The New M.E. Generation

Day 1: I make my entrance into the world and it’s not that welcoming.

Why? Because ever since I was born, I’ve had this love-hate relationship with men that, until recently, been able to finally figure out.

For starters, my brother was the first grandchild and male born from my mom’s side of the family (there’s my aunt and uncle as well), which remained like that for about a year and a half. He was a big baby, with really blond hair, and looks that equaled any child from royalty.

Me? Not so much. I was an average size, with brown locks, and cute, I guess. There were also 2 other grandsons born the same year as me. In the end, the headcount was 6 boys, 2 girls.

My earliest memories of my brother and me was that I always walked behind him. Staying the weekends at my maternal grandparents’ home, he would say, “stop following me!!”

He also had a good appetite. Not me. I guess I figured out that by not eating I was finally getting the attention away from my brother. It worked so well, rumor has it my family would go to church to ask that I put some food on my stomach.

When it was time to sleep, we were both placed on the same bed on a room right across that of my grandparents. My brother though, he didn’t like that, and would cry because he wanted to be with them. I would look at him like, ‘what’s wrong with you?’

One time he got off the bed and wrote a note to my grandparents. He then knocked at their door (me beside him, off course); it read that he wanted to be with them. I guess it worked with my grandmother, as we ended at their bed. Honestly, I would been fine being left sleeping on my own.

Came Sunday morning, he would walk to the third room to watch cartoons and I would be doing the same thing. I looked up to him on anything I would do, even when my baby teeth were falling out and I needed encouragement to give them that last push.

What he did manage not to do was have falls. I had a talent while playing that would make me hit my chin bad enough that required going to the hospital for stitches.

One time it happened at night. My grandmother all nervous sat me with my pajamas on the hood of the car while trying to put my shoes on. My shirt was stained with blood and felt embarrassed for all the commotion I was causing, so much I wanted to hug my grandmother and calm her down.

Once at the hospital, I looked at the male doctor right into his eyes, letting him know that I was in full control of myself. I didn’t cry or make any noise while lying down on the bed. My stare was so strong, he covered my eyes with a light cloth before stitching me up. I still saw everything he did.

Interestingly, I don’t recall having anyone next to me giving me comfort or even holding my hand.

Like my brother said when he accompanied me when I arrived to college for the first time, and was about to board a cab to go to his own school, “You’re on your own kid.”

Memo to myself: there will be a lot more falls and stitches to come. So get ready ’cause they’re going to hurt, a lot. Here we go…

Although my high school friend was a disciplined student and had good grades, his pranks eventually caught up to him. His parents were called by the school administration way too many times hoping to resolve this issue, but to no avail. His mom literally told the principal, ‘do what you need to do’.

Even some of his classmates turned against him, even when they were not affected by any of his actions. The rumors started running high, even that he had committed plagiarism in his Senior year term paper.

The Engligh teacher met with him and asked him to talk about the work in general. After my friend gave an extended speech about the topic, references and else, the teacher handed back the draft and said to him, “you’re good to go”.

Academically he was doing all that he needed to do to ensure entrance to college. But because his conduct was so bad and the rumors so out of hand, and the school couldn’t take action against him for his grades, they did it where it hurt the most: he was told he couldn’t be part of the graduation ceremony.

I got really sad and shocked when he personally told me. I knew things were bad, but never thought that of the few people I was friends with this could happen to him.

This would be the first of many moments I witnessed the betrayal of people to those I cared about or myself. It didn’t necessarily create a sense of distrust towards others, but more in that they can turn against you at any time without any valid reason.

“Don’t ever give your life away to any religion, political movement, or even less a man,” preached he to me during that time. He also manifested his dislike for a particular type of people, an issue that didn’t surface again accidentally in the present time.

I never understood where this one came from and I never allowed myself to be influenced by it. I believe I have always been good to others, and many have taken advantage of it by mistreating me.

I used to give people many chances, especially guys, but with this guy’s betrayal, I have become stronger in my personality and discard quickly anything that’s toxic or represents a threat to my wellbeing, just like he has.

So the question is, how is it possible for a person, who gave you the right guidance to survive the world, change to the total opposite of what he taught you?

How is it possible that after all the negative I’ve gone through, was able to make it through it all and still have hope for the future?

How do you explain an over 30-year friendship going bad and looking at a person become totally unrecognizable to you?

Why am I still standing in the light and he is in the lowest, darkest period of his life?

Someone saved my life tonight”. Yes, universe, I know it’s you.

et cetera