From Shame to Desire

I’d routinely go through my old belongings like clockwork. This time it was specifically because I’d be moving to New York for college soon. Birthday card after birthday card ranging from ages 13 to now 18. Never ending piles of letters from family members in Mexico. Papers thrown around my carpet floor catching lint have created a big wall around me from my hips to the ends of my feet. As I lifted one of the letters written by my grandma I saw it there, a strip of photo booth photos with a girl. In the photo I was around 14 years old and the girl in question was my best friend at the time. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen this photo. I could hardly recognize myself.  Not based on general appearance but my mannerisms and look of desire in my eyes.  The photo shows my best friend grabbing my face with my eyes locking in on her. There’s longing in my eyes and facial expressions (something I hadn’t seen from myself in years). Another photo showed my arms around her shoulder and us giggling mid photo. I couldn’t  remember what we were laughing about, but it almost didn’t matter.  The last photo showed her kissing my cheek as my face turned a bright pink. It showed a version of me that was free. Free of self judgment, free of expectations, before self hatred, and a look of bliss. 

I looked down at the letter that was there covering the photos. It’s from my grandma, “Cuídate mucho, mija, y recuerda orar siempre a Dios”. Then I remembered . I remembered all the times my grandma would come visit and tell me my friendships were weird. That it wasn’t normal how close we were or how we acted around each other.  She would tell me I need to go to church more and pray. I needed to pray that I was like other girls and like my sisters. She never said the words exactly, but I knew what she meant. Half the time all my mom did was agree with her. 

I was sitting there at 18 years old about to move out of my parents house, away from home, and thousands of miles away for college. I had thought about all the things I’d do in college like major in psychology, make new friends, learn to be independent, and much more. There’s one thing I didn’t consider. Well maybe I did, but every time I had that thought I had just pushed it down. I often reeked of shame and insecurity. I’d hope anytime anyone would ask about boyfriends or firsts that they would skip over me. That I wouldn’t have to stumble over my words as I explained things. That they wouldn’t know that there was secretly something different about me. 

I had never dated anyone, not seriously. Boys had always asked me out in school, but I couldn’t bring myself to say yes. The few times where I did say yes I went back and told them that I only saw them as a friend. My sisters both met their boyfriends in college and was that expected of me by my family? I was always able to tell my family that I was way too busy for boys and that my focus was my studies. Would I run out of excuses this time?

I couldn’t tell what I should do. I felt really sick. The top of my stomach felt hollow, and my throat like there was something wrapped tightly around it. I felt angry too. I had so many experiences taken from me. First crush, first kiss, first relationship. It was all because it didn’t fit my family’s idea of what is normal. I also felt fear. I was about to be far away from everyone and was still too scared to be myself. As if my life was some big brother experiment where everyone could see my every move. I couldn’t even be honest about myself in my own journals. As if anyone could have a gotcha moment while I’m gone. As if anyone would even read my journals besides me. It’s instilled in me though. 

For years I’ve heard my grandma's voice in my head. Every time I caught myself hugging my friends who are girls (even if it didn’t mean anything like that), became consumed by a friendship, and got jealous when they had other friends. I felt her eyes when they weren’t even there. I had even stopped talking to my best friend in the photo soon after that day. I had this unexplainable anger towards her. I wanted her around but when she was I made sure she didn’t get too close. We could never share a bed, or hug, or be too vulnerable around each other. At the same time I felt hurt when she would spend her time with other people instead of me even after how I treated her. It got so bad she asked me if I even wanted her around. I didn’t know what to say so that’s where our friendship ended. 

Since then, her mutual friends often told me about  her life. The girlfriend she has and  their plans to go to California together for college. She had it all figured out. It was embarrassing. Her life had moved on, but here I still was. Nothing had progressed for me or changed. There was no wake up call or moment where I took charge of my own life. 

There was no way I was gonna let that happen again. I was going to a liberal arts college 4 states away, how could I? Too much time has passed. So much loss and regret. I had shut that part of myself off for so long. This photo was a reminder. A reminder that things needed to change. A reminder of the journey into adulthood that I’d get to decide. A reminder that I had a desire in me that I’d forgotten about. This was the very first step of that