Tag Archive | family

F.E.A.R.

fearmeanings

One day in September I did a banking errand for my mom and inside the teller’s area I saw this acronym, F.E.A.R. written on a dry erase board. I’ve seen it or heard before someplace, yet each time I visited the bank I would find myself looking at the board and stare at it. I’d wait in line and quietly reflect. I’m definitely not a Forget Everything And  Run kind of girl. I’ve thought about times in my life where I had to pick myself up, dust myself off, and just move forward, one step, then another, and another. Over those two months I spent caring for my mom in Florida through to today my mind kept going back to those words on the board. Maybe it was premonition. Maybe, that message was preparing me for these past few months and also the months and years that are ahead of us. I have been feeling fear in a number of areas of my life recently.  I have this strange feeling this message came to me at just the right time and that it’s so important for me to Face Everything And Rise right now.

I finally came out to all of my family in the past year. My children and my ex-husband already knew about me being queer and kinky. This was new information for my mother, step-dad, sister, brothers, and in-laws. Some clearly prefer to just not speak about the matter, while others have been very accepting, warm, and loving. I remember telling my mom first. I sat with her at the dining room table, just her and I alone. I was nervous, but it went well. I am fortunate that I’ve always had a close relationship with my mom. I’ve always believed I could tell her anything and that she would still love me. Even then, it was still scary. I guess it’s because I thought it would confuse her, possibly scare her, anger her, disappoint or hurt her. Yet, I knew I had to find the courage to spit the words out and that it would somehow be okay. I didn’t want to live another day longer hiding who I am. And somehow I found the words and it was all okay. I love my mother with all my heart. Face Everything And Rise.

holding-handsMy girlfriend is amazing. She spoils me with affection and truly she inspires me to be better and do better. Of course I think my Daddy is the best and deserves all kinds of goodness and kindness. Everyday I want to bring joy and happiness into her life. There has been more than a few times when I have had to call a BFF to walk me off the ledge, because the truth is sometimes I think she deserves better than me. She’s very organized, completely got this adulting thing down one hundred percent, and just has it all so together. Meanwhile, I’m going through life flying by the seat of my pants, usually making it up as I go along, and so often very sure that I am quite a hot mess. Maybe a fun, sexy, lovable hot mess, but a hot mess all the same. So sometimes I feel insecure or fearful, because I am opening my heart to love again. Yet, I’m a risk taker, so I just leap. And as surprising as it is to me, my hot butch Daddy feels similar fears too. And then there are other fears. External fears of how our progressive little bubble of NYC may change in the coming years. I will not stop holding her hand, kissing her, or hide my love. Love is love. So each day, week, month, and hopefully over the years, together we will overcome our fears. Face Everything And Rise.

fear-quotesSome days I still become emotional and cry when I think about this year’s Presidential election. Like many other women, the loss hurt, but even more it’s left a shadow of fear. I fear for my young adult daughters. I fear for my gay and trans friends. I fear for immigrants and people of color. I fear for all marginalized groups. That’s a lot of fear and I have to lift myself up, dust myself off, and move forward. One step, then another, and another. Now is not the time to lose heart. Now is the time for strong women to support each other and build each other up. I’ll be in NYC volunteering for Lesbian Sex Mafia. I’ll be in Washington, DC on January 21, 2017 at the Women’s March on Washington. I’ll do what I can to hold space. I know who I am. I’m the kind of girl who will Face Everything And Rise.

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I’ve Got a Brand New Pair of Rollerskates

One of my first memories as a child was roller skating down the hill of the street of my home in Venezuela. I did this with my oldest brother and my sister. It was such fun, such an adventure, that I never stopped roller skating.

When I arrived at my mother’s home this weekend and entered my bedroom one of the first things I see is my roller skates. I had thought to have them shipped to NY and go skate on the Brooklyn Promenade, but with my knee injury I figured it would be a waste of shipping fees. I was extremely happy though just to see my skates. Then I noticed there was only one boot. Where was the other boot? I ask my mother about it and she doesn’t know. Frankly, I am rather distressed. Skating brings good feelings, good memories, and I need to know where my other skate is. Then my mother tells she let Jose’s (our gardener from when we lived in Ft. Lauderdale) two little girls stay in my room this past summer… I calm down a little. I figure the girls were playing with my skates and they are someplace in the house. I am emotionally attached my skates. It doesn’t matter I haven’t worn them in 2 years. I’m a girl and these are my skates.

skatesAt 5am my mother enters my room and in her hand she is holding my lost and now found skate. She tells me she found it under a desk in the other bedroom. I look at my mother and tell her, “When you told me there were two little girls in my room I knew they had to have been playing with my skate.” She says she can’t understand what they were doing with it, since it is too big for them. I tell her, “Mommy (yes I call her mommy), look at it, it’s white and has pink wheels. What girl can possible resist playing with a roller skate that is white with pink wheels?!”

I don’t know if I will bring my skates with me to NY, but I am happy to hold them, to just have them on my feet. I wish I could skate. I am mad at my body for getting injured. I am sad that He didn’t take care of me the way I feel I deserved. I have personal responsibility in all this though. I believe in owning my part. So, now I know, that is it not only the place of the Owner to remember and follow Rule number one, Protect the Property. I too must follow rule #1 and protect the property.

Hi, my name is karida, and I’m a girl. I am open for adoption to a good Daddy. I’m smart, pretty, and I like to smile and laugh. I’m also kind of useful around the house. I like to be helpful and feel I have a lot I can contribute to a household. Plus, I come with a tiara and pretty white roller skates with pink wheels.

My Adventure

On Friday, at 1:50am, I was leaving my apartment in Brooklyn and walking to the subway. It was the beginning and in some ways the end of a tiring journey. In the 48 hours before that, I had worked 3 shifts that equaled 22 hours and that doesn’t include my travel time on the subways. I had gotten home and cooked some fresh asparagus and mushrooms, and mixed it with ramen noodles. I hear my little sister’s voice in my head, as I so often do these days, and she says, “fresh produce is a luxury.” I refuse to let this luxury rot and waste, so I force myself to do what I so easily do for others, and I cook a healthy meal and I sit to eat. I did a little “bano de gato”, packed the only suit case I have – a little duffle bag/tote, brushed my hair and my teeth, and headed out the door. I am flying down to Florida. I had asked for these days off far in advance, but plans change, life keeps moving, and so must I. Instead of cancelling my request for these days off,  I choose to use this time to go visit my mother.

This is my first trip to JFK airport from my new home and the logistics are a bit daunting. One of the things I love about NY is public transit, but trying to figure out how to make this journey under two hours turns out to be difficult. At night the wait times are longer and there are all sorts of service changes and route modifications. After studying a variety of route options I give up and decide to go the way I know best. That involves going past my old home, not something I relish as I generally avoid this area and the memories that haunt me there. Yet, I decide it is the one way I feel sure of knowing where I am going and how long it will take. I take the D train to the 3 train and because I am tired I miss getting off at my old stop where I could have gotten the B15 bus, and easily gotten a seat, to JFK. I figure it was meant to happen that way and stay on the 3 train to the end of the line where I could still get the B15 sans the seat 

I know a fair number of EDP’s (emotionally disturbed people) ride the subway and busses here in NY pretty much all year round. While I rode the few extra stops on the 3 train a women enters the train and sits across from 2 girls beside me and begins to beg for money. One of the girls tries to give her some change, but her partner gets angry and yells at the girl with the change in her hand, “Why you doin’ that?! Don’t give her that! We ain’t got enough for ourselves!” The panhandler starts to yell at the girl about that at least she has a home etc. blah, blah, blah. I feel badly, so I look in my bag for my golden apple. Finally I find it and offer it to the panhandler. She didn’t want it. I tried to offer it again, and again she wouldn’t take it. Sometimes I am so naïve, I just stare at her mystified and the women suddenly becomes aggressive. She stands up and starts to yell at me, holds her arm out, and with her mouth makes a sound like “boom” while she holds her fist in front of my face. She is imitating a gun. I decide to act a little crazy myself and stand up and stare her down. I don’t know why, but I thought I should just stand up for myself. I know, I know! Not the smartest thing I have ever done, but I just didn’t feel like being a good girl! I will not be your good girl! Hah. Um, yea… The train stops and the women decides to get off the train. I sit back down and wait for the final station to get off, then walk down to the bus stop to meet up with the B15 to JFK.

I am waiting at the bus stop with two other ladies and they start talking about a woman on the train who was screaming and acting crazy. I realize it was the same women who tried to bully me and we start sharing our stories. I told them she wanted the ten cents change from the two other girls more than she wanted my apple! I go on about how fresh fruit and vegetables are a luxury these days and how my apple was worth at least .75 cents to $1.00. They nod in agreement and say amen to my sermon. The ladies keep talking and I realize they know each other from seeing each other daily at this stop on their way to work. One notices my bag and asks about my trip. I tell them I am going to visit my mother. That I need to make sure she is okay and that I need to show her that I am okay too. Then I say, “You never get too old to go visit your mother.” I got quiet for a second and said, “Well, not everyone has a good mother.” They nod their heads in agreement.

I am fortunate. My mother knew how to show me love. Granted, after my father died, my mother went all kinds of crazy. I defend her though and say, she did the best she could, with the limited skill sets she had. My father didn’t plan to get cancer, die, and leave my mother with four young children. It sucks, it just happened. It doesn’t matter how much money he left her and other security he provided, because in the end my mother did not have the emotional or intellectual skills needed to take over all the things he did for her.

When I look back, in many ways they had a D/s or M/s relationship. Daddy was the Decider and the Provider and he was very good at it. He created the calm and quiet in our home and family life. He was the teacher, guide, and nurturer. We knew the rules, we had structure and family rituals. I know in the last years my father did what he could to set up support for my mom, but time was too short. My mother took care of the house, the kids, and of him, and she did it well, but that was all she knew. Financial and other worldly matter where all on him. Life was hard after he died, but I still feel I was fortunate. My mother showed me how to love with an open heart. I know not everyone has a mother like mine. I love my mother with all my heart. I never close any part of my heart to her. Nothing could ever make me turn away from her and nothing could ever make me say, “I hate you” to her. I think she was a slave to my father and after he died she stayed alive by being a slave to her children.

I’m in my mother’s home and she wants me to stay. I worry about her. She isn’t well and she isn’t getting the care she deserves. Then again, she won’t let my brothers help her the way she lets me help her. When I arrived to her home I laid in bed in “my room”. Yes, my mother still has a room just for me. She now has my clothes hung up nicely in the closet, more items folded neatly in a dresser, pictures in frames that are mine on the walls, and even though she knows He has hurt me, she leave a picture of Him on the bookcase shelf. She understands there is no because in love and no reason to search for why. That people come into our lives for a reason. I say to her that He brought me to NY and that maybe that was his purpose in my life. I tell her how I have good friends now, who care about me, and help me when I need it. As much as I want to be a good daughter and stay here to help my mother I know that this is my chance to grow. I have determination, perseverance, and vision. I hope she understands. I know she misses me and needs me, but I want to return to NY. I thought my life’s big adventure was starting a year and a half ago, but I was wrong.

My adventure is starting now.