The first time I was called a faggot I was around five years old. It was an older boy who opened my eyes to what others already knew about before I could point out what was 'wrong' with me. It took me a few years to come out to friends in Mexico; then, I moved to the U.S. and the story repeats itself. I have to come out over and over and over... and sometimes I think the coming out NEVER ENDS!
...I guess one of my 'ragrets' (as of right now) is not knowing how to explain this blog. Somewhere I read that as a blogger I should be able to sell my content in one or two sentences. I meant to come up with a quick description, or even a dang catch phrase! --But nothing. Just last week I was asked what my short story was about and I wasn't able to respond.
Speaking to my psychologist, I realized (or maybe overthink, as always) that I don't know my spouse as well as he knows me. This feeling was not a good feeling. Then, speaking to Autumn, a coworker, I found out that all I need to do is LISTEN. I guess I complain too much which makes me blind to what my spouse (or anyone around me) might be saying.
...The past, the present, and the future: which one do you live in?
I have come to realize, or I have finally accepted, that my mind is always floating around the future -- what I want to become, how I want to be remembered, the things I want for my family-- which is healthy in a way. Envision is a powerful thing. However, we gotta stay grounded in the present and do something NOW to achieve those goals. But I skip that part...
Hey Omaha! I know, I am an awful blogger being away for so long! Honestly, I have been having a hard time fighting off my so-called "ugly days". Every day has been an anxious race from home to work and viceversa. I cannot wait to finish my eight hour shifts to drive off and hide under the covers in my couch. But I continue to push myself out of bed. I am not going to let the voices in my head win. I got this.
The Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals is a policy created by latest President Obama back in 2012 to help certain undocumented young people brought to the country as children. This policy brought hope for (especially) millions of students across the country trying to go to college. A DACA recipient does not get legal status, but it does allow them to get a Social Security Number and a work permit which they have to pay for and renew every so often.
The Omaha World-Herald newspaper ran an article by Dirk
Chatelain that extended to almost two pages, and with great reason! The subject
was Adam Dejka, a senior at Papillion-La Vista South.
Now, Adam's case is
pretty severe, from what I've read, but I just want to highlight his will
to excel regardless of the situation. I hope you get a copy of this article and
read it because he is the reason why I am here today to talk about anxiety
and its effect on my life. Adam has paved the way and showed strength
throughout his entire life, and I think it is time to speak out and let others
know that they're not alone --the same way Adam's story made me feel.
thing you should know about me is, I love talking to people, meeting new
people, getting to know their stories. I believe I am a good listener and a
good friend, but I AM TERRIFIED OF PEOPLE!
In times of violence, there is a need for coming together as community and speak up. It is our given right. But you cannot fight fire with fire. Dear Mother Theresa put it in simple, YET remarkable words: "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other."
I have been mentally disconnected from social media platforms because of the political discussions everywhere. I did not express any of my sentiments online -mind you I am gay, Mexican, and with my legal status in jeopardy.