Esmeralda's Road

Ok. So. Here we are. 

I am doing this. 

Writing. 

Often.

What does that mean? I ask myself as I try not to grind my teeth. It’s a practice that only developed once I started being able to truly concentrate thanks to the slow-release Ritalin my neurologist put me on alongside the off-label anxiety meds I’d been on for a year before that. 

Actually, it only started once I finally went to the dentist and he heard my right jaw crack. I explained to him that I’d had a lot to focus on lately and that I realized I’d been jutting out my chin while I do so and what can I do about it. He gave it some thought while he drilled away at my surprise root canal (surprise to him, myself and my bank account, but in all honestly not surprising at all given… it’s my teeth). He paused and described how our mouths/teeth/jaws should be “at rest.”

Appoggia la punta della lingua leggermente sul palato (is that the word?) mentre il resto della lingua “riposa” tipo, flottando. Poi chiudi i denti in modo che ci sia contatto leggero con tutti i denti. 

Or at least that’s how I would say what he said. The Italian is probably way off but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Anyhow now every time I feel myself doing the jaw thing where it’s jutting out in some random direction away from the right side… I instantly close my mouth and assume that position. 

But now I understand why people grind their teeth. Like, if I can’t move my jaw around what ELSE am I supposed to do with it?? REST IT??? WHO DOES THAT??

Anyway it’s really helping my jaw not do that cracking thing anymore. 

So. Here we are again. Empty mind, eh? Right. Like that ever happens. 

Remember to save this, pendeja, it’s not Google Drive, remember? You’re sitting up in the hills of Fiesole in your classic green MINI with the white racing stripes under lots of trees with very loud cicadas. 

My hotspot is not working so I decided to use the Pages app on my way-too-full MacBook. Well, it used to be Salvatore’s then he basically gave it to me.

Last night I read the first part of the Roberto Lovato book Unforgetting: A Memoir of Family, Migration, Gangs and Revolution in the Americas. The book was triggering as hell, as I knew it would be. But also “not” because I am used to hearing and witnessing horrifying things but moving forward as though nothing has happened. I have had it since last year when it first came out but have not wanted to start it for this very reason.

Save again, pendeja. 

Jesus H! Self!!! Let me live. 

Just before Part I, he describes a drive-by he lived through in ’92 just after the massive riots post-acquittal of the four cops that beat the fuck out of Rodney King. He was meeting with a potential investor for his non profit CARECEN (Central American Refugee Center). 

He describes what he went through as follows:

“At that moment, the Salvadoreño part of me..the part that has been in similar situations during the civil war—took over. My breathing slowed. I inhaled deeply, eyes wide open, as if taking in everything around me. The automatic, safety-seeking pilot of a young adult life of risks acknowledged the fear and took over my body, focused my mind. [save] I breathed in again, and my sense of responsibility moved me to find Leland.” [save]

I’m grinding my teeth again and my tongue is stuck firmly to the roof of my mouth. A surefire sign you are in stress mode. Salvatore just learned that on the Balance app, the one he’s been using to meditate almost every day since October, and shared the tidbit with me. His tip along with Dr. Ferri’s (my dentist) help me stay grounded in the present moment. I try to be as aware as possible of my body, so when I feel the jaw jutting out or the teeth grinding or the tongue on the roof of the mouth… I immediately snap back into the present moment and do something simple that helps me recenter myself before moving on. 

I’ll put on lip balm or silently name a few items in my physical presence. If I’m really feeling triggered (chest static and shallow breaths), I will do the whole Five, Four, Three, Two, One grounding technique I learned from my therapist, Patty. Yes, my therapist’s name is also Patricia and yes she happens to go by the same nickname I did all throughout my schooling years. We can talk about that another time. [save]

It’s taken years of practice to be able to do that all in a matter of seconds on a day to day basis. 

Deep breath. [save] 

Oh no! My mini fan just died. I had placed in on the steering wheel to provide some relief from the stagnant July heat. Even up here in the hills. Not far up enough for any type of breezy respite. I am acutely aware now of the heat radiating off my MacBook onto my fupa and thighs. 

I just smashed a mosquito onto my leg. The dark red blood streaking across my veiny, dimpled thigh. [save]

So much to talk about so much to share. So many thoughts. Always. 

But now, the fan is dead and all the things I described are becoming unbearable and I can feel the sweat mustache forming on my upper lip and on my chin. I wipe the sweat off with the back of my left, manicured hand. The middle finger is chipped and it irks the fuck out of me. Every finger is a different vibrant summer color. Teal, electric pink, the perfect yellow, a deep lavender. . .  

Ok that’s enough of this. I am going to drive back home, blasting Bad Bunny all the way down this winding road that leads to Fiesole from Le Cure. I am going to walk into my apartment and hug my husband. Deep breath. [save]

I turn on the car and head downhill, reveling in the breeze caused by even the slightest movement. I put on my most recent Bad Bunny fave Me Porto Bonito. I turn up the volume and veer onto the main road. 

I am going too fast to stop for a pedestrian at a crosswalk (nothing outside of the Italian ordinary) so I mouth “Sorry!” to him as I drive past. I intuitively veer right rather than staying on that large winding road. I veer onto the tiny tiny road that I would never in a million YEARS thought would lead to my neighborhood, my home. 

I blast Bad Bunny as I take those curves and hope as many people as possible see and hear me passing. Existing. Boldly Latina. 

It’s about 12:30 and there are only a handful of people out in the scorching heat. I choose the right path at the fork in the road and take the narrow stone wall-lined road that has more shade and less blind curves than Via delle Forbici, on the left. Only slightly less blind curves. I took a video for as long as I safely could (it probably wasn’t safe at all. Oopsies!).

Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

Disregard the dirty car. We are washing it ASAP.

[save] lol jk I am on Drive now. 

TTYL.