This page contains some previous blogs that describe my humble views of life’s moments and what I’ve learned…
The Life I Didn’t Have
To have and to hold
To the class of…
Another New Year
The Life I Didn’t Have
This year, I’m turning forty. I honestly don’t know how life has brought me to this point so quickly. It was now a decade ago that I moved away from New Mexico, the only state I thought I would ever love, and made a home in Colorado. At the time, it seemed like an impossible decision. I had never intended to start over in a place where I knew nobody and where I had no memories. That wasn’t supposed to be the plan. It wasn’t what I had been working towards…or so I thought.
When I think today on the life I didn’t have, I remember what it used to look like in my head.
I was going to be one of those people who kept all of my closest friends while growing up. Our faces would continue to appear side-by-side in happy pictures, but with noticeable laugh lines and forehead creases. We would have those nights where we stayed up late on the phone and remembered our younger days…reminisce about those dance steps we once made up…laugh about the clothes we wore and the outrageous hair styles…look back on the crushes and the secrets we used to tell. We would still know each other’s subtle movements…our pet peeves…our simple joys. We would hold each other during every heart break and when the world got too hard. We would understand that sometimes life wouldn’t allow us to always be at each other’s side, but it wouldn’t mean we didn’t love each other just the same. We would never grow apart.
I was going to be a teacher and do everything I could to help students fall in love with science. They would learn about the perfect structure of DNA, the intricate pathways pushing oxygen and carbon dioxide throughout the body, and the flow of energy through ecosystems. I wanted to be like all those that bravely mentored me…the brilliant minds that opened my eyes to a passion for writing…reminded me that classes weren’t always about grades, but discussions that would lead to new ideas…who stood animated in front of the room and took me on an adventure instead of a lecture. I would carry their lessons with me both professionally and personally. I would pass them on to other young minds and, hopefully, make a small difference. I would remember my students’ names for many years to come.
And I was going to marry the guy who had been in my life since I was a teenager. After spending years dancing back and forth along the fine line that sometimes exists between friendship and romance, we would have finally figured it out. We would be able to build on the foundation that had firmly cemented itself underneath our feet for almost fifteen years and grow together. He would continue to teach me about art and music…while I watched him seek his true passion and decisively grab his future with both hands. He would only look at me, even if someone else walked into the room. I would always feel at home when I’d hear his laughter. We would be the kind of love story that makes your heart beat a little faster when you heard it. We would be stronger than other couples because we had a history. We would never hurt each other.
It all seemed so easy then…but that’s because I had forgotten that life isn’t given to you. You have to work for it.
The life I didn’t have slowly began to drift away from me in my twenties. I clung to it as long as I could…grasped at any reason to get back on its path. But, eventually, I realized that there would have to be compromises…different routes highlighted by broken promises…new beginnings for those who had to move on. It would take a couple of years for me to feel sturdy again on my feet. During the first few months, I finally broke down how some of my choices had impacted everyone around me – and so, I deserved the unpaved road I was now on. Not because I was some sort of sacrificial lamb, but because it was time for me to be accountable. And so, I would doubt every decision I made and often found myself stumbling backwards. I didn’t know how to be strong. I didn’t know how to find myself again – or if I ever knew who I was to begin with…I simply didn’t know anything.
Well, I didn’t know anything except that I was still so very sad.
I can remember the day when I finally said out loud that I had to leave. It terrified me, because every piece of my heart wanted to stay. But something was wrong…and it wasn’t whispering to me anymore. It was yelling at me that it was time to stop making excuses. It was time to go. To be better. To be someone new.
The choice to move to Colorado is what really changed everything. It was not only the chapter I could never see before, but where I would become my best self…someone who isn’t afraid anymore, someone who can laugh at themselves…someone who believes in mistakes…someone who knows what they’re worth.
Because you see, there is so much I didn’t envision in “the life I didn’t have”.
I didn’t know that one day I would get to travel to Italy, drink wine in a street side café, and watch people walking down the streets of Florence. I didn’t know that I would write a book and it would someday sit on the shelves of people who actually read it and were kind enough to say good things – things that still seem unreal to me, a tiny author in a big world of fantastic writers. I didn’t know that my desire not to have children wouldn’t mean that I can’t love them with every beat of my heart…and that it would feel like warm sunshine to hold my nieces and watch them fall asleep in my arms.
And I didn’t know that I would be loved beyond loving by a man who is so very, very good.
My husband told me the other night, “I know you took a chance on me…but, I didn’t take a chance. I knew you were a sure bet.”
The truth is, I see so clearly now that this was always the end game. Somehow, whether I deserve it or not, I have received a life even more gorgeous than what I had once tried to create. And so, it wasn’t that I took a chance on him. In some crazy, cosmically loving way, he marvelously ended up on a path that, with an ever gently-guided turn, ran squarely into mine.
I don’t think any of us ever gets the life that we first thought we wanted, but there is brilliance in that because we get so much more. We find our hidden talents. We go on adventures we never saw coming. We learn how to see the perfection in the imperfect…and we finally stop spending so much time looking back.
Could life be more beautiful than that?
(Originally posted March 2017)
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To have and to hold…
Someone wonderful once told me that there are many different shades of love. They hold something special and different for each of us, but regardless of expectations, wishes, and well-meaning promises, we can’t assume that any one shade on the spectrum is where we’re ultimately supposed to land. If we’re lucky enough though, and we don’t allow disappointment to cast a shadow over the brilliant, yet sometimes fleeting rays of love’s reach, we can hopefully learn from each one as it touches us…teaches us to grow…to feel…to ache.
Love was definitely a challenge for me, as I often recklessly chased after it with an all too eager heart. I can say it hasn’t always been kind to the people I’ve been lucky enough to surround myself with either – even today. It actually doesn’t take much to be reminded of how unfair love can be…how even when it’s nurtured and respected, it can still cruelly reject you. How after years of sacrifice, compromise, and hopefulness, it can turn into something unfamiliar and hurtful. The battle scars left from a lost love are ones that sometimes never really go away. They do become fainter over time. They eventually stop throbbing – but, too often it can be easy for them to remain a raised, dark line on your heart.
My first experience with “this thing called love” was when I was thirteen. Of course, being that young makes it hard to say what I was really feeling – but I do know that it was the first time my heart beat a little faster and that my thoughts wandered over to a sweet, gentle boy. I did all of the usual things a teenager does when it came to puppy love…whispered about him with my friends, wrote about him in my diary, acted awkward and shy when he would actually speak to me. To this day, he probably doesn’t even know he falls on my spectrum of love – my spectrum of possibility, desires, and beginnings.
After him there were others to help teach me about choices, naivety, and good intentions. I can’t say that any one of these men were anything like each other, as their place on the spectrum was scattered and sometimes stretched towards the extremes. But, they each brought newfound clarity into my life because they made me ask the hard questions. The questions that everyone should ask themselves before committing to be an integral part of someone’s heart…questions that ensure your reality will be kind to theirs…that you are prepared to give, to grow, to strive to be more. That you are in it for the long haul, and not because you are trying to recreate some sort of romance novel, but because you can’t imagine for even a moment what it would mean to love someone else.
For me, the hardest question that I had to answer, but the one that made the ultimate difference, was how could I ever truly know what it really meant to protect someone’s heart, if mine had never been broken? Sometimes we see it coming, and sometimes we don’t…but either way, this kind of loss will always change you. And what are you supposed to do with that? What’s it supposed to mean?
I can’t answer that for you, but I can tell you what it did for me. My greatest heartbreak ended up being my greatest gift. It led me down a path I never would have traveled, if I hadn’t continued along the spectrum…one that was much longer than I would have hoped and that was scattered with what seemed like impossible moments, but that eventually ended in the most radiant shade I’d ever known.
The one where my husband lives…my greatest love of all.
Last month, we celebrated our seven year wedding anniversary. Seven years may not seem like a huge achievement, being that for some reason it’s mostly associated with off-handed comments about the “seven year itch”, but the fact that I’ve had the honor of spending it with a good, wonderful, generous human being – well, that seems like a pretty amazing accomplishment to me. And to be honest, our marriage in itself has also been a spectrum of moments…celebrations, laughter, delight, excitement, all-consuming happiness…along with disappointment, exhaustion, frustration, and hurt – because you see, it can’t all be one way or the other. There have to be check points along the way, to ensure we’re not losing sight of everything we persevered to end up together, and so that we can be each other’s champion when we do.
I don’t know what the future holds. No one does. I don’t know if I’ll be blessed enough to get another seven years of marriage. I don’t know if there are more lessons in love lying in wait, or if all of my tomorrows will be as hopeful as they look today. What I do know though, is that my spectrum is still full of bright spaces that I’m experiencing for the first time. And the fact that I can see them has to be proof that I’m on the right path…that I have the right partner…that joy is urging me around every turn, and that the journey ahead is lit up with many more moments for us to experience together.
So, because of that, I’m more grateful than ever before that my spectrum was full of so many stops along the way. Because you see, sometimes life knows better…we know better…loves knows better…
And in the end, I promise it’s always, always worth it.
(Originally posted October 2015)
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To the class of…
It’s amazing how quickly twenty years can go by when you aren’t paying attention. How the day you packed up your things in a car at the young age of 18 and drove out of town seems less like a distant memory, and more like the actions of someone else… someone who may never come back.
When I was growing up, I was one of the lucky ones. I just didn’t know it yet. I was in middle school when my family moved to a small town in northwest New Mexico. It was a rare place surrounded by culture, diversity, and beautiful flaming orange and red sunsets. The houses and buildings were raised up on hills, alongside winding roads and next to canyon edges. It took less than ten minutes to get anywhere, everyone knew your parents, and most families had a respected legacy.
If I’m going to be honest though, I have to say that it wasn’t easy for me to grow up there. This truly was by no fault of those around me. I was just never really sure where I fit in. I didn’t have a family legacy. I hadn’t shared an elementary school classroom with most of the other kids in town. And to top it off, my parents were strict and very firm on me spending time either at school or at home. So, I missed out on most of the after school get-togethers, random parties, and weekend events of the first five years. It wasn’t until I was a junior, when I joined the dance team and it was mandatory for me to attend various activities that I finally got a taste of high school. It was a lot of new experiences all at once though, and I still struggled to prove to myself that I belonged. To this day, I don’t know if I handled it well. Change isn’t something I was ever good at, and I fear I may have been trying too hard at the wrong things, while losing sight of others.
Back then, as much as I longed to be assertive and bold, I didn’t know how to find my own voice. So, I relied on my friendships and watched as others my age found their strengths, gained confidence, and began to forge a successful path. They were so much braver than me. They knew what they wanted. Even then, they knew who they were.
Earlier this year, I received the notice about our 20-year high school reunion – and found myself, amongst several others, finally ready to go back. I didn’t know what to expect the first night though, which I became fully aware of the moment I stepped out of the car. My heart was pounding as I stood on the sidewalk and looked at the glass door to the restaurant inside. I suddenly felt sixteen again and just as unequipped as ever. This time, so much more seemed to be on the line. What if, even now, I still wasn’t sure? Had I been kidding myself for the past few years that I really had figured out who I was? That I was finally comfortable? That I had grown up?
Walking through that door turned out to be one of the best things I’ve ever done though. My nervousness slowly lifted with every smile and hug that instantly came my way. I quickly found out that I wasn’t the only one hoping for reassurances, which easily found me over the next couple of days. The name tags we eagerly put on eventually came off one by one as the night went on, and the energy in the room developed into a mix of surreal joy and excitement.
The entire weekend ended up being so much more than I could have expected. I got the opportunity to talk, laugh with, and enjoy the beautiful, young, adventurous people from all those years ago. They were kind, happy, and more genuine than some others that have come and gone in my life since then. I truly felt honored and privileged to be a part of the group…to meet their families, talk to their children, hear about what they’ve been doing and where life has taken them. Among many things, they are successful business owners, educators, and industry leaders. They are musicians, social workers, and healers. They are selfless, devoted parents. They’ve struggled with loss and experienced heartbreak. They’ve loved…been survivors…have let go of the past.
They are still interesting, funny, and bold.
And they inspired me once again.
Although most of the time people say that they “wouldn’t go back”, I don’t think I really believe that we don’t carry something with us from high school – good or bad. Maybe it takes 20 years to finally be able to see how much we really did learn. Thank goodness for those first loves and for the camaraderie…the fights and the disappointments…the classes…the teachers…the off-campus lunches…the dances…the clubs…the yearbook signatures.
Because nothing can ever replace what it takes to start on the road to who you hope to become.
It took me a very long time to get where I am today. I know more than ever now though, that it wouldn’t have been possible if I hadn’t moved to that little town all those years ago. Its “melting pot” of different colors, norms, and ideals taught me about acceptance at a time when I didn’t even realize it was an issue. Its surrounding red rock landscape provided a backdrop that still has the familiarity of home. And it’s filled with people that are loyal, accepting, and real. So, I can’t help but find myself thinking how grateful I am to have had the opportunity to “go back”. To remember. To finally acknowledge now what I couldn’t back then.
That I do belong.
So, to everyone who came last weekend and also to those who couldn’t, I want to thank you. Thank you for being a part of my childhood. For remembering me after all of these years. For reminiscing. For wanting to hear more. For supporting me even now. I am so proud to know all of you.
Please stay in touch…keep following your dreams…remain true to who you are.
And, of course, have a great summer.
Always,
A.G. Aragon
(a.k.a. Andrina Ortiz, Class of ’95)
(Originally posted July 2015)
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Another New Year
What does a new year mean to you?
For me, it’s been different this time around. It strangely hasn’t been about looking forward. Instead, it has been about looking back – but not in the way you’re thinking. I have no regrets. I honestly have never been happier in my life. But, out of nowhere the other day, something finally hit me.
What did it take for me to get here?
We spend the month of January every year trying to make changes. We tell ourselves that we’re going to finally start working out more (I went for a run for the first time in 15 years a couple of weeks ago and almost killed myself – big mistake), or we’re going to cut out carbs (Does wine count?). Maybe you’re going to watch less reality tv (Goodbye “The Bachelor”!) or finally reach out again to that one person that was once a huge part of your life but drifted away (Sigh…). Perhaps this is the year you decide to try and start a family (Sorry mom, don’t read in between the lines here – it’s not happening! But I love youuuu!), or you’re going to finally try to live the dream and follow through on that one thing you’ve always wanted to do (Anyone trying to publish a book? Oh! That’s me!).
So many possibilities for change…but is it the changes that we actively seek out that make the difference? Or, is it the moments that we didn’t see coming that really shape us?
I read somewhere once that “where you are right now is exactly where you need to be”. That struck me hard because I definitely was not in a place that I wanted to be in, much less needed to be in. Or so I thought…
If I had to go back and figure out the moment that led me to where I am now, I would end up back in 2004 – ten years ago. I had just finished graduate school and I finally felt “accomplished”. But, I still didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life – except, be in love.
Now here is something that any one of my closest friends or family can attest to…I’m a hopeless romantic. But not just the kind of romantic where you dream of finding the one and running off into the sunset together while the theme from “An Office and A Gentleman” plays in the background. I’m utterly and completely, totally and horribly, hopeless. And back then, I was the kind of hopeless where I had actively tried to make wrong relationships work, just because I knew there would be a great origin story if we made it (even if I had to embellish a little). The kind of hopeless where I lost myself in every man I dated, not because he asked me to, but because I volunteered (Hey! You need someone to make you the center of their world? Pick me! Pick me!). And the kind of hopeless where I would tend to make bad choices all in the name of love…or at least that’s how some might have seen it at the time.
I can honestly say though that in 2004, I really did “fall” in love. It was all-consuming and wonderful all at once, and I would do whatever it took to hold onto it. I was so damn happy that I never thought for one moment it wouldn’t work out. That would have been an impossibility, because I finally was with someone who really “knew” me. I thought I’d finally broken the code and this time it was going to last.
Now, I know that love isn’t supposed to define you, but this relationship truly did. It defined my life in a way I never saw coming…it challenged me…it reshaped me…it opened up emotions I didn’t even know I had…but most of all, it eventually broke me and gave me no choice but to change. It gave me that “moment” – many of you know which one I’m talking about. It’s the one that blindsides you. The one where you have to stop and completely start over. The one that you carry with you forever. For some of you, it may have been a good moment…a kind moment…an exciting moment. For others, it may have been engulfed in anger and fear. For me, it was just really, really sad.
But now, ten years later, I’m so grateful that it all happened that way. Because when I recently stopped to examine my life now and how I got here, it was that love back in 2004 that led the way. It was those “bad” choices that laid the foundation and I don’t regret anything that happened for one single second. That sequence of events that started ten years ago made me who I am (cliché I know, but it’s true). It took me to a new part of the country I never would have lived in otherwise. It opened my eyes to a job in an industry that I didn’t even know existed and that eventually turned into a career. And that career has not only given me amazing mentors, but it single-handedly brought me to Colorado almost seven years ago – where my husband and a beautiful group of new life-long friends were waiting for me. I can’t even imagine now where I would be if things had gone another way, and I have no doubt that others touched by those events would agree and are glad our timelines were not erased. I was literally made to be here…because back then, life knew better than I did.
So, the saying is true. “Where you are right now is exactly where you need to be.”
Remember that as you start this new year and be kind to yourself if things don’t go exactly how you plan within the coming months. Everything happens for a reason and it will all come together somewhere down the line…I promise. You just can’t see it yet.
Happy 2014 everyone – for some of you, this could be the year that starts it all.
(Originally posted January 2014)