Warrior Not a Victim

I’ve rewritten this entry a few times now. I wanted to get to the point and felt like I was glossing over what I wanted to touch base on. I received a lot of positive feedback from the last piece I wrote. I truly appreciated those who read it. Thank you so much. But after I wrote it and shared it, I began to think; Is this who I am? Is the pain brought on to me by my father what defines me? I spoke to my therapist about these thoughts and she said “This doesn’t define you, it made you who you are. You’re a warrior and not a victim.” She also added that my dad was a victim because he missed out on my growth. That is what hit me the most. I immediately cried. He has missed out on the man who I have become. He is the reason I am the father that I am now.

My father wasn't a bad person, he made some bad choices. Those choices didn't define me, negativity didn't define who I am. The choices showed me who I didn't want to be. What I didn't want to become. Over the last few years, I’ve been working on the joy, pain, and confusion that was brought on to me by my father. The joys of being able to spend time with him cooking, home improvement, dismantling the VCR, and somehow being left with extra screws.

My father wasn't perfect. No one is. He was a great friend, a brother, and a son. He cared for everyone. He was working through his own pain. Being a Hispanic man, sharing feelings is unheard of. A huge no-no. If you shared feelings, you’ll be shamed, laughed at, and at times cursed at.

My father immigrated from El Salvador when he was about 20 years of age. He came to the US with nothing, a few dollars, pocket lint, and the American Dream. From what I was told, he worked as a dishwasher, and food prep, and worked his way up to sous chef without proper schooling. He began working towards getting his citizenship and a Commercial Driver’s License. He had numerous jobs within the food industry, delivering food to grocery stores in an 18-wheeler, removing grease from restaurants, and owning his own restaurant later in life.

My father was deported back to El Salvador back in 2008. The last time I held him was in 2009. There is a lot that has happened since then, but what stands out to me is that he has missed out on who I am now. I am a father of two wonderful little girls who I love dearly. A homeowner, a first-generation college graduate, and am part of the Board of Directors for our local children’s museum. I mean, that is huge! I am proud of myself for that alone.

I am a warrior and not a victim. I overcame. I am here to stay.

I have been working very hard towards being a better father, I knew when it was time to speak up about my pain, when I needed help, and was aware when I was in a dark place. The help I have received has allowed me to enjoy moments with my kids. For example, this past weekend I had a father-daughter day. We went to the local skatepark and hit some lines, went to the library and signed up for the summer reading program, and lastly got a manicure together. Honestly, Muave is more of my color. But she wanted me to get a purple pinky nail. So I did. The following day, she helped me pull weeds in the garden, trim some bushes, and use the leaf blower.

I am so proud of her and who she has become. I never want to miss a moment with her or her little sister.

I will be present. I will help define who they want to be. I can only guide them and be a positive influence. They will learn from their own experiences, just like I did. Because at the end of the day, they choose who they want to become. I will love them through it.

Camila and Elena, I want to thank you for loving me through my flaws. I live every day for both of you.