Sunday, January 10, 2016


That tiny moment, a split second really, when you are about to but you don't, and it throws the perfect sequence of events leading to that moment.

I am not going to lie, my entire life I've tried escaping the fact that I can very well be melodramatic. I don't know if it's upbringing, nurture nature potato potatoe, watching all those telenovelas growing up...But I am. It follows me like that green stink behind Pepe LePew.

And I've tried getting rid of it!

People don't like it. They minimize it. It's not a compliment when they point it out.

But I wonder how much of it I am getting rid and taking away from myself. Like when you peel potatoes with a knife and take big chunks out of it.

That's what it feels like sometimes; self-growth. Or improvement. Whatever. It gets so painful and I get so lost that I am not sure at what point I am taking away chunks of myself to be better. And better for whom? myself? those who don't like those parts of me that I don't like myself because they don't like it?

My mom has that funny saying "that's just who I am and you are going to have to love me that way!"

And I reach the point of exasperation because who can be so damned dense!? Who can forgo being better? being more aware?

But there's no loving person like her. And I think that to love that way you have to be slightly self-deluded. And stick to your guns. And to be able to do that you have to be so self assured. And rather than hacking away at who you are, you just accept yourself entirely. And embrace it. And fight fiercely for it.

So look, I had a big argument with my husband (who I am in the process of officially separating from and it's the most painful thing in the world. Sort of. I've gone through entirely too painful stuff. But this is a different kind of painful that I am losing my mind.) and then it turned into that look and words of I love you and shit. And I am sure if I just said the words we would be en route to being married again and officially "trying again" again again again.

But I didn't.

I hesitated out of fear.

Like I hesitated on that turn Friday night during salsa dancing. And it throws the whole damn thing out of rhythm and time.

Because I was scared.

But you know what? my lead is the kindest person I know and completely understands that I am scared. Instead of berating me for it he said "let me communicate that turn better the next time" and we tried again and I nailed it. I was so excited that I missed the next one.

So like my mom, I am embracing my shit and fighting for it. I hesitate because I am careful. And careful is good.

And if I am doubtful is because I have reasons to be.

The only reason I can dance well is because good leads that understand the fear of newbies and exaggerate their communication with the hands so you won't be afraid and you can understand the secret language of dancing. They don't berate when you miss a turn. They adjust themselves.

So I am going dancing tonight again because I have this rare opportunity of a Sunday with no kids and an extra salsa dancing night in town.

And I hope I don't hesitate in the turns. Or that I get the kindest leads who are very understanding and melodramatic with their gestures so I can understand what they are saying and that it's time to turn.