lunes, 29 de octubre de 2018

Mi jornada hacia la vida, Día 1124, A little bit about my past


There is something that very interestingly enough, from a very young age was one of my greatest points of shame in the subject of relationships, and that was to be seen as a Rural when I was on the school, because there was such an exclusion and discrimination towards the people who came from the farms and the from outside the cities, that I would try to hide it away from me at all cost, even to the point that I would almost never visit my grandmother, always giving the excuse that I was just too busy to go and make her a visit. 

For a very very looong time, I was not even interested in getting to know the history of my grandfather or my grandmother, but once that I got to know a part of the story, and how my father was treated by his own family, and how my grandmother was trapped with a man who used to beat her own wife whenever he got too drunk, which happened to be more often than what I was told... and I mean, this is something that one hears so frequently along the voices of the people that lives on the fields where my father grow up, that when one gets to known the pattern in common, its a mixture of several things that begins with alcohol and follows with forced marriages were the kids simply came too soon...

I am having an extensive experience of finding myself in front of a mirror in the moments that I feel more angry, and finding behind all of that the face of my grandfather... one of the most disgusting experiences that still exists within me, is precisely the thoughts that come when I am angry, but that come also as one of the biggest opportunities that I could ever have asked for, because as soon as the anger comes up, I have that flag point, I have a remembrance of the kind of asshole that I will become if I allow myself to act in the anger, instead of acting in the calmness and kindness that my father and my mother always tried to teach me whenever I reacted on anger. They would always tell me: "Learn to be patient, learn to be tolerant" and I always had a lot of resistance to such words "tolerance and patience", because I didn´t wanted to quit and give up on my desire to be right on the extensive and meaningless discussions that we used to had about whatever point we didn´t agreed with, but what I didn´t understood was that "that tolerance and that patience" that my mother was talking about, was precisely that point of learning to breathe and always try to resolve the problems talking, being calm and patience about and around the argument.

For a very long time I denied my roots, because I was ashamed of the stories that my grandmother used to told us about the several abuses that took place along my family, the alcohol can transform even the noblest man into beasts... and all the criticism that is created through media around the Rurals, farmers and peasants, made very difficult for my father and his brothers to walk out of the stigma created around them. It’s not a matter of casualty that when my grandmother came to the city with my father (who was only a 5 year old kid at that time) were denied a decent job and they had to sell tamales on the streets to be able to pay the school of my father. The stories of my grandmother about how they got out of poverty, it’s one of the things that can always lift me up and believe a little bit more on myself whenever the things seem a little bit too hard or too dark to stand up

I will continue as I open up more around this point