He was my Popo too

I want to start off by saying, I have the best of friends. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have gotten this far. I cherish my community of veteran gal and guy pals. We are always there for one another. With that being said, I want to express my feelings in regards to post divorce and the losing of a cherished member in which I agreed to name one of my boys after. I am a proud mother to have given my ex-father-in-law his first four Vasquez grandsons and second Vasquez granddaughter. I insisted on honoring the men in my ex’s family by naming our boys after them. John Jr is named after his father, Augustine lV is named after his great grandfather (his grandpa’s dad), David ll is named after his uncle (my ex’s eldest brother) and Jose ll is named after his grandfather.

During church services I sat in the back. It was difficult. As I watched the family I was once part of (in my heart I still feel this way through my children) I noticed her. The woman who I opened my home to. The woman who took advantage of me and stabbed me in my back. The woman who tries and tries to spread nasty rumors around town about me.  In order for her to feel good about her lowlife self, she kicks people who are down. This should tell you what kind of person this lower than life scum is. I couldn’t help but feel anger towards her. Thinking, she doesn’t deserve to be next to him. Because of her, my home was torn apart. I have gone over and beyond trying to keep my family together but it took one woman with a selfish heart to break it apart. Why can’t he find someone else. Why can’t my ex find another woman to be with, why her? She is cruel, evil and selfish.

My daughter told me how her popo would want peace. I want peace. We all deserve peace. Till this day, I do not have peace in my heart for her. I already forgave my ex, his family and myself for everything that took place, but for me to forgive and have peace from her…. It will never happen not until she starts acting like a grown up by thinking about my children first. I cannot make peace with a woman who is too ashamed to look at me, who stabbed me in my back, who took advantage of someone who was only trying to help empower her to be more than where she was at. I cannot be at peace with a woman who is self-centered and sick around my children.

And I cried. I cried because I remembered the 12 years being a part of his family. The ups and downs. The conflicting emotions. You know, everyone didn’t give me a chance due to the symptoms of C-PTSD I have yet he, my ex-father-in-law saw through them and smiled. I enjoyed listening to his stories. The day he and my ex-mother-in-law took my ex and I to one of their favorite burger joints in Austin. Our conversations.  The day I came off of that airplane coming back to the states from Okinawa, Japan and meeting Popo for the first time.  His first words to John, “You did good” followed up with, “You better take that backpack of hers now,”  I had a molly alice pack and I was 6 or 7 months pregnant with John Jr. Sitting at the picnic table together and watch all his grand kids playing. The joy I observed while watching his eyes. Like many, Popo taught me what a family ought to be.  I will be forever thankful for the lessons he taught me.  He never gave up on his family.

I watched my 13 year old son help lay to rest his grandfather. It was a very emotional day for us all. A part of me wishes I was still there to console my ex and his family….

If we were still married, I know in my heart, because I wish I could do it now, I would go to his mom’s house and cook for everyone.

In my heart, he is still my popo too … Rest in Peace SIr, you will never be forgotten.

Dating… Need I say more?

My profile on a dating site:

I love the outdoors, relaxing to live music, visiting art galleries and museums. I can get

down with sports and probably out shoot you at the firing range (J/K). I enjoy deep  conversations about life and try my best to live it up. Life is too short to be anything but… happy.

Single mom, 5’4’’, a bit chunky but a working progress… Oh where oh where is my gym partner? I’m not here for a hook up. Hoping to eventually meet my best friend.

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Lord help me. What the heck am I getting myself into? Thanks to a dear friend of mine, I’ve decided to post a blog about my dating experience so far. OMG What the heck did I get myself into LOL

So I entered the most interesting world of dating. I say interesting because it is also entertaining to say the least. I try not to mention I am a Marine veteran right away, because a part of me thinks dude will think it’s like super cool or something along those lines after learning about my other amazing qualities first. Now, not all the guys I’ve met are bag nasties. I have met some nice guys and we occasionally keep in touch, its just hard with a busy schedule. The following stories are of a few men I have met.

Some of these men make up ridiculous excuses about how they almost joined the Marine Corps. Like… Really? You almost joined my Marine Corps?  So far two men had to quite boot camp due to injury and the rest of them who said they almost joined but didn’t due to their mom talking them out of it or something medically kept them from joining.

For starters, Why the hell are you going to tell a Marine how you almost joined my Marine Corps? So see, when I hear about them getting injured in boot camp I can’t help but smile, feel sorry for them and  remember what it was like for myself. I threw out my right knee which held me back in boot camp an extra month. I graduated as a wounded warrior and during the time I was at medical rehabilitation platoon I earned a certificate as a Catholic Lay Reader. I graduated boot camp in four months, not your three months as expected. Then in Marine Combat Training (MCT) I threw out my left knee dropping me back into rehabilitation platoon. Instead of graduating in two weeks from MCT I ended up finally graduating in two months. While there the docs ended up taking X-Rays of my legs, we learned both of my femurs were fractured making the docs puzzled as to how the hell I was able to walk. One doc said my muscles were the only thing that kept my legs from breaking all the way through and sent me back to MRP (Medical Rehabilitation Platoon) with crutches.

So sitting across from these guys while they tell me stories about almost joining. Psychologically, I understand why… It’s kind of, no, it’s really sad when you really think about it. It’s more about them. It’s interesting to hear these guys talk. Either they feel guilty for not joining (In my own opinion, it’s a 9/11 thing or because I’m a woman) or some form of shame or insecurity when meeting a woman who joined, especially when that woman joined one of the toughest branches. It’s like, “oy, you just grabbed my nut sack and pulled” after telling them I earned the title and showing them my tatts. I also understand a lot has to do with societal expectations. Men are supposed to be the Manly, protective and all that manly stuff that society has placed upon them… the bread and butter, white knight kind of guy, yes, that’s it. So when meeting a gal like me, it’s totally unexpected. It sucks. It especially sucks when you dedicated a few nights talking about life and common interests.

Then you meet the Stolen Valor kind. Holy Smokes. ARE THESE MEN SERIOUS!! OMG I can spot one a mile away!  First off, when they start off by saying “I was in Special Forces” or “I was a Marine who did this and did that…” or “I was a combat medic” right away.  My spidy senses go up on high alert and I end up chuckling.

I have a juicy story to share. When I go on dates I like to wear a sweater. My reason, usually the places we meet are cold and I like to be warm so I wear a sweater. Seriously, it’s to hide my tats so it give us an opportunity to talk about other topics than what it was like serving and those occasional comments of “I never met a woman Marine before” which is followed up with some off the wall not so funny shit. It’s exhausting and geez not so funny at all.

Back to that juicy story, I met a guy who claimed to be an Army Combat Medic. Granit at first I was listening and hoping, maybe this guy is real… sadly as he was talking (mind you, all about himself) he ended describing a scene from Hacksaw Ridge. The scene where Andrew Garfield’s character rush to the aid of a solder only to bury him so that the enemy doesn’t find and kill him and went on telling me about how he is a man of god and so forth. I thank the Lord for blessing me with a listening ear and the patience to wait for a pause as he simply kept on talking about himself.  We only spoken once before and agreed to meet for coffee.

Once I saw the pause… I gave him a stern look and started asking questions about his so called time in service. They were all wrong; he had to really think about the answers. He infuriated me because I knew he was lying. I took off my sweater, hung it on the chair I was sitting in, folded my hands and rested my elbows on the table in a prayer like position while touching my lips to my folded fingers exposing my USMC tattoo.  His face lit up, this whole time I never told him I am a veteran. I placed my hands in my lap and took a big breath of air and gave it to him.

What I really wanted to do would have landed me in jail. He was insulting my friends, he was insulting me.

The dating world is scary. You meet creepy men who wear nice clothes (been there done that), men who are looking for a mother (sorry been there and done that, not gonna happen again) and men who prey upon single mothers. It’s enough to make one hide and never date again. Still, I look at it as live entertainment. I never go anywhere alone with them and we met somewhere safe where I let the waitress or waiter know it’s our first time meeting.

Who am I hoping to meet?… for starters, a family guy. One who is loyal, trustworthy, honest, adventurous, spontaneous, smart, loves live music, art and is active. A gym partner. I tend to get along better with veterans than I do with civilians. A guy with a carrying heart and a smile I could drown in. One who is secure with himself and not afraid of being in a crowded room.  Someone who accepts me for who I am.

Sigh… So far, I’m not impressed with the majority of men I’ve met.

I Made a Promise the Day Jon Jr. was Born

Waking up this morning a heavy burden weighed heavily upon my soul. Three years ago I was fighting for my eldest son to go into a facility that I knew would help him achieve his max potential. He would of had one on one attention, socialized with other kids his age and was able to come home every weekend, holiday or whenever we wanted him to. But no, his father kept him from it. Why? Because He didn’t want to break the family up.

He didn’t want to break the family up… allow that to sit in your mind for a second. He didn’t want to break the family up.

In 2009 I caught my ex, the father of my kids cheating on me. The day it happened, I felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was changing my twin’s diapers. This was two years after closing on our home. I caught him cheating. I activated the Sprint family locator and tracked him going from one location (assistant public housing) to a gas station and back. As a criminal justice major, I knew he wasn’t going to the gas station for gas or for something to snack or drink. No, I had a feeling he went there to buy a box of condoms. I kept refreshing the sprint family locator page while taking the addresses and Google mapping them. I loaded my twin up in the van and went to the last location the locator sent me. The assistant public housing. Sure enough I saw our other van there. I opened the van door and like I suspected, I found an empty 3pk box of condoms. You could imagine the horror I felt, the sickness I felt, the betrayal. Like any person who felt all three, I was enraged. I started screaming at the top of my lungs calling my cheating ass of a husband out to show himself.  I yelled at the top of my lungs how I gave him five kids, HOW COULD HE. I was in school full time, he was supposed to be in school full time but I later found out how he would skip school to meet with women for sex, invite women to our house for sex while I was in class and bring our children around these women for sex. I later found the Craigslist Personal Add he placed soliciting for sex! In 2009, He had cheated on me with over 20 different women.

I tried to save our marriage. I felt I was partial to blame for his infidelity. Our sex life wasn’t lacking… We had five kids! I tried to get couples counseling. He didn’t want to.

See this wasn’t the first time I caught him in a lie. He lied to me about attending a brothel in Korea. I asked him if he ever did and he told me no. I later found out he still owed another Marine over $3k for borrowing money so he could pay for sex.  Then he told me he played football, he was on the Varsity Football team. Nope, the universe has a funny way of creeping up on you and exposing your lies. Instead, I met someone who was from San Marcos, someone who knew the family and played football while on a training exercise in the Corps.  We were offloading a 5-ton.  I asked him where he came from and he answered, San Marcos TX. The conversation took off from there. He knew the Vasquez family and laughed when I asked him how JP did as a football player. He quickly informed me JP, my ex John Paul, never played Football. That he was a JROTC student and was a ladies man. You can only imagine what the conversation was like after I got home.

I should have left him, I should have left him long ago but I didn’t. I was taught once you married someone, you remain loyal to them. That marriage will have many bumps in the road but as long as there was love, love will conquer it all.

In 2009 after learning about my ex’s affairs, this being the first time, it tore me apart. But I was willing to look past, help mend this broken family and hopefully become a stronger married couple. That didn’t last, in 2012 my ex left me for a high school wanna be friend who I helped get back on her feet for her daughter. I tried to help empower her, instead she (in my own opinion) took advantage of my ex’s weakness by stabbing me in my back.

As far as I am concerned, looking back. She had done me a huge favor by taking this man who was weighing me down. Who felt insecure due to my success and blame me for his past mistakes after coming forward after eleven years about the rape I endured during my time of service. He blamed me for not telling him before we got married about my rape. He blamed me for his unhappiness and called me a liar for not telling him about the night I was raped by two Marines. Yet, what was I willing to do in the beginning after all those lies? Let’s not forget, I also asked him if he was ever promised to someone and he said no. A week after we were married, he was reassigned; he went home on leave before reporting in to his next duty station. I called his mother’s house, his mom answered and told me he was out with a girl he gave a promise ring to. Let’s not forget the load of lies he told me and I sat like a stupid fool and accepted him regardless.

I did love him no matter how insecure and untrustworthy he became. I was willing to work things out for the sake of our children. I also had hope. Unfortunately, He didn’t. He wasn’t strong enough. He was never strong enough. Instead, he made excuses after excuses and that ultimate betrayal. He not only betrayed me, he betrayed his children. I will never forget that day. My daughter and son caught their father texting my ex-friend and my children watched them while I was doing business in Chicago. I came home and my kids told me what their father was doing. I asked him, “let me see the text messages.” He deleted them. It was only after five minutes or so while sitting in the chair and watching what he was doing did it occur to me how selfish this man was. The reality sat in and it was more painful to watch unfold. He sat both My 10 year old daughter and my 8 year old son down and scarred them for life. He told them to their face while my twin boys and Jon Jr. ran around our living room crying that he no longer loved me, that he cheated with many women and that he was leaving.

Both Espi and Augi sat crying. For years Espi blamed herself for our break up. I had to work with her and tell her over and over it wasn’t her fault. That it was her dad’s choice, how sorry I was for what he did. I will never quite forgive what my ex did to our children.

See, John Sr. wasn’t a man that day. In fact he was never a man. He was more of a boy than a man or a father figure to his children. Had he been a man, he would have sat me down and talked to me like an adult. Telling me how he fell out of love. I would have accepted it. But looking back, till this day I hold a lot of resentment towards this immature man who continues to lie for his own benefit. I was made to clean up the mess he made with our children. Their emotional well being was my number one at the top of the list. At the time I started advocating for Military Sexual Trauma survivors. At that time I started the healing process over my own rape. I ended up putting it on hold, numbing myself… to do what I needed to do for my children while he ran around town acting like a teenager. A boy trapped in a man’s body.

My father, he bought us a two story four bedroom house in a very nice location in Reno, Nevada. All he asked, for my ex-husband to work for him for a year. Instead, my ex straight out told me how he didn’t want to be my father’s bitch. How he missed his family. See my father, he knew what life was like after leaving the military. So he was actually doing us a favor by buying us that house. But my ex had to be close to his mother. At one point, I distinctly recalled telling his mother how she needed to cut the umbilical cord because John is a grown man and a father now. I am his wife. Her job of taking care of him is over. But did she listen? No. Instead, she babied him and babied him while I was working my ass off to support this family. He spent years sitting on the sofa playing the x-box.

I was trapped taking care of a sixth child. I know that was my fault and I own it. Like I said, I should have left him years ago.

I know it’s unhealthy to hold resentment towards someone. I know in order to move on I need to forgive. I’m still working on this with my ex. He kept me from doing so many things in life by using the family when all along he was using me or feeling insecure over my ambitions. He didn’t feel like a man even tho he acted like a boy. I wasn’t about to watch my family become homeless because He didn’t know how to grow up. I would of thought the Corps would of helped him in that department, unfortunately the Corps must of forgotten about him…

The only reason why he finally grown up and became a man since he left me after deciding to leave me for another woman thinking the grass is greener on the other side. Because I lawyered up, I quickly demanded child support. And if he didn’t pull through. I called my lawyer and we had him arrested for not paying child support.

Once he did what he did to my children and walked out the door, my love, my empathy for this scum bag, especially how he hit my son and had CPS called on us while I was in Chicago, I moved quickly. I was done wiping the ass of a man child.

After the second time of being arrested, he cried to me about how hard it is to make a living. I had no remorse. Simply I stated, welcome to the real world. It’s about time to Really Man up and fully learn how to take care of your responsibilities.

Now, back to how my ex didn’t want to break the family up… You can make up your own decision in regards to that statement!

Back to my eldest son John Jr. I wanted something more for my son. I was condemned for thinking about placing my son in a facility. I was retaliated against again for doing what was right. I was looking out for the best interest of this family. I had no one. I have no family to support me, I was doing this all on my own. Regardless of my ex’s position was while married, I still relied on him so I could better myself for the sake of this family. I wanted to better myself so I can provide more. But as the story goes… you read what happened.

Two years after my ex left me I was alone. My mother did fly out to help me. She did help me for a little bit and I appreciated that little time she did. However, afterwards, she kept promising she would move and slowly started putting me down. Slowly she became another person who began making me feel bad for what I was trying to accomplish.  Bottom line, I needed help and I was left to fight it all on my own and in the process, do to feeling I needed a family, I made the biggest mistake by getting married again and I almost lost my children.

I was still traumatized after coming out with my story. I was traumatized after my ex leaving me. I was dealing with five children’s who by the way was emotionally scarred by their father. I was dealing with a pre-teen special needs child who became extremely aggressive. My son Jon, he ended up beating his siblings, he put holes in the walls that I am still fixing till this day. He broke our TV, he knocked me out, he broke furniture. He would leave his room, go into the kitchen, into the fridge and pour out the milk, break all the eggs and take bites out of all our fruit. He would throw food everywhere. Throw as hard as he could at all of us, his hot wheels. It was difficult. All the while, I was smiling and doing my best to keep everything under control. While underneath it all, I was crying. Screaming under my breath wishing someone could help me, trying to hold onto my sanity. I begged my ex to help me. I begged for his family to help me since I was the only one here. No fucking body would help me. My son continued to break everything and destroy everything. And beat me while I was driving my van and in my own home. He beat his sibling. Took shits and would smear them everywhere. I started losing my mind!

I came to the understanding I needed to do something before I committed a felony. One night while driving back from my, at the time boyfriends house, Jon sat in the front passenger seat of the van. He was starting to act out and I had to protect my other children. It took 15-20 min to drive back from New Braunfels to San Marcos.  John was calling me a bitch, fuck you bitch and punching me while driving back home. He was grabbing anything he could get his hands on to throw at me. I panicked. I kept yelling, we are almost home, he kept calling me bitch.. fuck you bitch and my children in the back seat was either crying or trying to calm Jon down. There was a moment when I started to speed up, I looked at Jon, he looked at me and yelled “Fuck You Bitch” that I unbuckled his seat belt, reached over to open that door so I could push my son out of the van door while I was driving. Before I pulled that door handle. I cried. I was ashamed for even thinking this way. I looked at Jon, under my breath I told him I’m sorry. I love you so much but I can’t do this anymore. The rest of the way I took his beatings. He punched me at the back of my head, my shoulders, my side and kept yelling “Fuck You Bitch”.  Once we were home, I was beaten down. I gave the keys to my daughter to open the house and Jon ran inside. Espi, Augi and Jose was in the house and David was waiting for me. I tried to take a breather before heading in. John threw Jose across the room and Augi and Espi was trying their best to calm him down when he turned and punched the TV breaking it and grabbing Augi by his shirt to throw him across the room.

That night, I took Jon and admitted him into a mental facility. I couldn’t do it anymore. Once my ex found out he started retaliating against me by making me feel ashamed of what I did. That I caused my son to do this. Everything was my fault.

Everything was my fault.

For 14 years, I turned my home into Ft. Knox. Yes, my son got out. I was very blessed to have neighbors who understood my situation. They helped me when they could. After giving my son up to my ex because I felt it was more important to look out for the well being of all of us, I am now all of a sudden the bad mother. For three years, since 2014 , two years since my ex left before then in 2012, for three years I was being told by my ex how I abandoned my son because he knew this would upset me. Because my own parents abused and abandoned me. So he knew that would make me feel guilty so he wouldn’t take up the responsibilities or ownership of the hardship he caused me. So he wouldn’t feel guilty over all the bullshit he caused our family. This boy, finding excuses instead of owning them like a real man by placing all the blame on me when all I did was make the adult decision to look after my family the best way I CAN!  Yet I am a neglectful mother, I abandoned my child and shame me for making the toughest decision known to a loving mother! I am the worst mother in history!!

And he didn’t want to break this family apart. Yeah… think about that statement.

Yet look at him today. He has no job for the past three months, he blames Jon Jr. for losing his last job and having to settle for a bus driver position. He blames Jon Jr. for being fired for missing a lot of days from work. He blames me because I am busy trying to get my feet on the ground without no help from anyone so I can provide better for my family while he has his whole entire family living here in this small college town called San Marcos. His very family who can’t even look at me after what he did to me. His home wrecker of a girlfriend who is too ashamed to look at me in my face after I tried helping her, after I tried to empower her and her daughter to be something more than what they made themselves out to be.

Here I am making something out of myself knowing I did everything in my power to keep this family together. I must go on.

While we were married, I had gone to school full time, applied for food stamps and this and that so we don’t lose our home due to his immature and poor decision making ways. Today, I am not only a mother. But I am an artist helping thousands of veterans by being a voice for those who can not speak for themselves. I made something of myself. I struggled but I keep moving forward knowing I am giving it my all and showing my children how living a successful life is done. That nothing can keep you down. Now if he wants to wallow in self pity and blame me fore his past mistakes, thats on him. I don’t own any of it. But I will hold him accountable for every mistake he tried blaming me for.

I did what I had to do for my family and for myself!

Now, people want to judge me because my ex and his home wrecker of a girlfriend is busy spreading lies about me because I sat and stood from a distance watching my son and making sure he was being looked after. Yea, I called out my ex when I noticed the clothes where becoming too small or when Jon wasn’t being properly bathed. I may not have had him with me but I was certainly there watching over him.. from a distance because I finally acknowledged how I need to take care of my own mental health and I did what I had to do.

When my son escaped from his father’s house the night before, he was roaming the streets all night. Anything could of happened. Someone could of shot him while he was trying to open the doors at 0145, walked to the river and drowned by accidentally falling in, got hit by a vehicle or been abducted. I thank the good Lord and his guardian angles for keeping my son safe. But I hold his father accountable, for allowing this to happen after knowing what my son is capable of doing. Now I am more involved than I have been in the past knowing how irresponsible my ex is till this day. To many, they may view him as someone with a momentary lack of judgment, as for me, this is always been an ongoing issue for John Sr. A momentary lack of judgment that very well could have costed my son’s life. It’s like taking the side of a rapist saying he couldn’t help himself.

The horror over finding out where my son’s been after being woken up by a police office and he showing me my son’s picture and telling me where my son was at. Later my ex trying to place shame and guilt on me for his momentary laps. Nah… That is his fault. Not my own. Especially when I have done it all for 14 years and he’s been doing it for the past three… I had to think about everything while he did only the bare minimal for this family. His momentary laps… isn’t good enough. He is a Marine. Marines don’t do this. Especially when it’s your own child’s life at stake. Then again… the Corps didn’t do a good enough job teaching him how to be a man.

Till this day, I remembered the day I made a promise to my son. Right after the doctor placed Jon Jr. on my chest after giving birth to him, Jon Jr. lifted his head and opened his eyes. I made a promise to him that I will never leave him. I may not have him with me under the same roof, but I am here watching over him making sure he is doing well. I wanted something more for my son. Due to the system demanding that both parents need to have a mutual agreement, My son will not have that opportunity. Instead, his father held him back from it. Therefore, his father, again made a poor decision based on his own personal needs rather than the needs of our son. The system, failed my son, my ex, failed my son. I did everything I could and I had to choose my other four kids… they have a brighter future ahead of them because I have more control in making that happen then I did with my eldest son. It sounds like I’ve given up, but truthfully I haven’t. I’ve been here all along. Mentally, I don’t know if I can handle taking care of my son due to my own triggers from past traumas. I am not making up excuses, this is my reality, I know the limitations my mental health has. I need to stay sane for my other children.

What would you do if you were in my shoes. What would you do if you had four other children to look after while being beaten by one of them due to his disabilities and had barely minimal help from anyone?

Don’t judge me if you can’t handle to the truth.

There is Beauty After Pain

After attending a women’s group, I felt my purpose being restored.

Since my second divorce I doubted myself, “am I so damaged that I couldn’t see a predator clear as day? How am I suppose to help those who are struggling when I couldn’t protect myself?” Like the Memorial Day flood that hit San Marcos back in 2015, those thoughts kept me from moving forward.

I tip toe around, testing myself and fond when I wasn’t ready I took time for self-care. I allowed my body to morn while strengthening the relationship with my children again. I felt like a failure. I let my children down and ultimately I let myself down. At times it was hard to deal with.

Before I would simply create in order to think things through but not this time, instead, for a while there, I was lost. My hands didn’t want to hold a paint brush; they didn’t want to hold a pencil or a marker. I tried and tried but I found myself crying… feeling like, a nobody again. I was back to square one.

Nights became long, I dreamt about my attackers and all of a sudden I started dreaming more and more about the childhood traumas I experienced. Those who were suppose to watch over me, who were suppose to protect me, they failed. And in some way, I felt I did the same with my children.

Feeling like a failure to my children and comparing it to my childhood gave me the push to seek counseling. It was then when I started to heal that inner child again.

I began seeking answers to my own questions and little by little, I answered them. I am not like those who failed me.

Like the Memorial Day flood that hit San Marcos in 2015, it devastated people’s lives that were unprepared. Like them, we put our lives together one step at a time and we all learned a valuable lesson. Whether it be from natural disaster or experiencing domestic abuse… life continues on. It is how we use the lesson learned that defines who we are today.

Yesterday, while attending a woman veteran’s meeting. I felt my purpose again. I held the hand of a weeping Marine Sister, as I helped ease her tears I felt her pain and cried with her. I told her how much we needed her, how she will someday do the same for another just like the facilitator did for me. She will do the same for another. I needed her just as much as she needed me. It was in that connection, that moment I felt my purpose again. To help those who struggle with pain by being their light.

I have lived through so much, all I know is how to help ease the pain of their past trauma by sharing my life with them in hopes they can see there is beauty after experiencing so much pain.

Angry

I am an over weight single mother, a Marine Corps Veteran, survivor of neglect and childhood abuse and survivor of rape who is 2x divorced. First ex-husband cheated on me multiple times before leaving me for a so called friend who I helped. Second ex-husband beat me 20 days after the day we got married, I ended up leaving him five and a half months later.

I’m not sharing that with you to say I’m feeling sorry for myself nor am I looking for your pity. It’s the reality of where I am today. I am a working progress.

So, Yeah… I’m angry!

A few weeks ago someone told me I am an angry person and I should let it go.  But the funny thing is, I don’t see myself as one, I see myself as someone who is cautious, experienced,  happy and go lucky when the time allows. After she told me I am an angry person I felt compelled to tell this individual what I endured and this person told me the same thing happened to her. (I’m sorry, the same thing didn’t happen to you. No trauma is the same and NO TRAUMA is special. It is all Trauma non the less). Ever since she told me I am an Angry person, I’ve been crying nonstop. I’ve been letting it go, I let things go on my own terms. You can’t tell someone to let it all go!

Who gave her the right to tell me I am an angry person? (I know many of you who read this will say this under your breathe, “you gave her that power”) She doesn’t know me, she only saw a glimpse of me after I allowed her in, and from there she judged me as an angry person? That is not good. I don’t condone someone who doesn’t know me (or anyone for that matter) to straight up tell me I am an angry person and that I need to let it go. It’s like being ambushed emotionally. Just because you see some of the things I post on Facebook doesn’t mean I live my life that way.  For the most part, I discard the negative, I move on and I share my life as a mother, survivor and someone who always looks for the positive. Facebook became my family. Family is someone you can vent to, certain people on Facebook knows me personally. They never once told me I am an angry person. Instead they told me I have been through a lot and I’ve accomplished so much. I could of ended up being someone totally different but I broke the cycle.

It is ok to be angry. Yes, we all gone through stuff and anger is a healthy emotion. It is our way to let someone know how we feel. Now, if we use that anger and turn it into violent tendencies, there is something wrong with you. I will be the first person who will coral you before becoming disruptive and call you out on it.

Just because someone seems like an angry person to you, talk to the person, don’t just blatantly tell them out of the blue they are an angry person and blame their past then tell them to let it go. How do you know they are even angry at their past that moment, more importantly how the hell do you know when they are working through something? They could just be angry about a current situation! Why bring up your past when they are not ready to share their story with you, in response I was made to feel I had to defend myself. Then I was told to let it go. Yeah… like you know whats best for me.

When someone tells you to let it go, it’s like their own personal way of trying to silence you. I can not be silenced. I was silenced and never again will I allow someone to silence me. When someone tries to silence you, you triggered something in them and don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault. That person is forced to face something dark with in them. I hope she continues on with her help. Because I am not an angry person and I let things go on my own in my own way. Nobody is going to take that away from me or tell me how to do it. This is my path towards healing. My journey into becoming myself, whole again so Yeah, I’m angry. I’m angry because someone tried to disrupt my time of healing. I’m angry because I felt this person was trying to silence me. That will never happen.

I will give this situation up to the God and the powers of the Universe and let this go. I will pray for her.

La China Poblana

“La China Poblana” one of my most valuable pieces. I finished painting this back in 2015 and couldn’t entertain the thought of letting it go.

This painting signify the brief time I spent living in Guanajuato, Mexico with my step mother’s family from the age of thirteen and a half till I turned fifteen. My father helped throw one of the biggest quinceanera’s the Rancho ever had for myself and my step mother’s niece who shared the same birthday month.

As I mentioned in my last blog, “I have loved you more than my own skin”, I shared with you my nationality. On my mother’s side, I am Philippina, Chinese and Spaniard and on my father’s side, I am German, French and Irish.

I named my painting La China Poblana because I was sent without my consent to live in Mexico, much like Catarina de San Juan. A woman whos nationality is Asian  and ended up living in Puebla, came to Mexico in 1620. For more information about Catarina de San Juan. Please visit: http://www.houstonculture.org/mexico/lachina.html

It all happened rather abruptly, how I was sent to live in Mexico. I was in Omaha, Nebraska one day and gone the next. Sent away without any of my family and friends knowledge.  My very own mother didn’t know my father sent me out of country. She had to learn through a friends friend that I was there. Thus forcing my father and step mother to bring me back to the United State.

One day, while walking out of my step mom’s sisters store. I was working at the bar area serving raspas (those icy cones) and making cocktail de camaron, one of my old babysitters recognized me. I haven’t heard my name spoken in English in months and out of nowhere, Mrs. Lara called my name, Regina? Mrs. Lara was visiting a relative at the Rancho I was living at.

Surprisingly after I heard my name I turned around , it only took one look and I started tearing up. I was so happy to see Mrs. Lara. I was happy to finally see someone from Omaha. She quickly told me to speak in English so no one could understand what we were talking about. She told me people were looking for me in Omaha and I explained to her how I came to live here. With a concerned look I had to leave quickly. One of my step mom’s sister sent their kid to notify the family where I was staying at to come and get me.

That was the last time I saw Mrs. Lara. I was told to I should talk to people from Omaha, that they were trouble and all they wanted to do was spread nasty gossip. As a child, I knew deep down inside this statement wasn’t true but what could I do. I couldn’t talk back or run away. I was stuck in a foreign country, I was at their mercy.

Today, sitting here, I am left wondering if Pancho and Fidel Lara are still alive today. I pray they are…

I never experienced anything negative while living in Mexico. If anything, my step mother did me a favor by talking my father into sending me down there. I learned a lot about life, how to cook… basically how to service on my own two feet and bare hands.  I was far away from my father’s abuse and found happiness. I attended dances and festivals… without fear, I was able to enjoy life. The only downfall, my childhood best friends were ripped away.

In my painting, La China Poblana, I painted some of my experiences and jobs I had while living in Mexico. I had worked in the corn fields, herded cows and goats. I went to church every Sunday and had my Confirmation on my actual birthday.  There was this tall lemon tree at the front inside entrance to the home. At the very top of the tree there was this large lemon. Oh My God, everyone at the house would salivate and try to take it down every time they passed by, including me. One day I decided to be bold. In my skirt and flat white shoes I climbed up this tree. That lemon tree had large needle thorns and only became bigger as I climbed up the tree.  Twisting, turning and climbing through those nasty thorns I persisted. I wanted that lemon and finally I reached it and plucked off. This lemon was not your ordinary lemon. It was huge and sweetened by the sun. I would compare the size to that of a personalized watermelon, it was big.

After climbing back down, grabbed the lemon and sat against the base of the tree I noticed the scratches on my arms and legs from those thorns. Some bleed but I didn’t care. Even my hair was messy! My hair caught on those branches and pulled as I was reaching for that lemon. Sitting there, I began to peel the skin. I can still remember the first fragrant spray after digging my nails into it’s skin. Gawsh the smell was intoxicating.  Climbing that tree was so worth it. The flesh was equally satisfying to eat. Sitting there eating the lemon those who lived at the house slowly trickled in from work or from shopping. They noticed the lemon and how ravaged I looked from climbing the tree and had that face of shock. LOL Secretly I was laughing to myself how amazing this moment was. I had something no one was able to get. I  won the prize.

I named my painting La China Poblana because I am part Asian. There were times I felt like I was a servant. Having to clean the men’s bedroom and make their beds after breakfast was made and eaten. Having to cook and clean all day on top of the many things I needed to do. I didn’t attend school. Instead, I had to work. Still, I did what I was told and like Omaha, Ne I won the hearts of many leaving behind the memory of me.

Thank you for taking the time to read. I know this blog needs revised and I will revise it later. As for now, I needed to get this out there. ~ Regina

 

 

 

I Have Loved You More Than My Own Skin

” I Have Loved You More Than My Own Skin” is the title of my newest creation. It is currently on display at the Walker’s Gallery Activity Center in San Marcos, Texas. Shortly I will have it on sale at the new store Called the Good Stuff Community Store in town.

This is every bit of how I am feeling these past few weeks, months. Since #45 became president. I’ve been angry, numb, scared, a constant roller coaster ride of emotions have plagued me.

The 38 years of living crept up on me and right before my eyes, flashbacks of my abused childhood started haunting me. The loneliness I felt as a teenager struggling to survive and the cowards who lacked the decency to treat me like a lady but took the very soul out, leaving me living in an empty shell.  I felt alone. Raising my children, I felt alone…

I had life once. I started to blossom back in 1991. I was thirteen and a half years old. My father sent me to live in Mexico with my step-mother’s family. Nobody in Omaha, Nebraska knew. It happened so quickly. One day I was pushed down the steps, like a dog with a bucket of mop water thrown on top of me. He towered over me, kicking me down telling me to leave his house all the while my step mom stood in the kitchen in silence and my baby brother crying, screaming in his walker.

At thirteen and a half, I had no home after being forced out.

About a week later, I visited the Chicano Awareness Center to speak to a man for help. He was close friends with my father.  I had told him what happened.  He notified the police only for the police to take me back to my father after I just got done reporting what my dad did to me.

The police wrote me down as a runaway.

That day changed my life. After another round of beatings, my father and step mother told me I was to live in Mexico with her family. I didn’t have time to call my family and friends to let them know. I was too scared too. And like that… the next day I was gone.

I grew up around Mexicans and learned how to speak Spanish here and there. Living in South Omaha, it was predominantly Mexicans. It did help me. No one at the Rancho I was sent to in Mexico knew how to speak English. Looking back, this was both a blessing and in the beginning a curse! LOL A blessing, because eventually I learned how to speak, read and write Spanish fluently. I say it was a curse because I was scared out of my mind for a couple weeks after I arrived. On a personal level, I didn’t know these people and what ever Spanish I did know, I forgot out of fear.

The little bit of info I shared with you is only a part of the reason why I painted “I Have Loved You More Than My Own Skin.”

The hint of an Asian style you see in my painting represent a part of me. My mother is Philippina, Chinese and Spaniard. My Father is German, Irish and French. Living in Mexico for a year and a half I fell in love with the festive, bold colors. The Day of The Dead (Dia de Los Muertos) represents the death of my childhood and the mask to cover up trauma I have endured.

My father is a Marine Veteran. I am a Marine Veteran. I was born at 29 Palms, California Marine Corps Base. The dog tags further symbolizes our connection from not only father and daughter but why I joined the Corps. The shared mental illness of PTSD we got by serving. For whatever reason, even tho my father did what he did to me, I was always trying to win his approval. I desperately wanted, needed his love growing up.  There were many reasons why I joined, but to win his approval outweighed the rest.

The camouflaged dress represents how invisible I was to the world. No one could help me. Instead when they tried, my father threatened them and as an adult, how invisible I am to my father today.

By the way, today is my father’s birthday. Happy Birthday dad.. where ever you are, what ever mind frame you are in. I hope and pray you are able to enjoy it in peace.

He is after all a very complex and troubled man who created a war in me.

I have loved my father more than my own skin…

My children comes first

Upon moving back to my home, I thanked my ex for helping me. I also apologized for what ever caused him to loose faith in our marriage. Since that day, we developed good co-parenting friendship. No drama. However, since I moved back, slowly I noticed an attitude coming from him. Like he is scared to talk to me when he is around her, needing to prove his love for her by putting me off like I am a nobody. (I am a big somebody y’all… I am the mother of his children.) I noticed how my older kids are starting to become frustrated over petting things when they come back home with me.

Upon my daughter’s birthday I went to her high school to sign her out for lunch, they asked me who I was. I told them, with a concerned look on my face, I am my daughter’s mother. The clerk told me I needed to speak to enrollment. I did, lo and behold the enrollment told me I was not listed as my daughter’s mother but my ex-husband’s girlfriend. Nowhere on the form was I listed as my daughter’s mother or a point of contact. Of course I was upset, I called my ex. I demanded answers. He told me his girlfriend filled out the form. You can only imagine the anger I was in. I told the enrollment clerk to look at the birth certificate. There you have it, I am my daughter’s mother.

You would think after five years ol’ girl (ex’s girlfriend) would reconcile with his babies mama. No, this leads me to believe she is one sick twisted individual who is to involved with herself to care about the well being of my children. In my own personal opinion, she is only with my ex to survive. She is making him choose her over my children. The reason why I mention this, my daughter was suppose to have her quinceanera. Because my daughter wanted me there (I am the mother), this ol’ girl pressured my daughter and my ex into not having one.  This woman manipulated her own needs and thus, my daughter missed out knowing I, her mother had one was suppose to be a tradition passed onto my only daughter to have.  See, what this individual fails to understand, I am the mother of his kids. I will always come first. I am persistent and will expose her weakness, selfish and greed in order to preserve and maintain his relationship with his children.  I’m telling you, it is making it extremely difficult.

This woman till this day will not look at me or acknowledge me. She shows her face around town acting like she is the mother of my children but fails to show her part when I am present.  She tries to buy my children’s love by taking full advantage of my re-establishing myself and she spreads false rumors about me around town because she is insecure. I almost feel sorry for her. But I don’t. She is the prime example of someone who uses people to get what she wants out of life because she is incompetent of doing it for herself (A narcissist). A cold heartless coward who happened to rip my heart out by thinking she can ever compare herself to me. Never in a million years will she ever be me. Never.

The ultimate sin anyone could ever do, is tear the heart of a family apart by manipulating your way into their home. She saw a weak man, a women with a heart of gold and took advantage of it.

My heart was this family. She ripped it out of me when she decided to lay with my ex-husband. She may have helped destroy this marriage, because my ex is one to blame. But she will never destroy the relationship I have with my children and most definitely I will keep my ex on his toes by exposing the sick underlying issues she continues to flaunt around my children making them uncomfortable.

I may have married a sick SOB the second time but I left for the sake of my children. I will put the well being of my children over others, after all my children comes first.

It’s been awhile

My last post was August 16, 2015. A lot happened since then aside from my work with Fatigues Clothesline, I became “Creating from Chaos” art work by Regina Vasquez and made another blog to sell my art, which I plan to dismantle soon.  Instead, I have a Facebook page and prefer to update one spot than multiple places.  Let’s not forget, single mommy here LOL. It is tough having to keep up with so many links and websites. Sweet Jesus!

I remarried and divorced after five and a half months of getting married. I didn’t see it coming but 20 days after I got married, my new husband beat me… During the two and a half years of dating, I fell into his grasp. I thought I was in love but in fact I was desperate to be loved and I failed to see the warning signs.  I take full responsibility over wanting to be loved instead of taking my time to heal from my first marriage. I see what I did and I regret it.  It was a lesson learned the hard way. The rest was my second ex-husband’s fault. I did not deserve to be beaten or toyed with. He took full advantage of my kindness and my need to be loved. He tried to ruin me, but he did not succeed.

I am not that woman anymore, instead I have gained more wisdom. I have been learning in order to heal, you have to give into healing. You can not count on another to help you through. You must trust yourself. Only you know what is right for you, no one else. I am healing from a lifetime of traumatic events. One after another… after another. Some I was able to let go, such as my second marriage but I haven’t been able to let go of my childhood. I have moved on with the experiences I had in the military by speaking about it. But I still feel stuck…  thinking about it, I found the root cause of my depression, my stuckness. I must face my father and the families that helped me.  I am planning to forgive him once I see him again… I want to spend time with my childhood best friends, laugh and gossip and eat and just catch up on life. Maybe rekindle some of my other past friendships.  I need to close that chapter of my life in order to unstuck myself. Or at least attempt to.

I am yearning to visit Omaha, Nebraska and the place I use to live at in Mexico.

Yes, a lot has changed. Fatigues Clothesline is doing well.  November 2015 Fatigues Clothesline was displayed at the UTSA gallery called Life in Security. The fall semester at Texas State it was displayed for  their Women Hear Me War gallery. There are plans of it going to New York but with the recent elections, it has cost budget cuts everywhere, New York may not be a go. But Fatigues Clothesline is heading to Germany in July to be displayed for 18 month at the Dresden Art Museum for their Gender Violence Gallery.  Since it’s Sexual Assault Awareness Month, Fatigues Clothesline will be displayed for a candle light vigil the Hay County Caldwell Women’s Center is having. I will speak about my experience in the military as a rape survivor and go in depth on the issue.

I’ve been part of speaking engagements about Military Sexual Trauma on panels discussing the struggles as a survivor living with PTSD. I took part in testifying before the Veteran Affairs committee at the Texas Capital by speaking about my experiences in the military and to say I am in favor of the bill in Texas called S.B 3039. It is a bill that will help the reserves report a rape off base to local authorities with out getting court martial or NJPed. In turn the person who ends up punishing the person reporting will get punished.  In my opinion, this is a monumental bill. California passed a bill similar to this one, only titled differently and if Texas makes this into Law. The two biggest states in the US became the leader for other states to follow. I am hoping and praying once the majority of the states pass, the Military Justice Improvement Act passes. I am hopeful.

My art is slowly coming along. I won first place at my VA’s art festival this year in the mixed media category.  My painting is now at the 2017 nationals and will be judged for the October national VA art fair. I’ve been holding booths to sell my art and prints in San Antonio, New Braunfels and here in San Marcos. Currently two galleries are displaying my art work. The Walk About Gallery at the San Marcos Activity Center and the San Marcos Hispanic Cultural Center.  My walls are somewhat bare! But I’m happy.

Through it all, I sit here and breathe in a sigh of relief. I have been through so much in my life, but through it all. I have managed, so far, to stay on top. I keep going. As someone told me, “You are like the energizer bunny that keeps on going.”  I don’t know any other way. I prefer to deal with an issue dead on than allow it to fester and cause bitter and resentment in my heart. I want to be happy, I want my kids to be happy and I will do what is morally and ethically right to maintain our happiness.

I don’t need to count on anyone for my happiness. I am my own happiness and it feels damn empowering.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. Stay tuned for the next post. I have so many ideas and stories to share. God Bless ~ Regina

“The Protector”

“The Protector”

Neither man nor woman, boy or girl, the protector is an angel who visits those who are stuck in moments of darkness, moments when someone who believes they don’t have enough in them to keep going. The protector gives them strength to move forward by reminding the good in one self. The protector is self-love. We are each angles placed on this earth to inspire those who at once felt abused, abandoned and neglected. We are the protectors.

At the age of 36 I decided to stop talking to my father and learn to move on from the memories of my past. I decided to focus on my art, my family, what makes me happy and what makes me feel alive. I recently learned, I do not need to forgive those who hurt me, but instead, forgive myself. It was hard to swallow since I’ve been told all my life I had to forgive those who harmed me in order to move forward. Once I learned I didn’t have to forgive them, I began to live.  I felt free of them. It made sense, it made sense because they don’t have to think about what they did to me. They are living their lives as if nothing happened, yet on the other hand, I remember everything. The pain, the struggles, the embarrassment they put me through. I remember the blows my father gave me, how it sent me knocked down on my face crying, how much later in my life during my time in service these two men had their way with me, I couldn’t move or yell, I wanted to scream, I remember wishing I was dead… what they did to me lives on in my dreams where I wake up screaming and punching.

I thought about suicide many times, I was 9 years old when I thought how it would be like if i were dead and again after I was raped. I didn’t go through with it, instead something in me also wondered if there was more to life than the pain, misery and sadness. Life can’t only be about the negative. There has to be happiness, somewhere…

Everywhere I went I started to notice signs, signs about self-love and how one can move past pain by allowing oneself to live. Those signs inspired me. I began looking for help, I began voicing the wrong and slowly I was becoming stronger. I like to believe I have a protector, also know as the guardian angel, looking over me. I like to believe, the protector was always in me yearning to learn how to give myself the self-love I needed and in turn teach others how to strengthen their love for themselves too. I like to believe I myself is a protector and I hope I am able to inspire those around me through my art.