8. How To Avoid Not Living
In the past few days, I’ve realized how many people spend most of their lives waiting, and how the simplest forms of it can lead to the most complicated ones: Waiting and procrastinating before doing homework, waiting for somebody to make plans with them, waiting to feel like completing their to-do lists, waiting to start their New Year’s resolution, waiting for a promotion and for their career to take off, waiting for a monthly paycheck to support the rest of their family, waiting for their boyfriend or girlfriend to text them back, waiting for the day their children grow up, waiting every night for their spouse to come home, waiting for their dreams to come true, waiting to live.
It’s been summer vacations for over a month now, and I’ve been waiting to complete all of the smallest to the biggest plans I’ve thought to accomplish over this break. Have I started? Only since three days ago and truth is is that I’ve wasted a lot of time. But before I drag myself down that rabbit hole of pity, I realize that it’s better late than never, especially when I don’t accomplish anything by tormenting myself. It’s best to just get up, get focused, and be excited for what’s next. Which is an idea I think a lot of people could benefit from.
Take me as an example. A small way I’m waiting? I haven’t gotten started on taking photos, researching on video editing, reading some dusty books on my shelf, practicing math (because I haven’t put any energy into it this past school semester), finishing my summer homework… and the list goes on. It’s been a procrastinative couple of weeks, and as much as I’ve tried to avoid that I’ve failed, I have officially established Youtube as my ultimate weakness.
Now, a big way I’m waiting? Going back to what I said about research and photography, I’ve been thinking of exploring these interests I’ve taken on since my past school semester. They’ve been in the back of my mind for months now, and I know I could create some really great work out of them, work that I’m proud of. You know that work that you wouldn’t imagine you did? Like you could imagine somebody else accomplishing it, but as it turns out you seriously created something. I just got a thrill of that experience recently, and I’m excited to try it again. But I’ve barely started.
SO I’m a pretty good example of what you shouldn’t do, or at least try your best to avoid. But it’s clear that I haven’t enjoyed realizing that I’ve voluntarily put myself on a waiting list. Yet I still picked myself up at the beginning of this week and organized more of what I want to do before school starts because now is when I have all the time in the world. Meaning, you may be asking me: What was worth getting so distracted on? Why was it?
Um… nothing.
The reason I haven’t started is very dumb, but in my defense, I think it’s also very relatable:
I’m easily distracted by watching other people who aren’t waiting. In other words: People vlogging on Youtube, interviews with the cast of Glass, behind the scenes on It: Chapter 2, Shane Dawson, and many more people that have succeeded more in the past five days than I have in four weeks.
And the reason why I find this super relatable is because I know it’s true. Aside from the fact that so many people don’t realize that they’re waiting for their lives to start, they’re waiting for it by amusing themselves with the accomplishments of others. This is where comparisons and envy and unfortunately, resentment comes in.
And I’ve thought the same way. I’ve thought, “Oh I could never do that.”
And then one day I asked myself: “Who says?”
Then I established that I say that, and then I asked myself: Who says I have the permission, the reputation, and/or the sanction to actually establish that I am incapable of starting my own life?
I had hoped that by then I had entered the realm of reality and not stupidity, and agreed that the answer is not, “I say that,” but, “Nobody says that.” Meaning, you are the only person in the way of starting your life if it hasn’t already. And that doesn’t mean you need to feel ashamed of what’s been in front of you all along and which you haven’t taken advantage of. It just means you’re ready now.
And it’s true that many spend their days taunting themselves with the fact that they’ve lost so much time. But you and I both know we gain very little from that idea. And maybe there are people who just don’t wait and get a head-start. And then there are people like me.
It’s very noticeable that I’ve never been that “head-start” kind of person, but I’ve been one to learn from all the waiting I’ve done. Although in the past I’d be disappointed in myself to the point where I gave up, I’ve changed my ways to just acknowledge the time I took for granted and then start. It’s as easy as that. It’s not like I need to remind myself every day about how one person started before me or how I could’ve taken advantage of something in the past. Although everyone knows it’s easy to get caught in the past, everyone also knows that it’s a huge struggle to stay there. That is, from avoiding to let go what you can’t fix, and accepting the time you have now.
A way to look at it differently, is a saying that so many people have repeated to the point that I don’t know who said it first:
“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass… It’s about learning to dance in the rain.”
This quote has most resonated with me during tough times and awkward moments. Let me explain.
In tough times, I don’t wait for the moment to pass because I know it won’t easily, and in general, it won’t at all. It’s engraved in my memory and I’m not going to sit and grieve or try to force any company to help me, because I know that I’m the only one who can make me stand up. No one else can try to carry the responsibility and the burden to keep someone alive. I need to acknowledge the moment but then continue with it, even if it’s always looking over my shoulder.
On the other hand, like any person (if this hasn’t happened to you well then I barely consider you a human being) that has tried to absorb a very awkward situation when it’s still happening, knows that the storm is there and you’re getting soaking wet. Embrace the awkwardness! You can’t go running away from the sound of thunder because you’re going to slip, and you can’t speed down a highway to get to your destination quicker, avoiding the storm, because you’re going to crash.
None of this is about waiting for something to happen or ignoring the fact that something is or is not happening, it’s about embracing what’s going on and what you can do about it. Sometimes embracing what’s going on is about waiting, being patient, and being able to reflect and think. That’s waiting when it’s necessary. But don’t wait for more than you have to, take everything into your own hands once you can.
I’m going to finish my summer homework, grab a camera, read a few novels, edit some dance videos, and continue training every day. I’m not going to wait until next weekend, or next month, or next vacations, or that during the next summer I’m going to achieve something.
I’m going to try my best to avoid not living now, and I suggest you do the same once you stop reading this blog post. Think about what you want to do, what you’ve left behind, and what you should do but haven’t done yet. And finally, clap for this blog post if you get off your waiting list. :-P
7. Who am I? (not what you think)
SO, the question above isn’t one of those cheesy questions that people put on their posts so that others can read about the strong and inspirational epiphany they just had about their life. No, this is my post (I’m not that interesting). I’m writing this to you because what are the chances that somebody actually finds my profile? Because if they do, who’s interested in reading about somebody they know nothing about? Personally, I like to know a little bit about who I’m reading. I think it’s great to be able to match somebody’s writing with the actual writer, and associating that writer with an actual person with an actual life. Which means here you’ll be hearing a little bit more about me, and the interesting portion of my life (that’s only about 1/1000 of it) that’ll try to make you believe I’m not super dull. That maybe there’s enough reason to follow me, I don’t know (shameless self-promo).
First of all: I’m 15 years old, even though I look like I’m 12, my name is Annesofie, and yes I know you thought it was spelled differently. Officially nobody ever writes it right the first time, and almost everybody has always asked me twice after I say my name so they know how to properly pronounce it (only angels from heaven have ever been able to do that). I’m not going to say my last name although it is less complicated to write than my first name, but it also sounds so much weirder. That’s because I’m Danish. No, I don’t speak Danish, I just have a Danish father. But I’m also Peruvian. Yes, I do speak Spanish, but look absolutely 100% not Peruvian. My sister got those genes from my mom, I got the ones from my dad. Oh yeah, so I have an older sister, who’s kind of a pain but we’ve been getting along more as we mature.
Second of all, I live in Lima, Peru, which works out great because I’m close to my whole other side of the family. My parents are divorced and I live with my mom, so we always end up seeing her side at least once a month (probably more). They’re kind of crazy, and they may get a bit irritating, but we always laugh and have fun, no matter how much homework may be on our minds when we’re dragged to family reunions. That reminds me: school.
I’m glad I’m not one of those students that say or try to ignore (even though it’s true), that school is their life — because it’s just sad. For me, it’s just eight hours of my day, five days a week, like any other student, starting from August-December to then March-June (we have two semesters). I’m a student that only really works and gives a cr*p if I like the subject and I know it will help me in the future (so that’s not Math nor Science). It’s a pretty narcissistic mentality, but I’m okay with it. This is especially because I joined a program called the “IA”. The IA is the reason why I’m writing these posts, why I care about some parts of school, and it’s a strong involvement in many topics I mention here. I love IA. But I should get around to explaining what it actually is first:
IA stands for Innovation Academy, a program you have to apply to by the end of 9th grade to be in it for 10th grade. We have eight classes in general (Math, Science, Spanish, Physical Education, English, Art, Humanities, and Design) and IA substitutes for four of them (English, Art, Humanities, and Design). You get your schedule, and for the other four, you have individual classes and teachers, while with the IA, you spend four periods with the same class and the same teacher. The program is provided to help students find their purpose and to learn through a different lens of education, which helps them choose whether they want to continue the IA in 11th and 12th grade or if they want to enter IB (or something else I don’t know of). Either way, we learn these courses through projects and creative assignments. Some can be very flexible but while also acknowledging that you have the responsibility to accept what you did wrong and what you did right, especially because almost all of this work is student-led. The teacher can help guide you to your purpose, but students gain control of their projects.
Meaning that one of these creative assignments (that would fall into our English course) is keeping up with these posts. We write around at least one every month, and it’s been really new and cool to experience. I mention the IA, because if not, then who’d know how I got here? This is just like telling my story, and imagine if every writer told there’s and how they somehow got into our lives through a few pages with words. It’s interesting. Anyway, if you do look at my past posts, it’s true that I choose some of the weirdest and most diverse topics imaginable: dance, eating disorders, my embarrassing childhood, vulnerability, climbing, excuses, separated families and community & service, my school, comfort zones, and past stories that I wrote in 7th grade (I should probably delete those). These topics basically came to my mind at the last minute but I was surprisingly able to write about easily and passionately. Doesn’t make a lot of sense.
In addition (I know, what a fancy transition), I have four dogs in my house right now and they’re all Miniature Dachshunds. OK wait, you don’t know them by Miniature Dachshunds, you know them by “hot dogs” or “wiener dogs”. You don’t necessarily need to know about my pets, but I’d love if every single writer in the world would tell their readers what pet they have or which pet they’d want to have. Pets are adorable. Why not share our preferences of adorableness? I don’t think that’s a word. Either way, mine are officially the cutest I’ve ever encountered, yet they are also literally running around my house all the time, and make that sound that you do when you tap your fingers on your desk, about 100x more aggressive. I used to have only three dogs, and I’ll only have four for a few more weeks since the pup we’re keeping right now (the son of one of my Dachshunds) will soon be going to my sister’s boyfriend. I will cry that day.
Finally, so that I don’t forget to mention anything, here’s a run-on sentence (and a few others) with a lot of labels that basically sum up my life:
Hi, I’m Annesofie, a coffee-addict, dog-lover, hard-worker (sometimes), pansexual, chocolate-lover, reading nerd, wanna-be photographer, food-lover, sister, and best friend, who’s loyal, trustworthy, compassionate, gullible, really weird, kind of stupid, clumsy, too serious, critical, athletic, physically super stiff (not flexible), climber, dancer, and who swears way too much (unfortunately my profanity is limited in these posts). I have enough love to go around for my friends and family, and literally everybody. I’ve got an open mind and believe I’m a pretty respectable person (yet I also have those days where I mess up). I don’t think I’m perfect, I try to be the best of me that I can. I love it when people tell me what I’m doing wrong (as long as it’s always with the right intentions). And I am running out of breath as I read this paragraph aloud, counting all the grammatical mistakes I have.
SO, after reading that paragraph full of labels, I don’t necessarily care if you like me or not. And as a side note: I think that that’s also important when you want to create your own writing. If readers have the wrong intentions, don’t listen to them on whether they like you or not. Because, “en fin”, this is who I am and you are who you are. A writer wanting to show your readers your life and your story.
Maybe learn from this, try this kind of post out sometime. If not, well then you’ve at least officially learned a little bit more about this writer. :)
6. Do you think you could trust anyone?
Absolutely anyone?
Above is a question that’s basically answered with either extreme or finds a way in the middle. “Yes”, “No”, and “It depends on the person.” It’s not a super debatable question, nor is there an answer you can try to convince someone of. That’s because, I’m asking a question that’s answered purely by experience — how open you are with the people you’re in the room with, right now — but also how you’ve been taught by others, to trust people. I’ve heard from many different friends, many different personas, countless times, different versions of these three answers: “I love everyone, but there are few people I trust.” “I don’t really trust anyone.” “With friends yeah sure, I trust them, but like anyone off the street, no.” “Yeah, I trust you. I trust anyone basically, why shouldn’t I?”
I’m that friend. That answer you just heard, “why shouldn’t I?”. That’s me. I’m the girl who doesn’t know why people shouldn’t be trusted, why they don’t deserve that, and why I have to be in a world where you have to doubt the people you trust, where you have to second-guess yourself and find it a sacrifice to be comfortable with someone.
Because like I said, this question is answered based on how my history of trusting others with no guarantee of what’s going to happen, has gone for me. But that also doesn’t mean I can trust anyone because I’ve had no complications in doing so. It means that I’ve also learned how the benefits of trusting surpass the consequences of it. Of course, I know many people have thought differently: “Like, for you, vulnerability’s easy and everything, but in the moment, it’s so much easier to say it than to do it.”
My response? I’ve just learned how to accept that vulnerability is something I have to learn to live with, and I’m still working on implementing it into my life. But is it easy? NO. It has never been easy.
For example, let’s dive into the moments from third grade in which I decided to trust someone with both eyes closed, which then turned them into these shameful, embarrassing*ss moments that still haunt me and which you’re about to read. Now I can’t reassure that my second and third grade memories haven’t gotten mixed up in my brain, I just remember that me at 7 years old was incredibly gross. Not necessarily in a disgusting way, but just filled with acts of genuine cringe.
Now that I’ve addressed my pre-arranged disclaimers, let’s start with the time I showed a guy the new red and black shoes I’d bought from the boy’s section, because they were the only high tops I could find in my size, since the girl’s section was filled with light-up Skechers, and pink-orangey shoes that I thought were pretty dull.
How’d that go? He ran around the playground during recess time screaming in utter joy of my recent Nike purchase, as kids looked from his pointing finger to my oversized feet.
There was also the time during vacations, as I was forced to go to summer camp, that I told that same kid about the guy I liked, and when he raised his voice too much about it, I slapped him. I was then directed to the principal’s office and had to explain myself for 1) slapping him, 2) why I’d trust this kid, and 3) why I told him about the guy I liked when he was sitting right behind me. Basically, I got the kind of conversation I’d now only have with my closest friends (probably on a Friday-night sleepover), with my elementary school principal. Take in mind this was with multiple teachers sitting in his office, amongst older high school kids who worked as staff over the summer.
There were also my neighbors, two brothers which I climbed trees and played tag with behind our backyards. Later I’d dread them, as the younger brother once shot me with a giant rubber-band gun, and had his older brother chase me around the neighborhood (both of us on bicycles), threatening, and I quote, “to duck-tape my butt to the ground”. This was until I rode into my garage, closed it, and never looked back.
More into my pre-adolescent and adolescent years, I’ve had crushes I didn’t want exposed and who were, friends who decided to tease me in front of a group of people for a secret I had told them, classmates I didn’t know well enough to realize their intentions in hearing me rant about my ex, deep conversations I had with classmates that I later regretted because they looked at me weird, etc. So many stories that have demeaned me as the queen of embarrassing moments, which I’ll be glad to tell you about someday.
BUT, the point is that, for a long time now, I’ve had the fear of being judged. I know it’s still there, although I’ve dialed it down a lot since I was a kid (even though I still am, I mean I’m only 15). I literally used to start and end my sentences with, “Don’t judge me.” It was like my placeholder for a period. I always said it. Now I never do, I’ve realized my expectations (and honestly everybody’s), should be at least a little bit higher than that, considering we can’t live off of using disclaimers at the beginning of every conversation to avoid any worry of being judged. We can’t keep thinking that even small-talk is the doom of bad impressions, but it should instead be a great way to meet someone new.
Anyways, I used to say that all the time, but after three years of Middle School, and moving into High School, I was really getting the confidence and reality-check I needed to understand that: 1) Judgment doesn’t necessarily have to be bad. 2) I really don’t care about what other people think when it comes to negative comments about me. And 3) since when do I judge anyone? Why did I have to have such sad*ss assumptions that other people will do something right-off-the-bat negative, when I strictly focus on avoiding doing that? Because if that’s true, well then either I need to find new friends, or I’m thinking this all wrong and automatically giving myself an ugly impression of the person I’m talking to.
And now, it’s part of the reason I know people trust me. I don’t judge, I’m authentic and direct, but that doesn’t mean I’m also skeptical and disapproving. It means I’m honest and as long as you put in the effort to work on your struggles (as much as I’m supposed to work on mine), I will trust you (as well as you can trust me) never with judgment but with advice.
That’s basically my main point. Because so many people go running around, desperate and scared of not having a second chance. People who have blown more second chances then they can count on both hands, and feel like they have no one to turn to. But I’m a second chance. Whether you’ve lost all kind of respect people had for you, whether you’ve committed the worst and can’t do anything about it, and whether you’ve even hurt me, you can trust me with the stuff you’d rather stay packed in the back of your brain. This is the stuff that usually holds up until it breaks into a million pieces, and there isn’t anybody to trust you or anybody you think that’ll receive you without any judgment.
And it’s with those expectations that I have for myself, that I also have them for others. And that’s what I’d like you to experiment with. Try out what it’s like to trust anyone, to give them the opportunity to be trusted, as that probably doesn’t happen very often outside of their family or their friend group or maybe their classmates. You might be surprised by how easy things can get. I know that I have been surprised, considering those stories I told you before, don’t resonate as much as other stories I have: Of people giving me advice of when I opened up on serious and petty problems, of me asking existential questions or weird questions I’ve had, and actually having people tell me they’ve asked themselves the same thing, of discussions I’ve had the chance of being part of in school, that allow me to share my perspective and hear others respectfully, and more.
I’d like you to experiment with this, because either way, don’t believe that there hasn’t been a moment, like many others, in which I’ve automatically lied to someone to fill in a question that I didn’t think could be answered without any judgment. I can actually compare the feelings of being honest and accepted, with the fear of being judged and lying, to realize that one is enormously more self-relieving and helpful, than the other. So know that although it’s easier said than done, it’s worth it. I know I’ve felt confident and comfortable with someone until they’ve asked me something, and automatically I’ve lied to them. And I didn’t point that out because I didn’t have a reason for lying, and why would’ve I wanted to indulge in that awkward silence that always happens after? Like “just keep talking, enjoy the conversation, and don’t bring it up”.
But now I ask, why? Why is that a thing? Why live in a world where being quiet is comfortable? Why needing to trust someone to speak the truth and avoid that lie can get your heart rate up, or feel like you want to run in the opposite direction, instinctively?
The answer is probably because we don’t have enough people who practice this. The people who you’re amazed by their authenticity and glow in their honesty. People you remember, because they weren’t like others you’ve seen before, and that’s why we find them so rare. But you can be that, both of us can be that; both of us can try it out. And we can give other people the opportunity to try it out as well. Allow them and others to realize they can trust you, and that they can do the same for you. We’ve allowed ourselves for too long to torment our nature, that is to share, to trust, and to be vulnerable, as that is what makes us human.
So: Do you think you can trust anyone? Absolutely anyone?
5. You're About to Hear Me Get Really Pissed.
I’ve experienced how important it is to have a healthy environment within a family. I have a sister and divorced parents, a dad that I don’t often see and my mother who lives with me. Thankfully, my upbringing hasn’t had many bumpy roads along the way of this divorce. I was around eight or nine years old. But that still doesn’t make a big difference. My parents both had good jobs, I went to a solid public school, and I lived in Boca Raton, Florida (US).
Now, I live in Lima, Peru, where I’ve been taking on a three-month long project, learning the consequences mothers face after they gain custody of their children throughout a separation.
In Lima, there are many reasons as to why couples won’t go through a divorce. Along our investigation we’ve heard various times, the following: They can’t financially support themselves through a divorce, they won’t agree to work together so they avoid the paperwork at all costs, they aren’t willing to go through the divorce emotionally over so much time, and numerous other reasons that haven’t been seen nor taken care of by our government.
Long-story-short, my point is that these cases are complicated and dangerous, and they should be given more awareness.
Especially since children are involved.
And on that note, it’s been repeated throughout our whole investigation that the main focus is to protect and emphasize the rights of the underaged. So why do we have so many problems enforcing them? That although we recognize how defenseless kids are in these cases, we take so long to make decisions and give attention until it’s too late? After domestic violence is involved, after both parents are unfit to support their child and he/she/they are at risk of a foster home or an orphanage.
And yet, we’ve been told multiple times that the parents get divorced from each other but they never get divorced from their children. That although the parents may have issues they need to work on, between them or in other areas of their life, they will never be excused of their responsibilities as a parent, mother or father, to take care of their child and to give them their needs, whether it be shelter, food, and water, and a happy childhood.
So we need to make sure that’s heard loud and clear.
In which case, my partner and I are preparing to start a club in our school, so that on Saturdays, we can visit a home called, “Hogar de la Esperanza — Mamá Victoria” (“Home of the Hope — Victory Mom”). This is who the Ministry of Women talks to, who gathers the mothers (possibly with their children) after they’ve escaped their abusive families. This is a last stop. This is a place that teaches the mothers and their children the power of stereotypes, how to avoid them, and how to properly treat women and envision men. And I’m proud to say that we’re going to be a part of that, and I encourage you to be a part of it or of any special community around you that supports these families.
Because everybody has a family. Everybody wants a family. Everyone is close to their family members, everyone has a special connection with them that is like no other relationship they might have, whether they like it or not. A classmate, a friend, a coworker, or a boyfriend/girlfriend is not the same. And because of that, everyone can relate when it comes to their family. Everyone in the world is somehow connected because of the feeling you get thinking of that one person who’s related to you, and has been a part of your whole life, even if their presence isn’t actually there.
So here we’ve taken the responsibility to make that stand out, to create the family these kids deserve, even if it’s not the same.
Even though unfortunately, we’re just lessening the punch that is the aftermath of a separation. We may be helping to educate these kids more, and possibly giving a slight relief to the mothers and their children by picking up a little bit of the weight left on their shoulders. But that’s just a small part of the big picture. Let me go back to the legal process.
As I said above, for whatever reason that a family may have to avoid separation, it’s prevented most of them to establish legal custody, in which visitations, financial rights, childcare expenses, and all the other formalities are set in stone. The consequences of this, involve very little support and attention when the moms are left with the children without any strong resources. And the government has made no attempt to improve their resources.
Many of them become trapped in domestic violence situations, usually created by the father and/or the stepfather. Others aren’t able to educate and care for their children financially, so they’re confined to child labor. The majority need to be supported by another man who later leaves the house having impregnated the mother and the daughter.
There are many unresolved cases that enclose families to these lifestyles, and there are many cases in which the Ministry of Women’s center of emergency is the last stop to support these families. They’re sent to homes and are cut off from the rest of the world — no phone, no email, no contact — to follow preventive measures. There are many cases in which children are left with nothing to eat and no help with their homework, there are many cases in which mothers depend on the little money their partner supplies them with so that they can pay for food.
And these aren’t hypothetical situations or answers from statistics and interviews made years ago. This is what the director of “Mamá Victoria” (Nelly) has had to hear personally, from the moms that enter her home. These situations I’ve given you, are years of answers; answers from years ago to right now, answers that have impacted Nelly and the moms and children she’s dealt with.
For example, Nelly tells the mothers for their kids to come straight to the home three days a week after they finish school. That way they make sure the kids finish their homework, have dinner, and avoid being alone surrounded by family drama and an abusive parent(s).
Another story, is the one of a mother who had the mishap of her aggressor coming to the home, telling her to come back where she belonged, to which the other mothers responded by locking him into a room (someone from the Ministry of Women had to come later that day to take him away).
For most of a summer, one boy stood silent with a sweater wrapped around him, being questioned multiple times why he refused to take it off, until Nelly decided to do that, revealing the bruises his step-father had covered the boy’s arms with.
As of now, only two kids in the home have both biological parents and it’s in the other majority that most have a stepfather, in which case the daughter is most likely sexually abused, as Nelly has told us.
Now you get why I’m pissed.
I’m pissed because this problem isn’t given nearly enough of the attention that it deserves. And when these cases are taken to a judge, they aren’t mutual, which means that they can take between three to over eight months just to get a hearing. Even worse when one of the partners doesn’t fulfill her/his/their obligations, if a DNA test is needed, if there are already way too many cases for one or two judges to take in their district, if the family is in need of a loan — “if”, “if”, “if”… It can take up to a year and a half on average just to get everything finalized. It can take even more time if a partner does not comply with dates and requirements set by a judge, to the point that an agreement must be made, otherwise that partner will receive a custodial sentence, recognizing that they’ve had many chances to make this right and chose not to.
All that time. All that time, because these aren’t cases of mutual divorce that only take around three months to finish the papers.
These are divorces that are filed but never finished or possibly never attended. These are filed after an “abandonment of the household,” these are forgotten marriages that can’t deal with costs after or even during the divorce, and these are cases that need the protection and the follow-up that’s never given.
And it’s for these reasons that the purpose of communities like “Mamá Victoria”, is for the victims to live lives without so much worry and separation. To live a life where things can be mutual and without complications. To share their stories and make people aware of the consequences. To be educated, to help others, and to grow up stronger than how they started. And I think that we can and need to be of more help for that.
And why is that? Well, as a side note of our government’s incompetence: “Mamá Victoria” is a non-profit organization. It’s self-managed, so it receives no help from the government whatsoever, and it’s not like Nelly appears on the news every day or has been published in the paper. The stories of the mothers are never heard, and the fact that separation overpowers divorce by more than what people would believe isn’t spoken of. And if it is, it’s silenced. But their needs to be legal action taken, so that sending mothers to any center isn’t just all that’s done. The problem isn’t solved if it just looks good on paper, that’s not the point. These problems aren’t finished. They’re continued and possibly over lifetimes. We need those follow-ups, we need that protection, and we need to establish closer relationships with these families to ensure what they need to move on. Because families are tricky, and messy, and living in Lima, Peru can make them so much harder.
4. Love = Food! A Lesson on Eating Disorders
OK, who loves food?
Like I freaking love food, it’s amazing. But that’s not just me, I mean I know you love food, it’s the reason why we have five senses — the fifth one being taste. If we didn’t have taste, life would be super dull and flavorless. Plus I’d be losing all of those habits that may make me unbutton the top stud on my jeans: snacking on something salty that I can also throw at my cousin’s TV screen while watching “Annabelle,” eating Ben and Jerry’s and playing Just Dance to cheer myself up after getting dumped (I haven’t done that yet but I want to :-P), and filling my mouth with countless Halloween candies and king-size chocolate bars after I’ve emptied my pillowcase from trick-or-treating around my block. If we didn’t have taste, I wouldn’t be able to separate people into groups by asking them if they’d rather get full on “salty-or-sweet?”, and nothing else could satisfy my longings to just snack on something because I feel like it.
Truth be told, a little downside to food, is that unfortunately (though it’s not the best for my health), some of the tastiest food is all that greasy stuff I eat at fairs, desserts from fast food drive-thrus, food truck snacks, and so on is the list of foods I’ll be told to avoid in my 40s. Yet still, I’m drooling, because this “it’s-bad-for-you” food makes it hard yet true to admit, that it’s incredibly appetizing.
So basically, my point is that food is the centerpiece for so many traditions that we love, those either created throughout history or at your own dining table. If I even think about it, many of my memories can specifically be remembered by the meal I had, with the people I celebrated it with, and all those happy moments that revolved around the table. Honestly, at the beginning of this post, I probably should’ve asked instead: Who doesn’t love food? I know most people wouldn’t agree with that.
Yet ironically, I know I have in the past. And if you have as well, then maybe we’ve had to deal with the same situation. So let me judge your answer for a second: Is it because you don’t actually like food, or are you too afraid to admit it? Are you too afraid to understand you love the food you deprive yourself of? If I just pointed out your deepest darkest secret, well then “booh” — I’ve read your mind — and that’s probably because I’m also a person who has struggled with anorexia, and I know that you might‘ve agreed to that question, because you’ve struggled or are struggling with it too.
To get a few things straight, let me address all those other people right now who are reading this dumbfounded, and thinking, “What do you mean, I thought everybody liked food?,” or, “What’s wrong with these people?,” or my favorite, “Who wrote this?… Is this supposed to be for teenage girls or something?”
First of all, we love food. I think I can count the number of moments my mouth has watered throughout this post, writing about food (I’m sorry that’s kind of gross, but okay)! Secondly, something is wrong. If you’re reading about a girl who loves food (as I have said many times before), yet is writing to people who (like her) have at some point denied themselves of enjoying meals, then you can guess that this targeted audience is of anorexics: People who are at least 15% less of their ideal body weight out of fear of gaining weight. Finally: Race, gender, age, and sexuality mean absolutely nothing when it comes to eating disorders. This is especially important after pointing out the number of stereotypes that are assigned to anorexia, and bulimia, and binge-eating, and obesity, and unfortunately, so many other disorders. Eating disorders do not discriminate. They have so many different stories and so many different subjects. But something that is common between all of them? They’ve never really been about food.
Think of eating disorders this way: I’ve connected all of my memorable and joyful moments to food. It sounds silly, but food can bring me back to cheerful thoughts from my past, or they can cause those moments. As much as I can remember a Thanksgiving meal with my whole family, laughing and being all giddy, I can also remember moments of being stressed and overwhelmed: After having a lousy day training in the gym, or spending way too much time looking in a mirror, which (because of that) had me avoid eating enough food that my jeans were too big and my knuckles became sandpaper.
So, now that I’ve established that fact, I’ll take a step back and answer your questions. I can already guess that after countless times of having been asked it already, one of your questions is “Why?”. If eating disorders aren’t about food, then “why do people have them? Aren’t they just excuses?”.
So one HUMONGOUSLY-IMPORTANT THING: Eating disorders are not a choice, and much less, an excuse.
People don’t choose to make themselves sick, to exercise until they lose consciousness, or to starve themselves.
Eating disorders are a coping mechanism, and part of the long list of addictions.
They are gaining control, they’re rules to live by, they’re so I never have to leave my comfort zone. They’re for the athletes that don’t want to disappoint their coaches, they’re for the students who study through their dinner time, they’re for the sons and the daughters who’ve been bullied or feel like they don’t have any friends; they’re for the people that don’t feel like they’re enough. They’ve twisted and magnified people’s feelings of worthlessness, supplied them with an addiction that numbs any feelings of being a failure. They find comfort in one’s suffering and create an impeccable rulebook that rules out risk and reality, that ensures safety.
They don’t let me think I deserve to stop.
And it’s especially to this point, that anorexia is revealed as a very competitive illness. Finally addressing back towards my target audience (I know it’s been a while), I’ve thought that maybe you’ve heard the idea that, “anorexics hate food, right? Why else would they avoid it at all costs?” But as I think you can relate, avoiding food becomes the punishment for the exact failure I avoid to think I am, even though I’m not. And to think I deserve to finish my plate, to have dessert, to eat a midnight-snack, is how more rules appear with the touch of my fork and knife. It’s from these restrictions and these obsessions that one of my biggest joys in life is lost. Food.
And just stay thinking about that. Think that you’re reading a post from a girl who thinks that one of the happiest joys in life, aside from friends, family, and love — is food. That sounds ridiculous. But honestly? Many times I forget that I can have that joy, that I deserve it. I still struggle with it, but I think I’m having more good days than bad days now. And my belief is that you can also enjoy it, that you can get help, and that you deserve both those things. That you can learn to love food, and because of that, you can learn to love the fact that nobody is ever in control all the time. That things happen, and it’s up to you and me to try and to ask for help when we need it if times get rough. That it’s scary and unpredictable and unexpected (one of the words I hate the most), but it’s ironically a world filled with much more opportunity than the one you and I sitting in right now.
Now a word of advice: On my bad days, I go back to those moments. I go back to my recollections of gobbling down my aunt’s stuffing on Christmas Eve, I go back to eating chocolate bunnies when I searched in my friend’s backyard for plastic eggs, I go back to blowing out my wishes quickly so I could plaster my face with a cake covered in frosting; I go back to remember what that feels like. And if you don’t believe me, then you should to. Back to thinking that life is too short to avoid all of those memories that are waiting to be created around the table, or in front of a food truck, or in the shotgun seat during a drive-thru. That it’s inevitable to get rid of that beautiful fifth sense, and that there’s a reason why you and I have it. And that’s because we both deserve and LOVE it.
3. Infinite Excuses
If you had one wish, what would you wish for? This question is one we’ve heard at some point in our lives — it’s in our fairytales between the genie and the poor rugged boy, it’s what we silently ask ourselves when we daydream during class, or what we wonder when we’ve made a mess and think of a sad way to fix it. Though, the answers to it always seem to fall in those three categories created by the people that’d say, “Peace on Earth”, “A new car”, or “Three more wishes.” The following answer I’ve thought of goes for that person that asked for “three more wishes” because it’d be the wish of “infinite excuses”.
I don’t believe you can automatically relate to me after hearing such a vague wish, but try to imagine the typical personas you’ve seen in real life, or in a movie, or in your own imagination. Try to think of the excuses they create for themselves in fear that they’ll regret what they’ll do because they don’t have the courage to do it. Like the drunk guy who steals a bottle of rum from his parents so he’s capable of talking to girls just twenty minutes into the party. Or the girl everyone knows is studious and athletic but got a sprained ankle and it supposedly still hurts even after two months, but at least now she can go to her house and sleep for a minimum of eight hours without having homework to worry about or sore muscles to take care of. Or that dude in your grade who you hear about being with a girl every week, but never commits because he says he enjoys having his options open when really he’s scared he’ll never be enough for anyone.
So when I ask you the following questions, try to imagine them, and read their minds and the excuses they’ve blamed their actions on.
Have you ever thought of what it’s like to be in the mind of that drunk guy who’s stumbling around everywhere during a party? He’s spending a lot of time with his friends and whispering things into girls’ ears when he’s not randomly wandering around the host’s house, seeming to look at something nobody sober could see. I’ve always thought that that guy is having one of the most liberal moments he could be in. Anything can be explained with the phrase, “He was drunk that night.” and they’re covered for whatever they want to do. Intoxication is basically their insurance, and their excuse.
Have you ever thought of what it’s like to be in the mind of that basketball player in your grade with a sprained ankle, who’s excused from P.E class and all training? She’s been told she can complete a few drills even with her sprained ankle, but she denies the offer, saying that she’s worried she’ll mess it up. But really, she’s wondering about how she might play badly and look weak and feel the pity from her teammates and the disappointed look on her coach’s face as she has many times before. Something as simple as an ankle brace is what excuses her from her play and brings her into control, something she can handle.
Have you ever thought of what it’s like to be in the mind of that one guy who’s supposedly been with so many girls but shows indifference to every single one of them? He doesn’t stick his chest out proudly or boast about it but just sits quietly and acts relaxed as if nothing could ever touch his ego. When really, he thinks his exposure is always within reach of any other person that could break his sense of security, even though he has all the stability of a book balanced on the point of a pencil. He’s capable of running the moment someone exchanges an emotion he’s able to give back, by excusing himself and telling her he’ll call her the next morning because he has to get home to avoid the traffic of taxis and trucks… Excusing himself and his own self-worth at the cost of a relationship.
Have you ever thought of what it would be like to be rid of any obligations? Be rid of any expectations, any ridicule, any responsibility, any blame or fault, and worry?
I know I have. And my excuses have gone from one extreme to the other. Like, “I can’t go out that night, I have a family thing.” Or, “Oh, I didn’t go to Debate because I had to talk to a friend.” Plus, “Sorry I couldn’t keep going to the gym, I wasn’t feeling well for a couple of months.” Sometimes in these cases I realize how 1) I can avoid being productive and think of really dumb excuses and 2) it’s that some of these excuses are actual reasons that I haven’t felt entitled enough to call them, “reasons”. It’s when excuses stop sounding lazy and overexaggerated that I realize I might have to pay attention to them. That these aren’t things I can just devalue and move on from, but “excuses” I’ve built on facts that I don’t mention because I’m not worth the value of a reason, but the sad*ss thought of an excuse.
Maybe changing those quotes can help me understand better:
“I can’t go out that night, my mom is leaving for the US and I have to say bye and apologize over the millionth arguments we’ve had during the past week.”
“Oh, I didn’t go to Debate because I wanted to talk to my friend make sure we were still friends.”
“Sorry I couldn’t go to the gym, I almost developed an eating disorder for a few months.”
These “excuses” shouldn’t be dressed up and wrapped around in a bow. These are reasons that may be what over half of the population of the world use to not do something, seemingly making them into excuses. We may be taught of baggage that everyone has to deal with, things we should think of sucking up and getting used to. But that’s 100% nonsense. You and I can’t live to suck up, to be indifferent, to prolong the doctor’s note for two more weeks, or to get drunk every other weekend. You and I can’t seem to try and be perfect and use excuses when things get rough, but instead, we need to take a few deep breaths and gather up the courage to say “I don’t have a reason and I need to deal with that”. Or on the other hand, you and I can learn to recognize what is a reason (when it’s not an excuse), what you want to do about that, and how you want to get help when you need to.
So next time, when you’re asked to make a wish (through a birthday candle or in your imagination), try being one of those other two people. Wish for a new car or peace on earth. Wish to make a solid change in your life, to try harder, to get results — literally whatever. Just avoid excuses. Even I need to learn that, especially after this post, because I still don’t feel entitled to my reasons. But, I’m getting better. :D
2. My Kind of Comfort Zone
In what language do you think? I think in both English and Spanish. Are you fluent in both? I’m pretty decent, I guess. Why do you talk differently in social groups than in academic ones? No comment.
This conversation repeats over and over again in my mind when I’m in Spanish class. Ms.Tejada, my fair but strict and hard-working teacher, teases most of my classmates either because of the look on their face when they’re introduced to a new project with a new group in which none of them knows the material, or because of their handwriting on last night’s homework assignment where all you had to do was copy information onto a packet, and yet half of the class probably finished it hours before on the bus (including me).
As a timid and easily-intimidated 10th grader, this hostile environment adds anxiety to my inability to separate the Spanglish I think in, and speak the fluent language I’m supposed to know to be in this class. Thankfully, I’m in the farthest row in the back and usually don’t answer questions as my classmate on my right is the one who attracts the teacher’s attention.
But why am I actually thankful for that? Well then I’d also have to ask, who likes leaving their comfort zone?
This reminds me of every climbing tournament I’ve ever competed in:
You’re given four minutes to complete a route by getting to the top, hopefully having used the bonus rock for extra points. Once the timer goes off, my first moves are going to judge me throughout the rest of my reading, which is not a very hopeful start. I’m anxious and lose my starting point in the route, aside from not even knowing how to read it, to which I take a few deep breaths to shake off the adrenaline that’s making my hands tremble. After a few tries, I get used to the nervousness, turning it into motivation that can somehow make me comfortable in my last two minutes.
These feelings of pure vulnerability, as judges tick off how many times I’ve tried the route, while I avoid getting distracted by taking glances at the other competitors around me, and attempt to match my thoughts with my movements — all of this feels just like when I need to speak up during class or talk during any casual conversation with a Spanish classmate.
Yet even though I’m outside of my comfort zone, I’m also in a state that I’ve realized I know surprisingly well, and have practiced so many times. Either on the wall, where I’m doubting my reading of the route, trying to avoid acting nervous or strange while blocking out the white noise of the timer slowly picking up the pace during its last 30 seconds and the audience’s many “woo”s and “ah”s towards my competitor’s tries, fails, and tops. Or when I’m simply sitting at my desk, narrating La Ciudad de las Bestias, doubting my accent, trying to avoid tripping up on words and larger vocabulary (as my classmates follow along) and my brain instinctively thinks of a better person to have read aloud.
From this, I realize that I can’t ever be right before I’m wrong. I can mess up on a sentence, or make a few ugly moves on a route, and I’ll still be someone that thinks in Spanglish and has trained in climbing for barely a year. I like to stay in my own little bubble, I’m a good listener for other readers, and I’m an observant audience member when I don’t compete and end up watching other competitors — but not much fun is gained out of staying in that tiny and compressed box. Obviously leaving that box can be frightening and uncomfortable, especially I don’t know what I’m doing, but since when am I actually being judged? Genuinely, if you think someone’s judging you, then let it be out of the effort and hard work you put into trying.
Around the beginning of this post, I asked you if you like leaving your bubble of comfort and risk-free zone. So let me ask you again: Who likes leaving their comfort zone? If you’ve read this right, then I think there’s a different tone to that question. Now, like me, you have that rush of adrenaline when you leave your box and realize the whole other world of opportunities that was right around the corner.
1. "Why did you choose dancing?"
The question above is one that I surprisingly haven’t been asked very often. It feels like the question What do you want to be when you grow up?. But after people ask me the what they don’t really care enough about the why. It’s always more complicated and requires a story. So for those who do care about the why, here’s my story:
I think that one of the main reasons I chose dance, is because of the drive I get, where all of my originality comes in- because anybody can paint, anybody can dance, anybody can compose a song, or perform one the best- but how I execute it is what makes me different, and I think that power is drawn from my emotions, and what I feel in the moment of creating something.
For example, once [like many times], I heard a bad joke from my friend and she couldn’t even try to explain it before I burst out laughing. Something about a school trip, a closet, and not being allowed in the boy’s rooms- of course, the only thing that was really going on was a pillow fight. Yet still, I doubled over and caught my breath between gasps; laughing at my other friend’s look of confusion, before I could explain anything.
“Pay My Rent” by DNCE, can take me back to that moment. It makes me feel silly and filled with energy; like I can do anything inside the realm of foolishness. I feel like gliding and making myself seem lightweight, or I feel like using expressions only a clown would, or I wave my body in different directions as if I have no sense of gravity.
Songs have their way of moving me, by bringing back memories and emotions that I could have buried years before. Just like those times I’ve gotten a second chance and blown it: When I had my mom lose a possible job proposal, when I broke a friendship twice in one year and ended it the second time, when I disappoint a parent because of my own arrogance- I embrace this along with Jeremy Zucker and blackbear, during the song, “talk is overrated”. These feelings of shame and uncertainty can blend together, and make me feel so real during just three minutes and fifteen seconds. I focus on little actions, either by moving in slow motion, or creating emotional scenes that illustrate the lyrics and speak for themselves.
Contrary to these feelings, if I feel confident for whatever reason- because I’m not afraid to express myself, because I have my friends supporting me, because I worked hard on schoolwork and I’m ready to share it, because I just had a few cups of coffee first thing in the morning- I feel empowered, and excited, and bold. So if I’m listening to “The Reason” sung by Dennis Lloyd, I’m acting exactly the same- I’m using big dance moves, I’m executing risky ones, my musicality is on-point, I’m clean and I feel entitled to saying that- I look like I know what I’m doing!
Other recollections, reminded to me by Hozier, during “Work Song”, are those moments where I’m not worrying about anything, and I’m just thinking about the times I’ve had to say goodbye to really good friends, or times I’ve spent with my childhood nanny that I only get to see during vacations, and those times when I really look at how grateful I am to have the people I have in my life. In dancing, I take my time with this song, I hear the melody and move clean and clearly- preferably by using isolations; by waving, gliding, and popping detailedly.
The reason why I chose dance is because I love the way it makes me feel. And that, is generally- in my best way of describing it- like the thrill you get when you have so many ideas as you write a paper, that your brain is working faster than your hands. So in this sense- who knows- maybe that message shows that writing and other passions can also fit into this context, and maybe that’s the whole reason why people choose careers that later form themselves into the people they are today. I definitely know that dancing has done that for me.