First blog post

As I sit here and stare at this screen, my mind starts to wonder and debate what to write about. So many things on my mind, which in none I’m no expert. And probably my post will be full of grammar errors, spelling errors and all kinds of errors. Maybe I’m just using this to vent out the “reality” of what has become my life today.

I’m a 34, almost 35-year-old single Mexican-american mother with chronic depression. And it seems that as I hit that pivot point in life, yet again, (I had one at 25, and 30), my world becomes smaller, life becomes harder and cruel.

The greatest battle I’ve had is with myself. Ever since I can remember I wake up fighting the negative thoughts. And now I just do it for my son.

He is a wonderful, heart warming little 7-year-old boy with recent diagnosis of A.D.H.D. Which gives me an additional challenge thru out the day. But he is the only reason right now, that gets me up in the morning. And some time is hard. I just want to give him the best. And the fact that he cannot have a full family, where he has a dad or bothers, breaks my heart. His father is in his life but it’s not the same as seeing him or having to live with him every day. And sometimes I wonder, was it worth it getting a divorce. I could have just suck it up and live in a loveless marriage. Where I was the roommate, the housekeeper. Everything else except a partner a wife a soul mate.

In reality it is worth it. We are better off. But still, I need help. I still need that partner, that soul mate, that friend that is going to be there for ever. That family dynamic. I think I deserve it. I think my son and I deserve it.

I really don’t know where this blog will lead or if any will read it. In a world now that every one has a voice, my voice is low. But I will keep it, it’s better than not having one.


Single…Not Trained To Mingle

As a single 34-year-old women putting up post about being single, wondering “This is it, huh. This is all the excitement, the romanticism, the “contact” with other humans that my life has become.” I don’t want to complain. I know I don’t get out there like most people. But I think most people have friends that are out there, that they could go out and socialize with. They always have some type of activity, some event, some gathering or party they are invited to. I…I have married friends. And I am divorce. And what’s more, they are all from the culture that, women stay home and attend to the kids, cooks and cleans. (But now they also work). They are Mexican women, married either to Mexican men or sexist for that matter. So we don’t have girls night out. Or for that matter, we don’t have nights of lets fix up our single friend with this guy.

So my life, has become mundane.

But why should I complain. I partied right after the separation. I “socialized” for two years. Then force to stop by all my friends getting married. Not having a single friends now. Thinking now that maybe I should go out alone. Hey this is 2016, I may not be highly educated or one who knows about the world, but I still can go out by myself. Right?

If when, I go out with the only friend that I have now that is single (I just remember I do have but one single friend, but does not go out), I’m not social. I really don’t start conversations with men or women. What i’m I going to do alone. Without a wing buddy. And then it all comes back rushing, I’ve never being a social person. Not when I was a kid and not now. So I guess either I get “trained” in socializing or I die alone. I prefer the first.

But “trained” sounds bad. I like me. Sometimes. I could get more inform about other topics, so I can have a solid conversation going. And since I recently discover that I actually like conversations or at least listening to them. I really need to cultivate my mind with different issues and topics.

So, anyone have a single guy friend, around their 30s’, who likes to conversate, likes to explore new things? Let him know I’m looking for him.

Just kidding. I know this is not

I guess I will catch up on my reading of world issues and other topics, so when I do finally go out. I have a lovely conversation.

You Are Not Here


I imagine waking up to your kiss in my forehead. Getting ready to start this serene Sunday. Taking ourselves to the porch, letting the coffee, the crisp air and the view take away our worries. We look at each other and we feel content. You hold my hand and squeeze it gently, as to say “I will love you until the end of time”. And I squeeze it a little harder, playfully. And it triggers a grin on your face. I know what you are going to do next. I smile shyly. You get up, pull me close to you and you kiss me. You kiss me like you haven’t seen me in a long time. I melt in your arms, and from there on there is no world. Just you and me. Nothing else exists.

I imagine…..

I’m not up-set. Just a little disappointed. You are not here……just yet. I have all these feelings of what you would be like. But you are not here. I don’t know what you even look like but I know that I will love you for ever.

Sunday…you are not here.




The title says it all, I am tired. As I come close to the pinnacle of my life (so I think), I feel more and more tire of it. Of my self. Of this pain, this hurt that stops me cold. All I could think of is, “Should I jump or should I look back and take those steps  towards the same thing over again?” I don’t want to go back to the same thing. I don’t want to feel the same way. I cannot end in that black hole again. But all I feel is tired.

In one occasion, I let my sister know that I felt the same way. That I just wanted to rest, to sleep for ever, to not think or worry about anything. She said I was selfish. How can I just think of me and not think how that, will affect the people around me. How the people who loved me will feel. I felt guilty afterwards. But now I think, “Why are they being selfish. Keeping me here. So they could feel good.” They all can manage without me. I just want to rest. Some how I convince myself out of those thoughts. “Just get thru the day, just a few hours more, just a few minutes more.” And here I am, still. Trying hard to keep on going. Trying hard to cover up those feelings, those thoughts with thoughts of happiness.

One thought that comes to mind, that always makes me smile, is when my son was about six months old. I held his little head with both my hands and started to kiss his little cheeks. Simultaneously. After a minute or so. He fell asleep with all the kisses or it could have been from the back in fort of me kissing his chunky cheeks. But after every happy thought, I’m still tired.

Should I jump? Should I go back? Maybe there is a way around this pinnacle of life. Maybe I’m close to the summit. I just need to stick it, one more day. Just one more day.