Now what?

Reality had finally smashed my dreams. It plummeted like a giant bird poo released from heaven...I could see it up in the air; a tiny spec falling, and I watched, as it came closer and closer. For some reason, I anticipated the poo to fall on someone else.

It was accompanied by that sound, the high pitched whistling from the escapades of Wile E. Coyote, right before the anvil drops on him.

Much like Mr. Coyote, I accepted the fact that I either had to get out of the way or play the shoddy chance that a miracle, (like the Taliban hijacking an airplane in order to avert disaster) would save me from the shit that was about to pour.

My daughter was worth playing those odds, but it was not long before that it hit me square in the face accompanied by the clunk of an anvil. There was no way I wanted a reality that smelled like that, even if it was bestowed upon me by heaven.

-----

It was time to stick with a decision. I was in the US, he was in Venezuela. I had a daughter, completely dependent upon the decisions I made. The actions I took would form the woman she would become. So, after having a spiritual awakening, I decided to change the things I could while accepting the things which were unchangeable, irreparable.

Her father (at this point he was legally my husband) would continue telling me things like, "I will help" or "I will send money" or "I will get a visa to see her".

Keep in mind, my Spanish is not perfect. I must have missed the class teaching that direct translation of spanish phrases is exactly the opposite of what I hear and understand. I will chalk that one up to "communication issues". These "communication issues" were something that I couldn't change. I had heard them over and over again. They will never change.

What I could change was the level of responsibility I had over my daughters life and my own. I began submitting resumes and more resumes, doing volunteer work and praying for the future to brighten up a bit.

It did.

The US Census took me aboard as a temporary employee. I was sent to latino neighborhoods and got to practice my Spanish. It was strange because they clearly understood me and I understood everything they said. The conclusion: my husband's Spanish must have a thicker accent. I was paid very well for this job. I was financially recovering from the thousands of dollars spent on visas and traveling for a pervious goal of a husband and a child making me a family. My core self came back.

I decided to pursue vocational activities, such as re-becoming a member of a nonprofit organization I had frequented in the past. As it turned out, they have childcare and I had been completely unaware! My soul began to fill with life and love once again.

Since everybody knows physical fitness is important, why not join the YMCA? Hank Hill says "The Y has got something for everyone". Thank you, Hank. It is true. Some folks learn to swim, but since I am about as buoyant as a French Bulldog I didn't swim much. My daughter and I splashed in the shallow end of the pool and had wonderful times.

I found some my self-esteem behind a locker room door at the Y. I picked it up and hugged my daughter as we ran away with it, like a couple of girl-scouts on a devious mission. I am finding pieces of it still, in the most random of places!

I decided to get a hobby and signed up for community education salsa dancing classes. I learned the basics of the dances which had mystified me in Latin America. I could do it! To hone my skills further, I joined a dance studio which I still attend on a regular basis. Happiness came back and I remembered what life is supposed to be.

Accepting the immovable variables in my life was difficult, until I met Courage for dinner. He went on and on about this other guy I used to know, Self-Confidence. Courage insisted on picking up the tab, so I graciously took him for all he had. We sat together for hours. Finally, Self-Confidence ended up walking by our table, along with his friend Self-Esteem. We laughed, we cried, we reunited, and they became a part of my life. 

We all agreed someone was missing in our company that night...

My daughter.

She keeps growing. She is no longer a baby. She is more beautiful and developing a feisty personality.

I thought that being a parent meant that your child was supposed to engulf your entire being, and they were supposed to grow through you. Turns out, that is not the case for me.

Call me exuberant. This is my new life.


I started my life over: traded the motorcycle for a Taurus with a 5-star safety rating, put down my feet in the USA, and moved into a stable environment while I cleared away my financial burdens.


My daughter.


She is my life yet she grows not through me, but at my side as long as I have my new bedfellow, serenity (Self-Confidence introduced us) available at all times.






Why didn't the Coyote ever stop chasing the Roadrunner? What a jackass.