I’m a mama’s girl but I’ve been so angry and frustrated with my mama lately. Until about two months ago we spoke from twenty minutes to an hour each day. […]
I’m writing from the sky and smiling because it is such a very melodramatic declaration to make and also because I’m highly sentimental and melodramatic and I love these parts of myself.
I think my melodramatics are at least in some part, cultural. With all the “Ay Dios,” cautionary tales of monsters in the hills, weeping women in the streams, heavy sighs and tongue clacking of my mother, her mother and my many aunts it would seem impossible (disappointing even) if I were to turn out otherwise.
Even the people in my family who were not insane used the fear of monsters to keep us from going into the garage (dangerous cement steps) or playing outside after dark (strangers). The word “Cucuy” was often whispered with exaggerated grimaces of fear; we were frequently reminded that we were always in the presence of monsters.
Tonight I am sleeping in the living room and giving Johnny the privacy of the guest bedroom. It was three a.m. and he was sleepy and I was […]
Trigger Warning: Fire and burns. Big Mike rolled over in bed pulling the last corner of the fitted sheet from the stained and sagging mattress. The change had spilled from […]
My tía sat in her Lazy-Boy crocheting another scarf for me as telenovelas bleated in the background. She narrowed her eyes as she appraised the condition of my beat up pink clutch. An ink pen had exploded inside the pocketbook and tiny blue ghosts of fingerprints ran up and down the cracked vinyl strap. I own about thirty handbags but they’ve been locked inside my garage since my partner and I split up last year.
I’ve been too depressed to change purses, unwilling to excavate the boxes of lost purses, clothing, feelings and other artifacts from the life I had before.
I hadn’t wanted to visit my mom that first day she was in the hospital. Wasn’t it enough that the hospital had called me at 3:30 in the morning to […]
I don’t know if I should be writing all this. I wonder if it’s even my story to tell. Some writers joke that to know us […]
Trigger Warning: Kinky Age play, fantasy incest, fantasy rape, sadomasochism, filicide (the murder of children) and homicidal ideation discussed in this piece. Comments are encouraged but this is a deeply personal […]
Trigger Warning: Some parent/child sexual inappropriateness but given the context the content is not likely to cause harm. I called Emma. “My mom has gone totally psychotic.” I breathed into […]
“That’s great, Mommy.” I replied, feeling proud of her even as my cheeks burned with embarrassment. My auntie agreed that I could use some time to myself. I’d come up to help relive some of the care-taking responsibilities from my auntie during the four days I had between finals. Knowingly she’d be more likely to take her sleeping pills if she felt in control of something I had her correct my spanish essays as I dispensed her nightly nose of sleeping pills, tranquilizers and anti-psychotics. She hadn’t slept in days before I had arrived and when she is deprived of sleep her paranoia and the torturous delusions become even more unbearable; the mania and sleeplessness are both a symptom and a cause of the delusions. I really wish there was a kinder word. I called my dearest most compassionate friend, a marriage and family therapist intern at some hippy school in the bay. “Is there a better word for ‘delusion’ or ‘hallucination’? Something kinder? More compassionate and respectful? Something that acknowledges that these experiences are my mother’s reality?”