Power in Starting Over

My name is Carolyn “Caro” Denisse Márquez Garcia, and I grew up in South East Los Angeles (SELA). My family has lived in South Gate, Paramount and Compton, but I spent most of my time “growing up” in Paramount, in the section of the city referred to as "the Sans”. During the Great Recession, we lost our home on the corner of San Mateo and El Camino that my parents bought in the late 90s; I was 15. My parents, Jose Alfredo Márquez and Erika Belinda Garcia met in México and were married when my mom, Erika, was 14 years old and my dad, Jose, was 19 years old. Both of them were given cards from the universe that were hard to navigate: my dad was orphaned by the age of 10, raised by my great-grandma, and my mom’s father died when she was a small child, leaving behind six kids, two with chronic health issues. Extreme poverty and hardship was the constant everyday life for them. Eventually, their lives led them here, to California, where I was born in 1994. I have two older sisters, Erika and Olga and a younger sister, Ana, and my youngest siblings, twin brothers, Joel and Jose; I’m the middle child. 

In 2022, I earnestly started seeking out therapy and mental health services; I desperately needed support. I found it constantly harder to want to get up everyday. Everything seemed like a chore that I just had to get through. I think I had felt that way about life for a very long time if I am completely honest with myself. Occasionally, the mundane tasks would bring me to tears and the will to keep doing them was hard to find. In June 2021, I had left a job that by all means was “good”. I made $67,000 a year, worked from home, dealt with many characters, and stresses, but I could have made it work. Except no money could bring me the peace I was searching for, so I quit, and used every single penny I had ever saved to live. 

The Covid-19 Pandemic has placed us all in the middle of a really difficult time. I think for me, it forced me to face the ways I had bent to find approval, prestige, fulfillment and none of them were things that I really wanted. Coupled with those feelings, was this deep sense that I was unworthy and not good enough to have the things I did want in my life. For many of us these difficulties are amplified by poverty, marginalization, capitalism and the intricacies of the systems meant to retain power leaving many with little choice. Many of us are reevaluating our jobs, the meaning of work, our values, our choices, the opportunities available and finding how to best align ourselves to fit the things that matter most to us, but also survive. Unfortunately for me, my brain had already been on survival mode for a very long time and a big "wtf is happening?!" moment had finally arrived at my doorstep. Funny how that happens. 

  It turns out, if you spend the majority of your life putting a smile on your face and telling yourself it'll get better, it does not miraculously get rid of all the traumas you have lived through. They don’t automatically get processed by some other part of your brain while you keep them locked away. (Bummer, I know.) I did not realize how much of my life I had purposely pushed to the deepest corners of my brain, how much I have held onto, how sad I have been and how lost I have felt and sometimes feel. And all those thoughts and emotions came crashing down and spiraling fast over the last two years. Some of it was triggered by my own unhappiness and dissatisfaction with the way my cards had stacked up. Some of it is triggered by the reality of being in a long term relationship and acknowledging the ways I had changed over the last nine years, and the things I no longer want for myself and the things I do. The ways I had passively let choices be made for me. The choices I made because I thought it would make my parents happy. The rules that I tried to follow that were given to me by a religious institution and the shame I felt that I no longer resonated with most of it.        

Which brings me to writing. As I type this and it brings tears to my face, I find some relief. Maybe because it feels like my soul is holding its breath and I can finally exhale? Either way, putting the words down helps me feel like I can finally tell my story how I want to, not some pimped out story so universities can see me as "worthy" of attending because I learned some valuable life lesson (iykyk). My goal is to share my stories, lived experiences, interactions and lessons from other humans, and find space to create new opportunities for joy. To find community. To be present and do the things that do resonate; to trust my gut when I have not before. I hope to share what I have learned and what I hope to learn. The skills I am acquiring and how I am using them. I don't have infinite wisdom to share, no platitudes to make your life better. That is not my goal. Just real human feelings that are hard and sometimes complicated and the will to learn as much as I can about myself and other people. 

So there you have it folks. Sometimes you do have to start over and tend to the roots and foundation that you set for yourself. Weed out the ideas that are driving you that were placed there by your fears and what you thought you had to be. It turns out: there is choice. You don't need permission to be your authentic self. I am still working on believing that in the core of my spirit. Gracias por estar aquí on this lifelong journey; it will forever be a work in progress. Start over as many times as you need to. I love you and I hope you find the ability to really look at yourself and tell yourself you love yourself too, and mean it. You are loveable. I am loveable. We are in this together.