Remembering The Grandmother I Never Met

Image by RÜŞTÜ BOZKUŞ from Pixabay 

These past few months I have been thinking a lot about my paternal grandmother, whom I never met. She passed away 10 years ago this month from a sickness that was never identified.

She lived in a small pueblo in Guatemala with my grandfather (who just passed recently), right by the forest. The forest where they used to live when my dad, uncles, and aunts were very young. Where they grew up hunting for rabbits, picking wild mushrooms and herbs, and climbing trees for fun, or to eat their bearings. 

I remember my dad was sad and guilt stricken when he heard of her passing. She had been sick for a while, but it did not seem life-threatening. Perhaps he did not want to believe that it could be life threatening? He felt guilty for not having gone to see her before she died, and saw no point in going after she died. His brothers and sisters commented on his actions, and my dad felt more pain and guilt on top of his existing pain and guilt. I did not know how to be there for him, other than listen to him talk about her, and what he was feeling. I did not feel sadness. It's difficult to miss or grieve someone you never met. I did however felt a bit of disappointment for not having met her. (We did attempt to speak over the phone once but it was very difficult as she only spoke her dialect and knew no Spanish)

Eventually he flew to Guatemala to visit her grave. He learned that many people attended her funeral from all over the village, and other nearby villages. So many people knew her kind heart and paid their respects.

The only thing I have of her is a bag she sent to me with my dad when I was a teen. I've had that bag for about 20 years. I still use it as a book bag, and it continues to remind me of her every time I use it. 

One night I laid in bed and she popped into my head. I've never really thought about her in any way other than she was the grandmother who knew I existed and sent along a red bag for me. This night was different. 

I thought about the bag, and I thought about the small store she owned and named after me. I thought about the stories my dad told me about her. I saw her face, and felt warm inside. I felt the love that I feel as a mother- the unconditional love. I felt love and sadness at the same time. Sadness for never having met this kind and compassionate woman.

Then I felt them. I felt the tears fill my eyes, and then slide off my face and drip onto the pillow. That night I grieved the grandmother I never met. She loved me even though she never met me. She thought about me, and this night I thought about her like never before. I was enveloped with her love and embraced by her warmth. I reciprocate the love.

I feel immense gratitude for being able to feel as I do right now for a grandmother I never met. Since that night I have felt her presence every now and then. It makes me smile, and occasionally teary eyed. I realize that it's a little odd talking about feeling her presence when I was never in her presence- it's something I can't explain. I just feel something. 

I've heard people talk about a deceased loved one being a part of oneself, but I never understood it until now. I can feel her as a part of me, and in me I can feel her love for me, which in turn makes me feel love for myself. (If that makes sense). So, I will remember this whenever I am being too harsh on myself or feeling no love for myself. 

There IS love.

Is there someone you hold close to you or feel a part of you?

Embracing the Possibility of Change

"Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge."

-Eckhart Tolle

Image by klimkin from Pixabay 

I have decided to embrace the possibility of change. 

Change has always been very difficult for me (as I'm sure for many people). As an anxious and nervous person, change terrifies me so much that I withdraw into my cloudy thoughts of negative "What if's" and "But's".  There was a time when even if I was in a bad situation, the thought of change (knowing that change was needed) paralyzed me. I had a lot of fear, the negative thoughts always seem to triumphed over the good. 

After working on myself this past year (reading books and listening to stories) I can see the ray of sun peeping through those clouds. 

Since I've accepted the possibility of change, I haven't seen any change yet so I can't attest to my thought's reaction towards it. BUT...

I noticed that I no longer think of a change as something that looms closely, or that it will disrupt my life completely (even though it could). I am now thinking of change as something that will help me grow and transform.

I know that this seems obvious:
WITH CHANGE COMES EXPERIENCE AND GROWTH.

I've known this for a long time, but it is only until recently that I have accepted this. 

I will be in the present moment and for now, enjoy this moment as it is. If change comes then it comes and I will deal with it then, with the advice from Eckhart Tolle:

"Accept- then act. Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it. Make it your friend and ally; not your enemy."

How have you dealt with change in the past and now?

Learning to Cook

Cooking is an art. There are people who can effortlessly create something amazing with what seems only a flick of their finger, like a magical wand. Their love and passion is felt by eaters when it is tasted, the same way that it is felt by viewers of a painting, or readers of a story. 

Some people just have that talent. 

That doesn't mean though that those of us that don't can't cook, paint, or write! Everything can be done with practice. We might not be professionals but we can still create a nice piece of art for ourselves and family. 

My cooking has improved so much in the past three of years. I use to think of my cooking as something I did to survive. It was tasteless and completely unmotivated. There were times when I thought "Okay, this dish looks like it came out good, I followed the recipe" But then, I give it a taste test and it totally failed. 

Now I feel like it taste delicious. Especially since my discovery of spices I had not heard of before. Spices and herbs are EVERYTHING. I even deviate from the recipe a bit. I'll omit, add, or substitute with pretty good confidence. 

I enjoy cooking, but not as much as I would like to. 

I think part of the reason is because my son doesn't seem to enjoy the foods. When he was younger he did not usually choose to eat typical "kid" foods such as burgers, hot dogs, or mac n' cheese when it was available. He enjoyed refreshing dishes such as tuna salads, crab salads, as well as warm dishes like chicken soup or noodles soup. He was always that one kid who had to add cilantro and onions to his tacos, or lettuce and tomato to his burger (if he had any). It wasn't too difficult to please him, or to get him to eat his veggies (eventually).

Now that he is older he enjoys those kid foods (with the exception of mac n' cheese and PB&J.. I'm not sure why he never liked these) and he still eats a good amount of veggies. He doesn't seem to be very adventurous with food though, which is too bad because the main reason why I started learning how to cook better was because of him. 

I started learning more about healthy eating and cooking. I've always been interested in this, and always did the best with the knowledge that I had at any point in time. Now I feel more knowledgeable and always willing to learn, and with nutrition knowledge always comes healthy cooking and eating. I always try to make the dishes he enjoys but lately (I attribute it to the pandemic) he simply has been very picky.

My hope is that once everything goes back to normal and he returns to school, our eating pickiness and habits will improve. 

In the meantime I will continue to cook.

Do you enjoy cooking?

*Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay 

Mental and Emotional Exhaustion

I was feeling very unhappy in my current job (before the pandemic shut down everything). The feeling was so overwhelming that I had to call in sick one day simply because I could not bare to be there. When I returned the next day, a co-worker asked me if I was okay because my eyes looked sad. I enjoy some aspects of the work and how rewarding it can feel. So when I was feeling unhappy and like I didn't want to be there anymore I felt... guilty. 

Why don't I want to be there? What is it that's making me feel emotionally and mentally exhausted? I should be glad that I have a job. I should be happy that I am working as someone who can make a difference in someone's life (perhaps). Perhaps I was tired of the long commute, and started to think the pay wasn't worth it? That's my time, driving to and from work is my time. Time that I can't get back. Perhaps I was feeling a little unappreciated. I have been working there for ten years, I was one of the original people that started working there when it just started. Perhaps the responsibility of the job was starting to weight on me. Perhaps... what? Perhaps, I just need a change?

During this time I was starting to read more on mindfulness and being present. It did help me a bit, but there was still something there. Something I couldn't see, only feel. I could feel it there nagging me. Then I decided that was it. I had to get out of there. I couldn't take it anymore and I decided that was going to be my last year there. I thought I was going to put a three month notice (that should give my boss enough time to find someone to replace me), but then a couple of weeks before I was going to give my notice, the pandemic hit, and the place had to close. 

Now what? we worked from home, but I was scared to quit because I wouldn't receive my unemployment. So, I stuck it out. At least I wasn't physically there and I'll work from home, it should be better. Right? No. I got sick a couple of weeks after. I don't believe it was Covid (though I didn't get tested for that). I think I got sick because of how emotionally and mentally stress I was. My body felt tired, it ached to move. I had no desire to do anything, but I still did the work. This lasted for about a week.

Even working from afar I still felt the same as I did working there. The time came to eventually talk to my boss about not returning to work. She was very understanding. I am grateful for that. 

I started to feel better, and that was when I started this blog. I stopped writing for a while because something else has come up (which is a story for another post).

I don't know what the point of writing this was. I guess just to work it out in my head. Thanks for reading if you did. Any comments are always welcomed. 

*Image by prettysleepy1 from Pixabay

The Selfish and Selfless Reasons Why I Decided to Stop Eating Meat

Some of us don't think about what we are eating, and simply go through our daily lives without paying any attention. Some of us perhaps pay too much attention. One thing I'm sure about is that all of us start our life not thinking about what we put in our bodies. We take what is given to us by our parents or caregivers. Eventually we learn, not only through reading but listening and paying attention to the way our own body reacts to certain things. It has been almost one year since I stopped eating meat and here are the two main reasons why I do not eat meat.