The Big Shift: How I Embraced a New Reality Part II
Hello again!
Where did I leave you last time you were here? Last time we spoke, I was telling you about some rough shit. I was going down a rabbit hole that literally took me almost a decade to recover.
When I came to Spain for work, I really was just running away from all the bad things that were happening in my life. I was starting to accumulate some debt, had to get a second job because I couldn't pay my bills anymore on one salary. My girlfriend at the time had lost her job, and we were running on fumes. At about the same time, my parents were going through a rough patch and eventually got separated. My mother was a stay home mom and she took care of me and my sister while my father was the one bringing any income to the house. When he left, everything started to crumble. My mother was totally lost, my sister and I didn't want to get involved. We never talked much about those times.
They met at a very young age, got married, and had me when they were in their 20s. My father was the one working, and he even took jobs in Irak and Saudi Arabia in construction to pay the bills. My mother spent a lot of time on her own taking care of me at the time. Then my sister came a few years later, my father was still the one working. My mother took care of us both. When things would get too complicated financially, they would take jobs in Switzerland and would stay months away from us. In one of these seasonal jobs, they both had to be away for months, and they decided to separate my sister and I. I would spend a few months of the year with my grandmother from my father's side and my sister with my grandparents from my mother side.
I still remember my father working all the time, not sure if that worked as a coping mechanism. When he was doing night shifts as a taxi driver, he would come back very early in the morning, and I would barely see him because he would stay until late in bed. When I returned from school, he was leaving for work, so we would never see much of each other during the week. My relationship with my father was not a typical one, we never talked much, we never played together much, because he was not around. I did miss doing stuff together with my father. As I grew up, I felt more and more distant from him. When he decided to leave home, it wasn't something that really affected me much at the time. For me, he was the one causing pain, and I wanted him out!
So the pressure was up, I had started working but "living la vida loca," so I wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around me. My mother was getting anything she could to get some money in the house, my sister was studying and could not bring much money in either. Those were awful times for us when suddenly the opportunity for my mother to go away and work a full-time job in Switzerland came by, and she left. I was happy for her because now she would become independent financially from my father and could start a new life. A few months later, I was offered a position in Madrid and was also on my way. My sister, she stayed. During this time, I did not connect with my father, and we didn't speak for almost a year.
My father passed away on the last day of August of 2011, we had spoken over the phone that same morning, he was weak, never heard nor felt him so vulnerable. He'd been struggling with lung cancer for months and was taking treatment. I never thought he would be taken away so swiftly, I was glad that I could talk to him on the phone that same day. I didn't say goodbye to him or anything because I believed that there was still a chance for him to recover, I was wrong. I'm sorry I wasn't there more for you, I would have loved for you to have seen your grandchildren grow up and watching you play with them because I know that you would've appreciated more live and would've appreciated more the time with them
Where did I leave you last time you were here? Last time we spoke, I was telling you about some rough shit. I was going down a rabbit hole that literally took me almost a decade to recover.
When I came to Spain for work, I really was just running away from all the bad things that were happening in my life. I was starting to accumulate some debt, had to get a second job because I couldn't pay my bills anymore on one salary. My girlfriend at the time had lost her job, and we were running on fumes. At about the same time, my parents were going through a rough patch and eventually got separated. My mother was a stay home mom and she took care of me and my sister while my father was the one bringing any income to the house. When he left, everything started to crumble. My mother was totally lost, my sister and I didn't want to get involved. We never talked much about those times.
They met at a very young age, got married, and had me when they were in their 20s. My father was the one working, and he even took jobs in Irak and Saudi Arabia in construction to pay the bills. My mother spent a lot of time on her own taking care of me at the time. Then my sister came a few years later, my father was still the one working. My mother took care of us both. When things would get too complicated financially, they would take jobs in Switzerland and would stay months away from us. In one of these seasonal jobs, they both had to be away for months, and they decided to separate my sister and I. I would spend a few months of the year with my grandmother from my father's side and my sister with my grandparents from my mother side.
I still remember my father working all the time, not sure if that worked as a coping mechanism. When he was doing night shifts as a taxi driver, he would come back very early in the morning, and I would barely see him because he would stay until late in bed. When I returned from school, he was leaving for work, so we would never see much of each other during the week. My relationship with my father was not a typical one, we never talked much, we never played together much, because he was not around. I did miss doing stuff together with my father. As I grew up, I felt more and more distant from him. When he decided to leave home, it wasn't something that really affected me much at the time. For me, he was the one causing pain, and I wanted him out!
So the pressure was up, I had started working but "living la vida loca," so I wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around me. My mother was getting anything she could to get some money in the house, my sister was studying and could not bring much money in either. Those were awful times for us when suddenly the opportunity for my mother to go away and work a full-time job in Switzerland came by, and she left. I was happy for her because now she would become independent financially from my father and could start a new life. A few months later, I was offered a position in Madrid and was also on my way. My sister, she stayed. During this time, I did not connect with my father, and we didn't speak for almost a year.
My father passed away on the last day of August of 2011, we had spoken over the phone that same morning, he was weak, never heard nor felt him so vulnerable. He'd been struggling with lung cancer for months and was taking treatment. I never thought he would be taken away so swiftly, I was glad that I could talk to him on the phone that same day. I didn't say goodbye to him or anything because I believed that there was still a chance for him to recover, I was wrong. I'm sorry I wasn't there more for you, I would have loved for you to have seen your grandchildren grow up and watching you play with them because I know that you would've appreciated more live and would've appreciated more the time with them
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