Call me the Broken Hearted One

“Snap Out of it Cat!!” that’s my favorite thing to say to myself these days. ‘Snap the Fuck out of it!!” I am not that girl! I am not the one that gets “depressed”, but I must admit, everyone might as well just call me the broken hearted one, this sadness I can’t seem to shake these days, I’m sad for the hardship in life. I’ve thought about my life long and hard, and to say my heart is broken is accurate, I’m a fighter so I know I will be ok, and I will keep trying for as long as I live, but I must be honest, I go through life with a broken heart. I’ve just learned to live with it.

Hi, I’m Cat or that’s what everyone calls me, I am Cathleen Campos. I am from a small valley surrounded by fields and mountains, about 20-30 mins away from the Monterey Bay, the very prominent Carmel Valley, Pebble Beach area. I’m from Monterey County,

My town is not as “fancy” as we would say when we talked about the “white people” from Monterey. We were from Salinas, we are known as the Salad Bowl of the World, fields and fields everywhere. The fields are the lifeline of Salinas California. Agriculture is big business around here. Almost everyone that’s from here is proud to be from here. There is a sense of family for the most part, Salinas is majority Mexican, I am Mexican American, I am Chicana. Born and raised here, and I have generations from Salinas

Salinas is a beautiful place, and Monterey is one of the most desirable tourist areas in California. So why “brokenhearted” you might ask. Where should I begin, now I’m not saying things were all sad and gloomy my whole life, because they were not.

I can remember some fun times from as young as maybe 5 years old or even younger, family gatherings, Christmas and Thanksgiving get togethers, family visits, and trips to Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, Great times as a matter of fact, however throughout the years things tend to build up.

Losing my dad at age 12 was hard, my dad was not a model figure, but he was my dad, he wasn’t around for a long time, just for a good time. I think my dad was crazy, like major anger issues and probably PTSD, although at the time we didn’t know that’s what it was. We all just assumed it was bad memories from the war, now that I’m older it makes me sad to know he needed help, and I don’t know if he was aware he needed help. When I was young it was constant chaos, he would blow up one day, and the next just an all-around fun guy, I wasn’t aware that there were mental issues at play.

“Get down, they’re coming!” he would say, as he pulled us from our beds, shotgun in hand, barricading us behind the couches. “They’re watching us”, it was the Vietnam war he was talking about, I’m not too sure what the details were but as I grew older, I learned drugs had a lot to do with it as well. Heroin to be exact. We would sit behind the couch curled up on the floor trying to go back to sleep, because this, in our world, was “normal”. My dad was found dead back in 1989, from hanging and that’s it, that’s all I know about his death, I’m not too sure details but I guess everyone just chalked it up to a suicide. I don’t know maybe it’s a cold case, or an unsolved mystery. I should probably look into that.

Many of my memories are of sad times and hardships, I can’t seem to be able to mend my broken heart when there is so much to contribute to it. My hometown is known for hardships, gangs and poverty are all throughout the city, I can tell you stories of how we ran the streets and all that contributed to the heartaches we all experience from living the life we did. I should tell you about THE OTHER, unsolved mystery case from my hometown Salinas, but that story is for another day. It was nice to talk about things, let’s do this again.