‘Cause I’m Brokennn

I swear, y’all. Someone is definitely doing Brujeria on me. I just KNOW IT.

I know I haven’t updated in a good long while (that update post is coming!), but I just have to write about my latest misfortune.

I had already decided that enough is enough: I was going to lose weight. I needed to get my head back in the game and get back to Keto (the best way for me to lose weight, personally) and start walking again. Walking, not running, because back in June I’d twisted my ankle at work, which caused a domino-effect of problems for my right leg. The ankle was sprained, my ACL and MCL were strained and my meniscus had tears in it. My sciatic nerve was giving me trouble and I had pains in my hamstring all the way up to my lumbar. I had weeks of physical therapy to help me get on the mend.

So fast forward. Emily joined volleyball and she loves it. I was getting out of work, going to physical therapy, rushing to pick up Emily from practice and then going to visit mom at the nursing home. Then I’d get home and make dinner (or picked up dinner when I was too exhausted). It got to the point where I excused myself from physical therapy because it was just too much. I was only to go in for bi-monthly updates.

During Emily’s last volleyball game there was a popular Instagram photographer taking photos of the crowd and action shots, and of course uploading them to Instagram later. To my absolute horror, a photo of me sitting next to Mario, with Emily’s friends cheering her on in the background and Alaethia and Jaylen directly on the bleacher under us is posted—and I look like a SENORA!! With jiggly senora arms, triple chin and everything! It was another 100 degree day and my curly hair was up in a God-awful bun. I was absolutely mortified. And that was the moment that I decided I was going to “Lose 40 Before I Turn 40”. And ok, yes—that seems completely unattainable because I turn 40 in 5 months, but I was using it as motivation!

I was on a roll. I had started to walk on my treadmill (watching “You” on Netflix made the time pass by quickly) for 30 minutes. I was also sticking to Keto after a weekend of the kids having their Halloween parties (and binging on Hot Cheetos and cheese). I felt good. In the first week I lost 4 lbs., so that was enough motivation to keep going.

Then, Wednesday, October 27th comes around and I start the day as usual: dropping the girls off, feeling a tad sleepy on the drive there, get to the office, make some coffee, chit-chat with the guys and get started on my emails. It was Timekeeping day for me, so I got all my files out and got to work. The morning went by so quickly; by the time I knew it, it was noon and almost time for lunch (which I was excited about because it was rotisserie chicken salad from HEB). Suddenly, there’s a shrill sound blaring in our ears. The fire alarm. The guys said that we’ll usually get an email tipping us off about the fire drill, but we hadn’t received anything, so maybe it was the real thing?

We file out, along with the other departments. I’m holding my dress down with both hands and simultaneously holding my phone and walking carefully since I’m in my tri-color Steve Madden platforms and it’s a pretty long walk. We reach the meeting point and stand around a bit. Everyone starts walking back so we follow suit. I’m getting to the security post and raise my left leg and miss the curb. My foot wobbles and I try to catch my balance with my right foot—AND MISS THE CURB AGAIN. Only this foot doesn’t stop wobbling and twists to one side and down I go. When my bum hits the ground AND lands on top of my ankle I hear a loud *CRACK*. I say, “Oh my God,” out loud and realize the crack was my ankle. People start gathering around me, asking if I’m ok, trying to help me up. I pull my leg out from under me and I’m shocked to see that my ankle is already swollen. Someone asks me if I can get up and I tell them no, I can’t even feel or move my toes. One of the AG guys tells me he’s going to help me up and suddenly there’s 2 men helping me up, one of the CBP girls is wrapping her jacket around my waist so I don’t flash anyone and another girl, Letty, is waiting in her vehicle so they can drive me where I need to go. It felt like forever and like everything was happening so fast all at once. The supervisor on duty for CBP needed to get info about where and how it happened, so we waited in the vehicle. The adrenaline is now dissipating and I’m feeling the pain more and more. I call my friend (and guy I was talking to at the time) about what happened and he said he’d meet me at the ER. Just hearing his voice brought me to tears, especially because we’d just had a small argument that morning. I texted Jaylen to tell him what was going on, too, but he was at work and not seeing the message. My boss calls me and asks what happened and I tell him about my latest ridiculousness. He says the guys will drive over and bring my bag and one of them can take me to the ER/clinic.

Mark was the lucky one who got to take me. He helped me into my vehicle and he drove me to South Texas Healthy Systems Stand-alone ER. I was in a panic and still in shock so when they were registering me I gave them my insurance card instead of waiting for my Worker’s Comp info and I ended up having to pay a deductible (well, my guy at the time did), so that sucks. I’m going to have to fill out paperwork to get that money back. Ugh.

Anyway, they did my X-rays and it showed that my tibia and fibula had fractures. They splinted me, which sucked because any little movement hurt. I was kind of shocked that that was it and they were having me call an orthopedic surgeon on my own. They offered a name and a number and that was it. They sent me on my way.

My guy helped me into the car and helped me get settled before he had to pick his daughter up from school. He was a blessing those first few days—he even helped me shower and took care of me at my most vulnerable. But, like all good things, that came to an end, too. Heartache and physical pain simultaneously SUCK.

Luckily, Jorge, Mario, my friends, Linda and the kids have been great about helping me around the house, bringing me and the kids food and groceries and making sure I’m comfortable. Jaylen’s been a Godsend taking the girls to school for me, picking up groceries and orders from HEB and Target and taking me to my appointments.

The next few days were a blur of miscommunication with the orthopedic clinic—they ended up setting an appointment for me for PHYSICAL THERAPY and not a consultation with the surgeon. I was pissed. I couldn’t get the stupid ER to get in touch with the doctor who saw me that day to sign my forms for work, either. My PCP didn’t want to get involved with Worker’s Comp because “they don’t do that” so I ended up calling up my old physical therapy place, Texas Federal Wellness Center. In one day Malerie and Stephanie had me go in for a consult with an ortho surgeon, where I got more X-rays. They had me take 2 sets because the doctor didn’t like how something looked (I over heard him through the door LOL). Turns out, I had two full breaks—in my tibia and fibula. Another fracture in my tibia, talus, and the lateral and medial malleolus.

I’d be needing surgery. I cried a little when the doctor walked out. A sweet nurse came in a bit later and removed my splint and finally put me in a cast.

A couple days later I was seen by an imaging place where I got a CT Scan. Jorge took me to that appointment, plus the new orthopedic surgeon I’d be seeing because the original was unfortunately going on vacation. I tell you—my LUCK.

So the new ortho had my cute, pink cast removed (they sawed it off—I was terrified they’d nick me) and did MORE X-rays. We were there for almost 4 hours. I was impressed that Jorge didn’t totally lose his shit. They were going to re-splint me and let me know my surgery would be the NEXT TUESDAY because the surgeon had “emergency surgeries”. I guess because my bones weren’t sticking out of my leg, I wasn’t considered an emergency. I was so frustrated that I started bawling. I was in pain and nobody seemed to give a shit. Just as I’m wiping my face the nurse who was going to re-splint me walks in. He notices I’m crying but doesn’t say anything till we’re in the splinting/casting room. I ask why it’s going to be a splint again and not a cast and he said because the cast I had on was causing my leg to swell even more. I told him that the last time I had the splint I could feel my foot/ankle just flopping around in there an it hurt. He promised he would do a good job and asked me if I was ok. I told him how frustrated I was and he said I would be okay. So I’ve been told…

Linda brought me McDonald’s and took me to get pre-registered for surgery last Thursday. She didn’t think it was possible, but I’m as bad as she is when it comes to directions, even with GPS! It took us a good bit to find the building, but in our defense, there was no address number on it! As stressful as it all was (getting around, her pushing me in the wheelchair I borrowed all over the place, taking my COVID test and bloodwork and a urinalysis), it was also a fun time because Linda is a riot. She is constantly making me laugh. To thank her for her suffering, we went to Sweet Temptations and I treated her to dessert (I told her to get food but she and I only wanted dessert LOL). She helped me get situated in my room and I got to have my chocolate cake and Tylenol with Codeine LOL.

The days have blurred into each other and I’ve had my moments when I’ve gotten really sad (again, a breakup isn’t something I needed right now) but I’ve been able to watch tons of shows, play Pokemon Go, read, write here (this has taken me several days to achieve) and just catch up on years of sleep. This will serve as a lesson to me: be careful what you wish for. I asked for a BREAK and boy did I get one!

Austin & San Antonio Trip

Photo blog of my trip to Austin and a quick detour to San Antonio on the way home to have some Lucky Noodle.

First time trying Torchy’s Tacos. Ate the heck out of the chips and queso.
Oasis Texas Brewing Co.
The Cotton Patch. First time trying fried green tomatoes.
East Austin Succulents
$100 for that “Titty Cactus” lol
My new babies and tiny kitty planter
My first live comedy show. On 6th Street.
Voodoo Donuts after drinks 🙂

It All Comes To An End

Since the last time I wrote, there have been several major changes in my life.

First, Jorge and I called it quits AGAIN sometime at the end of March 2021 (This was after the first time I found out he cheated with that little idiot, Sabrina, back in March of 2020). One of the conditions of getting back together back in November/December 2020 was him seeing a therapist for his mental health/anger issues and getting meds prescribed. And he did go—once. I could always tell when he had stopped taking them because he turned into a short-tempered jerk. Any little thing would set him off. It wasn’t long before he’d start calling the kids and I “worthless” because he wasn’t happy with something. And even though we were “working things out” he still lived at his house with his kids and I lived at my house with mine. He would sleep over every-so-often, or I would sleep over at his house. And then we would argue. He would take me out to eat and we’d still bond over playing Pokemon Go…until we would argue again. He’d storm off to his house and I’d fester in my anger at mine.

One day in late February 2021, we were up for a home inspection by my landlord. The house, which by this point I’ve lived at for 10 1/2 years, needed the doors and trim painted and I needed help organizing. Jorge said he would help me and of course the kids would help me. Even though I knew better, I made the mistake of waiting for him. But I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. That entire week, when I would try to paint after work, he’d want to go out to eat since we were “kid-less” and he would say, “What are you worried about, I’m going to help you on the weekend.” Something deep down inside kept bugging me about him saying that. I knew he wouldn’t.

Friday comes and he has to work late. *Insert facepalm here*. He doesn’t get here till 11pm and by then he just wants to go to bed because he’s tired. He says we’ll wake up early and go to Walmart (because I needed paint rollers). Our alarm goes off the next morning and I try waking him. He stirs and mumbles something about going to Stripes and getting breakfast tacos…and falls asleep again. Well, if he’s gonna sleep, I’ll sleep too. I set the alarm for another hour and go back to sleep. When he doesn’t wake up the 2nd and 3rd time I try waking him, I finally shake him awake because I’m panicking about the time; the day is going fast. His bi-polarism causes him to wake up in awful moods when he’s not medicated (pretty much how I was greeted every morning that we were together for 10 years). He storms around, bitching that the kids and I should have started early. I tell him, “But you told me all week you were going to help me. I waited for you like you told me to!” As we walk down the hallway to leave to Walmart, the dogs hear us and lose it because they want to go outside. He yells at Alaethia to wake up and take the dogs out and proceeds to talk about how lazy she is. I’m swallowing my anger by now. Then he’s complaining that he doesn’t have pants and he can’t believe he’s going in his sweatpants. I tell him we’ve gone to Walmart in pj’s plenty of times and that I don’t like how he spoke to Alaethia and he proceeds to call her lazy again, plus my other 2 kids. And I snap, “You are talking about ALL the children, including yours, right? Because yours are just as lazy!” And he says I need to get over it and that he doesn’t even LIVE HERE so why should he help me?? Then he says, “You know, you’re right— this shit really isn’t working.” And I said, “You leave this time and THAT’S IT! Don’t come begging back!” And he says, “Oh, I won’t, don’t worry!” He marches back in to get his things and drives off.

I’m so angry I stomp inside and start bawling from sheer frustration because how am I supposed to do this on my own?? But my gals came in clutch: Sally, Kary and Martha came over to help in the evening, thank God. Mario was coming to pick up the kids and starts helping, too. We order pizza and have wine and everyone is helping paint and organize. Somehow, we get everything painted and spic-n-span by the time the landlord shows up the following day. I was so grateful for everyone. Jorge called later that first night when his episode was over and asked if I needed help, way after the fact, mind you. But I was livid. I didn’t want his help at all.

A couple of weeks pass and he’s once again calling, asking to see me, or to have dinner, and so on. By this time, I’ve already replaced the TV and sofas that he took in October 2020, when he moved into the house he and Javi are renting. I had money saved and I felt like a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man! But he still calls. Still wants to work things out. Still takes us to the beach, twice. I told him he needed to be on his meds because I knew he wasn’t. I was extremely skeptical and still didn’t trust him after the whole cheating-with-Sabrina thing.

Then he gets this career opportunity right before my birthday to be the General Manager for either 1) a brand-new restaurant opening up in our city, or 2) the GM for 2 other already-established restaurants in our city. Let’s just say that I had no idea that choice #1 was the type of restaurant where the women are VERY scantily clad. He painted a pretty picture of it, saying that it was like a Hooters. Ok. I could handle Hooters, I guess. He kept saying he didn’t know if he should take the job because he would be away on training for a month and he didn’t know if his mental health would stay intact if he was so far away and alone, and he knew I wouldn’t like the idea of the new restaurant. I told him not to base his decision on what I would think, because obviously we weren’t doing very well and I wasn’t about to be blamed for him turning down a “good opportunity”. But deep down, I knew I wouldn’t be okay with that place. Especially after a quick Google search.

So we spend time together here and there. He’s trying his best. But I’m still keeping my guard up.

April 13th is Sally’s birthday. She was feeling down so I gathered up the girls, a cake and some flowers and we had a little get together for her at The Oak Bar.

My birthday is on April 14th. When the day comes around, we get as many of the kids together as we can. We’re not doing too good with money but I had some saved up and John had sent me $200 so I took myself and the family out :). Things still felt awkward to me, though; it just felt like everything was…forced? And he’s in a bad mood, like always, but he was making an effort to keep it at bay. And he brought me flowers.

We decide on Cheddar’s and have a pretty good evening with the kids.

The overhead lighting was terrible so we used flash and I looked like the opposite of a raccoon.
Very indulgent birthday!
From friends
From friends
Emily surprised me!

It was a great evening. I was feeling pretty darn blessed by the end of the night.

We (Jorge and I) celebrated my birthday at Suerte Uptown with Martha and Rudy that Friday. It was Selena-themed! Love those events! Sally and Kary didn’t go because they didn’t want to have anything to do with Jorge, which I’d grown used to, but I was also a little butthurt, not gonna lie.

We had a great time, we even danced. Jorge was due to leave to training the day after and he wanted to go out one more time before he left.

The next day Jorge got ready to go and Martha and I took an impromptu trip to San Antonio because she wanted to go to IKEA. She was a couple months pregnant and had terrible morning sickness plus motion sickness and got sick several times on the way over. I felt so bad for her. But we eventually made it and she felt better on solid ground, heh.

Gotta selfie it up in the IKEA rooms. My unattended LV bag Jorge had JUST gotten me in the background.

For the rest of the month while Jorge was away in Dallas for training, he would call and send photos. One of the days towards the end of his stay in Dallas we have a serious talk about working on getting back together. He would take his meds. I would work on forgiving him. He would move back home.

But once he got back from training mid-May, he was working long hours setting the restaurant up, hiring servers and training staff for the grand opening on May 31st. We took the kids to the soft opening and I was appalled. John went with us. The chicks were basically wearing thongs. I knew I wasn’t going to like this at all. Not because I’m a prude, but because I knew my husband.

Jorge sleeps over at the house several nights out of the week, but he goes home to his house on some nights to check on the boys and Javi, and to make sure they haven’t destroyed the house. There was one time when he was sleeping over at my house that he left at 3am because there was some “emergency”. My womanly instincts didn’t buy that shit. He had even started taking calls outside when we were together so I wouldn’t hear whom he was talking to. Then, not too long after, he starts calling after work saying he’s working super late and he’s the only one available. Even though my house is way closer to the restaurant, he makes it seem like he’s being thoughtful and is just going to go home because he doesn’t want to wake me up since he’d get here so late. I start getting Wing Stop vibes—back when he still worked in San Antonio and he wasn’t coming home anymore because he had started cheating with that little bitch, Sabrina.

In mid-July, Briana is packing up the house in Austin and moving back to the Valley. We decide to make a weekend of it. My girls and I would help her move and we’d all hang out. I tell Jorge about it and he isn’t going at first, then says he’ll join us. On Friday afternoon, as we’re getting ready to go, he is BITCHING that we’re running late and he has to go to a storage unit to rent for his mom (because he waited on his ass all damn day instead of going—but it was my fault, don’t you see). We get to the storage place and he says we’re super late and he’s not going to get the unit for this lady and we’re going to arrive super late and that EVERYTHING IS MY FAULT. The girls and I were thinking, WTF is his problem?? If I didn’t know any better I would have said it was drug withdrawals, or maybe he’d had a fight with one of his hoes, but who knows.

The entire 6 hours over there is brutal. He’s just in a terrible mood and at one point during the evening he starts telling me off. The girls are in the back, scared, and Emily even starts recording—just in case. How awful is it that she’s a little kid and she’s scared enough of his rage that she feels the need to record?? He’s going off on me and I told him to shut the fuck up because he’s showing my daughters exactly how a man SHOULDN’T be speaking to his spouse and he needed to stop being an asshole.

We get to the house and he acts like absolutely everything is peachy in front of his mom and sister. She knows otherwise, of course. As they’re moving things the next day, he whines and complains about how they shouldn’t have asked him to come if Briana and Dinah didn’t like how he did things. Briana’s like, Um, nobody invited you LOL.

So it was a miserable time. The girls and I even left earlier than he did so we didn’t have to deal with him.

About a week goes by and every single time we talk, we argue. We can’t just be civil. Dinah and Briana and the kids are staying at Jorge and Javi’s while they find a suitable apartment. Briana and Jorge are fighting all the time and I tell her that she and the kids can stay with me and my kids at my house if she wants. Then, on a Wednesday morning, I get a text from Briana asking if she can stay with us after all because she doesn’t want to be there anymore and she has to tell me something.

Again—my spidey-womanly senses are a-tingling. It’s about Jorge. He did something, I know it. I’m on pins and needles until she finally calls. She sounds exasperated and angry and tells me that he took a tall, really young girl to the house and took her to his room. And that they’d been having pool parties with a girl named Daisy (who ends up becoming Justin’s fiancé later on). And that Jorge is just partying it up till all hours of the night acting like he’s a teenager himself. She said there’s beer bottles piled high in the bins. And he was waking everyone up making the chick breakfast (or dinner) at 5am.

I’m livid. I knew it the entire time. I looked through Facebook photos of the shitty “bar & grill” he worked at and I knew exactly who the little slut was. Some little bitch named “Steph”, who had JUST TURNED 19!! We have kids older than that! I was so disgusted by him. The girls were disgusted. And yet, he starts calling me a couple months later, after I broke my foot, asking if I need help, about my love life and telling me about his and that little whore. He come around acting as though we’re the best of friends. He ends up trying to weasel his way back in, but I’m pretty sure it’s because he was broke (oh, he ended up still owing me tons of money) and I was going to remove him and the boys from my health insurance in November and he wasn’t going to want to pay me if I kept them on. BUT. Needless to say, I stupidly gave it one more time—mostly because I needed the help. But he was still talking to her, I later found out. Still talking to several chicks and on Alaethia’s birthday, as we drove to pick up the Olive Garden order she requested, told me he didn’t want to be responsible for kids or me or anyone or anything. He just wanted to “do him”. Told me he regretted ever marrying me and that was it, the last straw. I stopped answering his calls when he called to say he “missed his best friend,” which is what he always said when he was feeling lonely and having regrets. I told him he couldn’t have it both ways. It took me a bit to get over it, especially because I couldn’t believe he did this to me AGAIN. But that was it. I was done. I wasn’t going to be stupid anymore. I’d wasted enough time.