Tag: lessons

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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 I

One of my bucket list countries was Spain, the possibility presented itself for my 29th birthday in 2023. I wanted to see as much as possible, so I planned for an arrival in Madrid, I’d go around for 3-4 days, make a day trip to Toledo and I’d take a train to Barcelona, and fly back from there.

My trip started on February 22, 2023, I wanted to be IN Spain during my birthday and not traveling so I left a few days early. One thing I do to avoid jet lag, specially when crossing the pond, is to take a late flight, arrive to my destination in the morning, and just survive through the day and sleep at the appropriate destination time. This particular flight departed at 6:30pm from Pittsburgh international airport, had a stop in Philadelphia and then on to Madrid. One thing to note about me is I HATE flying. I know, I know, for someone that hates flying I fly a lot. I like getting to a destination, but not the how. I get air sick, I get dizzy, it’s very very uncomfortable, my body very much hates flying. It’s not even that I’m big for the seats —I have actually lost enough fat that I fit pretty comfortably in the seat, it’s that I’m fucking tall, doesn’t matter what, my knees are almost always hitting the front seat. And I’m too cheap to pay for an upgraded seat. So I just take it. I’m a masochist, I know.

It was like a six hour flight from Philadelphia, it was 8pm by the time we flew out, so I got my plane snacks and slept. I don’t sleep very well on flights (read everything in the previous paragraph as to why haha), but I’m also a nervous flyer, and that reflects on food with me, so I’ll always eat so. Fucking. Much. I’d just be hungry the entire time. It’s fucking insane. Anyway, I arrived at 9am in Madrid.

First thing I did was find food. I arrived at this little cafe close to where my Airbnb was, ordered a tomato toast (bear with me). It’s puréed tomato, you spread it on the bread and pour in some olive oil and put a dash of salt. I was skeptical, but omg. To this day I make my version of this and fucking hell, it’s great.

But I couldn’t have my toast with a little cafecito, could I?

I finally got my hotel at around 12pm, I recouped, and went out, I had a quick lunch because that toast was not enough food. This Reuben was sooo good, I mean honestly, I didn’t eat anything that wasn’t good.

After lunch, the next stop was the Royal Palace of Madrid, it was open in 1751, so it has been open for 273 years at this point, it is the official residence of the Spanish Royal Family, but they just use it for state ceremonies now.

There was so much art inside, it is a huge a building and I am a sucker for old buildings. I don’t have a lot of pictures, I’m pretty sure we weren’t able to take pictures at some spots.

But let me tell you that the view from the Palace… was mesmerizing, it was also super breezy. And there’s me, living my best life, looking pretty good and on no sleep.

Next to the Palace, there is the Almudena Cathedral and the Plaza de Armería which is a very nice walkable area between the Palace and Cathedral. I don’t really practice religion but I love cathedrals, so I visit them everywhere I go.

I couldn’t leave Madrid without seeing the place where my dear football team celebrates, the lady Cybele, the Cibeles Fountain and Palace.

My next stop was the Prado Museum and I did not take any pictures except this fit check (RIP to the phone… more on that later).

More food because Spain you know?! I love croquettes and I don’t eat them nearly enough, like very time I have a layover in Miami airport I am VERY excited because there is a Cuban restaurant there and their ham croquettes are excellent. These Spanish ones were very good as well.

Talking about Cuba… it reads “Motherland and life, down with dictatorship” and it’s a beautiful country I’d like to visit one day. Spain colonized a lot of countries in Latin America, Puerto Rico being one of them, they killed and maimed people and civilizations, they enslaved people from African countries, brought them to the west, far from their families and everything they’ve known. I go into some detail about Spain and Puerto Rico (and the subsequent sale to the US), you can read more about it here.

More coffee because, you know.

They make this omelette with potatoes inside let me tell youuuuuu (I showed it twice because it was that good). Okay more food because food is life. Iberian Ham, bread, crushed tomatoes and churros. I fucking love churros.

Okay, enough about food (for now), my next stop was Toledo, to get to there, a train is your best bet, these are high speed trains mind you, the trip the drive is about an hour, in train that is around 36 minutes.

The trip there was uneventful, but once I got off the train… I got welcomed by a very beautiful station. I LOVE stained glass, which is a big reason of why I love going to churches, many of them in Europe have them. Toledo was under islamic rule at one point in time which explains why the station looks the way it does — particularly the inside.

But I hadn’t even gotten to the best part yet… This is close, but it gives you an idea of what Toledo looks like. It is a very old city, about two thousand years of history.

It is a bit of a walk from the station to the entrance of Toledo, but at the end of this bridge you’re met with this beautiful tower. And then when you take a look back, this (right image) the view you get.

This is the side view of the bridge, like I said, stunning every step I took. No regrets in going to Toledo. Except maybe that I should have 1. brought better shoes and 2. That I should have hired a tour guide to get the better views, specifically since this was just a day trip.

More of that islamic influence I mentioned before:

I LOVE walking, I end up getting 20k+ steps when I’m on trips like this. But Toledo, I was NOT prepared for. Not only it was a long walk from the station (~20mins) there was this… it’s a lot steeper than it looks like.

And it didn’t stop once I got to the top…

My first stop in Toledo was Santa Cruz museum, it is an art, archeology museum, and it includes works by El Greco, a famous greek painter of the Spanish Renaissance.

There was so much art here, I’ll compile a few of my favorite ones.

One thing that I love –if you haven’t noticed is architecture. This is the center of the museum, there is this huge sky light, I’m in love with ceilings like this one.

Something that you’ll see often in older Spanish buildings (and there are a few in Puerto Rico as well) is indoor gardens or patios. So the tour of the museum continued.

Next stop was Alcázar of Toledo, a fortification, which is in the highest spot of Toledo, it used to be a Roman palace (it even hosted Hernán Cortés after the Aztecs “conquest” aka genocide). It was very interesting and mind boggling to see all this new architecture carefully placed over the old one, and how it just worked.

More food because all this walking made me hungry asf. Chicken, eggs and French fries, good, whatever salad it was, good, coke (even Coke Zero) tastes better in a glass container, trust me, and I couldn’t leave without dessert, a marzipan cake and more coffee — are you surprised I got even more coffee?

My view from the fort.

I loved walking out and finding this huge Spanish flag. It felt surreal that I was in Spain after wanting to visit for so long.

This was day two (out of six) of my trip to Spain and this is longer than I was expecting but there are still soooo many other places I want to share with you guys that one post won’t be enough. Soooo, stay tuned for parts two (and maybe three?).

As always,

With Love,

Carolyn

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The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived and Back to November Part II

“So this is me swallowing my pride, standing in front of you, saying I’m sorry for that night and I go back to December all the time.”

-Taylor Swift

Summary from Part I: dated an asshole, Peter, and met Jack, a very sweet guy who I only wanted as friend a the time for superficial reasons on my end. We talked about having sex and I ended up at his place.

Jack and I discussed beforehand of what was/wasn’t allowed. We talked why we wanted to go through with it with the other, my answer was simple, I trust you, and we can have some fun, his was “I like to help my friends” (asshole lmao). I got to his place, brought snacks, got acquainted with each other again, it had been about seven months since we had seen each other in person.

We bantered while hanging out on the couch, I played with his dog who likes to fetch, and LOVES butt scratches. His cat made an occasional appearance. His place was clean and organized which is a green flag for me, and even has flowers on his counter top, I gave him shit about it but I secretly liked it.

Every step of the way, he respected my yes and my no, it felt good, I felt calm, comfortable, I wasn’t anxious, or stressed. We laughed so much through it, I’d say it felt like it wasn’t the first time. All of that, the respect, kindness, gentleness, making me feel comfortable, was new. Something underrated that I wasn’t expecting to like or enjoy that much? Jack moved me like I weighted nothing, I fucking swear I felt like a feather, holy shit. Last guy I went out with (Peter) I was full of anxiety, I never felt calm, I thought the anxiety was my brain thinking I wasn’t good enough for him, and it was me fighting against those feelings. In hindsight I learned that my anxiety was my nervous system telling me he wasn’t my person or good enough for me.

“So if the chain is on your door, I understand.”

Sharing this experience with a friend of mine, she asked “why don’t you date Jack? If he has all the qualities you’re looking in someone?” I regurgitated the original reasoning I had made seven months prior, I hadn’t updated that thought of why not, we wouldn’t work out, period. He and I had had the conversation before. But this time, it was different, the question reverberated inside my brain. “Why don’t I date him?” I pondered on it, thought of his kindness the months following our date, through my failed dates, the death of my childhood dog, or any time I felt crappy, he’d send me funny snaps, in hopes of cheering me up. And it worked. He makes me laugh, makes me roll my eyes when he keeps teasing, he annoys the heck out of me on a daily basis. But he also grounds me, makes me feel calm, respected, protected, and safe.

When I went out with him for the first time, I had been dumped a month prior by someone who I felt all the fireworks for. I didn’t with Jack, I thought that was a bad thing, but now I know that’s what I’m craving, peace and calmness. I don’t need the fireworks, all that’s ever done for me is put my nervous system on high alert. I’ve had enough of that, and what I need now is calm and security.

The day after we hung out, he told me his ex reached out, saying she missed him. So we paused our adventure. I wasn’t thrilled. As a matter of fact I was upset about her terrible timing, plus she broke up with him in the shittiest way ever and now she misses him? Pleaseeee. As neutral as I could be, knowing it benefited me but wanting to be careful, I told him he shouldn’t. He deserves someone who sees him and respects him and she’s not it. He knew but he was still on the fence.

We made plans to see each other on a Friday night, for movie and food at his place. Only once I got there, it ended up being me watching the movie alone because he fell asleep, and slept on me for part of it. Apparently, sleeping between my legs and using my thigh as a cushion is very comfortable. I stroked his hair and none of this felt weird, uncomfortable, I swear it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Hours later he apologized for falling asleep, and I left so he could actually sleep and not wake up every thirty minutes.

And I pondered. And pondered. Fuck, how did I miss it? How the fuck did I miss it? I missed it because he doesn’t fit the box of what my person looks like, I missed it because I was hung up on someone else, I missed it because I wasn’t expecting to feel a certain way about him. I missed it because I didn’t feel the fireworks with him, which is what I thought I should feel for someone I wanted to date. And it snuck up on me, I want to date him, I want him for myself, I want his strong arms around me, I want to him to throw me around as if I was as light as a feather, maybe we don’t work out or maybe we do, but I won’t know until I go through with it.

“Maybe this is wishful thinking

Probably mindless dreaming

But if we loved again,

I swear I’d love you right”

Since his ex coming back was recent I decided to wait. It really wouldn’t work if he was hung up on someone. One day I ask him if he told her to kick rocks, he tells me they’re done, subsequently by telling me he’s met someone that seems into him. And my world shattered. Fuck. And I didn’t want to let the opportunity pass me again so I told him how I felt. He questioned it. Which is fair. I told him we were better off as friends several times in the past, that we wouldn’t work. I wasn’t expecting him to drop everything for me, but I thought he’d consider it. In the nicest way ever his response was a “not now”. Which of course means I have to get over it and move on because I can’t wait on a maybe and I told him as much.

I have no idea what he feels about my sudden confession, does he hate me? Is he glad? Does he want me to go back to no feelings? I don’t know, he chose to keep his cards close to his chest on this one. Maybe he’s really feeling this new person and is trying to protect me? I do not know. All I know is that it is not happening right this second, I just hope the universe doesn’t put us in a situation where he’s there and I’m not and we keep missing each other.

I don’t usually regret but I fear this time the regret will eat me alive. I had the opportunity to coincide with a great person and I let him go. I had to find a venue in which to channel all the energy I suddenly had and had nowhere to put, so I chose the gym, I’m already a gym rat but I’m doing extra credit, I found out that dopamine really helps with stress. For the foreseeable future that extra credit is what will help me keep my sanity, either until my feelings go away or he changes his mind, something will give, I do not know which one though.

And if you’re reading this, thank you, you’ve been a constant for me these past few months, you make me laugh when I feel bad, you send me silly little videos, or cute doggy and kitty videos, or maybe you’re just your annoying self which makes me roll my eyes or those flirty videos that make me want to drop everything and step into your doorstep. I feel that regardless of what happens, we’ll be standing at the end of the tunnel, laughing at something silly you said.

If nothing else, this was a lesson, to not judge a book by its cover, your person doesn’t necessarily look like you think they will and you should be open to what life brings your way. But also that you won’t necessarily feel the butterflies and that is okay, butterflies doesn’t mean good or lack of them means bad. Calm is good.

That’s the story on how I went from wanting the smallest man who ever lived to wanting to go back to November to make it all right.

As always,

With Love,

Carolyn

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Electric Touch

Just breathe, just relax, it’ll be okay…
I’ve got my money on things going badly
Got a history of stories ending sadly
Still hoping that the fire won’t burn me
Just one time, just one time

Taylor Swift

I like to think that I am someone who has a very bright and positive outlook on life. Except when it comes to relationships, I haven’t had “luck”. I have come across men that see just how good, motivated, driven I am but none of them want to rise to my level to keep me in their lives and they’d rather just walk away. In hindsight, some of them wouldn’t have made good partners, something I didn’t notice at the time, but they have made good friends.

It’s been an uphill battle for me to feel and know that I am worthy of love, I grew up feeling like no one would like me, much less love me, because I was fat or because I was “too much”. More than once I heard things like “men don’t like that”, as if I needed to cater to them. Saw many movies in which the fat characters were the comedic relief. In others the women that had high standards were regarded too much, or if they had careers they were the single, drunk, fun aunt. Women had to take up the least amount of space, not be needy, couldn’t speak their mind, otherwise no one would want to have a relationship with them. At a lot of points in my life I have been made to feel like I was not good enough.

I find that I write when I’m at extremes, either I am not feeling great or I am feeling my best. Right now, I am in the middle, it feels like both the worse and the best moment.

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life
Got a feeling your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life
And I want you now, wanna need you forever
In the heat of your electric touch

Taylor Swift

In “Electric Touch” Taylor Swift talks about how it just takes one time to get “it” right. She also goes into talking about how she hopes that this time the fire won’t burn her. This relationship will either break her heart or bring it back to life. This song is very on-point with how I’m feeling at this moment. I lost my hope that I’ll find my person, people that I love tell me over and over how when I’m least expecting it they will pop up. That hasn’t happened so far. I have worked on myself, I am at a better place than I was last year, for example. I found myself, I don’t let society’s standards of beauty dictate what I wear, who I date, how I feel about myself. I heard that once I did those things that person would come. I didn’t do it for that imaginary person, I did it for myself, and boy is it better to love yourself despite what others say rather than hate everything about yourself, but they haven’t arrived. He hasn’t arrived.

As I was about to give up on finding someone, I met someone, someone who compliments me, wants me, likes me. Meeting this person, going out on dates, kissing them, made me have hope, maybe I have found my person, I knew it was too early to determine anything but it gave me hope. It happened very quick, I had never clicked that fast with someone, we went out for the first time. I got to the restaurant first, got us a table, and then as soon as he sat down, he grabbed my hands. At first it felt awkward, weird, but mostly my heart was trying to fall off my chest, then it felt normal, natural as if we had been doing it forever, as if it wasn’t the first time. During dinner, we talked about our likes, working out, our lives, he complimented my outfit, my accessories, it just made me blush and he loved it. He paid for the bill, we decided to walk around after eating and I wanted to change my shoes, as I was wearing heels and they’re definitely not made to walk, just before I sat down to swap them, he turned me towards him and kissed me. It was unexpected but felt very nice. I swear I felt I was in a movie, you know the scene, two characters are on a date, and he grabs her arm and in slow motion, spins her towards him so he can meet her lips, holds her hips and pulls them towards him as he deepens the kiss. That’s how it felt. During the night he stole a lot more kisses and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. We didn’t feel like strangers.


As we were navigating things, this person realized that maybe he wasn’t ready to offer me what I deserved. Which shattered the shred of hope I had. At the same time I realized I had my own anxieties in relationships which made me understand maybe I wasn’t as ready for a relationship as much as I wanted it. As we were both learning about ourselves in a relationship, we decided to keep navigating things together and as we kept hanging out we found out how much we liked each other. We hit road bumps for sure, I am a very outgoing motivated person, he’s much more reserved. Our first fight, we pushed a lot of buttons, unknowingly of course. But we both felt we could get to a point we were both comfortable, we both want to keep the other around and we want to make it work.

My hope was that I didn’t get burned, I am tired of having people to come into my life just for me to learn a lesson, I can be happy and learn a lesson, those things are not exclusive. I gave it my best effort, yet it wasn’t enough. All the sweetness, all the stolen kisses, ended up being a lie. He thought we’d be a good match and he went all in — found out we weren’t and after giving me the high, left me. Even though I was clear time and time again that we should take things slow.

If anything is a lesson here — never let people walk over your boundaries. Be skeptical, it’s easy to miss the red flags. It’s easy to mistake the lack of peace, the stress and anxiety with something else. I thought all the bad feelings were my thoughts of not being enough, when in reality, it was my body’s way of protecting me by letting me know he wasn’t my person, I know better now. And I will do better.

To you, fuck you. You disguised yourself as this sweet, kind guy when in reality you’re the worst kind of man.

I got burned and it was the best thing that could have happened to me.

P.S. I have had this in my queue for monthssss, it was time to polish it and publish it.

As always,

With love (except you),

Carolyn

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Dear John

You paint me a blue sky
Then go back and turn it to rain
And I lived in your chess game
But you changed the rules everyday
Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone tonight

Taylor Swift

I have dealt with many people in my life. Some have stayed, some have not. It hurts when one you cared for leaves, but as I ponder, in the sorrow’s aftermath, I realized they left, but the lessons I learned from them will stay with me. Growth is a good thing. I’ll never claim that I know everything because I know for a fact that I don’t. In fact, I welcome everyone around me to call me out whenever they think I am doing something wrong, especially to new people I meet. People walk on eggshells whenever they want to point out things to others because they don’t know how the other one will take it, and that’s a fair assessment. But I would want no one in my circle to feel that way, so I welcome criticism. I will not claim that it doesn’t bother me, occasionally it will, but I hear it, and ponder on it. Then I determine if they are right or not and on a lot of occasions I concede I was wrong, and I work to fix it.

I welcome growth. I just would enjoy it a lot more if the growth was with the people that stayed, not those who left. It doesn’t feel fair needing to lose someone or being in pain, in order to grow. You’d think growing meant they’d stay, and that’s true for many people in my life. So why am I focusing on those that left? Well, I guess one remembers pain more than happiness. You know, when you gave it your very best; you were willing to compromise; meet them in the middle (or way past it) so they’d stay, but they still leave? Yeah, it sucks. It hurts. I’m terrible at trying to fix things, usually I just make them worse. A good analogy for this is whenever I paint my nails, that’s something I suck at, so I always have nail polish around the nail — where there shouldn’t be any—, so when I try to remove it, I end up removing the nail polish of the nail and I make it worse. Well, the same thing goes for relationships.

Well, maybe it’s me
And my blind optimism to blame
Or maybe it’s you and your sick need
To give love and take it away
And you’ll add my name to your long list of traitors
Who don’t understand
And I look back in regret how I ignored when they said
“Run as fast as you can”

Taylor Swift

Taylor Swift is one of my favorite artists. Her music often resonates with me. “Dear John” is one of those. I heard it and I was: “Well shit, she also went through this”. I often ignore red flags, not necessarily because I don’t see them, but because I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, “maybe that’s not what they meant“; “maybe they had a bad day“. Sometimes those are true, but sometimes that blind optimism gets to me. I’m debating whether it’s sad, but time and time again, I give people the benefit of the doubt, and they fail me, but a new person comes in and I give it to them.

In my twenty-eight years, one, maybe two, people have shown me how evil people can be. They know they’re done with you, but they need you, so they stick around. Or they point out your flaws, while completely dismissing theirs. I think the worst part of the former is that things were rocky, but when they seemed friendly again, you think it’s going back to normal. They get you high just to drop you. The worse of the latter I think has to do with that lack of accountability. I mentioned how I don’t mind getting called out on things, but it’s a two-way street. You can’t call me out on things and when I do, you get defensive. We’re adults, not five.

When I was a child and then a teen, I thought the reason people my age were immature was because I was “too mature for my age”, but as an adult I have realized that it is completely false, I’ve seen adults throw tantrums, it has nothing to do with age. Silly me. Naïve me. That’s one of my problems. I’m too optimistic, “if I put in more effort, they’ll appreciate it“. They usually don’t and the problem becomes bigger.

I think the worse of people is whenever they paint this image of themselves and as time moves along; you notice it’s not them at all. But you hold on, maybe you’re imagining things, maybe that’s them on a bad day. I think it’s sad to think that a relationship with someone you care about is not possible because you bring out the worse in each other. Another contradiction of life, you care about a person, but you are terrible for each other. It’s sad, frustrating even.

I don’t like tooting my horn, but I’d like to think that I’m an honest, caring, loving, friendly, funny, thoughtful, and loyal person, at the same time not everyone is going to see that, and I’ve killed myself trying to show that to people who are covering their eyes. Somehow, I think I can convince people of how good I am. But I am slowly learning it’s just a waste of time.

I wouldn’t say those failed relationships were a waste of time, though. They were incredibly sad at the time that I had to go through them, but in the long run, they made me a better person. Every day I strive to do and be better. If they can’t see that, then maybe they don’t deserve to be in my life.

Learn to let go.

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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Chile: First Trip to South America

Chile: First Trip to South America

To be honest, I have never thought of traveling to Chile. In fact, I never wanted to travel to Latin America (the why is a whole other story). Actually, that’s a lie, I want to go to Cuba, but again, that’s another story. Anyway, there was the possibility of traveling to Chile for a conference —yay work!— I did not know much about Chile, aside from the fact that it is located in South America, it is long and narrow and it goes all the way down to the south of the continent to Tierra del Fuego, a territory shared with Argentina.

Once I knew I was going officially, which was like a month before, I started researching Chile. I did not want to go to a country before reading about it (in hindsight I should have done the same with Iceland as well). I was also traveling two days before to be able to sightsee, go to different towns, museums, etc., all before the conference, since I was not going to have time after. But back my research, oh the things I learned! I read about Chile’s dictator Augusto Pinochet; I had heard his name, but would not have been able to associate it with Chile. Long story short, in 1970 Salvador Allende, a socialist, was elected President of Chile. This did not sit well with a lot of people, —the US included—, so the latter invested money in the opposition so Allende would not win and/or unseat him. They were even involved in the coup d’état of 1973 by military general Pinochet and for 16 years he ruled. I am limiting my opinions on this since I want to talk more about the sights. But I might get into the politics later.

TRAVEL DAY (Thursday)! I had everything ready, I was running some last errands before going to the airport, I had to be there at 4pm, but at 2pm I get a message that the flight might be delayed. We rush out and try to call the airline on our way and they say that they could put me in the 3.30pm flight but it was 3 by then and I was still 30 minutes out, in summary, I was NOT going to make it. In fact I did not make it. Once I get to the airport all flights to my connection are cancelled. Yay! They were “trying” to help but truthfully, they were not being very helpful by telling me that the only flights out would be the following Monday or Tuesday, meaning I would get there Tuesday or Wednesday, respectively, effectively missing a good part of my conference and my sightseeing days. There were various flights out, but they were all supposedly First Class (though I could purchase economy through their website, so they could have been lying). They put me on standby for Friday, but they were not sure of multiple things: 1. That that flight would even make it out 2. That even if it did, I could get on it. So, after hours and hours on the counter and telling me she could not bump me to First Class, she booked a First Class ticket for Saturday. On Friday I had to drive to the airport, again, where they told me that there was no way I was getting into that flight, there were 15 people in front of me on standby, so that left the Saturday flight: FIRST CLASS! To be fair, it was glorious, the lounge, the showers, but in all honesty, it is over rated: too much money, for relatively cheap stuff. The seat in the plane was comfortable and the food as well, but it is still airplane food.

A few months ago I wrote about hating the 6hr flight to Iceland… well, this time it was a 14hr flight. At least it was not a direct flight, first flight was around 3hrs, I had a 5hr layover and then 8hrs directly to Chile. I got sick on the plane, had to sleep for most of it and I couldn’t eat anything. So finally, I made it to Chile, the plane landed in the furthest gate ever (they are reconstructing and it was a new wing, so they are kind of forgiven) , I swear it probably took me like 15 minutes (or more) to get to the front. Here, the Carolyn stories started. I planned on Ubering to the hotel, little did I know that I could not get an Uber from the airport, so a taxi driver took me, he told me the amount, but I was still getting used to the currency and he scammed me off… a little bit… To be fair, he did take me to exchange currency, but from a normal $28 fare, he charged me almost $55 and made me tip him which made it a total of almost $60… At least he did not rob me, I thought. I got to my hotel but I could not check in yet, it was 10 am. Ok, I am a little embarrassed to say this, but I read a lot of stories of people getting robbed in Chile that I was scared of going out by myself, so I basically stayed in until they let me check in. Afterward, people from my cohort (they arrived days earlier), told me that they were taking a trip up to The Andes and I could not say no to that trip. I’ll say a few things, it is not for the faint of heart, or for people that get dizzy with curves (cough, cough, which I am). But it was SO worth it.

This was basically the road up the mountain, a one way line, except for a few places, and mountains right and left. Once you drive for around twenty minutes, you find yourself in front of about 40 curves, or more, they count up only to like 23-30 but I counted more (maybe they are just counting very narrow curves or something).

This video was very early on our way up, if you notice one of the curves, there is a ‘5’ sign, they are counting the curves as we go up…

This is what you start to see as you go up… yup… buildings. Not what I expected either, you would think they would keep that as sacred patrimony, but eh, what do I know? It is a stunning view, nonetheless.

For a moment I thought I was in Europe, this looks very European, but then I remembered that Chile has a lot of European immigrants due to various reasons, for example Germans seeking refuge after WWII. Apparently they are the largest immigrant group in Chile after Bolivians, Peruvians, Spaniards and Italians.

We keep going up, we are not at the top yet.

Winter was over, which is why we do not see any snow on here, but to be honest, I did not expect it to be a dessert. I guess I thought mountains, and I thought about the ones back home which are green and full of life (there is life here as well, of course), but it is two different weathers and ours would not survive a winter like the ones they have here. By the way, one of the places we stopped at, it was so quiet that you could drop a needle and hear it. I am definitely not joking.

This side of the mountain was gracious enough to keep some of its snow for show for us. Gorgeous, is it not? Some people were still skiing!

Probably my favorite picture I took in Chile, the difference left and right, snow and no snow, the shade, the blue sky, the snow below. I love it.

And since capitalism never fails, HOTELS! They are stunning and aesthetically pleasing, but still, my “save the planet” feelings could not help but be crushed.

To be fair, if it did not take a million curves to get here, I would probably want to live up here hahaha.

Just some evidence that I was, indeed, at 3,000 meters (they use the dot as we do commas. As a matter of fact, they do in most (if not all) of Latin America. It’s just that PR is so colonized that… I am stopping) aka roughly 9,482 feet.

Next day we head to Valparaiso, where I was supposed to stay my first two days, before my flight got cancelled. Beautiful town, so lively, though some people kept staring at us and I was afraid they’d rob us hahaha. To be fair to them, I was in Chile with another Spanish-speaking individual and two English speakers so we were speaking in English, and that turns heads in any non-English speaking country.

As you can see, there are paints on a lot of the walls, very colorful, so pretty. I loved this so much.

We got to go to the Federico Santa María Technical University. It looks like a castle, and it is an old building but it is oh so nice and it has that amazing view of the Pacific (which I fully intended to take a dip in -at least a toe-, before: 1. My flight got delayed and did not spend any time in town 2. Temperatures were in the 50s with lots of wind).

That day in the afternoon we were taken to the host’s house for the “opening celebration”, let’s call it. This was the view from his house… Freaking amazing! It was more impressive in person, to be honest. This picture does not do it any justice.

The following day we were taken to a wine tasting. It was ravishing as you can see. We got to see an old wine cellar, where they kept barrels (old ones as they only use them once or twice) and tasted three different wines, I even brought one back home, which I am dying to taste but am saving for a special occasion, Chilean wine will not be easy to come by now :'(.

Pontifical Catholic University of Chile, where the conference was held. I took some other pictures, but I loved these buildings! A copper building and a ‘Y’? And also, what is up with the outer glass ‘skin’ thing that building has got going on? Love it, love it.

But of course it is not a trip if I do not make some friends along the way. I met someone from England, though he sounds Scottish, I do not have a well developed ear to know the difference. I was just happy I could understand anything. I met a French, something interesting about accents actually, the French guy speaks Spanish as well. In Spanish, he does not sound French. In fact he sounds Mexican. But in English, he has a typical french accent (can you guys tell that I really love accents since I am making a whole paragraph on people’s accents? Ok). I met someone from the US, Mexicans and of course, Chileans. Funny thing about Chileans, we were told non-stop that they often ended their words/sentences with ‘po’, to be honest, I spend a good chunk of my time trying to find it and for the life of me could not. Then I heard it, I was low-key proud of myself, but the thing is, they speak so fast and say it so subtlety that you miss it. And talking about accents, I was at a restaurant shamefully speaking in English with the people I came with, while talking in Spanish to the waiter and at one point he says to me: your Spanish is really good! I go: “Well, I am from Puerto Rico”, he goes: “No wonder! I was going to say that it even sounds Latin!” For a moment I did not know wether to take it as an insult… I decided to just laugh and not think too much about it.

Yes, mom, I am -most of the time- the only girl. Mom, I work in a STEM field, by definition there are not that many girls and I was in Latin America, which means even fewer. Mom, they are good people. Yes mom, I was careful.

To end this. I need to go back, need to see museums that I meant to. According to Google, they have the oldest Museum of Fine Arts in South America. Plus, I know people over there now. I can bother them when I go back and can try and get them to join me to places. But Chile was amazing, delayed trip, scared of getting robbed and little sightseeing included.

Wait! I got one more story… two actually. So this one day I am trying to get an Uber back to the hotel, my phone died. The person I am with is trying to get me one as well, Uber was not working. So they walk me to the train station and leave me there, I was not 100% sure of the train stop, I did remember someone said which one it was and I prayed to God that was the one. I asked a cop in the train station, but he did not know. I took the train and when I get off, I am not sure which exit to take so I just walk to one. Once outside I start shitting my pants because I do not recognize anything and I was afraid to look lost hahaha. Finally, I recognized something so I start walking towards it and see a cop and I ask him if he can direct me to me hotel. He looks confused/clueless and turns and points up to the huge flashy “Crowne Hotel” sign. I was like: “Oh, how do I get there?” And he goes: “walk a block and it will be on your left.” He probably had the laugh of the day.

The second story is that I took an Uber to the airport and apparently they are not legalized yet. Somehow, the driver was unaware of this and dropped me off at the entrance of the airport and when I got off the car, a cop stopped me and asked me all sorts of questions. In that moment I swear I thought I was going to get arrested or something, with like 3 hrs left to leave! They let me go but it was a huge scary moment.

Ok, now I am done.

P.S. I saw some good-looking Chileans. I would be willing to break my Cuban-marrying rule!

Carolyn

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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

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The end is a beginning

The end is a beginning

Find out who you are and do it on purpose

Dolly Parton 

As a 13 year old, I thought that 24 year olds had their life put together and knew what they were doing. Yet, here at 24 I do not know what I am doing. And of course it is not literally. I am working to get my PhD in order to be able to get the job I want. I mean it in a more personal way, this past year as I lived by myself for the first time I have grown so much as a person. But it hasn’t been without its ups and downs. There have been at least five life-changing experiences that have instructed me in how to be the woman I am working to become. I will talk about them because I know I am not alone and I want people that are still getting to know themselves to know that they’re not either. 

First, the biggest shock was moving from the place I called home for 23 years. And while I had the privilege of traveling before, nothing really prepared me to be far from home for an extended period of time, far from friends, family, and the land that saw me grow up. While I do enjoy having an apartment to myself, I was not prepared for its emptiness on the hard days, the days where I would usually just drive to my best friend’s house for ice cream or nachos, or just go out with her and have a laugh. These became movie nights with ice cream or nachos on a semi-comfortable couch with a nosy cat, all by myself. I’ve had to learn how to be comfortable by myself. And while I am still working on it, I am much better at it than when I first moved here. 

Secondly, I had to deal with the loss of a friend. While it wasn’t a friend that I hung out with often it was a friend that whenever I was feeling inadequate or insecure knew exactly what to say to cheer me up. I am known to be a drama queen, and he would always tell me to leave the drama to him (which would make me laugh), and whenever I feel down I still remember what he used to tell me: Fake it until you make it. The words reverberate in my mind and make me hold on when all I want to do is let go of everything. 

Fake it until you make it.

Thirdly, anyone that knows me knows how much I put into any relationship that I have. I am the friend that you can call at 3 a.m. and will drop everything to help you out. I will call you out on things, but I will also take care of you, worry about you if I see you hurting, and try to do my best in any situation. I am a true believer that everything has a solution. Hence, I hold on to things for far longer than I should because I try to fix everything. I had to learn the hard way that it is not possible to fix things if the other person is not willing to work on them too. It has always been hard for me to make friends, it either has to do with my high energy personality or the fact that being fat has always made me susceptible to jokes and bullying. Eventually, I was able to see past the jokes, and they rarely affect me anymore. Fast-forward circa 2015, a person I had been friends with since 2010, broke up with his girlfriend and started to hang out with me a lot more than we ever had. It was the greatest thing ever, I had a thing for him back when I met him, but by then I honestly wasn’t sure if I still had feelings for him or not, I just knew it felt nice to have a friend to hang out with. After the nicest six months, everything changed, he pushed me away, stopped talking to me, and claimed everything was fine. Had I taken the hint, I would have ended the friendship, and saved me a lot of headaches, but I wanted to figure out what was happening. Long story short, he was treating me like shit, but I kept coming back. Stockholm syndrome much? Our relationship had become toxic and I hadn’t noticed because I loved him, and because he was a dear friend. It took meeting a new person (because I wouldn’t listen to my friends) that ended up caring about me, to call me on my shit and for me to do something about this toxic relationship. Eventually I told him that he had repeatedly said that our friendship was over, so we shouldn’t contact each other anymore. He didn’t take it well, but also didn’t do something to fix it. Though I knew it was the right thing to do, I regretted it in the following minutes. After all, I am an optimist. Months have gone by, and while every once in a while I regret it, I also think it was for the best, and I feel good about it, because I had not felt that relaxed in a while until I called it quits. 

Our relationship had become toxic and I hadn’t noticed

Fourth, I would always see posts online, people saying how much a person helped them grow, and I would always think it was bullshit. After all, had I truly learned anything from my own friends? I thought I hadn’t. But then, by pure chance I met a person that has honestly changed me in ways I didn’t know I could/needed. He came and made me question everything I thought I knew. Showed me what a mature relationship was. Unsurprisingly, I fell for him. It was the first time that I hadn’t felt insecure about being fat, or inadequate for someone. I took a leap of faith, and I wrote a letter telling him what I felt for him. It was a really scary moment because he was my friend, and I didn’t want to lose that, but I also wanted to be truthful and honest. He thought it was cute and appreciated it (I am an open book, so he already knew). I was expecting him to push me away, but instead, he reassured me that I wasn’t going to lose him, and I didn’t. On the contrary, he showed me how much he cared about me, even if he didn’t reciprocate those feelings. Multiple times he showed me he loved me, by giving me advice; yelling at me for putting myself in situations where I would get hurt; or for failing to call him to say that I arrived home safely. He loves me, and wants the best for me, and he’s proved it with more than words. He told me things no one had before, words that I still remember: You’re a kind person and it makes me want to be kind to you too. He’s a jerk sometimes, but I love him anyway. It’s funny how you get to know someone so well in such a short period of time, and how much they end up meaning to you. 
The only bad thing is that the dick lives on the other side of the world, because why couldn’t I meet someone that lived within driving distance? (Because the world is cruel, that’s why).


He loves me, and wants the best for me, and he’s proved it with more than words.

Fifth and last, I met another person who was my friend for a little while. It all happened too fast, I honestly do not know why or how. I just know I started suggesting things to do, and this new friend would agree. He came by my place a couple times, we went out a handful of others. At some point, it looked like we were dating. I didn’t want to bring it up but luckily for me, he brought it up and we cleared up that nothing was going on. I did point out that everything I did with him, was the same I would have done for any of my friends, but unfortunately nothing went back to the way it was before. After a month of ignoring me (for the most part), he decided to call it quits. On the grounds that I made him anxious, that we talked more than he was comfortable with, and then he even dared tell me that I held onto my friend’s word that he liked me more than his own word, which was never the case. He made up his mind about me without letting me explain, without giving me the benefit of the doubt. I do not regret anything I did, because I did the best that I could. Whatever blame I had, I took responsibility for it and I was actively working to fix it. I guess in the end he wasn’t really my friend, and everything he told me about always being honest “and telling me things how they were”, was bullshit. Had he done it before, instead of putting up with it to “protect me”, we would have been able to fix it. But he waited to be fed up with it, and made his mind about me without giving me a say in the situation.

“One taught me loss, one taught me to let go, one taught me about life and one taught me growth.” 

I titled this “The end is a beginning” because I saw the end of of two friendships, the first a long and toxic relationship that I held on to longer than I should have, and the second one that was short-lived, but delightful while it lasted. And while they ended, something began. I am getting to know myself, I am determining what are my deal-breakers, so that I don’t prolong things that have no good ending in sight. And it hurt, because I have a hard time letting go of things. But I learned that it is part of growing up, and people will come and go, but everyone that you meet is a lesson learned, and I am a fool if I don’t learn from it. So I can’t be sad because it ended, I have to be happy it happened, and it brought me to a new beginning. 

Carolyn