Meditation is a b*tch

Hello everyone,
Thank you for taking the time to read this little blog of mine. Last week I stated that my challenge would be to meditate every day. Some of my reasons for wanting to include meditation in my daily routine were to help with my anxiety. However, I have also been told by my therapist that I most likely have ADD. It’s difficult for me to finish a task before moving on to another. My mind tends to wander during conversations which have led to hurt feelings from friends and family. Reading is an arduous task. I have to go over the same page at least 3 times to understand or remember the text.
Since I am new to meditating, I had to do a bit of research. I looked up “how to meditate” on the old Youtube and found a video by Lavendaire. She gave easily accessible pointers. It also doesn’t hurt that it was just a little over 4 minutes.

I felt confident, but that didn’t last long. I chose to sit cross-legged with my back straight. Right off the bat, I could feel every itch or discomfort in my body. After scratching for what feels like ages, I was back to it. I breathed in and out through my nose, and then the yawning kicked in. It wasn’t that I felt bored. I was just really relaxed. Now to think of it, I don’t know if I was indeed bored. I decided to set a timer for 5 minutes. The first round went swimmingly. I did it again but found myself anticipating the ding.
The next few days were just a repeat of the first. On Thursday night, I tried something a little different. I wanted to experiment with meditating right before bed. My husband was already fast asleep, so I got situated on the couch. I turned off all the lights because I thought that might be more soothing. It wasn’t at all. It was quite creepy if anything. I began to envision malevolent shadows rising next to the armrests. A goblin or two scurrying around the kitchen island. Nope! Nope! Nope! Meditating is not going to happen tonight.
I watched another video from Matt D’Avella, where he also challenges himself to meditate. He was way more ambitious going into it. He did hour-long sessions. More importantly, I got the idea from his video to find a guided meditation app. I settled on “Stop, Breathe and Think.” There are many free popular apps out there, but soon you realize that you have to go premium to use many of the features. That sounds incredibly cheap, but I would like to get a feel of it before I upgrade. This app has many free features such as an “emotional check-in” to tracking “mindful minutes.” I initially enjoyed the guided meditations but soon found the voiceovers distracting. I focused on the mindful minutes instead because it has a timer. 
There are certain things I still find very challenging. One is noise in my environment. I tried to find a quiet place to help me focus. The balcony was my first choice. My neighbor has a toddler that was letting out some blood-curdling screams. The test is being able to meditate in any environment. I failed it. I went to my bedroom, but my pets get anxious if I close the door. The cat has managed to figure out how to open it anyway. The last place I retreated to was my closet which is located on the far side of the restroom. Anyone else has that going on? I enjoy hanging out there from time to time. You just have to get over the occasional bathroom sounds.
Overall, I’m glad I finally tried this out. So, what’s my next challenge? I briefly mentioned it earlier. I am going to read for an hour daily. I was thinking 30 minutes, but I want to go for it this time. Let me know if you have any suggestions. Catch ya on the flippity flip

Edith 2.0?

Hello again,

So yet again I have taken a break from this blog. But to be honest I had lost motivation. Another truth was that I didn’t exactly know in what direction I wanted this to go in. Perhaps that is why so many people don’t continue a project because you have to think about what the purpose is behind it. I initially wanted it to be an archive of my most painful experiences in order for others to learn but I don’t feel that will serve me or others too well. I’m also in the midst of self-improvement and that has given me time to reflect on past traumatic events.

With that being said, I want to invite you on my journey as I challenge myself in different areas of my life. Whether they be building habits for fitness, nutrition, mindfulness, productivity. The list goes on.

I have mentioned before that I am a huge YouTube fan. I spent hours a day watching the latest gossip about Tana Mongeau or that whole dramageddon involving James Charles and Tati this summer. Whilst I found this wildly entertaining, I also wasted loads of time. Why did I care so much about issues that were not very important to me? But, I did learn something about all this nonsense. That I don’t want to be like these people. This might sound judgmental and self-righteous but it’s true! I don’t want my life dependent on my perception of someone else’s thoughts or actions. Why bother expecting favors to be returned or acknowledgment for your good deeds? Why go through all the effort to produce an exposé on someone you claimed you cared for? Then you are stuck in a cycle of argument and rebuttal.

Just as youtube has endless hours of content like the aforementioned. I found myself gravitating to channels like Matt D’Avella and WheezyWaiter. These channels share tips on being more productive, organized, or sustainable etc. That led me to other creators who shared videos on philosophy and other self-improvement practices.

So, with that being said, I want to embark on my first challenge. I am going to wake up early for 7 days straight. My goal is that this will eventually become a habit. The reason I want to do this first is because I have had sleep issues as long as I can remember. When I was a teenager I was plagued by nightmares. I would go through cycles of either going to bed at 4:00 in the morning or not at all. During weekends I would sleep through the day because I believed there would be lower incidence of these terrible dreams. This habit followed me through adulthood but it’s not sustainable one bit when you run a business.

I also, don’t want to fall into the idea that “there just aren’t enough hours in the day.” Hopefully, this challenge will give me time to pursue my interests. For, example this blog. I no longer want to limit my potential without giving it the ole heave ho. So see you next week babes. I promise.

Having the sex talk at 34

I made an impromptu trip to my parent’s home last week. It was under pressing circumstances but as trite as it might sound it was a blessing in disguise. Especially with the ever-evolving dynamics between my parents and I.

It was the interaction that I saw Hollywood dramas in which a protagonist was thrown into a harsh reality but received words of wisdom from their parents that forever changes their view of them. I finally saw my parents as just regular people who spend their lives just trying to do the best they can.

It’s interesting because growing up I never imagined there would be a moment I would be sitting with my father in his shed while he spoke to his faraway friend on his CB radio. All this while smoking cigarettes and sharing tequila. Or that I would be having earnest conversations with my mother about the difficulties of womanhood, marriage, and my broken faith.

The conversations didn’t end there. I felt safe enough to share with them about my sexuality, my experience with sexual assault and how I smoke pot on the daily. I was sure they would have to be in the grave in order for me to live openly as a bi woman with socialist leanings who has elected to have a childless marriage. I do recognize how fortunate I am to have this type of understanding with my immigrant parents because so many other first-generation American LGBTQ individuals do not possess the same fate. But to be honest, I waited many years to be this forthcoming because it doesn’t mean this would’ve gone the same way in my teenage years.

My mother approached me as I was packing up for my return drive home. She said she wanted to ask me something. I said, “sure, what is it?” She asked me if when I first had sex with my husband if I had bled. I told her my husband was not the first sexual partner I had. My mother said that she figured he wasn’t the first because she used to find my belts and bras in the back seat of her car when I would visit from college. I laughed because it has been nearly 15 years since this occurrence and she still believed I had sex with my college boyfriend in her plymouth breeze. So romantic. It was one of those perfect storm situations.

I had come home for the winter holidays and I went to a Christmas party with my old high school classmates and I had picked up my boyfriend. South Texas is typically still warm and muggy most months which causes a lot of condensation mixed with dirt on windshields. I asked if he could bring out something to wipe it down with and it ended up being an undershirt. I decided that my belt clashed with my outfit once we arrived at the party so I chucked that into the backseat.

The next morning my mother burst into the guest room( yes I no longer had my childhood room) asking how could I have been having sex in her car. She also asked why I had a syringe in the bathroom for. I laid there in astonishment. Not only did she assume I was having sex but accused me of doing intravenous drugs. I laughed because she still had her own understanding of the events years later. I simply explained how I hated wearing bras so I would pull them off on the drive home and all the other items were simply a fluke. Also, I’ve done many things in my life but I had yet to shoot up.

Back to the bleeding. I was a few months shy of 30 when I met my husband so virginity was an unrealistic expectation to anyone at that point. She asked me why I wore a white wedding dress. I told her that was the only color available when I ordered it from Amazon. And that I felt some of those traditions were highly dangerous towards women. That simply the color of a wedding dress made it clear to everyone what was my sexual status. That I would be designated a “santa o’ puta.” I refused to fall in line.

I did tell her that I was highly uninformed when I did begin to have sex and my source of information was the internet and whatever pamphlet came my way on campus. I asked her why didn’t she have a formal sex talk with me. That my brothers were provided with condoms but my sister and I were told to remain abstinent. She said that was just what she was taught growing up. I said but you forget that your sons were having sex with someone else’s daughter or sister.

My mother told me how she wished she could’ve talked to me this way when I was younger but she didn’t know how. That even her own mother didn’t discuss with her what would happen during puberty and sex was even more of a taboo topic. I never really was resentful about this because my teenage self would’ve died of sheer humiliation back then. We both weren’t ready.

I am sure there are many other 30 something-year-old women having these talks for the first time. Please don’t be resentful. Yes, it might be late but it’s never too little to be brave. Ni putas, ni santas mis hermanas. 

Neither here nor there

I don’t want to be one of those people who dwell on feeling misunderstood or not having a tribe to belong to. However, that is exactly what I’m going to do. I sit here in between bites of bananas foster ice cream that is completely delectable trying to grasp what my first post should be about. Let’s agree this is a journey of shared memories and experiences of never quite knowing where one should be or where to go.