Getting to Know Me

Lost Places
        I am a Bay Area native, 23 years old and of Mexican, Irish and Portuguese descent. I grew up in a working-class household, my mom cleaned houses while my father worked as a salesman at flea markets, swap meets and county fairs. I grew up between two households, a child of divorce I spent my younger days shuttled between mom’s home to school, to dad’s home and back again. rinse, dry and repeat. If we are talking about who I am and where I come from, well I am a child of recovering alcoholics. The spirituality and self-work that two generations of Alcoholics Anonymous have brought into our home, growing up has provided me with an intimate perspective on addiction, recovery, and self. Alcoholism aside, mental Health, near-death encounters, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorders are all aspects of the lived experiences of those closest to me growing up.
I am fortunate enough to have a compassionate father and three older brothers in my life. These gentlemen always set father figure examples of strong character and compassion for others. I was lucky enough to have four “father figures” in my life growing up. That is not to say that they are perfect or that they are without fault. They all taught me in their own ways, how to be a compassionate and capable person in this world. This is partly why it pained me (and still does) on a very deep and intimate level when I see my brother J suffer in physical agony. Of all three of my brothers, he played the largest role in raising me, of all three of my brothers he is the one I have watched slowly crumble. My brother has a chronic illness which attacks his joints, ligaments and the bones themselves. The days he has no pain are none, and the days that he cannot walk are too many. I think deep down, what I wish above all else is to take his pain away.
I believe that I blame myself, in some subconscious way for not being able to “fix” my brother. I wish I could take his pain away, I wish I could reverse the disease, I wish I could do something. This powerless feeling in the wake of the randomness of life and his walk in this life. He, one of the most incredible men I have ever known, robbed of so much so young. There must exist and easier-softer way? I know that I carry the hopes of a family with me (but no pressure!). They all want the best for me but they also (I believe) have the foresight to allow me to follow my dreams, wherever those take me.

Dreams are like passing streams of consciousness dipped in desire and hope. I dream of being a father one day, of having a family of my own, to watch them grow. I’d like to raise my children to be true to themselves and to question everything with a critical mind. My dream is to be happy, and (I suppose) to probably, maybe, possibly, pursue a career in medicine eventually. I enjoy traveling and poetry, they feel true to my soul. Somedays the idea of being a doctor and a father don’t feel like they mesh with traveling and writing and dancing and eating etc, etc. I guess I’m caught between two paths, I want both, but really I am afraid that if I half-ass either one that I will be left with neither. Yet what is life if we don’t take any risks you know? All I know is that at the end of the day I have to be true to myself and fight for my own happiness, because no one else is going to hand it to me, I have to build it, shape it, cultivate it. One day I hope to let my happiness out of his cage, watch as he flys through the room, out the window, and into a great blue sky to parts unknown, where J’s body doesn’t hurt so much and hope paints dreams along our faces.
Photos courtesy of Pixabay.com 

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Welcome!We are really glad to have you here

My name is Christian and welcome to a Sequia Talks.

I started a small blog in 2018 exploring aspects of travel, poetry, and media.

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Heart-Mural