Monthly Archives: February 2021

It’s funny looking back and realizing that I always had a connection with God. Because I most certainly did not grow up in a Christian home. My Puerto Rican mom very traditionally grew up in a Catholic Church. And was very much turned off to organized religion. She always told my brother and I that she wasn’t going to choose our religion for us. She wanted us to have the freedom to choose once we became old enough to decide. She did share with us that Christmas was the season that Jesus was born. But we very much celebrated Christmas believing in Santa Claus. And somehow, I was never confused that Christmas was Jesus’ birthday. I was very excited about all the gifts that Santa was going to bring. But I knew that Jesus was born on Christmas. I didn’t know any of the details surrounding his birth. Or even the sacrifice he would make soon after. But I did know about him. 

My mother was a very damaged woman. She grew up the youngest of 5 children. And she was also molested by some family members. She dropped out of high school and got married to my grandmothers at the time boyfriend. Yes, you read that right, my grandmother’s boyfriend who by the way was in his 30’s and my mom was only 16. She married my dad at 16, had me at 17. Had my brother at 18. And got divorced from my dad soon after. And then he died a little later on from being drunk and taking a bunch of pills. After she divorced my dad, she raised my brother and I with some very unsound ways of thinking. She would say things like “It’s ok if you smoke cigarettes. I would rather you smoke with me than sneak around and smoke at school.” This was the 80’s/ 90’s, and smoking was a common thing. Or “I don’t expect A’s and B’s, but I don’t expect D’s or F’s either.” And there-fore I never pushed myself to do well at school, because I didn’t have to. Or “I don’t care if you have sex, just don’t bring a baby home.” So, I didn’t know that the most precious thing you could give to your husband was your virginity. Although that was already taken from me before I could choose to give it away.

My mom was also bipolar. She would have moments of immense emotions that would lead her to take out her frustrations on my brother and I. I remember she told me after I had Patience, that she tried to smoother me with a pillow as a baby because I wouldn’t stop crying. I didn’t even know how to respond in that moment. I just looked at her. As a child she would punish us for the times that we were just being kids. She would beat us with a belt. Not like whoop us. But beat us. She beat me so hard one time that I fell forward and hit and bruised my head on the corner of the wooden boxed tv that sat in the living room. “Bend” she would say. And we better bend over and not stand back up, because wherever she swung, we got hit. And then we would be sent to our rooms crying and locked in by the outside lock that was attached to our doors and not let back out until she calmed down. Which most often times was hours later. She would sit in the living room and play The Carpenters on the tape player. I can tell you the lyrics to every Carpenter song to this very day.

Needless to say, I was conceived out of confusion. And raised in confusion. But even in the midst of it, I always felt a connection with God. I would pray to him while looking at the sky, wanting to run away from home with my favorite toy. My Amy bear who always brought me so much comfort. I never did try to run away, because I was scared of the streets. My mom who had run away often as a teen shared with me that if I ran away, “they would put me in a foster home.” And that scared me.

While sitting here writing this and thinking about that little girl who felt lost and sad. I can’t help but to think of that verse in John 6:44 where it says, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws them, and I will raise them up at the last day.” The Father was definitely drawing me near to him in those days. I didn’t know anything about him. We did not even own a bible. But I knew he loved me. And he listened to me. And that I could find comfort in him. To this day, I can honestly say I do not know where I would be if I didn’t have that connection with him as a child.

Growing up in Cleveland, I would always get the question from my peers “What are you?” as if that was the most important thing about me. I would answer them knowing that they were talking about my ethnicity, “Puerto Rican and white”. And then thinking that my value must lie in “What I was” ……. I struggled.

My mom is Puerto Rican, and she found no value in that. She did not raise my brother and me to know any of our cultural heritage. We didn’t speak Spanish. We didn’t learn to cook that yummy Spanish rice or any of the Spanish foods my grandma used to make before she died. We just grew up very “American”, if that’s even a thing. I grew up in a part of Cleveland known as “Little Puerto Rico” and not knowing how to speak Spanish, I was told, “You’re not Puerto Rican if you can’t speak Spanish.” Like how does that make me less Puerto Rican, I wondered?!

My dad, on the other hand, was a white man who died when I was young. And because my mom had a conflict with him when he died, his family didn’t want anything to do with my brother and myself. So, I didn’t get to know anything about his side and ultimately the other half of “What I was”.

Now because I didn’t speak Spanish, I didn’t fit in with the people who looked like me. And because I didn’t look like my white side, I didn’t fit in with those kids. I, from the start, struggled with knowing “What I was” and where I fit in.

On top of not fitting in anywhere, I struggled with low self-esteem. I was molested by a stepdad from as early on as I can remember until my mom left him when I was in middle school. He would make me sit on his lap and he would touch me. Or he would wait until my mom left and he would make me do things to him in the bathroom or the basement. He would sometimes come into my room at night and touch me. I was so scared, I wouldn’t move. He was my “dad”, and I was raised to respect adults and not talk back. I was raised that kids were to be seen and not heard. I never had the courage to have or find my voice.

Not fitting in and having low self-esteem early on put me on a path in my life that brought a lot of struggle. I grew up thinking that my value/ identity or “What I was” was determined by what a male thought of me. And because my earliest form of validation was from a man who touched me in a sexual way. I always had a crush on a boy. I would change what I liked and was into based on whatever the boy I liked was into so that he would like me. I sought constant validation from a boy. My low self-esteem caused me to be afraid to speak out when I was in a situation that was uncomfortable. I remember one time being with my mom at a friend’s house, and this friend had a grandson that lived with them. I would always go into his room when we were there to hangout. Because I was a kid and so was he. I remember that we were cool. We played video games together. We watched T.V together. I really liked hanging out with him. One day I was at his house in his room, and we were sitting there, and all of a sudden he took his pants off exposing his self. I ran out of that room so fast to my mom. I never said anything to her. And I don’t know why. I can only guess now that it was because I did not know how to use my voice or that I even had one. It wasn’t until recently, within the past couple of years that I learned how to use my voice. And I learned where my value/ identity came from. (We’ll talk about that later.)

As I am sitting here looking back, I can see where Satan tried to stop my calling/ purpose early on, causing confusion to me not knowing “What I was”. I am so glad that God had a different plan for me…… and instead of me knowing “What I was” He showed me “Whose I was”. Stay Tuned.

Starting new things and letting go of old habits is so hard. Saying goodbye to the things that you have consistently made time for is such a difficult task to complete. Even when those things are unhealthy for you. I heard a song today and one of the lyrics went “You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness” and I thought, wow, how true is that?! But then me in my very logical mindset thought, “Well how does one become “addicted to a certain kind of sadness?” And then it came to mind that, it is because it is familiar. And there is comfort in familiarity. Comfort because you already know what to expect. I once read an article that spoke of how our brains like situations that are familiar. And that there is safety in familiarity. When a situation becomes unfamiliar and we don’t know what to expect, our brains shift into a “protective mode” if you will. Which makes me think that it makes complete sense why starting new things and new habits are so hard. Our brains can’t predict how that thing will pan out, so we struggle to let go and start new. I, like many other people I know personally struggle with starting new habits and letting go of old things. Being an HSP, or a Highly Sensitive Person, at times works against me. Because my nervous system is constantly overstimulated, the task of trying to start something new or let go of something that is not good for me has always been difficult. But recently I have been feeling a push or a call even from my Father in Heaven to start something new. I have sat on that for a little while, and contemplated “Ok, what am I supposed to be doing?” I most definitely want to walk in the purpose that He has for my life. But I would struggle with thoughts of “What do I have within me that I could share with the world, when the world is an excess of information?” I keep hearing “Just step out, be you and share your story.” So today, nervous as I am, I’m going to do just that. I am going to step out, be me and share the story of my life with you. I am going to share my life experiences, the ups the downs, the moments when I wanted to give up. I am going to be vulnerable, even when I don’t want to be. I really hope you will stay with me, share with me, and connect with me. Because I think that as I step out and start a new thing, the Father in heaven will begin to start a new thing in you. 🙂