I will start by saying I am grateful for the lessons I’m learning, even if all the answers haven’t presented themselves to me.
I went to Teotihucán. I went on a tiny tour with a tour guide I found through Air B and B, and there were two guests besides me. They were young college students a brother and sister from Honduras. We drove about 45 minutes out of the city to the pyramids and city of Teotihuacán, and it was remarkable. Standing on the ground of the people that built this enormous sacred city, long before the Aztecs found it abandoned. I won’t attempt to repeat my amazing history lessons from yesterday. I just listened as our historian, Sergio, told us about Quetzalcóatl and the temple made for him, and the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon. I let it being there flow over me, like water.
Climbing the stairs was NO joke. To get to some platforms you had to kind of crawl/climb like going up a steep ladder. It was intense. It only took a few minutes, though, and was quite spectacular when you got up there. These photos on top that Karen from Honduras took are sufficiently dorky. The one with the hat I’m on the Pyramid of the Sun, the one without I’m on the Pyramid of the Moon. They are the most dorky tourist photos of me I could possibly imagine, especially the one with the hat. I’m grateful for the hat. It was fricken bright.
I’ll cut the shit.
To be completely honest, while there I was deeply struggling emotionally.
I knew coming to Mexico was going to be a journey of self-reflection and trying to find my center again. My center got lost after I got divorced. NO, long before I got divorced.
I haven’t been completely in touch with who I am for a long time. And while I’m here, it is hard for Tom, which makes my process more difficult. His feelings are his journey.
I am very in tune with the emotions of others, and it’s very hard to turn that part of myself off. That is one part that has never gone away-my empathic side that often makes the feelings of others very apparent to me, like their emotions are in technicolor.
To feel what others are feeling and to not alleviate their pain seems cruel. I do not always make other people’s lives easier. Sometimes standing up for myself or speaking my truth makes their lives harder. It always makes me feel like a selfish asshole. It makes me feel unworthy of love. Unworthy in general.
But that is not our job here, to save others from their emotions. Our job is to be the best version of ourselves that we can, and to try to not hurt anyone intentionally. When others are suffering and I cannot do anything about it, even if I want to, all I can do is to just let them know I see them.
I don’t know how to unite all these parts of myself. It’s very challenging. So on the top of the Pyramid of the Sun, I prayed to God for answers. This is a very sacred place, meant for this exact purpose-communing with the gods and finding answers.
I’ll be brave and tell you the truth, reader.
Truthfully, my heart is broken. Broken from neglect of myself. Broken from misunderstanding. Broken from failure.
SO.Much.Failure. A failed long marriage carries a deep scar that will always hurt. Failures as a teacher make me reconsider everything I know about education. Failures as a parent that make me feel like I should have done more for my children. Failure in my relationship with Tom and not being a better partner to him. Failure to own my own truth. Failure to let myself really be myself.
I am a broken, weepy mess. I’m sitting in my room in Coyoacán feeling a lot of feelings. I don’t know how to go inside very well. All of my seeking over the last few years has told me the only way for me to grow and move past all this shit is to go inside myself and heal there first. I don’t know how to do it. So I turn to research, books, tutors, coaches, mentors, shamans, therapists, gurus, religion, guides, travel. NONE of it matters if I don’t deal with me first, to meditate on my own clarity. Sitting still is so contradictory to who I am that it makes me squirm just thinking about meditating and seeking guidance in stillness.
Writing it down forces me to face it. And if I don’t write it down or talk about it, it then goes into my dreams. My subconscious takes over and offers me deeply confusing and intense allegories about life and communication. About love and acceptance and misunderstanding.
Last night I dreamt that I was trying to go see a movie, but I’d gone shopping first. My mom and Ella went into the movie without me, but I had so many packages that I had to account for every item in my bags before they’d let me go inside the movie. I had lost one of my receipts. I kept addressing the cashiers by name and explaining that they see me ALL the time and they know I have paid for all of these things. I was so upset and starting to cry a little, and telling them that they know my character, they know that I didn’t steal anything from the store and attempt to go into the movie with it. But they wouldn’t budge. One offered me a cup of coffee as I stood there taking my purse, wallet and bags apart. I was watching little boys play nearby in a children’s play space, and gave them some of the toys I had bought. They were scared to play with them because they had to put them together and the directions were hard to understand. I said it was okay, maybe they can leave them for other children. I turned back to my wallet, and the missing receipt was there. I was able to enter the movie, but it had been on for a long time and I missed most of it.
All of my dreams are this way -stories that are intense- and upon waking I remember them. It’s like my soul is trying to figure things out while I’m unconscious because my conscious mind doesn’t know how to do it.
I have no idea what this dream is trying to teach me. Do I fear that others don’t know my character? That I don’t know what children need? That I am a thief?
I don’t know at all how to move into my next growth phase. I know that I love. And that love is powerful. And that this journey has roses with thorns along the way that are beautiful to look at, but cut me often.