About me –
My memories of childhood before age 9 are perfect. At the age of 9, some memories are unspoken and the kind society doesn’t want to acknowledge.
But at 4, ah, life is perfect. I’m a little girl of 4 “going on 5” years old. Wearing a dark blue sweater, jeans, and my favorite floppy hat - I’m embarking on the daunting task of pulling weeds in our farm. My Pop gently stops me with a chuckle and the words “Mija, those aren’t weeds.” He smiles and with loving guidance squeezes my shoulder and shows me the difference between the chile plants and the weeds.
At 4 my world is perfect: listening to my Pop’s dichos (Spanish sayings); singing to Hank Williams; Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline; Celia Cruz; pulling weeds (I think); playing in the dirt and mud; eating bologna and green chile on homemade tortillas (OMG, this is a great meal); drinking cool water from a canvas bag that Pop has hanging from the gas cap on the truck and feeling the freshness of the water spilling off the sides of my lips; and being in the sun.
I’m 9 years old. I hear the clock ticking and the smell of a non-relative’s hangover. This non-relative, a perpetrator, has made me a victim of sexual assault. Now I feel alone, dirty and I include betrayed, scared, and ashamed – even though I don’t even know these words exist – doesn’t mean I don’t feel them. I don’t know why this is happening and I’m too scared to bring this to my Pop or any of my family.
I’m 16 years old and this atrocity has been ongoing for 7 years. I’m withdrawn with a serious attitude toward everyone of “don’t touch me, ever”, I’m in a prison without bars, and I’m tired: tired of the abuse, being silent, making bad choices, and being powerless. As I sit on a sofa in the basement, he walks toward me and I stand up and with an aggressive march, I face him. As I close the space he stops and begins walking backwards. I don’t stop, I can’t, and I’m thankful for the spontaneous courage. He trips over a laundry basket on the floor and I look down at him and stoically tell him, “I’m done with this shit and if you do this one more time, I’m telling.” He stays on the floor and weakly says, “No one will believe you.” His words don’t affect me the way they did before. I flatly reply, “I. Don’t. Care.”
The abuse stops. Decades later I tell myself surviving it made me stronger. I don’t know if that is a true statement. Even though I stopped the abuse, I feel like tangled string spinning around in a dust devil. Since the age of 9, I’ve searched for that 1 thing that was an answer to how I felt; the 1 thing that would make a difference in my life; or just 1 thing to make me feel better.
I saw a movie, City Slickers, and this is my FAVORITE scene:
Curley: Do you know what the secret of life is? [holds up 1 finger] This:
Mitch: Your finger?
Curley: 1 thing. Just 1 thing. You stick to that and the rest don’t mean shit.
Mitch: That’s great, but, what’s the “1 thing?”
Curley: That’s what you got to find out.
I’ve been searching for my 1 thing: My 1 inspiration. I have to be honest with myself. I have to question: am I altruistic, do I believe in unicorns, and “made for TV movies” with happy endings? Or maybe, just maybe, I’m afraid of being still. Perhaps, I want to try everything at least once so at the end of my life I know that I did search for that “1 Inspiration” (thanks Curley.)
I will always hear the clock ticking and the smell of his hangover. But I am no longer broken. I love the song by Queen “We Are The Champions”. The first few verses sound like a fight I know and I live through. Getting to know myself and time is making me stronger. I know what my “1 Inspiration” is and I’ve been living it all along.
I thought it was being thankful. But as I finish writing this blog, I realize My 1 Inspiration is: tenacity.
I have always possessed purpose, resolve, and quiet determination.
My “1 Inspiration” will change as I am on this journey because life isn’t static.
I’m on my journey. I am giving my story and 1 Inspiration to let you know that you are not alone in your journey and I want to hear your voice. Because you are important and you matter. Let your 1 inspiration resonate and inspire others.