Intimate Strangersss

Support for Women in Crisis – We Are Seen 💬 Short Answer (We Matter): This blog doesn’t feed us or house us. (Physically) But in a world that treats us like ghosts, it names our pain. It reflects our truth. And sometimes, being seen—without being fixed— is the first reason to keep going. 🧭 Deeper Reflection (From Us, For Us): We know what it’s like to sit in a public place, hungry, ashamed, invisible, trying to hold it together. We’re not looking for someone to save us—we just need something real to hold on to. This blog doesn’t pretend to fix our lives. But it does something many of us have lived without for too long: 🕯️ It validates our emotions. It speaks the quiet things out loud. The grief, the numbness, the ache to be acknowledged. It doesn’t rush us or judge us. It says: “You’re allowed to feel this.” That alone can feel revolutionary. 🫂 It speaks with compassion, not correction. We...

💥 Wait... That Wasn’t Love? 🔮 Why So Many of Us Confuse 💗 Love, 🍑 Sex, and 🫱🏽‍🫲🏿 Intimacy — and How to Start Untangling It. Some of us never got the memo. I overheard my 10-year-old granddaughter saying she couldn’t wait for her little 2½-year-old sister to have twins. These kids grow up in a home that’s more chaos than refuge — no safe haven, no honor. (⚠️ I’ve said at least five times, "You’re too young to be talking about babies and marriage!" Don’t rush to grow up.) Some never had a safe table where someone said, “This is love. This is just desire. That right there? That’s not intimacy — that’s trauma reenactment.” What I heard growing up was, "Don’t come home pregnant or I won’t be responsible." By 14, five of us were kicked out, treated like slaves, beaten because we weren’t “like the Jacksons” or the Sugarhill Gang. We learned from chaos. From novelas. Fro...

Can I Finish My Sentences, Please? | Inner Child Healing + Soul-Up™ Regulation 💛 Activating a Protective Instinct for the Self I used to just want to finish one sentence. Just one full thought… without someone waving me off, turning their back, or sighing like I was too much. What I needed wasn’t correction. It was space. But I grew up around people who didn’t even know how to give that to themselves — let alone to me. 🧯 And when I finally spoke? They acted like my feelings were the emergency. 🛑 Lo Que Aprendí... And What It Cost In my house, silence was survival. You didn’t speak up unless it was safe — and it was rarely safe. I was told to obey, to smile, to stop crying — "before I give you something to cry about." And still, somehow, I was expected to feel whole. 🤨 Maybe I gave off a vibe that I didn’t care about myself. But truthfully, I didn’t know how to. I was a mosaic of generational m...

✨ I Wasn’t Supposed to Copy. I Was Supposed to Collaborate.™ 🪞💬🧃✨🇵🇷🌙🪘🥭🪇🪔🌽🧿💃🏽 I wish someone would’ve whispered it to me as a kid: You’re not here to copy. You’re here to collaborate.™ But how could they? Collaboration wasn’t encouraged where I came from — it was punished. With humiliation, silent treatments, beatings, confusion, and spiritual shut-downs. 🕯️ So I didn’t grow up learning how to co-create with life. I learned how to stay safe. I mirrored others. I copied. Even when it felt wrong. Even when it made my insides twist. 🥭 And that still shows up. Even now, collaboration feels tricky. I don’t want to do it someone else’s way. I don’t want to lose myself. So sometimes, I keep to myself. Not because I’m cold — but because connection has felt like pressure. Pressure to be like them. Y no gracias . That’s why this blog matters to me. It’s not just a space — it’s a refusal. A refusal to keep mir...

🧬 We Were Raised By Nick, Diana & Nes—But We’re Not Staying There™ Some of us were raised by Nick . ✨ The one who believed performance would protect him. 💼 Who clocked in emotionally like it was his job, until he vanished inside of it. Some of us were raised by Diana . 👑 Who smiled through shame and called it strength. 📿 Who prayed out loud but punished in silence. And then there’s Nes . 👹 The phantom that whispers: “You owe me.” 🗡️ The twisted teacher who calls revenge fair . 🩸 He doesn’t destroy outright—he destabilizes. Turns our values upside down. Confuses control for justice. And calls it wisdom. We were just trying to survive them. 🍼 Dancing between their needs, their moods, their silence. 🧢 Learning to read a room like our life depended on it—because it did. We learned: If we stayed invisible, we’d be safe. If we worked hard enough, we’d be loved. If we waited long enough, someone holy would come rescue us. 😣 But ...

🧿 Intimate Assumptions™ Some “I Love Yous” are really just quiet control. Some silence? Just fear with good manners. 🤐 We weren’t just raised—we were programmed. Taught to be polite. Not powerful. Useful. Not honest. Even when the vibe felt off... Smile. Sit still. Be nice. 😬 So we learned: 🕶️ Smiles can lie. 🧃 Sweet words can distract. 🙏🏽 “For your own good” can mean “shut up and behave.” And the worst part? We thought it was love. 💔 Some of us became peacekeepers. Pretend-laughers. Charmers with anxiety. 👋🏽 ¡Hola trauma response! Pero ahora... ahora we’re catching on. 🇵🇷💡 We don’t want fake calm. We want the kind of peace that doesn’t feel like walking on cáscaras de huevo . 🥚🚫 💥 We’re done confusing: — Nice with Safe 😇 — Smart with Kind 🧠 — Charisma with Commitment 🧲 — Silence with Growth 💤 We’ve been linguistically played before. 😒 By poets, pastors, playas—even your tía que ora por ti but goss...

✨ I Left Because My Spirit Said No ✨ 🗣️ Mi dignidad no está en venta. I was working at a school. Teaching. Helping future professionals get licensed and find their rhythm. Real supportive, real intentional. The kind of “doing the most” that comes from love... and maybe a little trauma response. But behind my back? Whispers. Side-eyes. Conversations I wasn’t invited to—but was definitely starring in. 🎭 Team members. Students. Some folks I had just helped that morning. So I did what any recovering people-pleaser trying to practice nervous system safety would do: I named it. I said: “This is gossip. This is harmful.” Brought in someone else to back it up too—because receipts are spiritual these days. A few days later, I stood in that same space, and I told the truth. No drama. Just tears. “I’m leaving. I know something’s been happening behind closed doors. And I value myself enough not to stay where my intention to uplift is being misunderstood or misused.” P...