On Bringing Mexico Home with Me

Living in Mexico changed so much about me, or helped me unlock so much about myself—I'm more confident now. I'm more at home in my own body, in my own being. But last night, I struggled to find my footing among this new group of people. I found it all too easy to slip back into my old patterns—trying to figure out how to present myself, instinctively diminishing myself, skipping over my accomplishments or downplaying them.

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In Defense of Sadness

I’ve been thinking about sadness a lot lately. Not just since the video posted and the comments came in. Since before the move, since before we left. Since Harper was born. Since she would howl and howl and I would rock her and kiss her head and cry with her. And now that she’s three—all those big emotions, the rollercoaster of having a young child in the house, someone who is so raw and so open and so intense. And I have been wondering, when was it exactly that I learned to hide that part of myself? When did I start to hide the girl in me who, when sad, wants to throw herself on the ground and howl?

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Erin Bond Comment
On Leaving

I have two weeks and four days before I leave the United States. Eighteen days before I take my child and a few belongings and my partner and get on a plane for Mexico, and I have no return ticket. And no idea what’s next. I’ve spent the past month and a half at my parents’ house in a dizzying state of limbo, neither here nor there, preparing and preparing and preparing, selling boxes of white bakeware and old baby shoes and all the trinkets that made up my life here. The things you’re supposed to collect as you build a life, the things you pass down to your children along with your stories, this is the cast iron skillet I used to make your favorite biscuits. I sold it. And what didn’t sell was boxed up and given to a neighbor. Like it was so much of nothing.

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Erin BondComment