The girl on the train.

Today on my way home from work, just like any other day, I’m rushing to make it to the train station to avoid waiting. I get on the cart and begin to read my book. This book is different from any ordinary type, it’s called Emotional Intelligence. I’ve recently taken interest in learning to control my emotions or to have the right emotion for the right situation. As I’m reading and trying my hardest to focus. My attention is slightly taken by a girl who is extremely hurt and upset at her boyfriend/lover. Now, in situations like this I usually zone out and continue what I’m doing. She was loud and vocal about the pain she was dealing with at the moment. I felt her pain, I could hear it in her voice. She was sad, she felt betrayed by someone she truly loved and cared about. I’m not going to go into detail what she was upset about because in all honesty, does it even matter? I was able to relate to her in so many ways because I sometime ago was in her shoes. I wanted to tell her so badly that it is not worth the internal pain. Would she listen? Would I have listened if someone told me that? I can guarantee you I would not. After a few stops, the couple left the cart to the platform. As we road off I heard yelling and spotted who it was, it was the guy, the one who hurt the girl. He was screaming because she did the unimaginable. She jumped onto the tracks, putting her life at risk. Some may see this as a joke or prank to get attention. This was a serious matter. I’ve been there, wanting to get rid of that pain, that internal pain. I’ve thought about hurting myself time and time again for years. Wanting life to go on without me. I’ve felt this from my childhood nightmare, to young love and adult problems. With the faith and the help from my mother, I’ve pushed myself to know I would be missing out. Reminded myself that this pain is temporary. I wish I could have told her that. That she is worth it and no one is more important than yourself. Love yourself.

I’m sorry mom

At such a young age I had figured out right from wrong but fear played a huge role. Fear of hurting my mother, breaking apart the only family I have. My mom is not educated, worked at minimum wage, my dad had some luck over the years, landed a $70k gig in his 20’s. I think I was 12-13 years old when it really hit me, if I opened my mouth what will happen to us? Will I get in trouble? Where will my sisters and I live? Will my mom hate me? This was a lot of responsibility for a preteen. How do I be a kid again? I couldn’t. By the age of 18, I had a plan to get out of the house. Join the army and never look back. I was running and I wanted to run as far as I could. But I couldn’t, at 18 I was scared to leave my mom and sisters with that man, the one who would physically, verbally and sexually abuse us. Only thing, no one knew about the sexual abuse but me or so I thought.

Baby steps…

I am a few short weeks of turning 30 and I look back about 25 years and I think to myself what ever happened to that sweet little girl. Well, she is all grown up now and let me tell you I am ready to tell my story but before I do that I want to give you a little background. I grew up in Chicago and was raised by both parents, father born in Michoacan, Mexico and my mother in San Antonio, Texas. I am the oldest of three sisters, sad to say no boys, so growing up my dad and his brothers taught us the hard work of playing basketball. Let me tell you, it was no fun having braces as a teen, I had trouble catching fast balls so I always had bloody lips when playing. My dad was super strict growing up, but was always involved in everything I did. He was there for me, I believed he loved me…

Please share some background of yourself, I like to know who is interested in reading my life journey as I want to learn about yours.