One month into quarantine life and I’m still positive mi gente. I’m kind of living in a clusterfuck of a GI Jane/ Martha Stewart/ Old biddy personality.  I’m baking like there’s no tomorrow, organized every nook and cranny of my apartment and my work outs are goal oriented, as I try to knock out 100 pushups and a 90 sec handstand once a day. I write this with a slight chuckle because I dunno if I’m neurotic, masochistic or fending off cabin fever but there is an internal dialogue I constantly have with my ego. “Have I flown from the cuckoos’s nest yet?”

While I was sweeping the kitchen, commenting on my roommate’s coffee addiction, while offering to wash her sneakers, there was a benign self-reflection as I lifted the dust into the dust pan: why am setting high standards for this unprecedented domestic life? when did I aspire to be a domestic queen? FUCK I’m turning into my mother. Sooner or later I’m going to take over all domestic responsibilities, become resentful then cry in my room and tell everyone I’m a donkey. I love my mom but that’s pretty much her cycle.

What else is there left to do but self- reflect in a quarantine? I’ve been meditating every night trying to heal from my wounded past and I feel myself evolving folks. I feel like a fucking bad-ass boss. Honestly, it’s so nice to say without feeling an ounce of arrogance; just pure self confidence, harnessed from within. My last relationship made me so insecure. I didn’t know who was or what I was trying to be. I just wanted to please and be pleasing. When our sex life became non-existant, I thought I wasn’t sexually attractive anymore. I remember the times I spent looking in the bathroom mirror analyzing my body wondering what could I change or alter to become sexually appetizing. Sometimes I I’d look in the mirror to breathe out of my shell. Self-loathing is mentally exhausting. Later on I would find out that in the same bathroom, my ex would masterbate so we wouldn’t have sex. When I asked him why, he responded he wanted to relieve stress without having to please me. Unfortunately I found out the sad truth later on, when he tried to stumble back into my life for the umpteenth time to try and “get me back” but in reality he just wanted to come and piss on my parade.

Once he finished love-bombing, he mentioned he fucked other women and that he masterbated in the bathroom when we were together, then he fucking bounced. I don’t know where demons hide but I presume that’s where he is. Good fucking riddance. The last encounter was hurtful but there’s been a feint bell ringing for a long time and that day it almost blew out my ears. Again, I promised I wouldn’t demonize him so I will end it there but fuck, I’m still trying recover and regain the dignity, creativity, confidence and self-respect I lost for five and half years.  So in my quarantine, I’m celebrating my true self. I’m a good-ass cook, baker, artist, I’m strong as shit, sexy af oh yea, and I’m not a piece of shit. The BEST part is that I don’t need a man or the fucking patriarchy to validate these things. I AM these things.