I’ve seen a lot of social media buzz on the new Netflix series, “Maid”. I added it to my list not really knowing too much but as the week has gone, I’ve noticed more and more about it. So this morning, while the kids played and I got my cup of coffee and caught up on balancing our finances, I.e. what used to be called balancing your checkbook, I turned on Netflix and hit play.

1:30 into the first episode, I felt the hair stand up on my neck, goosebumps on my arms and tears filled my eyes. This show is real. This show depicts all parts of DV. It depicts the stigma of “fake abuse”. It is real. And if you are a survivor, it is triggering.

I’m two episodes in and I’ve cried a lot. I’ve had to stop it, breathe and do coping techniques I have not had to even think about in more than a decade. I texted my friend who is a counselor, who runs a DV shelter in Dallas. She immediately asked if I was triggered. I am. And then I get really mad that I am triggered.

But this show is needed. It was needed a decade ago, two decades ago. There’s still a stigma about DV. “Oh but you don’t have bruises? Did he hit you? So then why did you stay? You stayed with him that long?” All the questions; all the judgement.

In the first episode, the character says “I can’t take space at a shelter away from someone who needs it, not from fake abuse.” Fake Abuse: what unfortunately a lot of people still associate forms of abuse with. This show gives a glimpse into all forms of abuse; not just the physical. I’ve always said the bruises on the outside heal but the ones on the inside can last a lifetime. And as I get triggered watching this show, I realize how true that is.

I lived through 7 years of abuse; all real, none fake. I worked at a DV shelter for years. I saw and heard everything but fake abuse. This show is needed. If you are one of those who immediately questions how someone stays in an abusive relationship, someone who doesn’t believe when someone says they are being abused or you don’t think anything other than physical abuse is abuse-go watch this series now. Then become an advocate because unfortunately there are still so many victims living in fear, suffering in silence. And as this shows puts on full blast-it’s not just that easy to leave. You will see the burdens and you will see how messed up the system is and you will maybe, just maybe, understand a glimpse into why it takes on average 7 times before a victim finally can leave.

People are still dying at the hands of someone they love, trust, and then nothing happens. It’s heartbreaking. I think I got out of DV because it was so heartbreaking. It takes a lot out of you. I thought I was done being heartbroken by my abuser but then I was heartbroken too many times seeing kids come into our shelter beaten, scared, hearing women put themselves down because that’s all they’ve been told and that’s all they believe so then sometimes they left us and went back to him; it was exhausting so I left it. And now some days, I feel like I abandoned them too.

Go watch this show. If you are a survivor, be warned; you may be triggered. And if you are-it’s ok. Breathe, you are safe, you are out and you did what you had to do to survive-always remember that.

As the last day of my first year of teaching has come to an end, I can’t help but get emotional. It’s been a fast, crazy, busy, fun, challenging, exhausting, mind-blowing year. I am now done with my alternative teaching program, officially certified as a teacher & have completed my first year as a kindergarten teacher. It’s so funny to see God’s plans play out & how they compare to what you “plan”. A decade ago, I would have said “I’ll never have kids!” Now here I am, pregnant with my second child, a little boy, teaching kindergarten & I love it! Lol, oh if someone had told me what my future held back then, I would’ve laughed in their face. Thank you God for always providing me more than I deserve.

Looking back on this year, it’s been overwhelming to see the progress of my students & see how much they have grown. When you teach kinder, you get comments thrown around like “oh I bet that’s easy…don’t they just play all day….so you’re pretty much a babysitter”. Oh lol, if you have ever thought that, please sub & you’ll soon be apologizing for ever making those comments & probably run out to get a Starbucks gift card & bottle of wine to gift those teachers. It’s not easy being a teacher; there are struggles with teaching any grade. The amount of stress we all endure, what our district says we have to do, what the state requires, the paperwork, lesson plans, copies, supplies, after school activities, the time it takes goes well beyond the school day of 7:30-2:56 & it’s a lot. And to top that off, let’s add being pregnant to that mix. I always like a challenge but man, I’m exhausted. And…I’m beyond grateful & proud.

I taught students to read! I mean so many of my students came to me not knowing all their letters & sounds & now they are reading! When you hear someone read a whole book for the first time & know you helped them accomplish that, it’s priceless. All those late nights, working on the weekends pays off & it’s a moment you will never forget. Or when you hear 19 “I love you’s” throughout the day & you know they truly do love you; whew you are blessed. Seeing their faces light up for a math lesson because it’s so fun, asking to stay with you longer because they want to learn more & when they thank you for making it “the best day ever!” are all the reasons why teachers teach.

I’ve never been one to choose jobs based on the “great pay”; from making $8.25/hour for being a reporter (yup, a reporter on tv & that’s what I got) to working non-profit (keywords:non-profit) to entering in the education field ; money has never been the driving force. I have always wanted to make a difference in lives. Many times that means the pay isn’t great, the hours are long, the outcomes aren’t always in your favor; but when you do make a difference; even in just one life, that is so worth it & keeps you wanting to do more.

The last few weeks, ok the last month of school has been tough. My kids have checked out, they are in full blown summer mode already & I’m now 38 weeks pregnant. Exhausted is an understatement. As we end of our school year today, it will be hard to hold back the tears. The tears of joy for my sweet babies, the tears of joy from completing my first year, the tears of complete exhaustion making sure everything is done, the tears of gratitude to my team who have done so much for me this year, a thank you is not even enough, the tears of sadness because I will miss my kids; they were my first class as a teacher & they will hold a special place in my heart forever.

God’s plans are truly greater than we can plan; we must trust in Him always. I’m so glad I trusted in His plan to pursue this profession even though I had my doubts.

And now with the end of school, I’m prepping for my next adventure-Mom of two which is crazy to think in less than 2 weeks, I’ll have a newborn & an almost 3 year old! Again, God is good!

I took on a long term sub job for 1st grade and it ended yesterday. I had no idea what I was stepping into but now that I’ve had a moment to breathe and reflect, I’m so glad God called me there for even just a short time.

I was at a school where EVERY child receives a free breakfast and almost every child qualifies for free or reduced lunches, the children come from homes that are broken and hungry with no support and the school administration is not doing its part to end the cycle but rather aid to it so it seems to almost every teacher there. The teachers are overworked, underpaid and the amount of pressure and stress they face daily is seen on every face I came across.

My heart was broken, I was frustrated more times than I can count and at the end of the day when yet another teacher would ask “Are you sure you want to do this?”; my answer was simple; “Yes”.

You see I’m not one of those people who has known their whole life they would be a teacher. I actually never in a million years would have imagined God taking me down this path but when you put your faith in Him and trust in Him, you are called to what and where He wants you to be. And I was called by Him so I’m not questioning it and I will strive to do the best I can.

It may have been three short months (although some days felt endless, lol), I pray and hope that I was able to let those babies know that Mrs. Cortez cared for them, that I prayed every night that they went to bed knowing someone was looking out for them, that they are smart and can make good choices and break the cycle.

It was bittersweet leaving yesterday. I was ready to leave a school where I didn’t have support, proper training, materials, lessons, etc., but I was also a little sad because I didn’t know if I had truly reached some of those kids.

I had a little boy who is stinking smart but got in trouble nonstop! Would not listen, was disrespectful, a bully, picked on everyone in class, and the only way he responded is if he was yelled at. When I called mom to voice my concerns, she simply said, “ok”. It broke my heart. I wanted him to just believe in himself and make good choices. I pulled him aside and told him to read his note from me carefully and keep it and pull it out anytime he felt mad or frustrated. I told him he is smart and that I know he can make good choices and that he is so special but to receive positive attention, you must make positive choices. When I hugged him good bye, my eyes started to swell up and I had to force myself from letting the tears stream down my face. As I type this, I don’t have to let them stop.

In that moment, I felt God’s presence over me and I thought, ok I get why You lead me here. As much as I hope I end up at the “perfect” school with the “perfect” administration and “perfect” parents, I also have to think back on my journey that God has lead me on so far in my life.

From leaving a domestic violence relationship to reporting on dangerous stories in dangerous areas to working as an advocate for domestic violence and picking up clients from their abusers to working in non-profit jobs where the heartache is endless and the hours are long and many times brutal and pay is close to nothing; God has never called me to the “perfect” easy path. He has lead me to where He knows I’m needed and looking back, I’m so grateful He has put me on this path. I mean don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t mind Him leading me down a path that landed me a job that paid more, lol. But honestly, the jobs I’ve been blessed to have in my life have paid more than any monetary amount and the lives touched and changed are priceless. I may not have a huge house, fancy car or designer clothes or shoes or anything for that matter, but I have a full heart and when I get an email from someone in college apologizing for not stepping in for me while I was in an abusive relationship or running into a past client that I haven’t seen in years tell me she’s living on her own, making her own money and away from her abuser or having a child hug you so tight and telling you they will miss you and that you were a great teacher, well to me that right there you can’t put a price tag on.

So I don’t know where I will be teaching next year. I hope for a great administrative support team and a teaching team that will encourage and motivate me and I hope my students have loving parents that care and are involved, but that’s not where I might be needed. God may be saying I’m calling you to this position because I need you to help those in most need and if He does call me there, I will answer. Because honestly, this journey has been amazing and I’ve learned so much and with Him leading the way, I know it will be worth it.

I’ve started this blog for 10 days. I couldn’t decide if I should even write about Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Not because I don’t care, not because I don’t think it’s important but because sometimes you don’t want to be the survivor anymore.

What I mean is that sometimes it’s really exhausting to be a survivor; an advocate because you are fighting a battle that not enough people seem to care about or that they brush off as “not that serious” or as we’ve heard recently “locker room talk”. It’s tough because I’m extremely passionate about eliminating domestic violence but even more so about educating people about this deadly crime.

I considered not writing anything then recent events brought me to a sick feeling in my stomach because I see and hear so many people again brushing off forms of domestic violence and it triggers me.

I remember being the joke, “Oh don’t make him mad or he’ll put you through the wall like Felicia, haha.” I remember hearing guys make jokes about the way my abuser talked to me, treated me and physically abuse me. They were the type to simply “brush it off” and excuse their words by simply saying “it’s just a joke.” But it wasn’t funny to me then and it’s not funny to me now.

Maybe I could forgive a little easier had I ever received an apology but most survivors do not ever get that because an abuser never believes they are wrong. I recently had to relive my 7 year abusive relationship in hopes to help a fellow survivor and in doing so, found out my abuser still denies ever abusing me, denies he ever laid a hand on me, denies the constant put downs, controlling and manipulation he put me through. That relationship ended 11 years ago and he still hasn’t changed.

As a survivor, it could be 1 year, 11 years, 21 years, we never forget. Forgive: sure, we have to for ourselves to move on but forget: never.

We never forget so excuse survivors who are being triggered right now and as hard as it may seem to you, trust me words can trigger more than you know. And to survivors, keep fighting to educate people on this deadly crime, we made it out and we need to stick together to raise awareness to this deadly crime for our fellow survivors, for victims still living in fear, for our children, family, friends, strangers who have no one to turn to; we must keep fighting this battle together. Because we know this isn’t ok, we know it’s a big deal and we know we can help to eliminate dv.

The bruises on the outside heal; it’s the bruises on the inside that can last a lifetime.

 

I’ve been a runner almost my whole life. No matter what I’ve been through, where I’ve lived, who I was, I’ve maintained being a runner.

I remember when I was in junior high and our p.e. teacher made us run 2 miles and everyone was moaning and complaining. And I was one of them until we began. I felt good so I ran faster, then faster, then faster and soon realized I was almost all alone. I finished first that day and thought “that was actually fun”. I had caught the running bug.

I ran track and cross-country and was decent, not the best by far but not the worst. But I loved the feeling of a good, long run. When I went to college, I cheered and being in shape was a necessity. So running helped but for me running helped so much more.

While I was in my abusive relationship, I often felt like I was trapped in a pin wheel. Constantly going around and around and never really going anywhere. Running was my release. My boyfriend would “allow” me to go for runs because it kept me in shape, kept me looking the way he liked so it was not only my release but my salvation at times.

I remember thinking “I’ll just run until I’m not upset anymore or I’ll just run until I can’t feel the pain”. That’s how I built my endurance.

After leaving him, I stopped running as much because I had started to associate it with him. I associated it with being forced to do it to stay in shape and the fun was gone from it.

Then I went to counseling and everything made sense and I was able to love anything I wanted. I could do whatever I wanted. I could enjoy things I wanted. So I began running again and haven’t stopped.

When I moved to the DFW area 5 years ago, I began running races because the choices down here are endless and there are some great courses! I had only ran a few 5k’s and those were fun but I decided to run The Cowtown 10k in February of 2012 and I was hooked. I went home and signed up for my first half marathon that I ran in March 2012.

Since then I’ve run 11 half marathons, 2 full marathons and numerous 10k’s and 5k’s.

The last two years have been quite a roller coaster. When I found out I was pregnant, I was training for my second full marathon and had hopes to qualify for the Boston marathon within the racing season. Well, that was sidetracked lol. But I didn’t want to stop running while pregnant so I just altered my running goals. I ran 1 full marathon and 5 half marathons during my first pregnancy and I loved it. As my belly grew, my pace slowed down and at 7 1/2 months pregnant, I ran my last pregnant half marathon.

After my daughter was born, I had already deferred my Houston marathon from the year before since my doctor said no because I would be too far along. I had my training plan in place, I was determined to run my 3rd full marathon 7 months postpartum. Well, if you have ever trained for a marathon, you know the time commitment it takes. I couldn’t do it. When I had the choice to snuggle my newborn or go out for a long run, snuggle time won every single time. I also had a breastfeeding goal and ended up exclusively pumping and my schedule for pumping came first and it was intense but feeding my daughter was my priority. I soon realized a full marathon would not be in my future. I dropped down to the half and tried to stick to my training. I was actually pretty pleased when I finished my 11th half marathon, 7 months postpartum in 2 hours 16 minutes. My training was way off and my heart wasn’t in my race. After that, I took some time off and then I began missing it.

I’m learning to balance time for myself. I love running. I love the feeling I get during a great run,the feeling after a long, hard run.It’s my time to release stress, to talk to God, to have a moment to myself in a world of crazy and busy. After my daughter turned one and we made it to a year of breastfeeding (exclusively pumping), I had no more excuses and honestly I missed my runs.

I started off slow,only a few miles and a few times a week. But I’m a runner and I love races so not long after starting again, I signed up for 2 half marathons. I’ll be running my 12th half marathon on November 13th a day before my 33rd birthday. And I’ll finally return to The Cowtown;  my favorite race in February 2017.

Looks can be deceiving and I know when I post about running, some may not understand my love of the run. Some may think, “she’s showing off”, some people may think I’m trying to lose weight, some think “well if she can do it, so can I”. First, I hope to motivate anyone who needs it: plain and simple. Second, sure I would love to lose some extra baby weight that has lingered well after I had my daughter, but running to me is so much more than just exercise. Third, I hope you do feel inspired to get out there and go for a run but please know this: run.your.race. I’ve been running for a long time and have learned what works for me but that may not work for you. And have a goal to be the best runner you can be, don’t compare to anyone else. I love competing against myself. I love pushing myself to beat my time. I will probably never win an actual race but that’s never my goal. I’m always running to beat my last time, to get a PR, to run my race.

For me, running has always been my number one exercise. Running has been my release, my safe haven, my anchor. It has helped me through so much in my life. And I hope I can pass on my love of running to my daughter. I love taking her out on runs with me and we’ve done a stroller 5k race and hope to do more. I hope she grows up knowing that mommy runs because it gives her time with God, she enjoys it, and it keeps her healthy.

And if she chooses to run, I hope above all she learns this: run. your. race.

 

 

 

So let me start by saying of course my favorite people are my husband & daughter. But this person I knew before each of them. Sadly she never got to meet them.

This is different. This is about that one person who is just extra special. That one person who gives advice but will also sit & listen & never judge you. That one person you go to for a good talk, laugh or cry. That one special person who is unlike any other. 

My favorite person is my Aunt Veronica. She was always extra special to me & she had this gift of making you feel like you were her special person. She was like my Grandma & could make you feel like you were her favorite. Of course, she didn’t have favorites but I still felt so special & felt our relationship was different. 

She lit up the room with her smile & laugh. She was kind, caring & a motherless mother. You see she never had biological children but she had more than 2 dozen nieces & nephews. She poured her heart into each of us.

She was my go to. I would go visit and stay with her every summer to shop for school clothes & pagent outfits, go to movies, eat at our favorite restaurants & just stay up talking & laughing. Oh how I miss her laugh. 

She knew my fears, my dreams, & she believed in me. She is a main reason I write today. I had began writing for the non profit I worked at & she would email me about my blog. She would tell me that I had a talent with words & in one of the last emails I have from her she suggests writing a book together. I wanted that. That was my dream. To spend a summer writing with my favorite person.

I miss her everyday. I think about her daily. I want to hear her laugh & feel her hugs. I want to smell her hair & see her smile. I want to write our book. 

Not a day goes by I don’t think of her. Sometimes I see a glimmer of her in Ava & I smile. 

It’s been 7 years. 7 years without her laugh and smile. 7 years of change, family additions. 7 years without my favorite person.