I embraced a stranger today. I held her, my arms surrounding her with fullness, depth, and intention. Then I whispered the words we both needed to here. "You are not alone."
Listen, please listen. You need to hear this. I am tired, and deep down I know you are too. Tired of the smog of perfection that is making me feel like a failure everywhere I scroll. I am tired of going to sleep wondering if
It started at such an early age for me. I was a little brown girl in the heart of the white-picketed fences of suburbia. At school, I’d watch them. They would prance around playing double dutch, flowy blonde locks whipping and swaying to the rhythm
One week ago, while you slept, Mommy stood in the kitchen, surrounded by plates and cups and cried. I nearly collapsed, knees aching, my stomach somersaulting with uneasiness and lingering pain.
Dear Friends, this week has been one of the most trying weeks of my life. The pain in my heart is so heavy, and it is so real. I have wept harder in the past week than I have in my entire life. Greater than
I am white. I have spent the majority of my life explaining to people that “No, I’m not white…I’m Puerto Rican, I’m Hispanic…Yes, both of my parents are Puerto Rican…No, I’m not half white, I’m 100% Puerto Rican.”
For five years I struggled with infertility. At the beginning of our marriage it was difficult, but as time went on a difficult situation turned into desperation and I felt like my life was spiraling out of control.