Be strong like a woman and heal!
- May 24, 2025
- 20 min read
Journey Through Darkness: Rediscovering Self-Worth and Resilience
The day I woke up alone. To be honest it didn’t happen in just a day. This was more of a pea in the bed type situation. However, one day my body just shut down. That was the day I couldn’t leave the house. Now how does that happen? A body just shuts down, something you put so much confidence into comes to a complete halt! Yes, I may have pushed it to a point of no return. I may have been bad to it. I mean I still am on occasion. I notice when I start slipping into patterns that no longer serve me. This is when I need to love myself harder. Let’s leave that alone for now. Let’s go back to the day I couldn’t leave the house. Now we are told we are born alone, and we will die alone. This shouldn’t be the only thing that we preach. We should also share that the most important person in your life is your damn self. I was trained; taught pushed brainwashed whichever way you’d like to put it that my life wasn’t as important as anyone else’s. Society, family, the world was my teacher. It was selfish to need a break or not be doing something at all times. I ALWAYS had to be busy. Just to let you know that’s a game that has shit prizes like anxiety, depression and if you don’t take care of it, it just gets worse.
There was no trigger no starting bell to when the anxiety got so bad. I used to get nauseous on my way to work and get upset because I couldn’t control my crying anymore. Mind you, I grew up being told not to cry. I should not show any type of emotion as it was a weakness. This was a lie. On a few occasions I felt myself staring into space and not do anything for hours. I was giving myself even more anxiety thinking I was going to get fired because I couldn’t get my shit together. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just be normal?! I called the employee services and told them I couldn’t stop crying and that I was going to cancel a moto camping trip because of the instability of emotions. This licensed professional told me to go because the wind would dry my tears. This was the worse piece of advice I was ever given. I should have gone with my instinct to cancel. I was not riding my ride and almost hit a gentleman on a bicycle. That was the first day we got there. I stayed one night packed my bag and rode back home. That was the last day I rode for a few months. I knew my and other people’s safety was at stake when I wasn’t ok.
On my birthday I didn’t want to do anything. My family insisted on coming over. I’m not sure how food got there but my loved ones started pouring in. I couldn’t stop crying. I was sitting on the couch crying while they kept going on with life. Putting a party hat on me while I laid on my mom’s lap. My mom, having advanced dementia patted my head and said wow you drank too much didn’t you. Mind you I had stopped drinking because a month ago I didn’t know what was wrong with me but I knew I was not ok. I was the strong one. The one who carried anyone out of the fire. Now I was burning alive. People did not know how to handle this. Imagine the strongest person you know. Then imagine them crumbling in front of your eyes. Normalize that shit because we do crumble if we don’t take care of ourselves. If we love and do for everyone else and don’t do for ourselves, it eventually catches up to us.
I didn’t want to get out of bed anymore. I didn’t want to go to work. I thought I was a burden on my entire family, and they would be better off without me. I fell off the anxiety mountain to the sinkhole of depression.
Let me take you back a little further in my life before I talk about the day. The climb up anxiety mountain took a long time. It started from birth probably. It likely began before I was born, but I have not researched it yet. I do know that my mother had a traumatic childhood and adulthood, was an alcoholic and probably a few other things as well. I learned all of this while I was a child. My father had PTSD to a point where he had to drink himself to sleep to be able to sleep without terrible nightmares. I love my parents; they raised me as best they could with what they had.
A parent doesn’t go through life thinking how can I fuck up my child. No, they go through life thinking their fucked-up mentality is right and imposing it on their kids. This is because of what they were taught. Some of that hurtful shit is still prominent in our lives. Woman are told they need to be skinny, quiet, virginal, and most of all useful. No man wants a fat woman. No man wants someone who talks back. Absolutely no man wants someone usada or used in English. If a woman isn’t useful, she is pretty much only good for one thing. There are so many other things a woman must be good at or must do for her man and family. These things will break us, drain us, make us hate ourselves to the core.
Now my friends you have an idea of the mountain I climbed before the world stopped for me. I say the world stopped because it’s completely not what happened. The world kept going. Even though I stopped, fell to the ground and crumbled the world kept going. I felt I always had to do everything. Make everyone happy. Started with my family, then my husband, my children. No time for myself, I wasn’t important enough. I didn’t deserve such luxuries. All of this was passed down. Most likely from years and years of my Mexican culture. Mothers of friends telling me I was wrong for not taking my husband back after he proved our family wasn’t his priority. I was chastised and made to feel less than. So many women thinking I was crazy for choosing my kids and myself instead of taking it like a good wife should. You should always be there no matter what the man does. No one would love me and my kids like their dad. No one would want me with two kids. I already felt less than so then I felt I needed to go above and beyond to make partners want to be with me.
The self-abuse just kept going. It lasted so long I didn’t even know how to love myself. The only person that told me to slow down was my dad. Unfortunately, he died a year after my divorce. I remember I told him I failed and I was getting a divorce. My dad said, “Mari you did not fail. You did everything you possibly could to stay married.” The one person on my side had left way too early. The one person who tried to teach me not to burn the candle at both ends left. The only person who would bring groceries and breakfast chicken took his leave. I fucking hate cancer. The only human who would show up with groceries just to see his daughter and grandkids was taken from me. Now this broke me. I didn’t have time to wallow, Grieve, take care of myself. I had two children that needed a mother. I cried for a whole day and couldn’t even eat.
Thank goodness for the good friends who force you to get out of bed and eat. I took one day. Maybe two but then I had to be strong. Be a mom. Not cry. Or at least I thought that’s what I needed to do. What I should have done was cry with them. Holding my children close and teach them grieving is ok. I had lost my grandfather, best friend and stepfather the year before my dad. I didn’t give myself time to grieve then I had to handle my dad’s estate. An uncle who we thought had our best interest in mind offered to be our administrator. It was all working out. I didn’t think I could do it all alone so when my dad’s family stepped up to help, I felt blessed. This uncle and another awesome uncle who also left this earth too soon did a lot of work on the house. They did, however, get rid of all my dad’s things. His favorite chair, the stuff in his room, almost any trace of him. There was no time for mourning.
We were grateful but so sad. My aunts helped me arrange my room and organize it because they are wonderful like that. I was grateful until I was angry. My uncle would hang out with us and drink way too much. My uncle took one of these nights to fuck up our lives royally. I won’t go into detail of what he did as it isn’t completely my story, but this man should not be trusted under any circumstances. After his pathetic attempt at trying to explain, my aunt and his wife came and picked up his tools. At this time, she told me she was no longer my aunt and not to invite them to any of our family events. Are you fucking kidding me? Her trash husband shouldn’t be around humans let alone our kids. Unfortunately, he handled the money from the estate paid himself quite well. At this time, we had a fairy Godmother. My dad’s eldest sisters gave us a loan, so we were able to keep our dad’s home. Sidenote yes, we did pay the loan back when I purchased the house outright.
Learning lesson from this was to have a trust made up as soon as you buy property and family isn’t always to be trusted. I wish I could say this was the last time I had ever seen them but they ended up moving in with my grandmother after losing that money and their home. I loved my grandmother so much and enjoyed visiting her. I felt I couldn’t even go anymore because the site of my so-called uncle and aunt made me sick. They would sit in the room with us and try to ask me questions about my kids. I don’t understand why manipulators still want to be liked after they fuck someone over. Maybe they believe the bullshit lies they tell others. I ended up asking my other aunts to let me know when they weren’t there and went on those occasions instead. At my grandmother’s funeral was the last time I had to see them. I know I’ll see them again as my dad had many sisters and a brother and they are still alive. If I outlive them and they are still alive I will see them at a funeral. I cringe at the thought, but I know I’m a better person if I let go. I’m still working on this as the anger no longer serves me.
Ok so where are we at in my timeline. Lots of people died. I’m a mom trying to raise two sane children without damaging them as much as I can. I have a good paying job and a dog I love. We moved into my dad’s house with my sister. My sister and I don’t have the same lifestyles, and we butt heads constantly. After a while we decide to either sell the house or one of us is going to buy the other out because there is no way we can live together and still like each other. I’m messy, as hell she isn’t.
There were so many other reasons but that messy one seems to keep popping up as my ex-husband liked to point it out too. I mean come on I was 8 years old when my mom dropped me off with my dad and told him, “Here so you won’t be bored.” My dad didn’t teach me to clean. I do know how to put clothes in the drier and hang them up right away, so they don’t wrinkle but that’s all I got. Anyhow we eventually agreed I’d buy her out and she would move somewhere else. After my sister moved, I invested in tenting the house for termites, a new floor, painting and making it our own. This took more money than expected but it was finally ours.
Many romantic partners came and went. I had commitment issues and would run some off. They probably wanted different things than me. Mainly to breed. I didn’t want any more children. Raising two was hard and I got pregnant again and lost the baby. It was at that point I knew I didn’t want to raise another human that my dad couldn’t be there for. He was my stability, and he was gone. I decided to make sure I wouldn’t get pregnant again. The best decision ever even though I got so sick after the procedure and said I’d never do it over. I would because life changes when you stop worrying about bringing another human into the world.
Relationships didn’t work, I always thought I had to try harder because I was less than. Really, I don’t think half the men I was with were even worth my time. It’s hard to sit and look back once you realize you’re magic. So many people tried to take that magic away from me. Some told me I was too loud, cuss too much, did things wrong. I was too me. None of those people are in my life anymore.
Amongst the failed relationships, heartache and chaos I started doing things outside my comfort zone. I took a motorcycle safety class, got my license and bought me a Harley. Yes, in that order. I had ridden on the back of a motorcycle with an ex-boyfriend and although he dumped me, I realized the only thing I really missed was being on the bike. So, I did something about it.
My relationship with Gina la cochina on the other hand is long term status and she is very loved. I taught myself how to ride in parking lots and eventually got on the freeway. I signed up for meet up groups that went on rides and met a bunch of cool, fun and cuddly bikers. Way outside my comfort zone. Eventually I made some fantastic friendships and met another biker who would steal my heart. A few take aways from riding with random people are. A lot of girls can be catty. Men are usually friendly and very surprised when they found out my bike was my first bike and I could ride. Apparently, I got something with a big engine for a girl…. Or so I was told. After a few years of riding, I met a man who had never met anyone like me. Instead of trying to fit me in a box or shame me he did something really fucking weird. He loved me. He loved me when I pushed him away. He loved me when I was angry. He loved me when I was happy, sad, checked out, it didn’t matter he just loved me. Weird right. Yeah, as you can imagine it freaked me the hell out. I didn’t know how to love me so how could he?
After a few months of dating this man trauma hits again. I had a major motorcycle accident while he was on a trip visiting his parents. Now I’m not too great at being sneaky but I tried. I texted him that I was super busy and I’d call him later that night. This was in a car on the way to the hospital. Now please, if you take any advice I give let it be this. Call 911 if you are in a motorcycle accident and go to the hospital by ambulance. I was helping with a study on how your brain reacts while driving a car and riding a motorcycle. I got through the car part great. The last hairpin turn on my motorcycle I hit a patch of wet leaves. My bike hit the crash bars and launched me off the bike. My leg hit the handlebars upon ejecting me and my chest hit the middle of the road. I was thrown about 10 feet away. Being in the middle of the street right after a hairpin turn freaked me the hell out. I stood up, yes on a broken leg. My leg buckled and I was super confused and thought crap that’s not good. Then the chest pain. Fuck that’s really not good. I slowed my breathing walked to my bike and realized I was breathing ok so no punctured lung. Ha all the sudden I was a triage nurse. I tried to pick up my bike, but my leg buckled again, and I screamed.
About 5 minutes later, even though it seemed like an hour someone came driving by. The gentleman jumped out of his van and asked if he should call an ambulance. I said oh no thank you, but could you pick up my bike for me. I got on my bike once he and his grown son lifted it, promised I’d be ok and rode off shifting with a broken leg. I got to the hotel where they were conducting the study from. Asked them to put my kickstand down and screamed while I got off.
I asked if they could take me to the ER. Rookie mistake as the adrenaline was strong within me at that point. Until it wasn’t. Now this woman was driving and all the sudden she hit a bump holy hell 4 broken ribs shifting is painful. I screamed and she started to drive faster and passed right through red lights. I realized at that point if I didn’t calm her down, she was going to kill us both. I started talking to her in a quiet voice telling her I needed her to get us both to the ER safe.
I asked if she had kids, learned about their homeschooling and about how she and her family do these studies a lot. I was dying inside trying to play like I was ok. I called my daughter and told her what happened. Of course, I tried sounding chipper and giggled a little while saying my motorcycle got in a fight with wet leaves and the leaves won. The kids were planning to meet me at the hospital. I also called a friend and asked her to pick up my motorcycle. This friend called a few others to help her. Well shit if I didn’t have a welcoming committee in the damn ER. All I wanted to do was cry in pain, but I had to keep a smile on as if everything was fine. It fucking wasn’t. I had broken 4 ribs and my leg. The ER had to call an ambulance to take me to a trauma hospital once they did every scan under the sun.
Once at said trauma hospital my records didn’t make it with me so guess what. They also did every scan in the sun. My body was angry and let me know. My urine was black from all the dye that was injected into my body. I had to have surgery on my leg to fix it and realized I should call my new boyfriend. I’m sure this would totally make him break up with me. I called him and told him, and he got so upset. I didn’t understand why he was mad I was the one stuck in the hospital.
The day of surgery I was scared. I told the anesthesiologist how badly I react to medication that puts me to sleep. I told him about the terrible experience of my tubal ligation. This doctor was the sweetest man and promised he would take care of me, and I’d be ok. He didn’t lie; he was my guardian angel. As I was being wheeled into the OR my OR nurse scoffed and asked, “are you going to ride again?” I said, “Hello my name is Mari and I’m your patient today. What’s your name?” She answered (insert angry person’s name here)” Then I replied, “Well angry it’s nice to meet you and to answer your question yes, I will be riding again. Thanks for asking.” I didn’t make a new best friend with her, but I got the anesthesiologist to giggle. When we got to the OR she was going to grab me and shove me on the table. The Dr. abruptly said, “Don’t touch her till I sedate her. I’m going to take good care of you I promise.” Oh, he did, I was knocked out and the recovery nurse kept tapping on me and asking me to breathe. I was so annoyed. All I wanted to do was sleep. Until she brought in the big guns. Upon the final tap that reminded me I needed to breathe; I opened my eyes and saw my daughter. Oh, shit I guess I have to breathe now was my first thought.
I was moved to another room and honestly the 2 weeks of hospitals is a blur. My kids set alarms of when my pain meds were due because before they started doing that I’d wake up screaming in pain until they were able to flag down a nurse to get me pain meds. I tear up right now thinking of the pain I put them through seeing me like that. I was broken and guess what the world kept going. You’d think I would have learned then that the world doesn’t stop. Nope, it takes a bit more than broken bones to break me. I was transferred to a skilled nursing home that I signed myself out of once they taught my son how to transfer me from bed to wheelchair to car and back to bed. If you have family in one of those places visit them. Visit the people next to them. Ask admin if there are people who don’t get visitors and drop them off a gift basket. Those places are horrible.
I was lucky enough to have VIP care at home by my son. Chicken bake and hot pocket chef himself. To this day I can’t eat either of those or hello fresh meals. They aren’t bad but that’s what I had most of the time. A few friends made meals for us which helped more than they will ever know. My heart is still grateful for all the people who came out of the woodwork as well as those who flew away when shit hit the fan. It taught me who will always have my back. My best friend came over to wash my hair for me. It was a little sketch, and the home care nurse said please don’t ever do that again, but we got through it.
I bet you are all wondering if he stayed. He did even after I told him it’s your get out of jail free card. I’m broken and a mess so you can go if you like. He stayed next to me and tried to help as much as he could. I didn’t know my worth, so I had no idea why he stayed. I struggled to keep my sanity as I couldn’t walk for a few months. After healing a bit, I was able to use a walker. It was a whole new world. I’d get up on my own and get a yogurt and fruit for breakfast instead of a hot pocket.
A few people reached out, ordered food, brought me food and took me out. My daughter and son took the brunt of caring for me and to this day I feel so bad about it. Some of my nieces, sister, boyfriend, friends, checked in and helped care for me. Even my mom stayed a few nights with me. I felt a little like we took care of each other but it helped. Most of my loved ones showed up for me. Since my kids dealt with most of my shit. I thought they would be angry at me when I told them eventually, I wanted to ride again. Luckily they didn't, although I had a lot of work to do until that. It took me at least another 4 to 6 months to be able to trust myself and my motorcycle again. Thank God for friends who sit in the parking lot with your for days.
Fast forward about 4 years in October. The last day I came in to my office sobbing. I called my boss and said I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t stop crying. I had one of the most understanding and caring bosses. He quickly asked if I was ok. Then if I was ok to drive. I said yes I’d get home safely. It was that minute I knew I couldn’t come back until something changed. I called mental health services through my employer and sobbed on the line. They wrote me off of work and had me enrolled in group services 3 sessions a week for about two hours a session. This was the best thing that happened to me. I skipped the employee assistance program as that woman told me the week before to ride my motorcycle. I knew I needed more than kind words and well wishes.
The classes were not only filled with faces of other people struggling which helped me not feel so alone but the counselors gave us homework. Mine for one day was to prepare and eat one meal. I cried because I didn’t want to get up let alone eat. Eventually I started looking forward to making a meal. I loved to cook but at this time I didn’t love anything. I felt numb, broken and so dark. I read books, did worksheets, asked for extra homework and my counselor knew what I was doing. I was trying to push myself into being what I thought was ok. My expectation was to be doing the millions of things for everyone else again and skipping me. As I healed the team of mental health workers worked with me. Medication was started and suddenly the cloud lifted a little bit. I could go places if someone drove me and stayed with me the entire time. Mind you I couldn’t leave my house before with my husband without dry heaving and having a full blown panic attack if we were out too long.
I am a woman who would ride her motorcycle for 8 hours to Santa Cruz just to make sopa de fideo for a loved one, yet I once couldn't walk out of my house alone. I've ridden solo to Arizona twice: first to prove I could, and second to take a paint class. I am a woman who purchased two homes in one of the most sought-after states—not out of luck, but because I learned how. I have taught myself so much because I wanted to be better, stronger, and smarter, simply because I am a woman. The true magic lies in being a woman. We have the power to achieve so much with the life we are given. Those who recognize this magic will learn how to protect you, sometimes even from yourself. I am learning to rest, take care of my health, and slow down. I'm not perfect at it yet, but this journey is about learning together, healing together, and celebrating both yourself and others for doing the work.
The mountain was in front of me and I had to start climbing. I did the work, I read the books, I put myself first and realized I had a lot to live for. I emerged from the situation forever changed. The flower I wear in my hair daily serves as multiple reminders. Depending on who asks I tell them one of a few things. My personal favorite is this one I'll share with all of you. The flower in my hair reminds me every time I look in the mirror to slow down and smell the flowers. I hope you will remember to do that once and a while now too. We as humans move way to fast and miss so much beauty that there is around us.
I realize now nothing and no one can ever stop me but myself. Second do more silly shit, life is too short not to have fun. Find someone who will silly with you and not fault you for it. Surround yourself with people who love you the way you are. Who inspire you to be more like yourself than someone you think you need to be. I worry sometimes people will not like me, but then I remember they aren't my people if they don't like me.
You may not understand this darkness and I pray you never will. For those beautiful souls that do understand, you are loved, you are important and I fight the fight with you. This is my story, no one will ever take it away from me. I’m proud to have come through the other side. I don’t know everything, I learn daily but I do know this earth is better with you in it. Please keep fighting. I love you.
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