Rebecca Espinoza

I’m not your perfect daughter.

The quiet doting doe
was never meant to be my role.
I was once meek
when I thought
silence was the key
to acceptance and adoration.
And maybe it was,
before I had my own
thoughts,
perspectives,
and objections.

But I grew up,
I left the nest,
flapped my wings,
flew a few times
and fell a ton of times.
I lived a life differently
than the traditional path
I was born into.

The perfect daughter
doesn’t choose herself
when generational traumas
seek her out, pleading
to keep the old cycles turning.
That’s not me.
I prefer to create
my own destiny,
even if it means
breaking the chains
that were passed down
and carried
by all of the mothers and daughters
who came before me.

What good would it do
to have a daughter
who only repeats habits
that strip away
chances and choices?

I may be considered selfish
for building boundaries
with my bloodline
and choosing individuality,
but I’ll never be selfless
when giving myself
entails losing myself.

I don’t want to be
a perfect daughter
who falters
at the sight
of her own dreams
and buries them
in a graveyard of guilt,
all so she can
remain exactly
where she’s expected to be.

Perfect daughters
saunter along,
with their lips sealed,
not questioning
the potential for change
or rewriting stories
of ancestral pain.

“Do it for la familia”
is marked
with a different meaning
for me.
I don’t self-sacrifice
or play martyr
for the benefit of others.
I don’t repress my emotions
until they take over me
and eat away at my body
until all that’s left is dis-ease.
No, I’m not here
to repeat the patterns
that were passed down.
By choosing differently,
I am doing it for my family.

📸 .kram.l.mark.iv

For a change,
I want someone to hold me.
When I come undone in the midst of the mess,
I want to safely rest in the sheltering arms of someone other than me.

When I feel like I’m drowning inside,
caught in the riptide
of my heart’s hurricane,
I want another hand to hold
as I make my way back to shore.

I can do it myself;
be there for myself
take care of myself,
hold myself,
soothe myself;
I’ve got me.
This isn’t new to me.
It’s the only
way I learned how to be.

It was rare
to be cared for
by mothers and fathers
who knew
how to soothe
a child’s tender telling heart.
When tears were an inconvenience,
I learned it was safe to cry
only when no other eyes
witnessed my inner tides.
When my sensitive essence
was an uncomfortable reflection,
I found a secret haven
in my world of solitude.

Young, precocious, and independent;
this is who I was,
the first little girl I
learned how to
cradle and carry
with unconditional compassion.

I’ve become so fluent
in the mysteries
of emotional alchemy,
that other people
reach for me
when they need
to be seen,
loved,
and held.
I learned
how to do it so well
for myself
naturally,
I became a source of help
when others had
no where else to go.

It’s a blessing
and a beautiful curse
to be initiated into
the trinity of transformation—
the healer,
the lover,
and the warrior.

But when my human strength
begins to shake and falter,
who can I trust
to shine even the smallest light
back to the anchored altar?

Can I believe
that someone else
knows how to
hold the walls together
when lightning storms
crash down
and threaten calamity?

Do I even know
how to ask for
and receive
someone else’s presence
when I fall to my knees
and surrender to defeat?

It can be a lonely thing
to be the “strong one”,
the “resilient one”
the “independent one”
the one who others depend on.

But the most terrifying
part of it all
isn’t being rejected
or uncared for;
it’s finally receiving it all,
falling apart
and for once,
letting someone
else catch you,
hold you,
and love you
in ways
you might have
never even known
how to do for yourself.

Happy heart moments.

How lucky am I to call them family? ❤️‍🔥

Do you see me?
or do you shut your eyes
and reimagine the human being
best suited for your simple-minded pleasures?

I see you for you
and let me tell you,
there are parts of you I don’t prefer,
but I would never make you feel unsure
about your worth
or try to ignore
your very essence
to lessen my discomfort.

I may not fit
your perfect description
for the traditional woman
society has deemed acceptable
but there’s power in my true expression
that transforms darkness into light
and finds magic in all of life.

You might not see this
because you’re afraid of a real woman
who challenges the status quo
and alchemizes pain into medicine
through her connection
to the divine feminine
and the earth
who birthed her into this world.

I’m not perfect
and neither are you
but there’s a truth to be said
for the way you dismiss
my embodiment of reality
simply to keep your ego
living with false sanity.

You don’t see me
but luckily,
I’m my own mirror
and won’t be bothered
by someone
who cracks my reflection
for their idea of distorted perfection.

Photo by .co

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What I fear is living a life I so shamelessly love and having it come to an unexpected end. Every human being shares the one same fate—to meet death. When we realize this unescapable truth, what will we do? It’s usually 1 of 2 things—we’ll become paralyzed by fear and only live a mediocre life that we don’t care to lose or we’ll be moved by inspiration, knowing each day is our last until our bodies give us another breath. The more you live, the more you have to lose and the heartache of loss can be a convincing ally to keep you stuck in the illusion of safety. Through this, you’re not actually protecting yourself—you’re trapping yourself. When the fear of living seeps into your mind and overtakes your body, you’re going against the most important part of your entire being—your soul. It’s your soul that dropped into the density of the body and chose to be challenged by the mind so it could remember how to live.

She came here to become fluent in all expressions of love.
She came here to create art that births new versions of herself over and over again.
She came here to let her voice roar through the most deafening distractions.
She came here to confidently make mistakes and forge them into timeless wisdom.
She came here to swim in the unforgiving storms of heartbreak and make it out alive each time.

She came here to live, even if she always knew she would die.

She is man’s biggest fear and most desired treasure all at once. She is all four seasons in just one month. She is the storm and the perpetual calm. She is the innocent lamb and the ravenous lion side by side. She is the silky rose petals blooming for you and the thick thorns demanding distance.

She can work her tongue to be the source of sweet nectar and in the next moment, she’ll wield it as a sword that cuts through faulty words. She’s the lover, mother, and giver, but don’t expect anything less of a fighter when trust and truth are threatened.

She’ll vow to love you forever and promise to never remain the same. Change and unpredictability are just a few of her greatest gifts. A mirror will never do her justice; one reflection isn’t enough to capture her multidimensional expressions.

Can you still love her even when knowing all her phases and faces will take an entire lifetime?

Can you still accept her even when all her complexities bring you to your knees in pleasure and despair?

Can you still trust her even when her body and soul are coated in mystery?

Woman,
she is the most revered shapeshifter in the form of flesh and bones.

Photo by .rpg

To have a portrait taken of yourself can be a vulnerable experience. With that vulnerability, two additional states can occur—empowerment or discomfort. Will you let yourself be seen? When it’s just you being peered at through the lens, it’s an opportunity to be witnessed entirely. What silent words will jump from your eyes? What will your smile communicate or the lack of thereof? When the sole focus is on one person, evasion is nearly impossible. When the eye of the camera is set on you, do you slink back in your body? Does your heart radiate from the pigment of your iris? Portraits can be a subtle doorway to knowing how a person feels in that fleeting moment. Portraits aren’t perfect—they’re honest.

Some portraits captured on film a few years back. I finally stopped being lazy and decided to develop them.

Heartbreak is the ruthless return back home. It is the barefoot pilgrimage on a jagged path to a golden temple where everlasting truth rings from the bells. When heartbreak fills your body, there’s nothing else to do, but fall to your knees and offer yourself to the altar of new beginnings. It’s this heartbreak that will teach you how to recompile the remnants of self that were shattered and scattered and make a piece of artwork that is brighter and more beautiful than before. Without heartbreak, you wouldn’t know the gift of grief because without grief, it’s so easy to forget how much love our hearts receive and give. So, when heartbreak beckons you onto its path, you’re being invited to journey through the deepest remembrance of Self within a space that will lead back Home.

📸 .co