Tag Archives: personal

3rd Year Anniversary w/ WordPress

A few more months will mark my 3rd year anniversary with WordPress. Things have picked up quite a bit since 2013 when I first started! Matter of fact, I feel as if I’m on a roller coaster traveling faster and farther with my hair blowing in the wind and the sun shining on my face! It’s been an exhilarating ride.
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Here are a few stats from the last 12 months:

  • 71 new posts
  • 2,038 faithful followers – WordPress, Facebook, Bloglovin’, Twitter
  • 12,818 views to date—the U.S. is number one, followed by Brazil, China, United Kingdom, Canada, Philippines, Australia, Italy, France, India, Japan, Spain, Netherlands, Mexico, Portugal, Russia, Puerto Rico, Germany, Czech Republic, United Arab Emirates, Malaysia, Argentina, Singapore, Ireland, Pakistan, Indonesia, Greece, Peru, Norway, New Zealand…

Tied for the most viewed posts besides the

ABOUT ME page

SHARK BAIT

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WHEN IT HURTS TO NO END

and

The 2nd most viewed post is

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BEAUTY FOR ASHES

And the 3rd most viewed post is

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WHAT DOES CO-DEPENDENT LOOK LIKE

with

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THE BATTLE IS REAL

in 4th place


Most commented was

THE LITTLE GREEN DRESS

THE LITTLE GREEN DRESS


  • Most popular topics were: family, memoir, amusing, personal, prayer
  • My top commenter: Sandra DiGiovanni

My followers know I recently published my first book,  “RUNNING IN HEELS: A MEMOIR OF GRIT AND GRACE.” The “experts” said that a newbie (yours truly) should have a writer’s platform. So I started a FACEBOOK WRITERS’ FAN PAGE, and three years ago, I began blogging about past and current events.

I’ve been especially happy since signing up with WordPress.com for its user-friendly and easy navigation.

From time to time, I include short excerpts from my book, and to my delight, you, the readers, want and ask for more. This is good! Since I started blogging, I have reconnected with friends, acquaintances, and yes, family members from across the miles. I have made many new friends and fellow bloggers who not only take the time to read but also leave positive comments and inspiring feedback. This is great!

Bottom line: I feel blessed beyond measure. And I appreciate every one of you for visiting my site–newcomers and old–and sticking with me throughout this journey to the finish line.

I’m constantly being asked, “WHAT’S NEXT?” The more I hear of other ladies’ stories of survival, the more I feel their voices need to be heard. My plan is to interview some of these survivors of domestic violence and abuse and have their stories heard. I am desiring women (or men) who have healed and moved on to a better place in spite of what they’ve been through, from those who are not bitter but better. Stories that will inspire and help others who may be going through a difficult situation and feel hopeless.

Feel free to leave a comment about topics that interest you most.

Thank you again for your support and for following this blog!
~ FROM MY HEART TO YOURS ~

About "Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit & Grace"

6 Comments

Filed under Blogging, Reflections From the Heart, Stories, Wordpress Anniversary

Circle of Life

Once upon a time, there lived a lonely girl. Intimately acquainted with an empty stomach, she carried hunger in her heart, starving for love.

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Despite her destitute and inner turmoil, she grew up and broke away, searching for love. Eventually, she’d marry and have a family of her own, never dreaming of how they’d fill the void in her heart.

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In the circle of life, her little ones grew to have little ones of their own.

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She felt young at heart again and couldn’t imagine life without them.

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And the not-so-little girl wasn’t lonely anymore.

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The end.

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7 Comments

Filed under Life, musing

Not that Girl Anymore

She is not the girl who scratched and clawed her way to the top. She is the girl who learned how to float to prevent her from sinking when life tried to weigh her down. Who walked on pebbles and used them as her stepping stones to get to higher ground. Who learned that childlike faith in the God above would blossom into something much greater than herself. She may have had father figures who were absent, but she found comfort in a Heavenly Father who never left her side.

Once dejected and rejected, she is no longer that sad little girl today. Don’t feel sorry for her. Applaud her, because it was during the dry season that she discovered an oasis. Rejoice with her, because in the darkness, she found a beacon of light. Admire her for rising above her crisis despite her circumstances. She may have started out in the valley, pecking along like a chicken digging for worms. But then the Ancient of Days taught her to spread her wings like an eagle and soar into the air over the mountaintop.

Don’t cry for her, feel sad for her, or grieve for her. If you’re looking for a lost and lonely child, she is not here. Misunderstood, she may be; a wonder to many, she may be. If you’re looking for perfection, she is not that girl. If you expect to see sophistication or to hear profound eloquence, you may be disappointed. Her past may want to dictate her future, the voices in her head play a broken song, and her name may even mean “bitter” – but she refuses to be that girl anymore.

What kind of girl is she?

A simple girl.

A grateful girl.

A blessed girl.

Stronger today for everything she endured, she appreciates the beauty of living life one day at a time. She surrounds herself with those who encourage and genuinely care for her. She clothes herself with the garment of praise, amazed by the wonders of God’s grace.

Sad . . . alone . . . afraid?

Not that girl anymore.

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© M.A. Pérez 2015, All Rights Reserved

 “The past does not have to be your prison. You have a voice in your destiny. You have a say in your life. You have a choice in the path you take.” Max Lucado

 

7 Comments

Filed under Survivor

UnMasked

Photo Credit: justposhmasks.com

All through my life, I’ve dealt with feelings of low self-esteem and self-worth. I felt undone, incomplete, or insignificant. Along the way, I realized this stemmed from my childhood. I did not ask for it. I certainly did not want it. But with an undeniably painful past and a seemingly questionable future, I muddled through life. I thought a man could save me, but he only tried to create me in his own image! I became his shadow, even worshiped the ground he walked on, subservient to his every whim. I was truly lost, with no identity, no voice, no me. Yet I held on, not wanting to lose him. This, by the way, is a perfect example of insecurity: the more easily threatened we are, the more insecure we are.

Beth Moore says, “Insecurity lives in constant terror of loss.” As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been reading Beth Moore’s So Long, Insecurity with the subtitle You’ve Been a Bad Friend to Us. How I wish she had written this book 40 years ago! She says, “Insecurity is not only a woman’s battle.” She identifies insecurity as a “profound sense of self-doubt – a deep feeling of uncertainty about our basic worth and our place in the world. The insecure man or woman lives in constant fear of rejection and deep uncertainty about whether his or her own feelings and desires are legitimate.”

I thought about myself as a Christian, why, from time to time, do I still struggle with insecurities? Why does rejection crush me so? Why do I second-guess everything? Beth reveals an interesting point about herself in her book: “I not only lack security, I also lack faith. I don’t just doubt myself, I also doubt God about myself.

Now I don’t know about you, but that struck a chord in me!

She goes on to say how some of us never seek healing from God for our insecurities because we feel like we don’t fit the profile. But insecurity’s best cover is perfectionism. Now there’s a mask for you!

A person who has no self-worth or a low self-esteem

tends to hide behind a mask.

Note: Here’s a thought-provoking poem I came across: Don’t Be Fooled By Me

What masks are you prone to wear? Looking back, I recall hiding the pain behind my smile…

Don’t try to be somebody you’re not. No one is perfect. It’s okay to let your guard down. We will face difficult and troubling times. Just remember, God loves us just the way we are; He loves us too much to leave us that way.

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6 Comments

Filed under Beth Moore, insecurities, Masks

My Two Year Anniversary with WordPress

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Time has flown by! WordPress sent me a message stating that it is my ‘Two-Year Anniversary’ with them. Amazing!

When I first started out, progress was a bit on the slow side of things, but steady. I thought, “Not too shabby for someone who has a 40-hour workweek, helps to care for a 104-year-old, and writes in between!” Well, let me tell you that things have picked up quite a bit since then! Matter of fact, I feel as if I’m on a roller coaster traveling faster and farther with my hair blowing in the wind and the sun shining on my face! It’s both scary and exhilarating at the same time.

I will share a few stats from the last 2 years:

100 original posts
1384 faithful followers – WordPress, Facebook, Twitter, Bloglovin’, Tumblr
9,740 views to date (was 3,220) – U.S. being number one, followed by Brazil, China, United Kingdom, Canada, Italy, Philippines, with France & Australia tied, India, Spain Netherlands, Mexico …
The most viewed post besides the About Me page is Running in Heels
The second most viewed post is News Flash
And the third most viewed posts is My Sister, If Only
Most commented was About Me Page & The Little Green Dress
Most popular topics were: determination, memoir, perseverance
My top commenter: Sandra DiGiovanni

My followers know that I have recently published my first book, “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace.” The “experts” said that a newbie (yours truly) should have a writer’s platform. So, I started a Facebook writer’s fan page, and two years ago, I began blogging about past and current events.

I’ve been especially happy since signing up with WordPress.com, thanks to its user-friendliness, which makes it easy to navigate.

From time to time, I do include short excerpts from my book, and to my delight, you readers are wanting and asking for more. This is good! Since I started blogging, I have reconnected with friends, acquaintances, and yes, family members from across the miles. I have made many new friends and fellow bloggers who not only take the time to read but also leave positive comments and inspiring feedback. This is great!

Bottom line: I feel blessed beyond measure. And I appreciate each and every one of you for visiting my site–newcomers and old–and sticking with me throughout this journey to the finish line. My one regret? That I didn’t start blogging sooner.

Feel free to leave a comment about topics that interest you most.

Thank you again for your support and for following this blog – from my heart to yours.

3 Comments

Filed under Blogging, Memoir, Wordpress Anniversary

She’s Still Amazing

Eight years ago, God saw fit to add a little girl to my family.

I never thought that I could ever love another so completely

and so tenderly as I would my granddaughter.

On her twenty-ninth day, just two weeks

after the picture below was taken with her, her mama, and I,

we weren’t prepared for what was to come in the days ahead.

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The night before her surgery … a heart-rending and tender moment …

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At 2 1/2 months old!

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And look at her now!

Thank you, Lord, for giving us your gift of Grace.

Happy Birthday, Grace Elizabeth Adams!

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To learn more about our amazing Grace, go to http://wp.me/p3iDKm-83

© M.A. Pérez 2014, All Rights Reserved

13 Comments

December 9, 2014 · 10:26 PM

Another Day at the Office

Note: This traumatic situation happened in the 90s, something I’ll never forget.

Ever think you’d wake up to face another day and everything go according to plan? Remain normal? Nothing out of the ordinary? Yeah, me too. But this would be no ordinary work day for me …

After several months of working the drive-thru window at my new banking job, I looked forward to working the inside lobby. I retrieved my cash box and set up my drawer as I do on any other day, except that I was stationed alongside Manager and friend Judy, who has fifteen years of experience in the industry. Once all bank tellers were set up with their consignment items, our security guard, Victor, unlocked the front doors and opened for business. Because it was the beginning of the week, I felt confident the day would go by fairly smoothly.

After assisting a couple of customers with their transactions, I became startled by a commotion to my far left. I glanced in that direction in time to see a masked man shove Victor against the counter, snatching his gun out of his holster. Like a surreal scene right out of a horror flick, the masked man pressed the gun against Victor’s spine, ordering him not to move or to turn around. Before realization hit me, another gunman shot passed me from the opposite direction with a stocking over his face, shouting obscenities and threatening that he would “pop” anyone who moved!

Another hooded gunman appeared, waving his rifle, shoving customers and employees along the wall, and yelling at them to drop down and not move. Staring in disbelief and shock, as if frozen in time, the tellers behind the counters were still standing with their hands in the air. As thoughts reeled in my brain, I hardly noticed that my hand was slowly etching out, attempting to set off a silent alarm hidden under the counter inches from me. Out of nowhere, one of the gunmen jumped on top of my counter, glaring with his gun pointed at me, and growled, “You! Down, now. Or I’ll pop you!”

I was going to faint on the spot at best or be shot to smithereens at worst. Thank the good Lord, I still had some control of my faculties and complied, dropping to my knees with my head down, all the while praying. Judy was not so lucky.

The gunman began ordering her to climb over the counter to go into the vault with him. One of the other gunmen already held Victor and the commercial teller with his gun pointed in their faces while they waited to go inside the vault once it was unlocked. The gunman became impatient with Judy and proceeded to pull on her arm, attempting to drag her up and over the counter. As she struggled to raise her leg to climb, she stumbled back and was immediately pistol-whipped after he jumped down, cursing her for moving too slowly. He proceeded to push her towards the vault with the others. (Yes, my head was up and I was peeking.) Once the vault was unlocked, one could only imagine what was taking place inside.

One of the gunmen stood by the front door, holding everyone at bay, spewing profanities and waving his gun back and forth. After what seemed like an eternity, the two gunmen ran out from the vault, throwing money bags at their partner by the exit. They ordered everyone to remain down as they scurried out the front door. After the ruckus, we began to stir and rise from our positions. Peering out of the windows, we noticed the police were already on the scene (an alarm had indeed gone off), and they were in hot pursuit of the bank robbers who apparently had jumped into a getaway car. Instantly, I thought of Judy and the rest who had gone into the vault. They were still inside! Were they hurt? Still alive? I shuddered to think.

As I quickly approached the vault, I heard sobbing, and my heart dropped! All three employees were lying face down on the ground. But the sight of Judy faced down with blood glistering from a gash on her forehead stunned me. A sob escaped me as I called her name. I was relieved to discover that when I called out, they all responded by sitting up and were simply waiting for one of us from the outside to come and get them. Upon examining Judy’s head, we knew her outer wounds would heal. But one never knows about the turmoil that goes on inside.

We hugged one another and let the tears flow freely.

After the police had interviewed everyone, we were allowed to call family members to come and pick us up. When Mark came for me, I was still trembling and immediately crumbled into the safety of his arms. I couldn’t wait to leave, go home, and hug my kids.

Recovery from trauma is a process. Most of us were shaken up for quite some time after that ordeal and needed counseling. Some even quit their banking jobs to seek employment elsewhere. As for me, that moment in time would forever be etched in my memory. I experienced what is called a trauma-related symptom in the aftermath of that bank robbery.

Days after the incident, while on lunch break at a fast-food chicken joint, an outraged customer began verbally attacking one of the employees over his incorrect order. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and my nerves felt like pins and needles. I left my food and made a hasty exit and got the heck out of Dodge.

Reflecting back, one thing became perfectly clear: You can be “busy as usual” with the mundane things in life, and at a moment’s notice, your world can turn upside down, and you are faced with a life and death situation!

Life is precious and not to be taken for granted.

© M.A. Pérez 2014, All Rights Reserved

Your turn. Have you had a traumatic experience or a close call when you least expected it?

24 Comments

Filed under Bank Robbery, Social

Forever Mama

As I mentioned in a previous post, Mama’s and my relationship and communication skills are a work in progress. This is good because we are so much better than we were before. You see, I missed out on doing the everyday mother-and-daughter things with her when I was a child. But as an adult, I am blessed because I get to do some things for her that she never could for me. That’s not necessarily a bad deal. I feel fortunate enough to know that there is enough stability in my life, although it hasn’t always been this way.

I enjoy taking Mama out to dinner and a movie on occasion because these simple outings mean a great deal to her. I remember taking her to her first musical about a couple of years ago to see “Annie.” I knew there would be a lot of walking; therefore, I insisted that we bring a wheelchair (instead of her walker). In more ways than one, that turned out to be a smart move. We were given great seats, close to the stage. As I watched those talented girls performing in the musical along with Annie, I commented to Mama on which ones were my favorites. But Mama’s interest centered on one thing. And one thing only. On Sandy the dog. “What a smart dog!” she’d say. “Isn’t that dog smart?” she’d ask. “Well, yes, but look at the little girl, the youngest one there,” I pointed out. “Isn’t she something?” “Yeah, but can’t you see how animals are so smart?” she squealed. “Oooh, I want to take him home with me!”

Okay, so Mama and I don’t always see eye to eye or agree on everything. What may mean a big deal to me won’t necessarily be a big deal to her, and what may seem mundane to me isn’t to her. However, we are working on improving our communication and understanding. We really are!

Just a few days ago, we celebrated Mama’s 80th birthday. Family and friends surrounded her with their presence, delicious food (at a Cuban restaurant), birthday cake, and showered her with several cards and gifts. She seemed more comfortable having pictures taken. I’m glad she’s still a part of my life. I’m glad she will forever be my mama!

Please visit She’s My Mama – posted last year.

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© M.A. Pérez 2014, All Rights Reserved

 

12 Comments

Filed under communication, Memoir

Not That Girl

She is not the girl who scratched and clawed her way to the top. She is the girl who learned how to float to prevent her from sinking when life tried to weigh her down. Who walked on pebbles and used them as her stepping stones to get to higher ground. Who learned that childlike faith in the God above would blossom into something much greater than herself. She may have had father figures who were missing in action, but she found comfort in a Heavenly Father who never left her side.

Once dejected and rejected, she is no longer the sad little girl she once was. Don’t feel sorry for her. Applaud her, because it was during the dry seasons that she discovered an oasis. Rejoice with her, because in the darkness, she found a beacon of light. Admire her for rising above her crisis despite her circumstances. She may have started out in the valley, pecking along like a chicken digging for worms. But then the Ancient of Days taught her to spread her wings like an eagle and soar into the air over the mountaintop.

Don’t cry for her, feel sad for her, or grieve for her. If you’re looking for a lost and lonely child, she is not here. Misunderstood, she may be; a wonder to many, she may be. If you’re looking for perfection, she is not that girl. If you expect to see sophistication or to hear profound eloquence, you will be disappointed. Her past may want to dictate her future, the voices in her head play a broken song, and her name may even mean “bitter” — but she refuses to be that girl.

What kind of girl is she? A simple girl. A blessed girl. She is stronger today for everything she endured. She appreciates the beauty of living life one day at a time. She surrounds herself with those who encourage and genuinely care for her. She clothes herself with a garment of praise, amazed by the wonders of God’s grace.

Sad . . . alone . . . afraid.

Not that girl anymore.

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© M.A. Pérez 2014, All Rights Reserved

 “The past does not have to be your prison. You have a voice in your destiny. You have a say in your life. You have a choice in the path you take.” Max Lucado

 

 

12 Comments

Filed under Memoir, survival

“Dun You Forget.”

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Into my pre-teen years—although I tried to hide my true feelings—I became self-conscious, which developed into a guarded inferiority complex. While not as shy as my mother had been, I felt like an outcast: I came from a broken home, my family was poor, and I was still on the school’s free lunch program. My clothes were hand-me-downs. We didn’t own a car. I didn’t even own a bike, although I always wanted one. We didn’t go on vacations to Disney World, like the other kids bragged about, nor could we afford the latest trends or luxuries like others.

As I wrestled with these feelings of mediocrity, I became ashamed of my Puerto Rican heritage. I didn’t play the blame game, but felt second-rate, forever on the outside looking in. I determined not to let anyone see through my brittle exterior to see a weakling. In school, because I didn’t feel part of the “in” crowd, I enviously watched as the popular kids voted for class president, vice president, or secretary. In my mind, I believed the ritzy kids went to summer camps, swimming lessons, and Girl Scout meetings. After all, they paid for their school lunches, not the state. They wore the latest fashions, not hand-me-downs. Their straight, pearly whites glistened when they smiled. They even pronounced their words perfectly. They lived in big houses whose parents had “nest eggs.”

“Some are more privileged than others,” Grandma explained to me. “But we are all the same in God’s eyes.”

I wasn’t about to argue with Grandma’s statement. All I knew was that there never seemed to be enough funds to do anything extra. My grandparents were extremely frugal. They didn’t believe in splurging or in keeping up with the Joneses.

In the early seventies, several public schools were still racially unbalanced, so the federal courts stepped in. Miami’s school districts bused students from one neighborhood to another to achieve integration.

Busing made my life plummet from bad to worse. I attended Miami Shores Middle School, a predominantly white school where kids commonly called Hispanics “spics.”

Because I was of Puerto Rican descent, I was the target of their taunting. “You spic English?” they scoffed, using their favorite line. They even gave me grief about my naturally full-sized lips (something others now pay money to have done).

To make matters worse for me, my grandma—unpretentious and a bit old-fashioned—insisted that I wear dresses to school past my knees, even though other girls wore the trendy mini-skirts and mini-dresses. Almost all my clothes were second-hand, and at eleven years old—going on twelve—that bothered me.

“Grandma, this isn’t what the girls wear nowadays!” I groaned.

“Dis is what you’re wearin’, and you shouldn’t be ashamed. Your clothes are clean and pressed,” she said with finality in her usual accent.

I threw up my hands. “Grandma, you’re gonna make me get into fights!”

“You are a Christian girl,” she retorted, her eyes wide and fierce. “Dun you forget that.”

* * * *

Thanks to you, Grandma, I haven’t forgotten.

I’ll always remember my beloved grandma, who passed away in the eighties, whose birthday would have been July 26th. In her simplicity, she impacted my life and instilled in me values and principles I shall never forget. 

© M.A. Pérez 2014, All Rights Reserved

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10 Comments

Filed under Grandma, Memoir