I’ve had a solid prayer that has stuck with me since I was about 20 years old. At the time, I was a data entry clerk at a Catholic charity in Chicago’s West Loop that has a beautiful small, maybe 10 person chapel at the front of their courtyard on Jackson Boulevard. This chapel has a beautiful life sized statue of Jesus, not on the cross but with his hand extended. Anytime I think about where my heart was at that tender part of my life, it always pulls me back to that girl in this beautiful little chapel, begging for God to use me through His will to help others. I’d have moments of tears and joy, while on my knees kissing his feet, I wanted to help others. I had no ideas of the trauma I’d face or the trials I’d see in the next 14 years, I just knew that I wanted to be a vessel for Him.
During that time from then to now, I can say that I was pretty selfish throughout it all. I allowed my mind to mold my idea of what it was that God was setting me up for. I’ve had so many talents that I’ve wanted to throw out to the forefront of my life that I forgot about my talent of communication and my ability to help others.
The most recent changes in my life have really made my eyes widen. I know I’m a good person, I mean well and have the right intentions but I can’t help but feel like I’ve spent my life thus far on a pedestal. All of the things I’ve once complained about are no longer relevant or hold sustainability for me to even care. Certain things are just not worth the headache and quite frankly, I’m pretty mad at myself that I made these insignificant issues a problem. I don’t want to sound like a poser who no longer wants to be flashy or has the care to even want to look cool on Instagram but I legit feel foolish. It was never about anyone else but myself and now that my care and health is relied upon by my dad, I just don’t have the will or want to do it anymore. Yes, I like to dress up and get cute with my girls but I don’t want to be looked at for my beauty because this heart of mine is so special, that is what deserves the spotlight. I’ve spent this entire time from that chapel to now completely ignoring the signs I’ve already had placed in my lap, its not the brand I should worry about, it’s the mother fucking soul.
My distaste and discomfort more recently has led me down this rabbit hole of self reflection and self sabotage. I’m stuck between this monster of enlightenment, finding out who I am and what I am capable of but also raging mania against that person I was because I’m so pissed I didn’t see it before. I feel fucking stupid to be honest and that really does and has pissed me off. I’m trying to be good to myself because this is a time I need to be soft and kind and gentile but I cannot help but think, wow Xoch you really did not understand what you had and now it’s gone.
Not that I don’t have the opportunity to do what God has in store for me but I no longer have the opportunity to do it without this big responsibility. Dad needs a lot of care, attention and sensitivity and I have to deliver on all angles. This epiphany seemed unbearable a few weeks ago when I was running on no sleep, still trying to be the boss babe I am being the best I can at work, at home, and at the hospital. It’s such a dangerous slippery slope of hyperactivity from my brain on literal fumes, I hated myself and it showed. I hated that it showed. I hated that I was showing the world how miserable I was and you know what, that made me feel worthless. It made me feel like I had ten thousand eyes on me that were legit happy that I was miserable because this always cheery go-getter attitude of mine was so mad and miserable and angry and upset and sad and fucking tired that it made people feel better about themselves. Then the test results came back, POSITIVE.
The dreadful times of Coronavirus that everyone is so deathly afraid to see. I made the mistake of going to my holiday work party, having a little fun and I risked everything that I had been working so hard to avoid because I wanted to enjoy my Wednesday night. Which, I did enjoy my Wednesday night and at the time it didn’t seem worth it but it’s crazy how things change in a few days. At this point, I was mortified at the thought of being positive. I had wasted all of my paid time off when my dad fell and was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Being isolated for 10 days seemed like a year in the state penitentiary hole, 24 hour lock up. The exact things that made me feel better was exactly what I had to stay away from, my family. How could I be so selfish to go to a party that I already knew had a high chance of having Omicron plastered all over its walls and food? I imagined running my car off road and slicing my throat with a knife. Sounds pretty relentless but its true. So you know what God did? He let me rest.
Away from my family, my dad and away from the responsibilities of working a third shift demanding job working for attorneys that have higher expectations for me than I have on myself. God let me binge watch TV (something I’m never allowed to do) for a few days straight. I got reading time in. I got meditation time in. I had a chance to get pretty and record stupid tik toks of myself, sounds so goofy to be proud of but listen, when you haven’t had time to yourself in a while, this shit is everything. I got paid for 4 work nights, a whole week off of work which would have never happened had I not tested positive. Sometimes it is the silver linings that are the hardest to see but the most significant detail. It was my blessing in disguise and after a few delays in his home equipment and a few delays in his discharge, I tested negative right before he came home just in time for the holidays.
Caring for a loved one who cannot do anything for themselves is trying. I want to believe that I’m doing the right things and staying positive for a man that has looked out for me my entire life but this shit is so draining and emotionally trying I need moments like this to sit back, shut up and explain it all. My dad who is Mr. Fix it, Mr. 9 lives, who spent years of my life in and out of the hospital for his Colitis problems that has plagued his family for generations. This man who slipped and fell in the tub nearly 20 years ago, fractured his C4 and was up and about the very next day after surgery, can no longer turn to his side on his own. Sympathy for his emotions at this time is important but at the same time, every time I turn this man to the side, empty out his shit bag or change the dressing in this softball sized bedsore hole on his ass I have to hear about how much this sucks for him and how useless he feels. It’s hard not to take on that energy when you’re the one who’s doing it. I understand this is hard for this go getter who is used to rocking a stage and working 60 hour weeks with major back and muscle problems but fuck, this shit is hard for me too.
I now have the problem of getting back into routine, finding the silver lining and finding joy in my everyday life. I’m thankful I’m able to care for him the way that I am but I’m also sacrificing this schedule that I worked so hard to maintain for my own mental health. I can’t just get up and go to the gym when I want, I can’t sleep in until 5pm on my work nights and spend 2 hours chilling upstairs away from my family for some quiet time by myself. I need to get up, check his bag, change his position, make sure he’s comfortable, change the channel, offer a drink, wash his bedding, feed him, get him out of bed, stretch him, do his daily exercise and wait for my 8 hour and 45 minute shift to come at 10:30 at night to get mentally beat up by attorneys who I have to be nice to when they are punching me down to the ground. Right after work, I have to reposition him, change his wound dressing and try to get in at least 6 hours of sleep to do it all over again. That is hard enough to do, let alone for a man who is angry about his current situation. Right now, I can’t help but feel like regardless of how much I’m doing, it’s not quite enough because I cannot take away this mans pain or pride that keeps him stuck in this shitty ass mentality.
Throughout this journey, I’ve found myself on my knees crying for help from my Lord more often than not. He placed this hurdle in my life for a reason and finding out why is hard to process. Then I go back to this prayer of mine and wonder if I had prayed for this to happen 14 years ago. Here I am, being a vessel and helping others. At first, I thought my chances of doing things that I loved made me selfish but now I know that I have to hold onto that to keep me alive. Writing about my emotions during this process and being vulnerable about what I’m feeling is not only helping me but I pray that it is also helping others. I was pushing off the release of this album I’d worked so hard on for a few months but I thought, fuck that. I’m doing this shit. I stopped listening to it for months so now when I do, it’s a different person on the other side of those speakers who takes in my message from another point of view. I don’t want to stop having jam sessions and singing my big heart out every week. I don’t want to stop going to the studio and recording music that makes me feel good. I don’t want to stop going to the gym because it literally keeps me alive.
I need to keep me alive.
Where there’s a will there’s a way, I may not have it all together or have a good routine yet but this will get better. God is giving me this opportunity to effect those around me in different ways than I’ve ever expected. I’ve found my sound and I don’t ever want to let that go. Now it’s time to really do the work that I’m meant to do, for those around me that feel like they need to keep themselves alive as well.
Make me that vessel Lord, I promise you, my heart is yours.
God loves you and so do I,
XO