funky things. We started hanging out, at my place, out somewhere. I even got a gift from him out of the blue, the randomest thing ever. Though my favorite memory was one day where I was struggling and he stepped out of the gym and stopped by my place with ice cream. Pistachio, because out of the times we had gone out, he had observed that’s what I had gotten (ask me which flavors he got, idk!). The thing to know about me is that I treat everyone the same. Whether I like them or not, whether you’re my friend or not. At one point I’m with my best friend on the phone, talking about how it looked like we were dating, but I didn’t know if we were, my friend agreed. But I wasn’t sure what to do. He brought up the conversation once, we agreed we weren’t, I explained that I never treated him special, he brought things he minded and even dropped the “it’s not you, it’s me” (which ended up being b.s… I should have listened to FRIENDS, “if they tell you it’s them, it’s really you) and that was the end of it… or so I thought. Things were ok for like three days. He started pushing me away, stopped sitting with me. Since it was unexpected, it hurt like hell. I waited for him to clarify, about two days after, I texted him, he called me and it turned out I had said a joke, which he thought I meant. Another thing to know about me is that I’m sarcastic 99% of the time. But he didn’t buy it and asked for space. While I tried my best to keep my distance, it goes against my nature so it wasn’t perfect. So that was my best, even if it wasn’t the best by him. We were even scheduled to travel together so whatever was going on, needed to be solved by then, which is part of the reason for me to try to keep in touch and try to help fix whatever was going on. Days and weeks went by and we were not talking. I kind of confronted him through an app, not my finest moment but I hadn’t seen him so it was the only way I could do it. What I was told was that we were talking too much, that he was uncomfortable and that I was too energetic and kept reminding him he wasn’t in a good place. Long story short, he thought the trip would help him clear his mind. Short after I got a text that said that he wasn’t making it. To some extent I tried to talk him into going. Though it wasn’t long until I realized how he had made his mind up about me. There was nothing I could say that would make him change his mind. He was done with me, done with me without giving me the benefit of the doubt, without letting me explain. I didn’t know what was going on!

While he explained why he decided not to be my friend anymore, it still didn’t make sense. I did interpret that from our previous conversation, I guess he expected me to treat him different, which I didn’t because I never treated him differently. He told me how suffocated I made him feel and a lot of things along that line. I wanted to take the high road so I told him I wished him farewell, that I hoped he would fulfill his dreams because in spite of everything, I thought he was a good person. Why? I don’t know. He was horrible to me. Though I think I was horrible to him, in his story. And that’s how I got a friend and lost a friend in the course of two months. The aftermath was the worst: crying at home, and being a hermit for a week, I had anxiety attacks, I couldn’t breathe and honestly I couldn’t deal with anything. I blamed myself, even though I had taken responsibility for what was my fault, even if he didn’t see it.

If you’re reading this, I even had your Christmas gift picked out, I freaked out for months because I wasn’t sure what to get you. It was a set of loose tea and a really nice steeper. You would have loved it. I am mad at you. It took me a week and then some to feel better. I cried on the way to a friend’s house, who would subsequently take me to the airport, because it wasn’t supposed to happen that way, because it was supposed to be the two of us. I semi hoped to see you at the gate, to enjoy the trip even if it wasn’t with me. I even felt guilty, because you were excited and I felt like I took that from you. It was never my intention to be the villain in your story, on the contrary, I always try to make people feel better. It might take a little bit more for me to be over it. But you know what? I learned from this. To some extent, I’m glad it played out that way. Maybe the briefness was supposed to teach me (and maybe you) a lesson. Don’t use this bad situation as an excuse to not put yourself out there. You were working on being more open, so do it. Our friendship didn’t work out, but another one will. Fly, fly, fly.

I do wished we could have talked about it, truly talked about it. I would have gone to the ends of the world for you, but that’s just who I am. It’s hard to understand my personality, I know, but know that I never lied. I tried to be as honest with you as I could possibly be. From this, you should learn to know yourself a little bit better, know what things you’re ok with and what you’re not. It’s a shame I didn’t because I was 50% ready to end the friendship with you a month before you did, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt, joke’s on me. I’m still mad and hurt as hell with you. Because I believe I deserved better. I’m a good, kind person and I don’t think I deserved this. But oh well, live and learn. I thought I could leave the door open for us to be friends again at some point down the road. But I don’t know… In this aftermath I don’t know if I could. But to be honest, I’ll say I can’t and will probably do it. But who knows?

Carolyn 

P.S. You said I made you laugh. A few times you said that… who lets go of someone that makes them laugh? It baffles me.

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A lesson in bravery

A lesson in bravery

I don’t consider myself a brave person. In fact I’m scared of a lot of things. I was scared when I had to move from the safety of my mom’s house, to a foreign town, with strange people. I was scared when I told this guy I liked that I liked him… in a letter. I was scared to lose friends, so I would put up with things to try and keep them happy. Spoiler alert: I lost them anyway. But you know what? After the tears and self-reflection, it worked out for the best. It brought me to a point in my life where I wouldn’t have been able to get to otherwise. So the cliché quote of “people will come and go but their lessons are forever” is true, after all. I was scared of being myself. Scared of spending the holidays by myself. That’s lame and lonely, I thought. I’m still scared of not having that much desired happy ending. The thing that I “hate” most about myself is that while I’m saying those things I’m scared of, I think how similar thoughts have passed through my mind before and I look where I am now… they’ve been resolved. So why should I be scared? I shouldn’t. But I am. Irrationally so. I think I’m mostly scared to lose,  because of the way that I am. I give myself to people. I give the best of me. That leaves me in a very vulnerable place. I think part of the reason that I get so upset when a friendship ends is because of how vulnerable I was with the person. I mean vulnerable in a “I opened my house, heart and every door” -vulnerable. And it wasn’t appreciated and my feelings and good intentions were stepped on. I don’t want to feel that way again. But that would mean quitting on a huge part that makes me, me. My biggest problem is that I wrongly tend to expect what I would do from people and that will never be the case. There’s no two people alike. 

Recently, I was talking to someone I trust and she mentioned how much she admired me. I didn’t know what to say and also, wasn’t sure what she meant. I’m usually not the best at accepting compliments. She went on to say how I take everything that gets thrown at me and find solutions. That I don’t let the fear cripple me. She said she told me because she felt I needed to hear it. Honestly, I had never thought of it like that. Of course if something unexpected happens, I have to find a solution. I am not one to make plans, I take things as they come and try to keep an open mind and I figured it’s the logical way to go because everyone was doing it too. But she corrected me and told me that there’s a huge amount of people who will stay in one place for the sake of commodity, people who are scared to get out of their comfort zone. And in spite of my thoughts about myself, apparently I am not one of those people. Why did I questioned myself? Because every step of the way I have been dead scared. Of course you’re gonna be scared, that’s perfectly normal and acceptable, she said. This conversation made me realize how we’re our worst enemies. We do things right, but we focus on everything wrong we’ve done and it brings us down. That’s the worse person one can be, sure we’re not gonna lie to ourselves into believing we are something we’re not, but we shouldn’t bring ourselves down either. Balance is what I’m saying. Focus on fixing what you’ve done wrong, but also celebrate your victories.

So in the end, in spite of what I’ve thought of myself in the past, in spite of what’s happened around/to me, turns out I am a brave person. I take what life throws me and I make it into something. I hate praising myself, but we need to do it every once in a while. Our self-esteem starts with us, with loving ourselves, with praising ourselves and realizing we’re good enough.

Carolyn