The next few posts will detail my life from July 9, 2021 to November 1, 2021. They will be shorter because the content is emotionally draining. I am forced to relive the events when I write these and being a single mother doesn’t allow for any mental rebound time. It is the last piece of the healing process and I am ready to feel it all. Here we go…

In the summer of 2021, California was beginning to reopen after Covid lockdown. Governor Gavin Newsom had promised “business as usual”. Finally, slivers of hope for the small business owner, however that was met with the reality of loopholes, local control, and labor laws. Hope floats though, no matter the size.

It was July 9th, I was fully vaccinated, and the Claremont Village was slowly coming back to life. At that time my ex had been missing for three days. When he left he said he was going to “help a friend”. I was thankful for the break from the screams and insults being hurled at me on a daily basis. Normally, while using, he would stay local and randomly check-in. This was a way to rationalize what he was doing. He was checking in so he wasn’t doing anything wrong, right? All logic exits when your brain is under the influence. Covid had amplified his addiction making it impossible for me to ignore. When the Governor asked the state to shelter in place, we were forced to shelter in place with the devil. That is what meth is. The devil.

To say I was “over it” is a gross understatement. Being “over it” implies something you can just move on from and never have to deal with it again. This was much bigger. I was breaking my son and I free. The world was coming back to life and I was never returning to the unnatural normal my ex had made for our family. Meth addiction had placed us in a type of self-imposed quarantine long before Covid did.

That morning, I put Wyatt in his jogging stroller, yes I ran with him until he was almost 7, I am tiny, but I am mighty. It was the only way I could find time to keep my body moving and release the anger and pain. When we got back, I got us ready and we headed out. I didn’t have a plan for the day; I just knew we were going to live.

This outing was a very layered milestone in my healing. It was the first time I intentionally moved on with life and gave the ultimate “Bye Felicia” to my husband’s meth addiction. It was no longer going to dictate our happiness. I also had not been out in public since my attack. I was facing the anxiety of being in crowds, and men I didn’t know, again. (You can read about my attack in Violated Part 1 & Part 2). I still felt VERY uncomfortable around men, but what the hell, carpe diem!

Claremont is a city I share a history with. I began coming here in high school while my uncle was attending Claremont McKenna. I worked in The Village before Union on Yale existed and it was still home to the beautiful flower shop, Casa Flores. I have loads of stories about Claremont, but that will be for another time. Needless to say, Claremont has always felt like home. It is very similar to Uptown in Whittier, the city I grew up in, but on a much smaller scale. I decided to take my son to the village that day. Little did I know the amazing experiences that decision would bring.

That Friday, the day was gorgeous. The sky seemed more blue than normal, the air smelled of flowers, and butterflies seemed to follow us as we explored. My ex was the last thing on my mind. My son was smiling and excited to be in this little village he said reminded him of “The Good Witch”. As he skipped around the college campuses I began to feel lighter. He was laughing and finally distracted from the pain the absence of his father brought. We were supposed to move to Claremont as a family, but those plans were made prior to knowledge of his addiction and before Covid hit. That vision was dead. It was time to create a new one.

I’m a fiend for caffeine and remembered Last Drop was down Harvard Avenue. I walked in and was greeted by two warm, smiling faces. They are the most recent owners of the bistro and two of the nicest and caring humans I’ve met in Claremont. I ordered a coffee and a strawberry Italian Soda for my son. As we sat at the table in the air conditioning, I noticed a barbershop across the way, Stay Gold. Since lockdown my son’s hair had grown completely out of control. The hair in his eyes coupled with the heat of summer was frustrating and uncomfortable. I wanted him to have a proper men’s cut at a barbershop, but that also meant being around men. My father’s words “Remember you’re a Juarez” played in my head. (They always do when I’m faced with a difficult task.) Today was all about living, and I was exhausted from the PTSD of my sexual assault. Having PTSD is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It creeps up in the most unexpected and embarrassing ways. I gave myself a pep talk and walked across the street.

To be continued.

XOXO