It has been ten thousand years since I have written anything for this blog. What the hell happened? (A shit ton beautiful people, a monstrous SHIT ton.) After the events that transpired last summer, writing was flung to the backburner, as I was thrown into survival mode once again. I will go into detail on the events that transpired that day in a later post. For now, let me attempt to condense 2023 into a nutshell version. Diving right in…

In late July of 2023 I moved in with my brother and his wife Devanay. The move was sudden, and uncomfortably abrupt. Side-note, because it must be said, my sister in law is one of the best humans I know. She defends me in rooms I’m not in, and does the right thing, even when no one is looking. Is that not the cornerstone of humanity goals? My brother’s ex, and the mother of his three eldest children, recently asked me, “How do you like having a sister in law?” Allow me to put this into writing so it lives in infamy for the rest of our lives, having a sister-in-law is the fucking tits! The tits I tell you! Let me scream it louder for the people in the back: HAVING DEVANAY AS MY SIL IS THE FUCKING TITS! We are SIL law goals ten fold. How do you like them apples? I bet you weren’t expecting that were you? Besos Cabrona.

The living situation with my mother had become too toxic to breathe. I do not hyperbolize in the slightest when I say the fear of hell is absent in me. You can’t scare me with the Devil because I tamed that bitch long ago. Not that you would acknowledge it if you were privy to it anyway, would you Mother? Denial is your superpower. A trait I admittedly inherited from both parents, but was able to unlearn with years of hard work with a very talented, and patient therapist. My brother and sister-in-law became aware of the forced interactions I was made to contend with on a daily basis. On Mother’s Day, I had mentioned some of the things my son and I were going through to Dev. My SIL understood where I was coming from due to her own experiences in the house. By the pained look on her face, I immediately knew she had undergone her own version of hell. Jokingly, but not, she had hinted at renting a room from them should things ever become impossible. Little did we know how much this conversation would come into play just a couple months later.

When our world was thrown into chaos last July, Andrew was the first person I called. He is now the rock I lean on when life squeezes too tightly, and the first person I call when I have good news. We are the next generation of Juarez, our bond is titanium, and that circle now includes Devanay. The three of us are unfucking stoppable. My brother and I have always been close. I have watched over Andrew in ways he’ll never realize, or so I thought. That is what is so magical about the addition of Dev. It’s as if she’s the missing translator for a conversation Andrew and I have been trying to have our entire lives. When my responses become sharp in heated discussions, she gives the gentle reminder to slow my roll. When Andrew is treating me in a way he has learned from my family, Dev holds up the mirror and doesn’t allow him to look away. She is the salve mending our broken hearts. (More tears as I type this in Mozwell. Thank God I am on a dark patio.)

Andrew and Dev offered my son, and I, a place to live until I was able to get on my feet again. Even though they had plenty on their plate with their own lives, they welcomed us with open arms. My SIL was experiencing a difficult pregnancy with my nephew, and still working forty hours a week. In addition, my brother was also working and attending school full-time. To make circumstances even more stressful, they were preparing to move into their first house.

At the time we moved in, they were in a one-bedroom apartment. Although we were in a tight space, the environment was much happier. We were all committed to making things work in this newly formed household. Each of us was navigating a different path, but our end game was the same. We were working toward career and financial goals of our own. My brother was in the process of becoming a firefighter, and I was in the beginning stages of enrolling in school to obtain my A.S. in Esthetician.

Because of the unholy circumstances that my son and I were facing where we were living, my brother took it upon himself to move all of our belongings on his own. He paid for the trailer, the gas, and gave up his nonexistent-extra-time, to move our lives out of the horrendous space we were in. Not only was the move physically demanding, but emotionally and financially draining as well. Never once did he complain or imply what a burden I know it was. He did it all with a positive attitude only Andrew can summon. And yes his name is Andrew Juarez. We are Andrea and Andrew Juarez, the comeback kids. (Our names are so much alike; the post office has combined our identities numerous times. Funny, but not.)

As I had mentioned, he and his wife, Devanay, were moving into their first house. When they took us to see the property, Dev (as those close to her call her) pointed to one of the rooms and said, “This could be your room and the other one Wyatt’s.” I instantly became emotional. The home where we had been living had plenty of extra rooms, but we were forced to cram into one. Not only that, but they were charging me rent, and using my disability to get a reduction on their utilities. I cleaned as much as I could, and gave up weekends to help reorganize their home. Time I will never regain. Even though my brother and Dev were not in any place to help anyone financially, they wouldn’t accept any money from me. When Dev had offered a room of my own… I cannot articulate the feelings of gratitude I felt for her. The thought of this moment makes my eyes fill with tears, even now. Needless to say this is a gesture I will never forget. It speaks highly of her character and generosity. Dev wanted to make sure I was in a secure financial place of my own before even considering accepting anything from me.

When I say I won’t forget the souls who were kind to me when I was down, I mean it. For those who chose to kick me, along with my son, while I was down; I have my popcorn ready. Karma will pull out all the stops as she weaves her magic on my behalf. She does this for those who do the right thing, even when no one is watching. Surely you can see her ways by now? Karma never tires, and she most certainly never loses an address. This is her Hippocratic Oath. Out of everyone that exists on the planet, the people who should have protected and helped me the most, were the same Neanderthals who made an intentional decision to add to my already challenging life. Save your tears and victim card for the next fool who believes your lies. The truth of your actions has begun to seep out. Good luck hiding your sins from your progeny.

Where was I? Oh yes, my brother and Dev. As we all settled into our new home, a new life was introduced to the Juarez tribe. Ronin came into the world on October 13, 2023. It was a hot, California-fall afternoon. I had just had a Moxi Laser performed at The Treatment, in San Clemente, the day prior. I had been planning on staying indoors for a few days to allow my face to heal. (Anyone who has had this procedure knows exactly what I am talking about it. It’s a process.) This ended up working out perfectly since my brother and Devanay needed to turn their focus to welcoming their new Little into the world.

I was thrilled to have this very special one on one with my niece Genevie. I wasn’t fortunate enough to have this opportunity with my eldest niece Leah. Their mother kept them away from our family for a long time and moved to another state while my brother was in prison. (I will be doing a story on Andrew and his complete 180. We handled our mother’s affair in our own ways, which is all I will say for now.) I cherish this time with my tiny G-unit so very much. However, I am simultaneously racked with guilt. I will forever be trying to make up for my absence in Leah’s life for as long as I live. (Her name is Leah Andrea Juarez, not Leah Rebeca, Leah Andrea.) Hence the Lulus and full balayage, what kind of aunt would I be if I didn’t spoil my OG mini me? Her first presents came in silver Nordstrom boxes. I set this precedent for a reason.

Falling into a routine with G was easy. It wasn’t that long ago I was taking care of her cousin and changing his diapers. It’s like a riding a bike. While Andrew and Dev were still at the hospital, the formula for G had run out. My face was nowhere healed, but my little woman needed formula, so off to Target we went. On the way out, whom do we see? My brother, Dev, and G’s Irish twin, Ronin. They were eager to unite their family, so I handed off G and drove home. As much as I loved taking care of my niece, I was looking forward to resting. I had been ill all weekend and was exhausted. I usually bounce back quickly from being sick, but the summer heat had my Multiple Sclerosis symptoms flaring. Not only that, but my body was still recovering from the trauma it had endured in July. (Thankfully, the nightmares have stopped occurring so frequently.)

As summer turned into fall, and the weather finally cooled down, I was faced with the usual dread of the holidays… or was I? My holidays have been a dystopian melodrama since my mother announced her affair with her coworker. It was the summer of 2002. I’ll never forget coming home from The Water Grill, full of excitement. I had chosen it as the restaurant I was going to stage at. However, all my joy was robbed from me when I walked through the door. The air was thick and the energy was dark. My dad sat my little brother and I down and simply said, “Your mother is in love with someone else.” As soon as the words left his mouth, my world, along with my entire belief system, imploded. All I can recall is the room going black. EVERYTHING went so very black, and then I lunged in the direction of my mother. The last memory I recall from that moment is the desire to inflict physical harm on her. I wanted her to feel physical pain. How satisfying it would be to see her suffer a fraction of the emotional trauma she was administering to us. Does this sound dark as fuck? Sometimes life is. In the infamous words of my mother, “GET OVER IT”.

Whether it is the anxiety of having to see my mother, and her Sancho, or trying to track down my ex to make sure he hadn’t overdosed, the holidays always represented something dismal. However, no matter what shit show was popping off, I always made sure to try to make the holidays special for my son. It was wildly unfair that he should be robbed of happy memories.

Before I knew it, we were trick-or-treating with some friends in The Claremont Village, a tradition established since we first moved to Claremont. On our own street, Halloween mania was in full effect. It was an incredible sight to see the hundreds of people filling our normally quiet street. Our neighbors had warned us about the traffic that fills our street. They were not exaggerating. The neighbor that lives behind us creates a truly unique and spectacular haunted house every year. If you’re a local to Alta Loma, Rancho Cucamonga, Upland, or other surrounding areas, you may know exactly what I am talking about. I believe it has it’s own IG account. If you follow me on IG, you’ll see me post about it in October. We can see it from our bedroom windows. The screams from terrified visitors lull us to sleep all through the night. It’s whimsy coupled with creepy, tis the season!

Halloween came and went. We spent Thanksgiving in Palm Springs with some close friends. It was the most peaceful holiday I’d experienced in years. By the time Christmas had rolled around, I was actually looking forward to the holidays. The time for faking smiles to hide painful emotions was over. Andrew, being the insane optimist that he is, thought it was a good idea to host Christmas at our home. Did I mention the house was in need of many repairs when we moved in? No? Well it did. My brother had no business hosting a huge family gathering, but he was in his first home, so vamonos.

My brother ended up making some epic tamales, and Christmas went off without a hitch. I cannot describe what it meant to see Andrew in his own home, surrounded by all his children, his wife, friends and family. For someone I was not sure was going to live to see thirty, I could not have been more at peace if had tried.

The rest of the year was non eventful in the best way. New Year’s Eve came and went. We were all excited for the potential possibilities 2024 was to bring. Andrew was going to be hired at Cal Fire, I was returning to school, and Dev was finding her new rhythm as a mom of three little ones. As January began, no one could have imagined what would occur later in the month.

On January 22, 2024, a drunk driver hit me after I dropped off Wyatt for school… Hello 2024.