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A Witch's Path. . .

a path worth taking. . .

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Life

Life’s a dance, you learn as you go

Diversity, is beautiful. 

I wake up everyday and dread getting out of bed. I feel like my mind will shut down or break down any minute. I’m irate and irritable. I’m lost and confused. I’m drowning, sinking into this emotional abyss. I’m angry at the world we’re living in, where hating someone because of the color of their skin, or the fact that they love someone of the same sex, or because a woman is fat, or because a man shows emotion, or because you don’t look, think, speak or feel like I do.

Diversity, is beautiful. The way you wear your hair, the cost of your clothes, the value of your education doesn’t make you better or worse than anyone on this earth. The light you give, the love you give, the soul you share with others . . . that is what matters; that is what counts.  I love fair skin and freckles. I love smooth dark skin. I love olive tones on some skin. I love Blue, Green and Hazel eyes , all the same, but beautifully different. I love men, I love women.

Someone in the grocery store today gave me a look. I fall into several diverse categories. I’m a woman. I’m of Latin descent. I’m obese. This man looked at me with disdain, nausea, disgust. Then he heard me speak. I’m 5 generation American. My English is impeccable and without accent. My Texas Southern Twang long gone since living in Florida. He looked away, huffed and rolled his eyes. The feeling in my gut at that moment was something I could not hold back.

I asked him if there was a problem. HE ignored me. I laughed. I was livid. So I asked again, at him directly to his face, “Sir, Is there a problem?”. My husband would say I’m problematic. FUCK THAT! This fat white bigot and all his trump-loving cronies are the fucking problematic ones. His answer, “Nope”. I smiled. “I didn’t think so”, I replied. Picked up my cheese and walked away with my head held high.

2 aisles down . . . Woman asking her son to tell her what something said (in Spanish). Her son struggles to read the label. He has to be about 6. I stop next to her and in Spanish, I ask what she’s looking for. As I’m speaking to her in my again, non-accented, impeccable Spanish, the man walks past. Staring at me. I smile and wave. He decides to look the other way. That’s right fucker, I’m a Spanish, Mexican, Native American mutt. I’m proud of it.

FUCK you! FUCK TRUMP! May the Gods, (old, new, many) bless this nation with peace, love and respect. I’m losing my patience. I’m losing my cool. That can’t happen.

Diversity is beautiful. Diversity is life.

 

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My dearest Tomm. . .

I want to do more good in the world. Life is so finite and losing you made it abundantly clear that what the world needs most of is love, kindness and passion.

If it’s true that everyone has 3 great loves in their life, you were most certainly one of them. You were great, and I’ll always and forever love you. Your wit and intelligence were unmatched.

I’ll miss you, everyday. I don’t have to close my eyes to see your face, your smile that won me over, your eyes, they’ll haunt me forever and remind me that real passion still exists.

You told me once that you were sure life had happiness in store for me. It seems life’s still busy making me strong first.

Rest easy lover, you’re flying now. We’ll meet again no doubt. My Candlebright, you’re flying now.

Always and forever yours,

Chica.

Losing hope

Monday,  November 6, 2017, at work my phone wouldn’t stop vibrating a little after 8 pm. At 9:55 I take a short break to check what the fuss is about. I had 6 missed calls from my husband. One text saying 911.

My heart starts racing, on my way to the breakroom, I tell one of my leads something is happening at home and I have to call my husband.  

With tremblimg hands I dial his number. He answers, “I need you to call 911, someone is in the back room and I hear someone screaming for help and loud noises like fighting. I called 911 at 8 and no one is here. I was afraid to go out the front door so I climbed out of the bedroom window. Please just call them.” 

Me “Are you okay?” 

Husband “Yes, just please call the police they still aren’t here I called at 8.”

Me “Okay, I’m calling now, I’ll call you back.”

I speed walk to my Leads desk as I’m dialing 911 and tell him something about might have to leave and someone breaking into my house. 

Operator: “911, what’s your emergency?” 

Me: “My name is Donica Antonino, I’m at work and got a call from my husband who says someone broke into our house and he called 911 since 8 pm. No one has responded. No cops are there. Someone was yelling for help. We don’t know how many people are in there.”

Operator: “Ok, ma’am what is the address?”

Me: tells her the address

Operator: “Ok, I see the call,…… I’m not sure what’s going on with this call…….. I’m dispatching someone….. we’re getting someone out there as soon as possible. ”

Me: “My husband called since 8 o’clock, why isnt there anyone there yet?”

Operator: “It looks like there was another emergency within close proximity.”

Me: “I’m leaving work to go there now.”

Operator: “I’ll let the officers know you’re on your way. Please don’t go in the house. What kind of vehicle are you driving?”

Me: describes vehicle

Operator: “ok, I’ve updated the report. Drive safely.”

I hang up and let my lead know I have to go. 

I made it home in 6 minutes. It usually takes 12.

I arrive and there are 3 police units and 6 police behind me another one is pulling in.

I’m shaking. I see my neighbors outside. I don’t see me husband. I go around and see them coming out of the back room. My husband looks shaken. An officer is asking him questions. Everything is spinning. Tunnel vision kicks in. I go up to the officer and I can smell his cologne before I reach them. I also smell grass. Weird. I start answering the officer’s questions on Autopilot. I ask him why it took so long for them to get there he nervously says thye just got the call at 10. My heart sinks, that’s the time I called. My huband shows the officer and I his phone he called 911 4 times in 2 hours. No one was sent out until I called.

You might ask me why this is so upsetting to me. My husband is a native Mexican. From the capital. His English is broken. My husband asked for a translator on the first call. He called 4 times in 2 hours. No one was dispatched. I’m angry. I’m saddened. I’m disappointed. Never, never have I ever felt so dismayed with my country. This is my country. Where I was born. My mother and father were born. My grandparents and great grandparents were born here. 

I’m sure this was discrimination. After all was said and done there were two other neighbors with damage to their homes. The park manager came over to tell us he too called the police approximately around the same time due to damages to a home 3 houses down. Everyone who called the police had heavily accented English. Except me. 7 calls 4 different people. 2 hours before the first unit showed up. 

I’m so lost and broken inside. All hope for humanity and or country is shattered. My country discriminated against my own. My family. The man who’s last name I chose. He works hard. We just bought this home and are still working on fixing everything up. 

We had just painted that room. The furniture is broken. There’s 3 broken windows. There is blood everywhere, lots of blood, and I mean everywhere. The breaker box to the entire house was kicked and damaged. Equipment we had in there thrown around. We estimate the damage around 5 thousand dollars, at minimum. 

The subject was in my house for approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes,  destroying my home. My safe haven. My neighbors to the north have 2 small children. My neighbor to the south has a teenager. 7 calls 2 hours…… 

7 calls to 911 within a 2 hour period. The only call they dispatched was the one for the person who speaks perfect English. 

To help out with the cost to repair the damage Click Here.

Graphic Images of the damage can be seen by clicking the link.

Maybe I’m not from this life

There are days when my body aches. There are times when my heart aches. There are moments when my soul breaks. Shattered into an infinite number of pieces. Moments when everything feels wrong and off kilter. I feel empty and lacking. I can never tell if these feelings belong to me from this life or another. Only that the pain runs so strong and so deep nothing can seal the gaping hole it leaves behind. I’m called by some,  dramatic. I’m not, what I feel, the way I feel, is passion. The strongest of it’s kind. Pure and unbridled passion. It evokes something deep within my being, and it’s painful, as if something is trapped inside me and wants to explode to the surface. Like I’m awakening. Like I’m being thrown into a place i just don’t belong. 

I find that after a while this unexplained passion that flows through me quiets as if to let my mind, body and soul breathe like the ebb and flow of chidbirth. I feel empty in these times. Missing the ache of  that passion. 

Maybe I am not of this life. Things don’t make sense here. 

This body is a shell. Sometimes full sometimes empty. 
Goodnight beautiful world. 

Don’t close the door. . .

The silence is so deafening, the tears don’t want to stop. There is so much left unsaid, so many memories yet to be made. Now, I’m the only one left to share this memory. . .

One sunny, and hot Texas afternoon, I was little more than 6 years old, a beautiful woman knocked on the door. I wobbled over and opened it. A beautiful voice to match, she said something along the lines of “Is Francis home?” I closed the door. She was a stranger after all.

That was the first time I met my tia Glenda. I was the first person in her biological family that she had the pleasure of meeting. Knowing that we never got the chance to share more of our lives together makes my heart ache in a way that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.

Today, I would like to ask for prayers for my cousins. May their lives be filled with love and light so that there may be some semblance of filling for the hole that has been ripped into their lives. May they have the strength and courage to get through every wave that is yet to come, because there will be many. Let every holiday, birthday or anniversary to come,  be filled with wonderful memories of the woman who was their world.

I would also like to send a thought into the universe: Love, because it heals all things, forgives all things and creates all things. May love fill the hearts of every soul, even if for a moment. When that wave of love I send knocks on your door like a beautiful angel asking to come in. . . . Don’t close the door. . .

… no words….

What do you do when there are no words to describe the way you feel? When the emptiness inside is too much to bear? When you realize that the grass isn’t always greener? When money didn’t buy happiness? When peace doesn’t come with peace of mind? When Standing up for what you believe is no longer safe? When the world you knew has become a hell you are unfamiliar with?

What do you do? 

I’m Angry; God is Dead !

​I just can’t stop being angry. Nothing anyone can say can change it. Just leave me be. It’s not you, it’s me… better yet,  it is you, all of you who remain silent to the atrocities happening in the world. So don’t tell me that I have so much to me thankful for, that I am lucky, that I don’t need for anything, I know that. I’m not angry with my life, I’m angry with life in general. Why does my friends grandbaby have to be in pain, why the fuck does Donald Trump have to ruin our country, why can’t we all go back to the way things were. When playing outside was good for kids, when cooking at home was mandatory and eating out was a luxury, when Good music made sense, and 14 year olds didn’t have cell phones. When people came together in times of crisis not divided into irrational sects. When the word God had value, had weight. Now it’s used as a means to an end. This world, this life, is crumbling before our very eyes and I feel helpless. Everyone has  that “Im just one person,  I can’t save the world”, attitude . YOU ARE  WRONG! We can save this world, one day at a time one person at a time. STOP BEING LAZY! GET UP and fight for what is right! Stop pretending everything is OK! 

Friedrich Nietzsche rightly said “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?” 

#godisdead #imwithyouemi #letsgoback #timeforchange

Dear Family,

This has been a hard year for me. I’ve been through so many emotional changes. I feel like it flew by because I was so busy putting out fires in my head and in my heart. I’ve fallen so many times in my life, I never found it as hard as I did this year to get back up. I’ve made all the wrong choices for all the wrong reasons. There is one thing that has forced me to keep getting up, to keep wiping away my tears and dusting off my ass: Family. My Dad, my sisters, my brothers, my nieces, my nephews, my cousins, mom. You all have kept me going.

This holiday season, as everyone goes out shopping and has all these special requests for specific gifts and such, all I want is for my family to know that I’m sorry for not being around, for not calling, for not reaching out. I just felt like I need to battle this out on my own. I want you all to know that all of you, are my reason for not giving up. Y’all are all I ever wanted all those years I was off drifting alone, doing who knows what with who knows who. Now, I have what I wanted: Family.

Now, I’m finding it hard to be a good daughter, a good sister, a good aunt, a good niece, a good friend even a good witch. I feel like if I get to close I’m, going to burn it all to hell. LOL So, I keep pulling away. I keep “keeping my distance”. So, I’m writing this because I give up, I need your help. I need help being a good everything. If I don’t call, call me. If I don’t text, text me. If You haven’t heard from me, reach out. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning and your text, phone call or sticker might be the one thing I needed today.

As I write everyone’s Holiday cards, I think carefully about what each one says, reminding all of you how much you mean to me. Please know I’m trying, I’m fighting and I’m keeping on, for all of you, because I know you are rooting for me. . . and I’m not one to “leave the stage in the middle of a song” . . .

Merry Christmas, Merry Yule, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Diwali, Ramadan Mubarak, Happy Kwanzaa, and a Joyous Winter Solstice to everyone the world over.

 

I concur . . .

“It is often in the darkest skies that we see the brightest stars.” – Richard Evans

Contrast. This is what this world is based upon.

Good and evil, dark and light, suffering and happiness.

It’s the only way to find a balance, the only way to equally experience everything.

via — Cristian Mihai

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