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Today I Learned I’m Not as Fabulous as I Thought I Was

And yes, the revelation hurts.

We are only as blind as we want to be. ~ Maya Angelou, memoirist, poet, and civil rights activist

From volunteering to taking home leftovers from a restaurant for the neighborhood cats or dogs to checking in on neighbors to organizing events in solidarity with social causes, and a bunch of stuff in between, I’m the type of person who likes to help others.

I do this, not because I expect something in return, but rather because I see it as my responsibility as a human being to create a kinder world.

So, what happened to burst my bubble?

It’s a long story, so let me start with some brief background. Last night my former partner, Samuel and I had a huge blowout. I overreacted and said I was done (more on that in another story). We’d been having communication issues on and off for the two-plus years we’d been together, but things had been slowly improving over the past few weeks.

Fast forward to today.

This a.m., I left the house (we do not live together) to walk the near mile to the local fruit/root veggie vendor and as I usually do, I tied the keys to one of my backpack straps — this makes it easier for me to unlock the two padlocks of my rental home, without having to remove the backpack. If you’re thinking I’m just being lazy, I won’t disagree.

I’ve done this so many times in the past.

On my way back from the vendor, I noticed the keys were missing. Of course, I panicked because the spare set was in the house — Samuel used to have the spare keys, but after some drama several months back, I asked for them back.

I traced my steps and stopped at every place I could think of: the fire department, the gas station, the small corner grocery store, the post office, the optometrist’s shop. I asked almost every person I came across.

Nothing. Nada.

Remembering that my landlord had told me he doesn’t keep a copy of the house keys, I knew I was screwed. I called Samuel and unsurprisingly he didn’t answer my call, so I texted him.

Si no fuera una emergencia, no te llamaría. (If it weren’t an emergency, I wouldn’t call you.)

He called me back almost immediately. I told him what had happened, and acknowledged our blow up last night. Samuel was ready to help out. I’m sure it’s because he knew there was no one else I could count on.

While he was on his way, I continued to back track my steps. I kept stopping to ask folks if they’d found a set of keys. I stopped over at the municipal office to report the lost item.

Less than half hour later, Samuel showed up with one of his workers, su obrero, Eduardo. But then Samuel had to stop over at the hardware shop for a set of new locks.

When Samuel returned, Eduardo asked me to plug in the extension cord [fortunately, I live right next door to a barber shop, and they let me plug in the cord]. Eduardo used, I believe it was an angle grinder. In less than 10 minutes, both locks were cut, and I was able to enter my home.

Afterward, I offered to buy them lunch, but they said it was ok. (Before Eduardo got started, I had offered them both a banana, but only Samuel was interested — though he shared it with me).

They left.

I was relieved that we didn’t have to call an outside company [and pay a lot of money] to help with my dilemma. Samuel wasn’t rude toward me, but he wasn’t super warm — this was understandable.

I was emotionally exhausted. It was irresponsible of me to not put the keys inside my bag. I also felt like a complete idiot for having to call Samuel for help after the pain of the night before.

When I entered the house and re-settled, I chose to not go immediately back to my computer. I laid on my bed for a while and the emotions came flooding — the tears started streaming down my face. I was sobbing uncontrollably.

I decided to meditate to see if that would calm me. Grabbing my Tibetan bowl, I sat on my yoga mat (in the front room, away from my bedroom) and tried to relax my shoulders.

The tears continued to flow.

I asked my ancestors for their guidance. I don’t think I thanked them for allowing the situation to unfold in my favor. As I type these words, I realize how selfish this was (is). It is unlike me — I always give them gratitude.

After several minutes, tears still caressing my cheeks, I decided to lie down on the mat and try to rest. I stayed this way for perhaps half an hour. Getting up, I felt a bit calmer, but something had happened.

My uncontrollable crying was a sign that I was having a breakdown. I know it was tied to what had happened with Samuel the night before. There was more —I am still adjusting to living in Borikén, my ancestral motherland. The childhood trauma, coupled with my estrangement from my mother, Luz Nereida and everything else that is intermingled with returning to the land of one’s forebears has a way of sneaking up on me in unexpected ways.

The tears were a message, saying:

Lola, you are not holding yourself accountable for the damage you’ve caused in your relationship with [and to] Samuel. You are not yet healed and you still have much work to do. You preach about how he must be responsible for his words, actions and decisions; however, what about yours?

My finances do not allow for me to go to therapy, but surely there are ways I can find to proactively continue my healing process. I know I need to ask the tough questions: Why are you still so controlling? Are you sometimes manipulative? What are you going to do to remedy the harm?

Every day, I look at myself in the mirror, but do I truly see myself? There is so much work left to do, and much honest introspection to start. And I realize that being alive, having health, having kind souls in my life are all blessings.

It’s time for me to give myself much tough love.

Gracias for reading.

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I appreciate each of you.

Acknowledging the Arawak, the First Peoples of Borikén, on whose unceded lands my work is created. In gratitude for and in honor of our Elders, past, present, and emerging. May my work always unapologetically and boldly uplift our wondrous Indigenous Taíno, Iñeri, and African roots.