January 30, 2021….a full moon
At the advice of Tym after my acupuncture treatment, have decided to once again journal. He said my heart chakra is linked to my hands and that I need to vent, to write, so here I am. Three pages a day is what I need to focus on, not the content.
Purging, Do I keep this? For whom? All these years you “save things for your only daughter and now going through “things”, I have to decide, what to do with “it”…..pictures of me as a child, a memento. I have no siblings and just one niece that may be interested. But she too tends to hoard those sentimental objects, whatever they are, so not too good of an idea to add to her “stuff”. It will be 3 years this Valentine’s Day since my daughter died and the fog is shifting for me, but the heaviness in my heart is still present. Heavier some days than others. On the lighter days I am able to fake it easier.
Along with the purging comes the “sorting” of items, pictures, letters, whatever. The waves of emotion seeing the pictures, the letters, the newspaper articles, the reminders of the pain of losing someone that you love, friends, family. I can’t get rid of these items, mostly paper, and pictures, seemingly a trail of the truth. My emotions are so very high, perhaps it is that sense of urgency…. Sometimes feeling that you are going to explode, something, or someone comes into your life and is like a life preserver that is holding your head above water and helping me get to shore. I am blessed to have wonderful friends, but there are things sometimes that you can’t even share with them, because it is difficult for me to figure out what is going on in my own heart and head to even explain it to someone else. I have held on to these pictures and the journals, the notes, the cards, the reminders of what I want to share. It has been almost 35 years since my “collection” started as at that moment, I felt that I wanted to share “My Story”. And now here I am in 2021 and I have not completed that goal. We are in the middle of the Covid-19 Pandemic and that sense of urgency has been gnawing at my heart more than ever.
I can no longer wait till all the lights turn green before I start driving toward my destination…As I heard a very wise woman say that Procrastination was “death on the installment plan”….I am old enough to know what an installment plan is! My sense of urgency is too overwhelming to not finish this project. Excuses, yes many. Like they say, Life happens…..(thank God). My negative thoughts of “who is going to really be interested in MY life! And then I thought it would be good to write it for my grandchildren. And now I see that it needs to be written for me. At 73 I am ready to run some red lights!! I can’t tell you the number of times that I have put this project on the “back burner”…..and the reasons can be listed….
Interesting how death brings a sense of urgency to one’s thoughts. Death is something that was a part of my life at an early age, because of my father. I remember him always reminding me that death was just part of the cycle…..death was not the “end”, that death was actually the “beginning”. Funny how that those memories pop out at you at certain times, as a reminder that all we have in life is “the moment”.
My childhood is full of wonderful, comforting memories, no trauma, no sexual abuse, no alcohol abuse…..yes, as an adult, thinking back there were a few issues, but nothing like so many other people had to deal with. I remember once overhearing my parents arguing, probably abut 4 or 5 years old, to the point I heard my father say that he would just leave and seeing my mother go into the bedroom and grab is suitcase (more like a bag) and throw it into the living room and scream at him. When they realized that I was crying, the arguing stopped. I never heard them argue about anything after that time. As an adult I know realize that I now know why he would sit in his car on Sunday mornings after church reading. It was not only to soak in the warmth of the sun warming the car and to read, but to get away from my Mom.
Continuity, that was another “excuse”….should I do a timeline? But I don’t have all of the “facts”, the true dates? Now, at a point in my life where I am simplifying, sorting, purging, I am gathering all of the morsels, the fragments together in one spot, to bring some kind of glue to bring it together in such a way that can be understood. And always the question of where do I start?
{2.5 will have to do Tym.}
February 1, 2021
A new day…more sorting, decisions, more tears. This project of getting my pictures out of boxes into some kind of “order” has been on that list of things to do when one retires….well I’m still working on this. But now it has to be with purpose. Viewing those flashes of the past has been bringing smiles to my face, but then there are those that make me weep. James my counselor reminds me that tears are just another way of purging the body. I am so tired of purging, just when I feel more “in control” another huge wave comes into shore and knocks me off my feet. Breathe!!! Catch your breath, blow my nose, walk, breathe, blow. Ahhhh yes, a distraction…eat something!
Some of the sorting has created a future “box” to be mailed to Amber. Sending items to each of the girls, a box that she made her Grandma Leota for Mother’s Day one year, with a picture of the two of them on it. I hope it will bring back wonderful memories for her. A blue beaded bracelet goes to Hanna, a gift from Denna for my birthday. She knew I loved beaded jewelry. It will look beautiful on her and she will feel it as a gift from A. Denna as well as from me…plus it came from Santa Cruz! Sending a necklace for Alanna that GPa got for me, a gift that he purchased at Angels by the Sea, a very special gift shop in Scotts Valley. I hope she feels the love that is finding its way to her. The little heart box that the bracelet is in is for Alyssa. It also holds a special place in my heart. It is to be her “Heart’s Desire” box. A book “More Stories of the Heart” is going back to Amber as well….a Mother’s Day gift from her, no date, but she signed it “Amber”, so that means before Alyssa was born. I cry when I read her note. Yesterday was Alyssa’s 31st birthday! Can’t believe it has been that long….what a blessing it was to be involved in her birth. Both me and Richard were in awe that day.
Need to go to the high school and drop off Bristol’s packet and pick up her packet for this week. Picking her up at Hazel’s (aka: Ion) after I get her packet. A good distraction from my purging….. Having left-overs so no worries about preparing dinner tonite. Chicken adobo and white sticky Filipino rice leftovers! Yummmm. Plus. some fried rice from this morning!
It has been two days in a row for journaling for me! That’s quite an accomplishment for me, especially since I have been in this “fog”. Tym reminded me that I deserve to love myself, to nurture myself and it is perfectly fine to put my wants and needs at the top of the list. So difficult for me, not my nature, but I know that he is right. My body has been telling me for quite some time that I need to pay attention to my needs and wants before my body speaks VERY loudly next time. Having to tell him what my wants were was so difficult for me to even speak, let alone think of and believe in. Did not realize how depressed I have become until I listened to my body and tried to figure out how and why I had manifested my ill health.
Tomorrow on my To Do List is to create a BLOG….Per Tym it would be a good exercise in writing. Plus write out some specific affirmations for myself….schedule time for ME is the game! Not to mention getting in 3 pages a day!!!
The Beginning:
February 2, 2021
I was on my way to Salinas about 2 weeks before Christmas, 34 years ago to visit my friend Erna and her Mom as well as to see Ida Mae. As a child, Ida Mae used to live 4 houses down from us and across the street from Erna’s house, on what was then West Laurel Drive, in the Boronda area. Her son Donny was about 18 months younger than myself. I have a picture of he and I, both of us in a play pen, while his Mom was picking prunes, on the Colt Ranch. I must be about 18 months old in the picture. The trip to Salinas always brought back so many memories of growing up. I learned how to ride my bicycle on those dirt roads that zig zagged their way through the fields of whatever was in season at that time…lettuce, broccoli, cauliflower, onions. My dad was an irrigator on the Jensen Ranch and my mom was working in a potato shed nearby, so my dad would put my bicycle into the trunk of his car and I would ride it from where he was working to the shed where my Mom was, sorting potatoes. He would drive over at lunch time to bring lunch and to pick up my bike. The afternoon was spent with the other kids, whose parents were also working there….ahhh …the smell of the burlap sacks.
Mae now lived in Steinbeck Manor, a retirement home, one block from Sacred Heart Church, where I took my Holy Communion and my Confirmation, where I went to mass every Sunday with my Dad. She had emphysema and was using oxygen in those days, from all of those years of smoking. We went to the Sizzler Restaurant that day for lunch and pie and visited for a while back at her apartment. Mae knew my Mom before I was born and for that reason, I was asking questions about what she was like before I was born. After answering some of my questions, she started to cry and I could tell she was upset about something. At that point she looked at me and said “I promised your Mother I would never tell you this, but you need to know something”. I took a deep breath and listened to her words…”Vic and Audrey are not your natural parents”. Not wanting to upset her I remained calm as my mind was racing and my heart was pounding. She couldn’t remember a lot, but she did remember that I had 2 brothers and my birth mother was Mexican.
I tend to take the back roads like my Mom used to do as she hated getting on the freeway. All the time I was driving over to Ellen’s to talk with her and Erna, my mind was racing with so many questions. Maybe Mae was confused. I tapped on the back wall of the house, announcing that I was coming in. Erna’s Dad, Tiny had died and Erna had moved back in with her Mom to help take care of her as she had polio and was now wheelchair bound. I very matter of factly told them of my conversation with Mae just 30 minutes prior to that and Ellen’s response was “Oh she is crazy and doesn’t know what the hell she is talking about”. That was very plausible because I remember when Mae had a nervous breakdown, when I was about 7 or 8. In those days the doctors made house calls. I walked down the street with my Mom when Mae had one of her “spells” and the doctor told Mama to take all the knives, scissors or anything that she could harm herself with out of the house. Many years later after I had gotten married and moved away, she was admitted to Agnew State Mental Hospital in San Jose with a nervous breakdown where she received electric shock treatments as part of her therapy….so yes, she must have been confused! Whew! What a relief!
As I drove out of Ellen’s driveway, I drove by Daddy’s house, the same house I grew up in until I was 16. His car was in the driveway, but I knew it would not be a good idea for me to stop. Even if what Mae told me was true, it could never change how I felt about my Dad. My relationship with him at this time was very fragile as the woman he married after my mother died, Jovita, alienated us. If I knocked at the door, I knew she would not answer it, or when I called to speak to him and he answered, as soon as she knew it was I on the other end of the phone, she would start screaming and throwing pots and pans around. She was a Filipina woman who had only known my Dad for 2 weeks before she asked him to marry her. It was a marriage out of convenience for her. Her work visa was about to expire and she was on her way home to the Philippines from England and was visiting her friend, Carmalita who also lived in Salinas when she met my Dad. She was 25 years his junior, attractive, a good cook, a good housekeeper, how could he resist? Lita, I adored and she knew my Mom as they worked together in the same shed, cleaning and bunching green onions. She was good company for my Dad after my Mom died, as she was a widow with a young son and also a Filipina. I adored her and was delighted when he called to say he would be coming for dinner and what could he bring. And at some point, the conversation was leading to marriage and I laughed and asked “Ok, Daddy! When are you and Lita going to get married” with a big smile on my face. I am sure my jaw dropped as low as my heart sank when Lita responded “Oh No Hopi, it is with Jovita”!! As my mother would say, I saw the writing on the wall! Even my father’s best friend, Mr. Blancus told my dad that when one can not swim, one should not jump into the ocean to help someone who was drowning. It wasn’t too long after they were married that she turned my father against me.
On the way home to Scotts Valley, once again, my mind was racing with questions, different scenarios of “what if’s” if it were indeed true. I loved my father dearly and the last thing I wanted to do was to create any stress for him so I chose not to pursue this possibility, not wanting to open up a can of worms, so I filed this possibility way in the back of my mind.
Our usual dialogue at the end of the day is asking each other how their day went, so quite to my surprise, I blurted out my conversation with Mae that day. The conversations I was having in my head was a whirlwind of confusion, basically telling myself that there was no need to find out the truth, as I thought it would be too upsetting for my Dad, and I didn’t want him to have a heart attack or something!
Charleen had gone to live with her Dad in Pixley for a while and she was home for her Easter vacation when I was on the phone with her God-Mother Linda, who lives in LA. She also knows Mae and I was relating to her my visit in December and what she had said. There was this very strange, awkward silence on the other end and when the silence remained, I asked “Linda, did you hear me?”. With her “yes” response I sensed something wrong. She then told me of a letter that was mailed to me, that I never received, that was shown to her by my ex-husband Ronnie. It was mailed to me after we had divorced and I had moved away. The letter was from my birth mother. So needless to say, I was pissed off that I never was given the letter. As the missing pieces were found and put together, I understood why he kept the letter and its contents from me. From the moment I found out about the letter, I was obsessed about finding out who I really was. She remembered that the letter had been post marked from Denver, Co., that I had a brother and she believed I was Mexican. Needless to say I was on the phone the Charleen’s Dad asking questions. I was angrily asked why he never gave me the letter but showed it to Linda, my Mom, Ellen, my Mom’s best friend! He wanted to know how I found out about the letter and I indicated that it didn’t matter who told me, but I wanted to know if he still had it. “Maybe, but probably not” was his response. About 2 months later, he called and said that he found the letter and would mail it to me. I remember the day so vividly in my mind. I drove home from work and stopped at the bottom of the hill to get our mail. He had mailed me the letter and I was afraid to open it. I waited until Richard got home from work before I read it. I still have it as one of those “pieces of the puzzle”.
Yes, it had been mailed from Denver in July of 1971, a few months after I had filed for divorce and moved to Seaside. Ronnie was also the Postmaster at the post office in Jolon, California (population 67at the time). Charleen’s Dad, Ron had been adopted as well as his older sister, Helen. Although they all were a family, apparently Helen was raised more by her mother and Ron was raised by his Dad. His father died when he was 12 and it turned his world upside down, as he had lost his ally as he and his sister did not get along. Even as an adult, you could see that she was a very spoiled child. When he was about 12, during an argument, his sister blurted out that he was adopted. So I was not surprised at his explanation for never telling me about the letter. Apparently right before he and I were married, my Dad took him aside and explained to him that I also was adopted and it was very important that my birthmother never contact me. He was protecting me, just as all of the other people in my life who kept the truth from me. In the letter my mother had written a “PS” which was confusing for me. She thanked me for the homemade jelly that I had given to her when she met me! What did she mean when she met me?! She said she had a heart condition and wanted to see me before she died….that she had been searching for me for all of my life…..*************
February 12, 2021
My mind is so confused right now with all the passwords for not only this Blog but for other accounts and I can’t remember shit!, even when I write it down! This is unpublished anyway, so it probably doesn’t matter about heads or tails or the sequence of my entries.
Almost Valentines Day already! It will be good to have some family here for a “kind of” gathering. Covid 19 has changed our lives for sure. I am sure this is so part of my depression especially these past 18 months, and also discovered I am very low on Vit. D, so no wonder I’m feeling so low. Being an empath does not help as well and haven’t been focused enough to actually work on getting the negative energy away from me. Sometimes difficult to do when it is someone you love. But it’s a new beginning for us in that department after this past week, discussing how I needed to make some changes in my life to get out of this “stuck” feeling and if not, I feel like I am going to explode into a million pieces, never finding my way back.
I have the tools, now I need to focus and to be disciplined to put those tools to work! Daily building habits is what I am to focus on; that AM routine and that PM routine…..and choosing to never give up.
Already the 23rd of February….Still working on sorting, purging, packing but also listening to affirmations and positive input. Came across another journal that I had started….It is dated 5-18-17, with a note sending love to Tiff on her B-day. I was going through pictures and one with Erna and me made me flash back to a flood of memories. The smells and the taste of my Dad’s cooking, the aroma from Henry’s bread truck when he opened the panel truck doors, a mixture of fresh bread, fresh glazed donuts!. I always looked forward to playing with Erna from the time before I could remember till we “grew up”. The picture was taken on my front porch in Salinas, the the Boronda area aka; “the other side of the tracks”. No sidewalks, no city water or sewer. Everyone had their own wells and septic tanks. Erna lived across the street, down three houses. Loved going over to her house. When I was little, I could only go over if my Mom walked me over. Erna’s Mom, Ellen was my Mom’s “Buddy”, best friends, so they always had their visits as well. Across the street was the Rodriguez family, a house full of kids, Marjie was close to my age, her sister Martha, can’t remember her brother’s name. My parents were very private and of all the years I lived there, I only had a few rare occasions of going across the street to play, although when we (me and Erna) got older and were allowed to go to the Broadway Market, the path took us right by the Rodriguez home and remember all of the activity, the kids playing, the Mexican music playing, their outside feasts. They had lots of company and they played music from their cars. Marjie’s parents didn’t speak English but my Dad spoke fluent Spanish and other than waving from across the street, my parents did not socialize with them. There was one exception.
I believe that I was about 8 or 9 years old and it was my birthday. My Mom always had a cake for me and Daddy would cook dinner and my Nina and Nino would come for dinner, but not what you would consider a child’s birthday party celebration. For whatever reason, they were not there on my birthday and I evidently was disappointed and cried. The next thing I know, Daddy walked across the street and asked Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez if they could cover over and have dinner and cake. Thinking back, reflecting on the moment, I saw how much my parents loved me, wanting me to have a party, Daddy had cooked chicken adobo, rice and there was a cake. Marjie and Martha came over and it was the one and only time that they were in our house, but after that, the Senior Rodriguez’s always acknowledged my Mom and Dad more and whenever they had a party or celebration, they always offered plates of food.
Then there was the Barnacha family across the street, a Filipino family with 2 kids. Mr. Johnny Barnacha was a Supervisor at ne of the produce sheds and made good money, enough to not only have a new modern home, but they had a real lawn and cement walkways and a cement driveway Their home was a newer home for the Boronda area! They would have parties often and Daddy would get upset because the guests would park on the edge of our 2 acre property. He planted some trees and shrubs along the property line to discourage the parking and my Mom would get upset when the neighbor hood boys would trespass on the empty lot coming to and from the bus stop or the store. Very private my parents were.
Mr. and Mrs. Hodge, an elderly couple lived next door. They had a honeysuckle arbor in their yard and I remember Mr. Hodge lifting me up high so I could see a bird nest. As I got older, he taught me some cords on his guitar and he made me a wooden snake that wiggled….perhaps this is what it would be like to have a grandfather? After I left home, Mrs. Hodge had a stroke and was put into a convelesant hospital about 3 or 4 miles up the road. Mama saw him walking home one day and realized that he had walked all the way into town and at that time he must have been in his late 70’s or early 80’s. My Mom hated to drive, but she would take him in every day to see her. 3 days after she died. Mr. Hodge died.
Next to the Hodge’s was a gravel one lane road where 4 families lived, The McKees at the end with no kids. The Brown family, Syble being a childhood friend. Syble also lived with her grand ma, sister and a brother. Her grandma had a garden as well and she grew lots of collard greens. I could go to the end of our chicken coop and go through the fence to get to her house.
*************
Today is March 13th, a Saturday. My excuse or one of my excuses has always been not having enough time…..It’s about planning the time and sticking to it. Signed up for Jay Shetty’s Goal Setting/ Habit Building Course/Workshop. Ordered and received my Passion Planner. Have been continuing with the sorting, packing, more downsizing. I have come across more pictures of my childhood, taking pictures of them and posting them on FB….loving the response from family members. Sharing these pictures is a walk down memory lane for me, but for Ellen’s family having not seen these pictures is heartwarming. Mailing copies to Cathy and Erna. Lots going on…So very happy for Bristol, my prayers are being answered. She has a job! God knows how much I have prayed for her to find her way in this crazy world and to truly recognize how so smart she is, how worthy she is and she deserves good things. I cry thinking about it.
It is a new moon today…..time for a New Moon Ritual. Purging “stuff” is easier than purging thoughts that no longer serve me. So tired of the sadness, the tears, the frustrations that I feel so heavy. Takes much effort at times to get out of my dark place. I know that I need to start meditating daily, to get grounded and to follow through with my intentions which is to create good habits that will keep me out of such a bad state of depression. I am learning to speak my mind, to not “stuff” my feelings any longer. It is difficult speaking my peace with Pa as he is so defensive. Hopefully this last conversation has made him realize that I am deciding to do things that will help me with my depression, to find ways to create more joy and happiness in my life without guilt. Now that Anna and Bernie are here, we can now afford to spend more on what he would consider non-essential. So, a reason that I decided to purchase the Jay Shetty Workshop. I need as much positive input in my life as possible and this is the best way to get it….learning to create good habits that will nourish my body, mind and soul. It’s been a long day, one that was very productive, making my body tired and one filled with tears of joy and sadness for Evelyn today. So looking forward to having this new baby in our lives……a new life to nourish us all. Thank you Evette.
