Learning the Truth in Things

Hehe you may have wondered what the heck the title of my last entry had to do with anything. Well, initially I had uploaded a youtube video from Melanie Martinez called Pity Party which 100% described how I was feeling. And even though the music video published with my entry, it looks like it also disappeared for whatever reason. I really don’t know why OD does that. Sometimes I’ve uploaded photos, or videos, and then I check back to reread myself a day or so later and they’re gone! Clearly I’m not a professional here. The video was of Melanie very carefully curating these details for a party and simultaneously destroying it basically.

These are the lyrics though, if you’re interested:

Did my invitations disappear?
Why’d I put my heart on every cursive letter?
Tell me why the hell no one is here
Tell me what to do to make it all feel better
Maybe it’s a cruel joke on me
Whatever, whatever
Just means there’s way more cake for me
Forever, forever
It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to
Cry if I want to (cry, cry, cry)
I’ll cry until the candles burn down this place
I’ll cry until my pity party’s in flames
Maybe if I knew all of them well
I wouldn’t have been trapped inside this hell that holds me
Maybe if I casted out a spell
But told them decorations were in pastel ribbons
Maybe it’s a cruel joke on me
Whatever, whatever
Just means there’s way more cake for me
Forever, forever

So there’s that. (I’m very confused as to why the spacing is all strange in this entry. The formatting is not working. I entirely give up. Welcome to the entry of run on sentences and paragraphs.)


I got nothing done yesterday. I accomplished nothing. The conversation I had with who I thought was the district manager from Bath and Body was actually a store manager- I’m not sure if she’s a district recruiting specialist or if she’s just genuinely active on Linkedin and is trying to help rehome all of us fellow retailers who are affected by the pandemic and store closures. I appreciate her effort, truly, but the devil on my shoulder says that was a waste of my time.


I wasn’t feeling well at all. My hair, it reacts to my stress levels. When I’m happy and peaceful, I have a mane of huge curls and waves that take on a life of their own. My hair is a large part of my identity. It’s my thing- my identifier. Always has been. But when I’m stressed, deeply stressed, my hair becomes dry, brittle, my curls droop and fray knotting together into knots that sometimes get so large I have to cut them out as if someone stuck gum in my hair or something but no. It’s just my hair trying to kill itself. Yesterday my hair was most definitely trying to end it all.
It took me an hour to brush half my hair and then the water went cold, and then it took me another hour to get the other half of my hair brushed while the water heated up. I sat on the toilet in my leopard bath robe literally ripping my matted hair apart. After I got my brush through, it matted itself back up again. It was a deliberate hair assault on my psyche. Ultimately I won the battle, but it took two hours. My hair is getting way too long. When it’s wet, its nearly down to my nethers. It was a lot of tangle. And this is why if you ever read women’s articles about “natural” hair which is codeword for black, mixed or otherwise ethnic hair, we have something called a wash day, and a co-wash day. It literally takes a day.
Anyway, after the entire 3hr showering, brushing, dressing process was over, I realized I was running out of time and had another emotional fit like I did before. I ended up leaving the house late, I took the wrong exit on the highway, and I was 7 minutes late for my appointment. Due to COVID and cleaning windows and all of that, because I was not on time I had to reschedule my appointment which felt like such a fail. I felt like yet again, I’m unable to do something I actually NEED to do for me. I don’t need much ever, but when I do NEED something, it never happens or its a struggle. It falls back to the same old song and dance of me always making what everyone else needs a reality, but not being able to do it for myself. Like how this morning I woke up, got my coffee, paid the latest round of bills and reminded Justin he needs to get his emissions test done and pay his registration or whatever for his car this month, otherwise he’ll be late. Why is that my responsibility? Because I’ll ultimately end up dealing with the consequences of forgetting if I don’t keep on top of it now.
When I got home from my missed appointment, Reign started demanding food which to his defense, we have none because I haven’t been to the store and nobody else will go. So now nobody knows what to eat. We have nothing but eggs and water in the fridge at this point. And cheese. We have a lot of that. So together we made some instant noodles- I started the pot to boil and had to walk him through the steps from the upstairs bathroom because I thought for sure I was going to throw up. I started feeling SO sick. 100% sure it was stress. I had to lay down and shut my eyes, and I laid there for 2 hours until my waste of time phone call. I didn’t trust Reign to cook his own noodles on the stove but I had to chance it because I wasn’t trying to move around and throw up either. Some people deliberately will get sick to get it over with and feel better, but I am not one of those people. I’d rather just lay there in misery.
My conversation with the other store manager- I had a hard time answering questions and having a conversation because I was on the verge of puking, but I didn’t want to cancel and potentially impact a future opportunity. She seemed to really like me and was going to pass me along to her district manager as “backup talent” in the event that they need a store manager in the future, but she made me aware that they usually promote from within and store managers don’t generally leave the company. She told me that they don’t sell “soaps”, but that they sell “bubbles and fun!” -Gag- I mean, she’s not wrong. In that case, I don’t sell “clothes”, I sell “empowerment and self esteem”. Heck. I’m really not sure if I’m a bubble person anyhow.
I love bath and body, to be sure, but there are some places I love to shop that I wouldn’t want to work for because I don’t want to know about it as a business. I don’t want to ruin it for myself. Like, I love Target, but when I walk through the clothing section I can’t ever appreciate it because all I see is poor folds, bad visuals and terrible fabrics. The average person doesn’t care how clothes are folded or displayed, but I do. I’m that person that will stand at a table while I’m shopping and mindlessly fold it back up without thinking. A lot of us do that actually, haha! Its a habit. Maybe that example isn’t the greatest, but I guess I don’t want to work some place to ruin the consumerism of it for myself. When I was an armed guard for Dunbar, one of my clients was Red Lobster. I knew Red Lobster was poor people fancy, but hey, I liked it until I started servicing it. In order to get to their safe and pick up their money, I had to walk through their kitchen and I only ever saw it spotlessly clean which was good, but they had A LOT of microwaves, and seafood or some kind of food in bags, and I thought… this isn’t what a seafood restaurant should look like. And I don’t eat there anymore. I’m not going to pay $30 for microwaved shrimp. No thanks. I prefer locally owned anyway.
I did end up going over to see my family and I’m going to try and make it a routine. I’m going to start coming by on Sundays, I think. Well, we’ll see. My other cousins come by on Sundays, and I don’t want to be a party crasher but my Aunt and Uncle insist. And they were happy I came. It felt really good to be there but I have to admit- I don’t usually go visit any of my family without my Dad so… it felt good but also not right. It felt like he should’ve been there. But I came and Aunt Linda talked my ear off while Uncle David sat and watched TV. He talked to me for a while but then went over to relax. And THAT felt good. The fact that I could be there, in their home, just BEING there without having to try and hold conversation or without being expected to do anything felt good. So I ate. I ate and ate and ate, and then blew up their bathroom. Hahaha! And they didn’t care, because we’re family. And my Uncle said he was very happy to see me eat like a Laureano. That’s our name- that’s my name, and food is very important in our culture. Providing food is a demonstration of love, and eating food is an acceptance of love and respect of family. Which again, is why I’m fat. 😂 So I’m going to try to make it a habit, to go have Sunday dinner with them.
I did get papers about my Dad’s RV and something else it looked like, but I can’t read them. They’re 100% in Spanish. I’m sure if I spent more time really looking at them, I could decipher enough, but I’m not ready today. Maybe tomorrow. They told me that Maida and her mother were inquiring about the house my Dad lived in. I’m learning that our family believes she and her mother are being sneaky. Come to find out my uncle David owns the house my Dad and Aunt Gogo live in Puerto Rico. But what if it was my Dads? What would Maida have done? Gogo is living there… I don’t even want to think about it. I also learned that several years ago my Dad tried to make amends with Maida. Aunt Linda was telling me that he invited her out to lunch and tried to have some kind of relationship with her after he moved from here to Puerto Rico, and she basically refused. She told him that he is not her father, that she was raised by someone else. And he told her he knew and understood that, but he still wanted to try, but she gave him the cold shoulder after that.
And I guess when he was telling this to my Aunt Linda, of what happened between him and Maida, he said it was okay because he still had me and Reign. And all of that broke my heart but also brought me a small sliver of peace. My Dad never apologized for anything he’s ever done to us, but him going to Maida and admitting he didn’t raise her, being accountable to that, that was a fucking apology and she turned him away. I mean, maybe it didn’t happen like that. I don’t know. It’s all he said she said. But if all of that is true I can’t be mad at her for feeling that way, either. He abandoned her, and she moved on. She had a family to move on with. I did not. All I had was him, even when he wasn’t there for me either, which was 100% of the time. But this is another instance where we’re sisters, but we’re nothing alike. I made the decision years ago, even though I hurt every day from the choices of my parents… I made the choice years ago to be better than my parents. For me, for Reign, for our life. I’m not perfect, but I’m better than them. At least, I think I am. I’m striving to be, and at the very least, that’s something.
But it makes me feel better that he knew I loved him. He knew he had us. Because in the end, I wasn’t there for him and I should have been, and that silently kills me. I know I’ve got to let it go. I know if he wanted me to know he was sick, he would have told me. He texted me and told me, your cousins are here and want to see you, and I said I can’t come, I’m Christmas shopping with Mom and Nanny. I’m an hour away. I can’t come. And then he was dead. Just like that, he was dead. And that’s the last thing I said to him, and the guilt and regret I feel over that is literally killing me. Its chipping away at the me I was and bringing to me a place I don’t know I’ve ever been. A bottom I didn’t know I could reach. But I’m fighting- so hard, I’m fighting to let it go. Because I know, and now I definitely know, he knew I loved him. And he could have told me he was sick. He told Linda he didn’t have enough time. He knew, and he could have told me. But he didn’t want to. He could have texted me that he was in the hospital, but he didn’t. Maybe he knew I would have came. Maybe he knew I would have been on the next flight. Maybe he didn’t want me to see him like that. I don’t know. I’ll never know. I know I have to let it all go, and I feel a little bit, just a small penny on the dollar bit better knowing that he knew he had me. He never told me that, but he told Aunt Linda, and Uncle David. So, that means something to me. That means a whole hell of a lot to me, actually. So… I need to go to their house on Sundays. I think that will help me heal. Aunt Linda said its time to make new memories, and that is what I always wanted.
I just wish he was still here to see this. He would have been so proud. I mean, I know he’s still here. I know he’s proud of me. But I guess I mean… I wish it didn’t take him to die for all of us to start repairing the last…. 25ish years worth of damage? I’m nervous about seeing my other cousins because I’m not like them. I hope they can accept me as I am. Yes, I am a Laureano. But I wasn’t raised as one. I’m just me. I don’t drink and dance and party like they do. I wasn’t raised as a Puerto Rican living in the USA. I was raised as an American. It is extremely different… so I just hope they can accept me for me.
I haven’t mentioned it yet, but I made an appointment for the first week of March with a local medium who’s extremely renowned in the area. So much so that she’s booked up several months in advance on a first come first serve basis. I made my appointment in January for March, and I was first in line to do so because I didn’t want to have to wait until April. She’s what my medium friend Lisa would call a “guru”. I don’t have expectations, but I’m just curious. I have friends who have seen her and they love her. And she’s pretty no nonsense. She doesn’t upcharge and try to sell you weird things. She doesn’t ask you questions to dry and “dig” into your life like the fake fortune tellers do. She doesn’t make promises or offer literally anything. She doesn’t have a menu of her options for you to choose. She doesn’t advertise. She doesn’t have a shop downtown and she isn’t part of any website or club. She’s literally just her, and its all word of mouth and testimonial. She doesn’t even have a webpage, so she isn’t selling herself in any way, which is why she only sees so many people per month. She’s not in it to make money. She does charge, but not very much. So I don’t have expectations, but it’s something that I am looking forward to.
I’ve got to go to work. I’m supposed to be there in 30min, but I’m also supposed to be off today. Something came up for Barb so I’m filling in for her. Again. Such as life. I better not complain though because there’s only 3 weeks left. Still, I would’ve liked to have the day off. I need to get to the grocery store one of these days otherwise Justin and Reign may starve.
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4 weeks ago

We get tons of soap from BBW.  It is hard to let kids do the stuff we think might endanger them.  😎

4 weeks ago

Ahhhh, ok…was kind of wondering if I missed some sort of hidden meaning on the title.  Freakin’ OD…

I think you have a good line on going to the Aunt&Uncle’s place for healing and food and the good environment…sounds like what could be a bit of your own personal mental spa days.  And I know you’ve long since come to this conclusion, but I think your dad was ultimately trying to protect you from…well, everything.  It comes out weird and misunderstood and probably Freakin’Aquarian-ish, but as you shed more light on it all here, the more it seems to have been in some sort of weird good faith, even with the bad times in the past.  I know you know all this.  Some sort of weird validation I suppose.  I’m glad you have them regardless.  It sounds like you need them, and they need you.

I do hope your Medium appointment goes well.  I’m going to lay odds you’ll get some pretty major healing out of the messages you’ll receive…they’ll tear you apart, but also put you back together in the best sort of way.