Inspiration can be gained from pretty much anywhere…we hope you come to House of Alice Rose for it. We are working on constantly making our site more and more pleasing and enjoyable for all of our viewers. With that being said, we want to introduce you to our “Inspirational Women” segment. We are going to bring you stories of women that have gone through adversity, tragedy, death, and have overcome it with success. Meet our first Inspirational Woman, Veronica.
Her story is amazing and definitely inspiring. It is a long post, but still very worth reading. Enjoy the first half of her story, the conclusion will be coming soon! 🙂
I am the proud daughter of two Salvadorian immigrants, who always pushed me to accomplish more than they did. Their encouragement turned me into an optimistic, always thinking of the good that may come out from the bad. In my 26 years of life I have made mistakes and seen tragedies. I’ve had my setbacks, but at the end of the day I’m more than happy with myself. Even though my relationship with my parents has had its rocky moments, I know that I would’ve never been able to overcome many phases of my life if I didn’t have the backbone of my family.
I grew up having overprotective parents who would not allow me to interact with other kids after school excluding me from having friends, especially guys. When I did have girlfriends, my mom would remind me that friendship did not exist because she believed everyone could eventually turn on you, including friends. Looking back I blame the civil war in El Salvador for injecting such mistrust among their citizens by turning best friends and even families against each other to the point of committing murder only because of different political beliefs. I struggled during my elementary and middle school years being extremely quiet, and I strived to make good grades, but unlike my classmates who did it to be rewarded, I did it to avoid punishments. In spite of all this I was able to create some of the most sincere friendships during my childhood that I still hold dear to my heart.
As I grew older I believed my mom felt as if our stay in the country was temporary, as if our lives and freedom were ‘borrowed’ and any day immigration could take us back, and my brother and I would have to suffer leaving our home as we knew it. They lived always protecting us and securing our lives from anything that could harm us. But I did not understand this concept then and I am not going to lie; I didn’t understand it until I became a mother myself. During my teenage years I rebelled and dropped myself from college credit classes and enrolled in the most basic classes so I wouldn’t work as hard. I began lying to my parents regarding my whereabouts because I wanted to be more like everyone else in my neighborhood and come and go as I pleased. Since I wasn’t allowed to have any friends over and much less go out, I would say I was going on field trips and that I joined after school clubs to hang out with the bad influences my mother tried to protect me from. Little did I know I was letting the most delicate years of my life go to waste.
When I graduated I began to date an older man, he was 25 and I was 17. I was attracted to him for the wrong reasons: looks and his ‘ life experience’ being older than me. Even now I’m laughing at myself for being so naive. He promised the world and I was able to dream. After graduation my parents would still listen in on my phone conversations and would not allow me to leave the house without them, so I began to sneak out in the middle of the night. I would go to the neighborhood parties, drink and somehow enjoyed that lifestyle. Soon enough I began to think I was grown enough and that my parents were wrong so I began to resent them. At 18 I left, I actually ran away with him, and it was easy since he lived across the street from my parents. I felt I was on my way to freedom when in reality I should have predicted my faith with him from watching his lifestyle daily and knowing he only had empty promises. Once with him we continued partying every day for about a month until I found out I was pregnant.
Pregnancy was an eye opener, who am I? What am I doing with my life? At my parents’ I lived in a four bedroom house never wondering what I was going to eat or how bills were paid. Once pregnant, I asked myself how am I going to feed and dress my child? I was now in a four wall apartment infested with roaches and people without dreams or aspirations. I was at my lowest point. There were moments when I only had $20 to buy food for two weeks; even now I have no clue as to how I survived. I also recall living two months with no electricity because we couldn’t afford our monthly bill. I had too much pride to admit I had made an enormous mistake. How could I admit to my parents they were right and I wasn’t?
When my son was born I felt depressed but there was no way I was going to give up. I had everything going against me. One night my son wouldn’t stop crying and the “father” was nowhere to be found, and it was the scariest night of my life when I contemplated leaving this world. I felt unworthy of my son, unworthy as a friend and daughter. I had failed. But then I began to write to my parents about how sorry I was and finally understood their stories of struggle when my mom’s parents brought her here for a better life. I felt so guilty destroying their dreams for me to have a better life than they did. Who was I to do such a thing?….
To Be Continued…Stay Tuned for Part 2!