The Spanglish Girl Diaries
“As God is my Witness, I’ll never be hungry again.”– Scarlett O’Hara
Life has been brutal, and to be honest, I don’t think it’s going to get any easier anytime soon.
Today, I start waitressing, and I’m a bit nervous. While at the bar last week, trying to forget my worries in a Shirley Temple, I overheard one of the busboys say they were in need of a new waitress. I introduced myself, and before I knew it, I was filling out an application and getting interviewed on the spot.
I’m down to my last dollar, so waitressing is perfect—hopefully I’ll leave today with tips. I refuse to ask my family for money—no, I won’t do it. Let’s just say this whole experience has been a reality check and somewhat humbling. I’m feeling a bit angry at myself: I was and idiot not to stash money away, and don’t even get me started on the joint bank accounts… I guess there is no point in being sad or mad. I can’t change the past, and as my wise and sweet godmother told me, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get you a good attorney and a sturdy vibrator.”
So, I did one of the two, already. I’m pleased with my attorney: he has already served my ex, and we are set to appear in court within the next two weeks, given my dire financial need. As for my godmother’s second suggestion… Let’s just say I’m tempted, but scared—of God that is.
Note to self: check with Father Manuel. After all, self-pleasuring has to be less sinful than sleeping around, right?
Speaking of sin, I went to confession last week, and to my relief, Father Manuel informed me an annulment, under the circumstances, could be granted by the church—but my involvement with brujeria… that is less forgivable. To compensate, I spent the evening praying the rosary—several times over. The good thing about the Catholic Church, I guess, is that almost anything is forgivable and remedied by confession and prayer.
So now that I’ve filed for divorce, the end of my marriage feels real and to my surprise, I’m having a hard time accepting it. My therapist pointed out that I am likely grieving the loss of my dreams. He is right: in the end, that’s all my marriage was–dreams. The reality sucked.
Whenever I start to feel sad, I force myself to remember the bad things: the affairs, the loneliness, and how he left me. Weekends are the worst, especially on Friday: everyone else around me, it feels, is heading home to someone or on their way to something. Me, I have no one and nowhere to go.
Nights are difficult, too. Sometimes I miss him so much I put on his t-shirt just to feel close to him. It’s crazy, I know: I want the divorce, but my emotions are twisted, and the only logical explanation I can come up with is that my heart has yet to catch up with my brain.
At this point, what I miss most about my life is the stability. I yearn to be in control of my life and my emotions. If I were to be brutally honest, I’d have to admit that I feel like a scared little girl. All I feel is fear, and although I don’t show it, it haunts me. I can’t help but think about how I will pay the bills, how I will finish school, or even how I will buy groceries.
His timing in leaving was perfect, in terms of making me suffer. He asked me to stop working, so I could finish school sooner: it all makes sense now… I worked throughout the entire marriage, and only stopped working these last two years to finish my B.A. Then, four months after I graduated, he walked out. I was studying for the LSAT when he left, but now, i’ll have to put that off.
When I think of all the sacrifices I made in my own education and career, I feel sick to my stomach. I should already be done with law school and in a career as an attorney. Like I said earlier, I feel like an idiot: I moved so we could be together and I could petition for his U.S. residency. I would love to take back his U.S. residency, but he stayed married to me long enough, so he’s in the clear (classic).
Anyways…. The waitressing job is a step in the right direction, even though it’s a job I never thought I would take at this stage in my life. I’ve always worked office jobs, so to work in the food service field is a bit daunting. I, however, am desperate. The harsh reality is that waitressing is my chance at some stability and independence financially.
I’ve decided that even when I’m awarded spousal support, I will keep working—that much I am sure of. Never again will I be so helpless and vulnerable. I believe Scarlotte O’Hara in Gone with the Wind (a classical novel and movie I was introduced to in a feminist literary course during college) epitomizes the despair and determination I feel most accurately when she states, “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again…”
Now, I don’t plan to lie, steal, cheat and kill (unless it’s my ex), but I do think this crazy white girl encompasses me at this moment, best. She, of course, is angry at the Yankees, post Civil War, for ruining her Southern way of life. I am just a poor Latina trying to survive the abandonment of my rich ex. But still, my struggle is as real as hers.
Well Virgencita, off to work I go.
PS. Pray that I don’t drop a tray or mix up an order. I did lie to get the job: I claimed I had waitressing experience. But the truth, I worked at McDonalds for a week in high school. So, I guess I am more like Scarlette O’Hara than I thought… Next is cheating, stealing, and killing… #nobueno