![]() ![]() It wasn’t until I started to heal from my immigrant and first gen trauma that I began to have compassion for all my struggles and how far I had come in life. After all, in my head, I thought, “People like me don’t get this far.” Eventually, I left this job after a near-death experience in a car accident, but that’s a different story. However, every time I thought about moving on, I would experience intrusive thoughts like, “Who would want to hire me!” I felt shame for thinking I could grow past where I was. I didn’t feel like I belonged, so when I was at work, I was by myself unless I had to attend team meetings.Īfter a few years of working at this company, I thought about looking for another job to help me develop my career. Being the only Latina working with the “higher-ups” was also challenging. I worked long hours to prove my worth and continued studying topics I had already learned in school. I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be at this job. Even though I had a four-year degree that proved I could do the work, I felt like a fraud. When I would wake up from my nightmare, I would remind myself that I already did that! These nightmares lasted for years.Īfter graduation, it took me six months to land my first professional creative job. What kept me pushing through this difficult time was the fear of failing to reach this goal and disappointing my entire family.Įven after I graduated from college, I started to have nightmares that I wouldn’t graduate. At one point, I started to see my school’s counselor for support, but she had no understanding of what it was like to be a first gen. It was me trying to figure things out on my own. ![]() I had nobody to look to for guidance since I was the first in my family to go to college. In college, there weren’t that many Latinos in my major or even in my school, so I felt isolated and had little support. Due to this, I started developing anxiety attacks that made it challenging to attend class. I thought it was my responsibility to create a new path for my younger siblings too. ![]() ![]() I felt the burdens of my parents’ dreams taking a toll on me. This pedestal created a lot of anxiety in me. They thought I would be the person in our family to get us out of poverty and help make something of ourselves. My parents and family’s perception of me changed when I began college. I had to figure a way out! This was when I decided to go to college. When I thought about this happening, I felt extreme dread and anxiety. Living at home after high school was not an option for me. In high school, I finally got fed up with my home situation. My trauma took on more layers due to this. Several family members told me not to let anybody know what was happing at home. I had to teach myself, but how is an elementary-aged kid supposed to teach themselves things they don’t know? I grew up in a domestic violence atmosphere and being shamed for being a girl. My upbringing didn’t prepare me for society’s demands. I felt like an imposter because I didn’t feel I belonged in this country.Īdditionally, I lived in a home where both of my parents worked all the time, so my older siblings and I were constantly left alone to take care of ourselves. I didn’t have any support from anybody, including my parents, to help me cope with the intense feelings of shame, overwhelm, and uncertainty. We constantly had to watch our backs and deal with racism, even from other white Latinos in our community. As a new immigrant in this country, I learned that people like me were not safe here, which created feelings of shame. She thought I was ignoring her when I didn’t understand she was addressing me.ĭuring my elementary school years, I learned to make myself small to survive. Suddenly this strange lady was calling me a different name and would get angry at me for not understanding her. In Mexico, my name, Mónica, was pronounced with an accent on the o. This teacher started calling me a name I had never heard before. When my mom put me in kindergarten, she placed me with an English-speaking teacher. Suddenly I was in an unfamiliar country, and this situation made me feel unsafe and uncomfortable. We lived humbly and connected to the land we grew our food. In Mexico, we lived in poverty in a pueblo. I remember feeling overwhelmed, confused, and numb being in a strange country. To break free from generational trauma, we must start talking about it.Īs an immigrant from Mexico, I arrived in the U.S. After all, the norm in our community is not to talk about the trauma we’ve experienced. My intention in sharing my story is to help other first-generation Latinas who have similar experiences feel validated. First-generation Latinas were born in a Latin American country and moved or were brought to the US, usually as children. After spending the past few years healing from trauma, I can look back at my past and acknowledge the trauma I experienced as a first-generation Latina. ![]()
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