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Friction

3/11/2023

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image by Abimael Linares
As I elevate in my growth, mishaps occur, some not within my control. Whether or not they are, like a wave approaching shallow water, I feel defeat. Just like the waves break at shore, I do too. A broken wave returns to its natural form. It descends and again raises into a wave, sometimes larger than the last. It settles. It exists. The wave lives in reaction to its circumstance.

​I’m very much like a wave changing all hours of the day, all days of the week, all weeks of the year. 

by Jessica G Ferrer
Personals. February 16 2023, 7:33pm PT
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Mirror Gaze

2/10/2023

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I had a late start that morning. My body nor my mind wanted to wake up. For fear of the alarm not ringing again, I found the will to unglue my eyes slowly and the strength to peel my upper back from the bed vertebrae by vertebrae. I wiggled my toes, moved my feet, and slid them off to my bedside. I stretched my legs until my feet found their slippers and with great slug, I pushed my hands against the bed and stood up. I took a deep breath and quickly dressed the bed. I rushed my body into my workout clothes and hurried to the bathroom. Having brushed my teeth, I set my coffee and had my morning prayer.
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image by Abimael Linares
Before my first sip of coffee, I would begin my morning affirmations, a practice I’d adapted during the pandemic. 
I reached for my gaze in the mirror. Her eyes were looking back at me - tired, discouraged, with an aching body, and the first day of her menstrual cycle.
I couldn’t lie. I wasn’t going to say, “today is gonna be a great day, you got this.” I couldn’t. I didn't even have the energy to uplift myself because I didn't want to start my day off with a lie. Instead I said, “I know you’re not feeling your best today and that’s ok. Go at your pace and do your best. I love you. I got you.” I smiled with compassion, with empathy, and I took a moment to just accept that.
My old therapist would constantly remind me of my need for validation. It wasn’t necessarily that I wanted it, but that I needed it, and I was responsible for giving it to myself. Perhaps she was right because standing in front of that mirror and addressing my reality brought me peace. I gave myself the permission I needed to just be and accept that it wasn't going to be my best day, but it would be honest. And it was.
It wasn't an easy day. I ran on low energy and low motivation, but eagerness was the main theme. I was eager to run down my to-do list, to check off the boxes, to get things done. It was a work from home day, but it wasn’t a stay at home day.

​After a forced workout, I felt some motivation. I got ready for the day. I had zoom meetings. I finished some work. I had lunch as I revised a story. Progressively, I felt my body giving up. My mind was telling me what a fraud I was, “Why do you even call yourself a writer? This is terrible. You should just quit.” I sat before my words as they looked back at me from the computer screen. I made a call to a friend to help pull me out, but that friend wasn't available. I dissociated. I flew away from my body for a few minutes and fought my way back. Upon my arrival, I pulled my body up from the chair and paced around my apartment. The destructive monologue in my head discovered sound and I verbalized every negative thought, so I could hear it loud and clear. I heard it, but I couldn’t believe what I was saying. How could I be so cruel to myself? I reached for my gaze in the mirror. I told those dark brown eyes that she was loved and that she would be ok.
Following a debate on whether I would continue the checklist or call it a day, my distress needed therapy, so I checked the next box. I vacuumed. I cooked. I cleaned the kitchen. I cleaned the bathroom. I watered the plants. As I was watering the plants, I realized how out of touch I was at that moment. As the water sprinkled out of the watering can, I noticed how the water met the soil, how the pot felt in my hand, how I hadn’t been present a moment since I began rushing through my list. The thought of life came to me. And I questioned, had I fallen into a trap and suddenly realized it? Was this it, getting through the day’s checklist, going to bed, and starting all over again? Was life just a big checklist? I’d been in constant hurry. If the finish line is my last breath, why am I racing toward it?

by Jessica G Ferrer
Personals. February 2023.
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The Spectator & Woman Through the Window

2/6/2023

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Through the window was a woman who sat alone with her dinner. Her thoughts appeared to have power over her. Her movement. Her gaze. It was enthralling. She had no phone in sight. Not a book. Not a paper. It was just her, her food, her company. I wondered what her mind had to say if anything at all. I was drawn to her. I saw a woman who had lived, who knew pain, who survived. 
In this journey of mine, as an artist, I find myself falling more in love with the complexities of the human condition. There is so much pain, misunderstanding, joy and sadness, ease, play, unawareness, awareness, all so compelling. An observer, I see so many stories. Some are nearly impossible to decipher, but my mind tells them anyway. ​

All of us. While we share moments, we live our lives separately. Our thoughts can be shared, but many we choose to hold deeply because they are ours. We cross each other on the streets without a glance. We share the commonality that we are part of the same race. We live in the same world. And yet we are strangers to each other. ​
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It’s quite perplexing how close and distant we are from one another. How groups create the division in which we settle into without knowing the other end or even becoming aware of the in between.  ​


So many lives I will never know. I will never meet.

By capturing moments like these (Woman Through the Window), in some way, I feel part of it all. It helps me remember, I am not alone.
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portrait of Jessica G Ferrer by Abimael Linares

written by Jessica G Ferrer
Woman Through the Window images by Jessica G Ferrer
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