Beautiful Day for Ellie

Yesterday was beautiful, Ellie.  It's funny that the day before this huge snow storm was a wonderfully sunny and peaceful-looking day, but also the day of your funeral.  I wish it could have started that way (bright and beautiful).

My drive early in the morning was a bit scary for me, because it was so dark and no matter what I did with my windshield wipers or defroster, I felt like I could not see well enough to stay safe.  The roads were unexpectedly slushy in the southern parts of Vermont, completely different from the roads near my house.  I experienced a few very uncomfortable minutes (that felt like an hour) when I was trying to pass a HUGE tractor/trailer at the wrong time.  The road began to curve, and it kept curving.  I felt too close to the giant vehicle to safely pass.  I was in the left lane, right next to it, but there were cars directly behind me and the tractor/trailer.  It was so dark and I was afraid of going off the road if I didn't steer precisely enough.  Headlights from traffic in the opposite direction flashed in my face and the slush of the highway sprayed in my windshield.  I was going too slow, especially for being in the left lane and on the Interstate, and I was stuck in this clump of traffic that I had now created.  I knew all the other drivers must be furious with me.  I was probably the only one scared, the only one not confident enough to just speed up a little and pass the tractor/trailer already.

I prayed because even though I was not happy about driving in the dark like this, I still knew I had to get to you.  There was no turning back now.  So I asked God to give me the strength to pass the tractor/trailer so I could get back in the right lane and let the other drivers behind me go.  I deliberated but, eventually, I was able to pass!  I felt such a huge relief.  I also felt silly, embarrassed, and ashamed.  What was the big deal?  Why was I so fearful?  Why couldn't I just have the confidence that every other driver has, in the daylight or not?  I was very disappointed in myself, and felt like a child in that moment.

But I think you would understand, Ellie.  You know I wanted to be there for you and I had to make it to Connecticut alive.  I had to participate in the Mass and meet your family and friends, and hear what they had to say about you.  So I reassured my conflicted parts that by waiting to pass the truck, I was making what I thought was the best choice for my safety.  I did not want to cause an accident for myself or for anyone else.  I did not want to jeopardize saying goodbye to you.  And you know what?  After I passed that tractor/trailer, I continued on my journey and, though it took longer than I thought, the sky eventually grew lighter and lighter, and so did my mind and heart.  I knew I was still on the right path, and that perseverence had been key.

I felt victorious as I drove to you with patience and peace.  It was empowering to be in that car alone (well, you were there, but you know what I mean) and drive the long distance with a real purpose.  When I was approaching Coventry, I made a mistake and took the wrong road.  I began feeling anxious as I looked at the clock.  I could not be late to your funeral.  No way, that was not an option.  So I paid attention to the signs on the road.  I paid attention to how long I was driving until I knew for sure that I was going the wrong way.  Then I pulled into a side street and paused to gather myself.  I looked at the map on my phone, and studied where my blue dot was in relation to where I needed to be.  Okay, I thought, I just need to turn around and get back to where I was.  I hoped I had enough time, though.

I finally made it to the correct road and was heading toward the church, but you know what?  (I'll tell you this even though you were probably laughing at me from the passenger seat the whole time.)  I drove right past the church!  It was on the opposite side of the road from what I had been expecting.  I couldn't believe it.  I was so annoyed with myself.  But, as you know, when I pulled into the church driveway, a nice man told me where to park, and I entered St. Mary's with ten or more minutes to spare.  Whew!

I even had anxiety about whether I should stay for the cemetery part and the restaurant gathering.  I knew that no one there knew me personally (except from reading my other blog entry and contacting me on Facebook about it), and I felt like maybe I was intruding.  But I went to the cemetery, where I listened to a friend of yours from treatment read a beautiful piece she had written.  Then I watched your mother release the balloons that spelled out ELLIE into the air; they flew up, up, and away to who knows where.  I wanted to follow them to you.  It broke my heart to not be able to see where they went.  But I knew their brilliant colors would keep them safe.

I turned away from your coffin to leave the cemetery but I heard someone call my name, and...well, you know the rest.

P.S.  I blew you a kiss from my car as I passed your coffin on the way out; did you catch it?

My Body, My Choice (Re-post from my Facebook status)

I wish the "my body, my choice" frame of mind could be applied to reactions to the fashion, diet, fitness, and media industries. WHY aren't women everywhere screaming this at all those businesses who are trying to get money off us by telling us our bodies are not as they should be? Who is anyone to say that my stomach should be flat or my arms should have a little bicep definition or I should have a thigh gap?! It's MY BODY, MY CHOICE. I can freely tell the whole world right now that I weigh considerably more than most female celebrities who are considerably taller than I am, as well as the ones who are my same height. I can also tell you that this is no indication of my health or the world's perception or acceptance of my physical self. So if I make the personal decision that I am okay with some flab and softness and curviture - that I can still travel and sing and dance and make friends and write and learn foreign languages with the body I am in - then that should be good enough for anyone, including myself with all its conflicting parts. If I am squishy to the touch and not hard or compact, that shouldn't be anything that complete strangers in some office building in a big city far, far away can have the authority to demand I change - so they can profit off it. Yes, we'll always want to be thinner. But when you get a second chance at life you kind of realize that truly LIVING is more important. So I refuse to give in to these fake worlds of calories and nutrition myths and diet foods (i.e. chemical shit) and time and clothes. I know my body well - I have been cruel to it and I have learned to respect it. It does so much for me. So if I want breakfast in the middle of the night because I come back from salsa and my tummy feels empty, I will refuel it and not care that it is the middle of the night. If I want to wear a cute dress that bares my flabby arms because the dress is cute and it's a sunny day and I'm young and enjoy smiling at people and feeling pretty in a girly dress, then I will wear the damn dress. I will look the other way when Ed tries to distract me. I will focus on being a beautiful woman - forward, classy, Godly, colorful, musical, passionate, cultural, and downright elegant.

You owe it to yourself
to live while you're alive.
To drink up the flavors of youth
and spread your magic everywhere
To be enamored by the fact that
you are here,
and not mistakenly so.
You were meant to be amazing,
and to know it by the way
you live your life.
We were meant to see your radiance
and feel its warmth touch our own lives,
encouraging our spirits to soar
Until we stop caring about not caring.

You have to give a shit
about yourself
us, the known, the unknown,
the Present,
Because you were put here
in Love.
You have no right to see yourself
as anything less than loved,
created in love, swathed in Love.
There's no such thing as wasting time
Just wasting life
and wasting love.

Dare to spread lies and rumors about your unending worth.
Put on your acting hat
and live a grand love affair of fantasies
that lift you up,
until one day, you realize they were always true.
That you can achieve and blossom
and that your dreams hold value
because they came from you,
a product of Love.

Fake it until you make it.

You can't afford anything less
than your best self
and neither can we.
You, unique, holy, sacred, held
and blessed to perfection
because you are who you were created to be.

Devour every moment that permits your beauty
to seep into every pore
of every being
and every crevasse of every space.
Be so fabulous you might even faint.
(But no need to feint your fabulosity...)

Let us all refuse the tragedy of treasured misery
The petty marathon of woes
The stillness of lackluster perspective.
Let no one keep you in their pigpen
If they cannot cradle you in their heart.

Silence, laughter, breath, water, crickets, stars
Blackness, light
A twinkle in our bodily system
You've got the idea, right?

Meaningful moments at Splash

I was completely blown away after salsa tonight.  I was getting ready to leave when David, the man who organizes and makes the salsa series at Splash happen each summer, pulled me over and said, "Come here, I want to talk to you."  I immediately thought it was something bad, even though I had no reason to believe so.

I wish I could have recorded what this man said to me in the next several minutes.  I can't remember his words verbatim, but basically he had taken me aside to tell me how impressed he is by my dancing, how much he loves watching me dance, and how happy he was at my being there. He met me toward the end of last summer, when I was just beginning to learn salsa, and I was still very shaky and lacking in confidence in my abilities.  Tonight he said that I've just blossomed and that I am one of the rare dancers who comes along to salsa and really dances.  "So many people take classes and learn the dance, and they're very good but they're very stylized.  It takes a good teacher to crack that shell and bring out the real dancer.  You're one of those cracked shells."  Those may not be his exact words, but everything he said really struck me.  I kept thanking him but he kept saying, "I'm not joking, I want to make sure you really see me here and see what I'm saying."

I just couldn't get over it.  I've never been a dancer, I've never been truly comfortable in my own skin, I've never had an easy time with letting myself and my body be seen.  Dance challenges all of this in me.  But it's very healthy for me.  I know I've certainly improved in my salsa dancing since last summer, but it's still been less than a year and I still find myself not knowing what the heck I'm doing sometimes.  So it's really shocking that someone would specifically single me out and take the time to speak such wonderful words about my dancing.

But what struck me the most was when David said, taking my hand and looking me in the eyes, "I believe in you."  Inside, I could have cried.  I can't express what this phrase means to me.  I have struggled so much in my lifetime, on so many levels, with self-confidence and faith that I can really do things and be somebody in this world.  I have known so many letdowns, setbacks, and failures with all kinds of things I've tried to accomplish, and one of the things I always felt I needed was to know that someone, anyone, believed in me.  I have so many gifts I want to share with the world and I know that I need to believe in myself first, but I also need to know that what I do makes a difference in the eyes of others.

Tonight I felt appreciated.  I felt that I mattered, that I belong at salsa, that I have grown in another art form so beautiful and captivating not only inside my heart, but in a way that emanates and is visible to others.  David said that I am not like others who dance and don't pay attention to what's going on around them; he said that when I hear a song I love, it shows, because my body starts to interpret the music on its own.  I knew he was saying exactly what I experience.  I'm not just a dancer -- I'm a singer first, so music already has an enormous impact on me, wherever I go.  I don't dance salsa just because I want to move my body.  I dance because I LOVE Spanish and I LOVE Latin music.  It's already settled in my heart, it feels natural, it feels like home.  I love singing in Spanish, and I love the way I feel when I listen to Latin music.  It arouses the real Latina in me, the colorful person I am, and the beauty I feel within the world.  It's like being in a fairytale for a night -- feeling like a princess with nothing but the magic of music and the light it brings.

I am a wholesome young woman with strong passions and dreams.  I only want to get better and better.  I want others to share my hope and my childlike fascinations with art.  I want to be lovely and authentic at every age.  I want to never give up, never stop believing in myself.  I am so blessed to have salsa dancing be such a huge part of my life nowadays.  I'm so happy I started taking lessons last year and that I've stuck with it.  I haven't always been consistent but I know for sure that salsa will always be in my heart.  This wonderful dance brings me so much closer to the woman I dream of being: vibrant, rich in life, multicultural, and joyful.