A Cup of Kindness Yet for Old Times Past

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 

And never brought to mind? 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 

And auld lang syne! 

For auld lang syne, my dear, 

For auld lang syne. 

We'll take a cup o' kindness yet, 

For auld lang syne.

One of the last sunsets of the year here in beautiful Dalipuga.
This shot was taken yesterday.

And so the end of the most brutal year of my life is coming to a close -- and I cannot be happier. Lest the cup of thanksgiving be tainted with the bitterness of this year's experiences though, I would like to part with 2012 on a somber yet cheery adieu. (But good riddance, 2012!)

You need only look through this blog's archives (and add to the 22,000++ views -- thank you, avid followers!) to know how difficult this year has been. But I urge you to concentrate on the last few entries instead so that you can know that I am ending with a thankful, humbled, and thoroughly changed heart. 

Highlights of my year have been many.

Seeing my (grown up) boys again!

Being stage mother to Lucia's first stint as flower girl!
She didn't need to hold my hand to walk down the
aisle! What a pro!

Taking Lucia's to her first international trip!
Yummying it up in Hong Kong!

Mama visiting us in July! Seeing her beloved sea again.

Having good times with colleagues and
saying good bye see you soon.

Celebrating our birthdays together!

Coming back to Dalipuga where my true healing began.

Lucia spending her first Christmas at Dalipuga.

Surviving Pablo unscathed, enjoying this sunset
the day Pablo left.

Going ukay-ukay crazy! (This dress was only 12 pesos!)

Undertaking new projects, one of which being doing nail art
on myself! Haha! (Actually, the true victory here is that I can do
this now because my hands don't shake as much since
having been able to wean off my more powerful meds.)

Finally getting a tattoo of Lucia's name to commemorate my
second lease in life, my mini victories over my mental depression,
and the fact that Lucia is Lucia! :D

Looking forward to my new life as a single mother to this
beautiful girl. I mean, come on, look at that face!!!

Gaining a lot of strength from reading my old loves,
most especially C.S. Lewis.

Also, in the spirit of new beginnings, I'd like to look back in order to move forward by saying a few things. (Few? Me? Haha!)

1. A heartfelt thank you and I love you to my ghels -- Sara, Joanne, Joepi, Leslie, Joyce, Jean, Joy, Eedee, Jana, and Steph. I have known you strong women since my girlhood and you have seen me through everything. I cannot remember nor tolerate a major life event without you in it. You have given me the space I needed and the grace and unconditional love that I did not deserve when all was unraveling and coming back together again. Through everything -- every single blessed thing -- you have been there for me. Lucia is blessed to "inherit" you girls. I have nothing but utmost love for all of you (and your respective spouses and partners!).
2. Thank you to yayas past and present, but most especially to Elsie, our current yaya. I cannot even begin to tell you all how much they have helped me, especially when I had to be away at the hospital for almost a month. Elsie, in particular, has loved Lucia as if my daughter were own. Elsie is patient, kind, and fabulously tireless. Many times she has also been yaya to me.
3. Thank you to my former colleagues who have given me the privacy and silent support that I oh-so-needed. I have received many private messages of hope and support, even in the face of not knowing the whole story. All I know is, they have been praying for me. See where your prayers have brought me! I am eternally grateful. And to the true friends I made while I was teaching (you know who you are)...THANK YOU. I know that you are all going to be my friends forever, even beyond the ending of this particular chapter in my life.
4. My many, many, many children, old and young, I love you! You are all growing with such awesomeness (and speed, huhu!) and I am proud of all of you, beyond belief. Your virtual hugs, jokes, and the mere fact that you tolerate my bad puns (hehe) have brought me much joy and strength.
5. To Lucia's father, thank you for being Lucia's first love, for being there for her, especially when I wasn't there, for taking care of me when I couldn't take care of myself, and for taking care of everything else. I am sorry that things had to turn out this way between us, sorry for the hurt and anger I brought upon you, but I look forward to being the best co-parent with you, as these new circumstances would allow. 
6. My parents, my brothers, my grandparents, and the rest of my family have been AWESOME, you guys. Mi familia, you have given me space and support in right measure, and I have never been in doubt of your love for me. When things hit rock bottom, you were there. The Lord has blessed me beyond my infantile understanding of his existence through all of you. Thank you. I would never have achieved this peace and happiness without you.
7. My darling, beautiful, blessed Lucia, the love, joy, and light of my life -- I cannot even begin to tell you how you brought me back to life. Everything about you gives my life purpose and meaning. I promise to do my best to make you happy for the rest of my life. You are my laughter, my tears, my shivers, my giggles, my curling toes, my wriggling nose, my poorly-painted toenails, my look-at-me-mommies, my crackers with jam, my duck walks, my silly grins, my sparkly eyes, my kissy necks, my trips on lawns, my fearless ledge walker, my goofy utterances. My all.
8. And to you, Kuya Jess. My God. My goodness. Your goodness. I am in awe. "Great is thy faithfulness, morning by morning new mercies I see. All I have needed thy hand hath provided." I shall use my meager understanding of why you should find favor in me as fuel to my attempts to start this new life you've given me. I balk at the life I have ahead of me, but you shall be here. All shall be well. 

2012 wasn't so nice for me, but I raise this cup of kindness for ALL old times past, good and bad, hoping that kindness shall beget kindness. :)

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be." - Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

I've figured out how it could be though. All by the grace of God. Go I. 

Happy new year, everybody! L'chai-im!

A New Day

Today marks the first day I am off my morning meds. :)

My new doctor gradually weaned me off the other meds and now I am left with just two meds at night, with another one "as needed" na lang. A new day, indeed!

Christmas was a blur at the same time, it wasn't. It started off with precious Skype time with my parents and the rest of my family in the US. It had been ages since I last spoke to most of them, and I cannot tell you how much it filled my heart with joy. It set the tenor for the entire day as Lucia met and re-met long lost relatives here in Iligan. I actually met people my age! Haha! I was so happy; it felt wonderful to be around family. And food. Glorious food. :)

Also, today I get my new tattoo; Lucia's name on my wrist, to commemorate how her mere presence saved my life as I tried to end things with that exact same wrist -- how her mere presence saves me every single day.

It's too early yet to say this, but have a happy new year, everyone. It looks like Lucia and I will have one. God be good to us all!

Christmas Cheer

As I was making my morning walk around our property, I saw my usual company: the butterflies (so many!), the chickens, and the goats grazing on the ground. One of them is a new mother, and she was eating the low-lying branches of one of the many malunggay trees (and I thought, that'll be good for your milk production, believe me, haha!). One of their babies even approached me (finally, after weeks of her running away from me) and actually allowed me to pet her. She's this white, beautiful little thing, who's always but a few steps from her mother. And I thought, how blessed they are that their ancestors were actually there during the birth of Christ.

I've been hearing a lot of complaints from people about how they don't feel Christmas yet. All the endless hours spent in Manila traffic, the frenetic shopping (ugh), and the work they have to accomplish during the break is robbing them of the Christmas spirit. Away from all of that, I feel nothing but the Christmas spirit. It'll be the first Christmas for me and Lucia here in Iligan away from the pomp and circumstance of Manila, our first time to be "alone", so to speak, but I can only marvel and be blessed with all that we have.

Amazingly generous grandparents.

The best yaya in the world.

All this fresh air.

More food than we can eat.

Actual cold air (it seems to be unseasonably hot in Manila).

People around us who are loyal, caring, and tireless.

Well wishes and support from my family across the miles.

And a fast-developing, intelligent, loving, and beautiful rotund baby girl. (She's getting plumper and plumper and plumper. I love it.)

I hope my Christmas cheer infects those of you who don't feel it yet. I hope you take a moment to be silent and still and remember, temporally inaccurate as it is, we are celebrating the birth of the best gift humankind has ever received.

All that and it's not even 8 in the morning yet. :)

Happy Christmas.

Comfort In A Nightmare

"For whatever we lose(like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea." maggy and milly and molly and may,  e.e. cummings

I have this recurring nightmare that involves the sea (which probably explains why I am deathly afraid of swimming in the sea). It usually starts pretty benign. I'd be walking along the shore, looking at it from afar, or in a car driving along cliffs that border the sea. And then I see these huge waves starting to form. I'm talking Moses-ian waves, waves that could topple civilizations. They'd come from afar but slowly, they take on the strength of a million waves. I always wake up just before I actually drown. The dreams usually make me wake up in a panic, but in recent years, I've learned to take them in stride. I'd wait for my frantic heart to go back to normal and then go back to sleep.

Last night, I had another one of those dreams, but I distinctly remember not feeling any panic. Maybe because, in my dream, I was aware that I was dreaming. Also, the waves weren't coming for me. They were parting, revealing a path. Moses-ian talaga. And then I woke up.

I used to listen to music to drift off to sleep. Since coming here though, I'd listen to the waves instead. The last things I'd hear are the waves and my daughter silently breathing. I look to the sea now and see it as a source of sustenance (we have fish everyday that comes from just a few meters where we live), beauty, calm, and some feeling akin to joy (dare I say actual joy?). In times when I don't have words to pray with anymore, God answers through the constant coming and going of the waves.

Perhaps I've made peace with the sea? I'll probably have a nightmare-like sea dream again, but last night's dream was so vivid. And comforting.

Yesterday, I was talking to a good friend who also happens to be the priest who married us (there are many ironies and non-ironies in this world) and he said, "He has you where you are...Your happiness and fulfillment is His deepest desire and ALL things work and meander their way unto good from the lines we crook and break." This is where God wants me to be, and though it looks like I had to take some painful steps to get here, he did fulfill my heart's greatest desire: to have a child.

I go back to another e.e. cummings favorite, knowing that I am safely housed in God's heart, just as those whom I love the most are in mine.

Happy Sunday, everybody. :)

i carry your heart with me

by e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                              i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Not the End of the World After All

I woke up because our helpers were gustily laughing downstairs. There was a slight crick on my shoulders because Lucia was still curled up beside me. The wind was blowing cold, and as grey as the world was around me, I couldn't help but smile.

Suck it, Mayans. This isn't just the start of the Not-The-End-Of-The-World-After-All Day, this is the start of a brand new life.

It's strange that I'm so calm despite the big changes afoot, what with my bad relationship with Change, but I am at peace. I am happy.

Things are far from perfect. I see difficult times ahead, but it feels good to have an actual goal now.

God speaks to me here. Through the waves that are constant, the visiting kingfishers eating the duhats from the trees, the many-colored flowers that surround me, the chatter of voices that speak a dialect that I am slowly beginning to understand more and more, the late night conversations with our extremely sympathetic yaya, the overflowing generosity and love of my grandparents, the palpable-though-miles-away support of my parents, Lucia's growing vocabulary, everything.

From henceforth, I shall always think of this place as a place of healing. And this day as the start of a brand new life. I may be a single parent now, but God will co-parent with me. I tremble with fear, anticipation, and unbridled joy.

God is good, God is good, God is very good.

Actually...

...I'm okay. No, really, I am okay. I dunno if it's the fact that I'm around my family this time or the new batch of meds or the new doctor, but I'm actually okay.

Sure, things are a little messy right now and I'm about to go through some major life changes, but I'm actually quite okay. I mean, considering...everything.

I've been assessing myself, trying to figure out if I'm in denial mode or in self-preservation mode; this...okay-ness...is pretty bizarre (even for me), but I am at peace. I feel more like myself more often. 

My only worry is Lucia, of course. I want to protect her from the ugliness that might follow. For now, the only way I know how to do that is to ensconce her in love. So far, so good. We've had lots of moments like this one.

Wait for it though. I'm sure I won't remain this positive (not being negative, just realistic). I'm not going to Pollyana my way through this, I'm fully aware of the challenges up ahead. But on this bright, sunny, diamond of a day, I'd like to go on record and say: I'm actually okay.

Of Veils and Eyes

Yesterday, while waiting for my turn with my new shrink, I met this lady clothed in black. Being where I am, I have grown accustomed to the many Muslim women who cover their heads with such beautiful cloths. I have to say though, the ones who are dressed in black, who cover their entire faces save their eyes, those women still take some getting used to. There's something disconcerting about not seeing a person's facial expression.

Anyway, yesterday, I met a woman who was clothed just like that. Unlike many of the people I've randomly met here, she actually spoke to me in Tagalog, so I was able to engage in small talk with her. Turns out, she was born and raised in Manila and only moved to Iligan at the age of 26, when she got married. It felt strange to speak to only a pair of eyes. I couldn't even see if she was smiling or frowning. Exposed though they were, it seemed as though the eyes were still hidden.

After a few minutes of conversation though, she removed the lower portion of her veil and showed me the rest of her face. She said she felt comfortable enough to do that. She looked young for her age (she said she was 41), maybe because she's been shielding her face from the sun all this time (hmmm, mental note), but what really made her seem young was her chattiness. All she did was talk.

At first she was talking about why she was there (which I won't reveal), what her life was like back in Manila, her husband, her children; and then she started asking all these questions about me. What brought about my sickness. What happens to me when I get an attack. What medicines I'm taking. How many times I had been committed. I started to feel more and more uncomfortable until, well, I had an actual panic attack, right there in the waiting room. In front of the unveiled lady in black. I felt myself getting angrier and angrier at her intrusion, but my good upbringing was allowing me to tenuously hang on to my last reserves of politeness. The effort to not snap back took its toll, and so I started hyperventilating. I couldn't see straight anymore and I felt myself getting angrier and angrier. I must've scared her because after a while, she was chanting something, a Muslim blessing from the sound of it. After a while, she said a timid, "Sis, mauna na ako a," and left, making sure to cover her face again. All I saw were her worried eyes.

As soon as she left, I kept punching the walls, the tables, the chairs, all in an effort to calm down. I hated that she had gotten to me, that the client before me was taking so long (and all I could hear was her laughter, surely my condition was more important!), but mostly because...I was suffocating from the veil that I had been using to hide my emotions for so long. This woman showed me her face and practically told me her life story. I, with no veil, could not even look at her in the eye.

The rest of the session was a blur. As soon as it was my turn, the psychiatrist had to give me something to calm me down. By the end of the session, I felt like jello. Spent. Tired.

I have no idea what's going to happen to me now, in light of recent events (which I shall not talk about), but no, I am not ready to unveil the rest of me just yet.

Just look into my eyes and see if you can get anything out of it.

Questions

1. Do I have to get up?
2. Where's my coffee?
3. What am I going to do today?
4. Will they notice that I cried last night?
5. Does she need her diaper changed?
6. What time is it?
7. What will happen if I don't take my meds?
8. What will happen if I take more than the recommended dose?
9. How many times did I wake up last night?
10. Did anyone text/message me?
11. Why didn't anyone text/message me?
12. Oh no, what will he say this time?
13. Why can't I just sleep forever?
14. How long can I go without moving from this bed?
15. Is that tweetable or would that be TMI?
16. What time is it?
17. Should I write about this?
18. Why can't I sleep now?
19. How can the sea be this beautiful?
20. Why am I so sad?
21. How did I get this bruise?
22. Why can't they just leave me alone?
23. Will they notice that I haven't eaten?
24. What's going to happen to Lucia?
25. What's going to happen to me?
26. Why do you love me so much?
27. Why don't I love you the same way anymore?
28. What's going to happen?
29. What time is it?
30. When will this end?
31. How will this end?
32. Why does she trust me so much?
33. What does she see in me?
34. Should I swim?
35. Should I take another one?
36. What time is it?
37. Will anyone notice if I disappear?
38. When will it stop hurting?
39. What are they saying about me now?
40. Is it over yet?
41. Where did she get that?
42. Should she eat that?
43. How am I going to do this alone?
44. Where did "I" go?
45. Will I be sad forever?
46. What time is it?
47. Will anyone notice?
48. Do I have time for this?
49. Is she asleep?
50. Why am I not asleep?

Light

When you finally came, I had all but given up.

From that moment when I cussed at the poor nurse for saying "congratulations" in utter shock, till this very moment, you tucked away in some dream that's making your dimpled cheeks twitch, I have been living in undeserved privilege.

When there are days when I want to give up, I remember that you came when I had all but given up.

You are my only pure joy.

When I cry and you look up to me with your almond eyes, impossibly long lashes, obnoxiously upturned nose, and that smile -- it is sunshine -- I have to question God. What have I done to deserve you?

You look at me as if I am not broken, as if I am not a mistake made one after another. You insist I hug you tight till you fall asleep and my spine, neck, arms, head find new ways to contort so that you will fit into me, like you did when you were inside of me. Sometimes it is painful, but I store each second in my heart, to keep me strong when you turn 16 and ask permission for a tattoo or a piercing and I have to say no and you'll hate me. (Not till you're 18, my darling.)

You nuzzle your head between my breasts and hear my broken heart, whose beats only you have heard from the inside. You will hear it say your name again and again, my precious one. That and "thank you."

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Someone told me that it was unfair to put that much responsibility on you, being my reason to live, to be happy, and for that, I am sorry. But see, you are not my reason to be happy, you are my happiness. There is nothing you can do that will make me unlove you.

In a while, you will wake up and kiss me and ask for a hug and my heart will all but burst. The novelty will never wear off.

You are the light that fends off the Darkness that plagues me. A reminder that, sinful and unworthy as I am, God still loves me. God, in his infinite wisdom, made me your mother. And I am humbled into silence.

Silent, inward sobbing because I was so close -- too close -- to losing you. To losing everything.

I have no more strength to kick the Darkness till it bleeds light. There is no more fight left in me. But I realize you are...

...my light. My Lucia.

Muzzled

Mmmmphfffphmmmphng, mmmhfmmmph hngmfphhuhpbth mngfth.

That's all for now.

Pablo

The day started with the usual breakfast of coffee and bread, but the waves were crashing about. The wind was picking up and the rain would not stop. Instead of waiting things out to see what happened, we decided to go to higher ground at the prompting of our driver. There's a village across the highway from us, and we stayed in the house of one of our relatives.

Power had just gone out when we arrived at the house. But the house was lit brightly thanks to these badass lamps that kicked darkness in the butt. The wind was scary though and we could hear stuff flying about, roofs flapping, hanging on for dear life.

The rest of the day was a blur. I was scared, but not really. I was in pain (periods suck), but at least I had a huge comfy bed to lie in. Lucia was the delight of everyone, goofing around with my Lolo. We were actually able to sleep early since it was so cold, and by nighttime, the rain had stopped.

When we got back to the house this morning, there was hardly any damage. The waves had crashed onto the deck and into Nana and Daddy's room, but the sea itself did not overflow into the garden. There were several trees that fell on our property though, and so the tenants are chopping them so that they can rebuild parts of their houses.

Amazingly, there were no casualties. The local government was excellent and they prepared very well. Now, all is back to normal. The sun is shining high in the sky again, as if nothing had happened.

Yup. Everything's a metaphor here.

Aftermath

The Ghost spoke in dulcet tones.

All at once, it was soothing, even in its muted rage. 

Death is overrated, so the Ghost thought, and so the in-between-ness of this state, just a smidgen away from crossing over, was what it preferred.

The problem with the end isn't that it's ending, it's how much one remembers how it began. And so the Ghost changed form, back again to the beginning. And only then did it cross over. Only then did it fade.

It promised to return with a more accurate rating of Death. Thus, did they part. 

BlueBlueBlue

A few days ago, I actually ventured out to the sea on my own. Those closest to me know how terrified, terrified, I am of swimming in the open sea -- with or without a companion. My husband has tried to make me conquer my fears, but it would almost always end in tears. The last time I swam in the sea, I was stung by one of those prickly, horrid things.

Alas, I remembered that my meds make me photosensitive too late. By bedtime, my arms were covered in rashes.

But I went out to the sea again, photosensitivity be damned. I stayed out longer, staringstaringstaring at the whitecaps of the waves. In a flash, the world darkened as the sun went behind the clouds, and the sea turned such a deep shade of blue. While I was swimming (okay, wading) in the sea, the water was so clear, I could easily see the bottom, but from afar, the sea was just blueblueblue.

I've been having little bouts of loneliness during the day, and I try to nap it away. There are certain things in my life that I am slowly beginning to accept and I am at the brink of completely letting go of those that brought me to this place of sadness. Almost there, almost there.

And the irony is thus:

I'm wading in the depths of my sadness and I am blueblueblue. I need to move far away, gain perspective, gain clarity, enough to get to the bottom of this.

Because, frankly, I'm tired of being sad, of being in-between, of being high, of being low.

...

I'm waiting for the rashes to emerge. Sigh.

Shore, Sea, Horizon

I can tell how long we've been here by the number of empty banigs of anti-depressants that I've thrown away (and also how strong my prescribed dosage is now). One week today, but it feels like we've been here much longer than that; the routines are firmly in place now. Even Lucia seems so at home here, going to and fro like she owns the place. (Well, down the line, she kinda does.)

My mini bouts of sadness come at night, when everyone is asleep, when my daughter's breathing and the crashing waves cease to outpace each other, and they become one. My thoughts, not as racing as before, come that way, too. They match the cadence of the waves -- but they also match the intensity. So much so, that I end up dreaming the very same thoughts that usher me to sleep.

Last night, I was thinking of everything I had accomplished and how they all lay dormant now, waiting for my brain to go back to normal. Or at least define a new normal. I was thinking of the promises I made to eventually get better, to be happy again, and how sometimes the happiness washes over me like the waves that come...but they also wash away and leave me feeling like wet, abandoned sand.

From where I sit right now, and from mostly everywhere in this house, I can see the open sea. And so I fervently focus on the sea, focusing on the permanently ever-changing shore should be secondary to the constancy of the sea. I see the horizon, talk to it, hoping that it would bring me some measure of peace.

Lucia's squeals of delight bring me back to the present. All the more I realize that it's all about her. I look forward to my long dinners with my grandparents when I learn more about my family's history, hoping I'd get to know myself a bit more...and like myself a bit more.

When all is said and done though, I am happy to be here. The sea air makes my skin sticky at the end of the day, and when I bathe at night, I feel like I'm washing away the cling of the sadness.

You know you're in paradise when everything around you is a metaphor.

Why I Live

Christmas is near! :)

Some Day

"Remember when you left Gotham? Before all this, before Batman? You were gone seven years. Seven years I waited, hoping that you wouldn't come back. Every year, I took a holiday. I went to Florence, there's this cafe, on the banks of the Arno. Every fine evening, I'd sit there and order a Fernet Branca. I had this fantasy, that I would look across the tables and I'd see you there, with a wife and maybe a couple of kids. You wouldn't say anything to me, nor me to you. But we'd both know that you'd made it, that you were happy. I never wanted you to come back to Gotham. I always knew there was nothing here for you, except pain and tragedy. And I wanted something more for you than that. I still do." (Alfred to Bruce Wayne, The Dark Knight Rises)

...and they lived happily ever after. 

Retreat to Move Forward

My darling, darling, darling children,

I have been watching, listening, seeing, feeling, experiencing, being with you all, all this time. To say that I am extremely proud would be an injustice to how my heart flutters with absolute joy at every triumph you have had together and individually. In the same way, I cry a little inside (because you all know how I'm so not iyakin) when I see you hurt, frustrated, tired, and lost.

I thought that I had thoroughly cut the cord when I let you go and become seniors. I find that that is an impossibility. You are the children of my heart, and thus you shall always be.

During this retreat, your very last together, I only pray for one thing: That you find God in each other, just as I found Him in all of you. You were the reason I stayed, why I was happy, why I was a wee bit stronger. Thank you for letting me love you, and thank you for loving me so much in return.

It will all go quickly after this weekend. Pretty soon, you shall be graduating and moving off, being actual grown ups (sob). But never, ever lose sight of what you all have now. You're only at this particular cusp once. Cherish it, breathe it, live it. Then leap. Fly. Soar.

(Shocker: I shall end with a Narnia bit.) In The Last Battle, Aslan told those who were still around to go through the doorway, to leave the Old Narnia so that they could build a New Narnia. Those who believed in "Tashlan" (read book na lang...dali) went through the doorway and saw danger, fear, and misery. Those who believed in Aslan saw the promise of a New Narnia. The farther in they went, the bigger the New Narnia became. "Further up and further in!" they told each other.

My darlings, believe in Aslan. Create a New Narnia. Go further up and further in.

And know that in every step of the way, I shall be there. I always have, and I always will.

I love you with all my heart. See you when you graduate.

Love,
Ma'am Katz

Grey

It has been a peaceful first day back here at Dalipuga. It's been raining the whole day, so the skies, the sea, even the air itself, are and feel grey. I've been in bed mostly. It seems as though the stress of being in Manila is slowly melting away, and so my limbs have turned to mush.

I felt like crying when we landed at Cagayan de Oro. Somehow, with the thud of the airplane's wheels came the realization that I really was far from most of the things I love. My comfort is that Lucia is with me (and that her yaya is here, too). But I feel so...detached from everything. Which is actually a good thing (says my shrink). It's just so...far. I know, cumulatively, I had spent a month down in the basement. But that was a detachment of the mind. This is a detachment of a more encompassing kind. Whatever that means. (I don't understand my own thoughts, guh.)

My Nana says I can have painting lessons, and I can pretty much do anything I want.

I hope I find out what I want soon...

The world outside is so grey, it's hard to tell where the sea ends and the sky begins. Yes, the analogy is not lost on me.

Goodbye, Manila

It's my last night in Manila. Tomorrow, Lucia, her yaya, and I will be flying to Iligan to be with my grandparents. Indefinitely. While we're away, my husband will be making sure things are..."fixed"...for when we return.

Honestly, I'm scared. I don't do well with change, especially these days, but the biggest change (and fear) would be not having my husband around. He's pretty much taken care of me -- of everybody -- since this whole thing happened, and I am honestly afraid to be without him.

The last time I was there was when all this pretty much began. It was when I started to acknowledge that the Sadness had returned, and...everything else. It will take time for me to associate the sea (with this particular sea) with healing; I had been so sad the last few times I'd been in front of it. For some reason, the vastness of the sea, the seamless coming and going of the waves, its silences and noises...they all bring memories that I would much rather forget.

But I mustn't forget. I must confront them, head on. And then I will be better (than ever).

So many unknowns. I'm dwarfed by all of them.

But everything will be all right. Everything will be all right.

THIS.

My brother. :') That is all.

Wherever You Can

Comfort

by Deb Talan 

When everyone has gone to sleep and you are wide awake

there's no one left to tell your troubles to.

Just an hour ago, you listened to their voices

lilting like a river over underground

and the light from downstairs came up soft like daybreak

dimly as the heartache of a lonely child.

If you can't remember a better time

you can have mine, little one.

In days to come when your heart feels undone

may you always find an open hand

and take comfort wherever you can.

And oh, it's a strange place.

And oh, everyone with a different face.

But just like you thought when you stopped here to linger

we're only as separate as your little fingers.

So cry, why not? We all do

Then turn to one you love,

and smile a smile that lights up all the room.

Follow your dreams in through every out-door

it seems that's what we're here for.

And when you can't remember a better time

you can have mine, little one.

In days to come when your heart feels undone

may you always find an open hand

and take comfort, there is comfort.

Take comfort wherever you can, you can, you can.

Like A Freakin' Phoenix, Yo

Still I Rise

by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise. 

Missing

Every morning, I wake up to Lucia's sloppy kisses. During the day, she snuggles up to me, asks for hugs, lifts, tickles, and kisses. Lots and lots of kisses. Every day, she learns something new. She widens her social circle (I swear, almost everyone in the building knows her already). She develops into this little princess hooligan who chooses what she wants to wear, what she wants to eat. In the middle of the night, she rises up from where she's sleeping and walks to the bed where I am. She climbs up and promptly falls back asleep, with her arms and legs wrapped around me. If she's awake enough, she'll sometimes kiss me before she drifts back to sleep.

These are the things that I remember in the midst of the haze that my medicines give me. I'm often sleepy-but-not-quite-sleeping, and I am left with my thoughts for most of the day. Sometimes I write, sometimes I draw. My husband does most of the errands, and the yaya does most of the heavy lifting, so mostly I'm either in bed and canoodling with Lucia. Such is the life of this full time mom.

But I'm also used to being a mom (Momma Bear) to a lot of people.

I miss my colleagues. The invigorating meetings, the planning, the de-stressing. How we all let loose at around 5 pm on a Friday. I miss how someone would knock on my cubicle and say, "Momma Bear..." then ask me something or confide something. I miss having my cubicle's floor used as a haven to unwind, to rant, to surreptitiously eat. I miss having KS sessions in our little, er, "alley." I miss how I'd wake up in the middle of the night because I thought of an activity to make a lesson un-boring. I miss teaching Poetry, mythology, and To Kill a Mockingbird; especially that pre-reading activity where I bring my kids to an open space and have them step forward to reflect on prejudices and perceptions. I miss challenging my students to think for and by themselves.

But most of all, I miss my kids. My recess one-on-ones. My older kids boisterously calling me from afar just to say hi. The silly jokes. The stupid messes. The music-playing-while-writing. The hugs. The writing lab journals. The compositions. The inside jokes. Making insane tests (hehehehe). I miss how alive I felt in the classroom, how every day, I knew I was doing what I was meant to do.

All I have are memories, romanticized memories, that conveniently forget about the stresses, the messes, the lapses, the missteps.

I honestly don't know what I'm going to do after this period of...treatment. I don't know if I'll be strong enough to teach again -- but at the same time, I don't know what else I could do that would give me as much happiness. Oh, I could always continue to write, I always will, but the personal interaction, the passion, the unbridled joy of being in the classroom the moment a student finally gets it...I seriously wonder if I will have that again.

I miss my kids, young and old (and yes, "old" could also mean the newbie teachers).

I miss the Me that I was when I had all that. I really, really, really do.

I'm not going to end with a quote or a sorry attempt at positivism. I just want to give a shout out to that loneliness I'm feeling right now.

That is all.

Asleep

“Sometimes people put up walls, not to keep others out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.” (I have no idea who said this, but thank you, Whoever You Are!)

I've been receiving several private messages lately, all with the same theme: Don't Give Up! Maybe my silence (in Facebook, at least) has already been speaking volumes for me.

My silence is partly prescribed and partly by choice. In some way, I'd like to share my side of the story, but what's the use? It's hard to defend myself when I can't even understand what's actually going on. But what's done is done. People will think what they want to think, but they will never truly understand the depth of what I'm going through anyway. At least the people who matter do, and they haven't given up on me. (And I am eternally grateful.)

I won't let my choices define who I am ― I'll let the way I deal with consequences do that instead.

And there lies the rub. I'm in an in-between place right now, and I can't quite get the impetus to get to the next chapter in this story; the dealing-with-the-consequences part. Mostly I just...stay in bed and try to capture my thoughts as they race by, trying to distinguish the ones that are worth keeping (too few) from the ones that are destructive (too many).

“Even when I try to stir myself up, I just get irritated because I can't make anything come out. And in the middle of the night I lie here thinking about all this. If I don't get back on track somehow, I'm dead, that's the sense I get. There isn't a single strong emotion inside me.” ― Banana Yoshimoto (Kitchen)

But I'll be okay. And when I do, watch out, Universe. You'll see.

So for those of you who have been sending me good vibes from all over the world (literally), thank you. I'll do my best to rise above this. Just...give me time. The very act of getting out of bed can become exhausting at times. And if I've become silent, if I've become unresponsive to some of your texts, calls, or comments, please know it's because I'm in this place where everything is a hushed scream. Sorry.

That, or I'm in bed. Asleep.

But I do get out of bed. I mean, how can I not?

But, yes. Please pray for me. And for my family. There's still a long way to go.

(And that's all the explanation I hope I need to give for now. Thank you.)

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Katinka?

I didn't get the Visa, so I guess I'll be staying in the Philippines for the meantime. It's hard to convince people that I have no desire to permanently reside in the US what with 99.99% of my family already living there.

And so the question: Where shall we place poor bi-polar Katinka so she can recover properly, away from all these triggers?

I'll let you know when I find out. If you have a clue, let me know.

(Although...I am a little relieved. The thought of being away from Lucia for six months was almost unbearable.)

---

Chanced upon an instrumental cover of Hello by Evanescence's Amy Lee. Not really big on the band, but this song I do love. No one's singing in it, but the lyrics of the original song are below.

The music just kinda captures my mood, reference to Sound of Music notwithstanding.

"Hello"

by Amy Lee

Playground school bell rings again

Rain clouds come to play again

Has no one told you she's not breathing?

Hello, I'm your mind giving you someone to talk to

Hello

If I smile and don't believe

Soon I know I'll wake from this dream

Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken

Hello, I'm the lie living for you so you can hide

Don't cry

Suddenly I know I'm not sleeping

Hello, I'm still here

All that's left of yesterday

Adventures in Inner Space

So I'm on day 2 of this new batch of meds and I feel incredibly...hollow. The same thoughts are there, but I am more or less devoid of any feeling towards them. At least right now. All I want to do is sleep, sleep, sleep.

But the same thoughts float around my mind, like little planets, orbiting the same source of energy, spinning round and round and round.

I vacillate between wanting to feel something and wanting to feel nothing. I can't wait to go back home and start my actual talk therapy because all these meds can't really quell the battle that's going on in my mind. My doctor said it's because I'm not doing anything. But there's little else to do. I feel like I'm in some sort of waiting area, some in between place, like the Wood Between the Worlds in Magician's Nephew. Exactly like that, actually. My thoughts are quiet, but persistent, in slow motion, but moving.

More than this, I cannot say anymore. Shouldn't say more. But my thoughts are orbiting the same thing over and over and over.

I'm waiting on my crimson hot air balloon to come, but it isn't coming anymore. At least, that's what they would like me to think. "They" being All the Rest. Be that as it may, I shall be waiting, and perhaps expecting to be disappointed.

Cryptic, I know. But my mind works that way these days. Cryptograms, nothing specific, everything vague, all things fuzzy.

It's only been a few months, Katinka. Cut yourself some slack.

"Give yourself a chance."

So said my doctor.

---
The first song I heard today was this:

Against the Grain

by City and Colour

You need not to climb mountaintops,

You need not to cross the sea,

You need not to find a cure for everything that makes you weak.

You need not to reach for the stars when life becomes so dark,

And when the wind does blow against the grain,

You must follow your heart,

You must follow your heart.

When all your friends have come and gone,

And the sun no longer shines,

And the happiness for which you long is washed away like an ocean's tide,

When all the hard times outweigh the good,

And all your words are misunderstood,

When the day seems lost from the stars

You must follow your heart,

You must follow your heart.

If you feel you've paid the price,

And your wounds should cease to heal

And everything you love in life spins like a winding wheel.

If you should wake to find you're abandoned,

And the road you've traveled leads to a dead-end

When death creeps in to play its part,

You must follow your heart,

You must follow your heart.

---
I've been having a bad spell lately, mostly because...hell, I don't know why. Things just trigger this sadness, and before I know it, I'm practically swimming in it. But I went to the shrink today, detailing all the absurdities that have happened lately (the usual gamut: racing thoughts, anxiety attacks, restlessness, crying spells...). I was mentally and emotionally flagellating myself because I couldn't get a grip on my thoughts ("I thought the meds were supposed to cure me of this!" I said). He just listened in his usual Yoda way and after my blathering and his dispensing of prescriptions for my new (stronger) meds, he said, "Give yourself a chance."

That was the most personal he had ever gotten with me, and I was struck by what he said.

Okay, so I'm giving myself a chance. And the Universe's message for me today was to follow my heart.

Chance, heart, new meds. Here we go. The rest is up to you, Lord.

Doubt

One of the biggest annoyances (to put it lightly) about being bi-polar isn't the self-hatred (and there are many instances of those). It isn't even the exhaustion from the manic episodes. Nor is it the ridiculous amount we spend on my meds. No. It's the self-doubt.

Is this happiness I feel or am I just wired? Am I feeling sad or frustrated? Am I mad? Am I actually feeling something? Are my feelings my own or are they being manufactured for me by the great minds behind modern pharmaceutical science? Did that really happen or did I just imagine it? Was I a good teacher, or was I just being manic? Did I actually say that or did I just write it? Did I write this story because I'm a good writer or because my depression is feeding my art? Will I still be able to write well when I am, well, well?

I'm not even listing down the questions that I ask myself every day because...I'm not sure if those questions exist or should exist.

Someday, I'd like to own my own feelings. I'd like to find a way to function without my meds. I'd like to be able to be puyat and not have a bad day afterwards.

I'd like to hug my daughter and feel genuine happiness and not doubt its sincerity.

I'd like to be held by my husband without thinking I am unworthy of him.

I'd like to breathe deeply and feel the joy of being alive, un-propped up by drugs.

I'd like to think of the past events without being reduced to an anxiety attack.

...Needless to say, today was another bad day.

Cleansed

I've taken to jogging/power walking around the neighborhood every morning to help clear my mind (and well, keep being in this weight range). Most days, the streets are busy with cars and pedestrians, but today being a holiday and all, the streets were near empty. Another reason the neighborhood was a prime candidate for rolling tumbleweeds was that there was a light but steady drizzle falling all around me. I'm not a hardcore runner (please, I still detest extreme physical exertion), but I decided not to let the ambon faze me. Besides, I needed to walk off everything I ate yesterday. (Belated happy birthday again, Steph!)

When I arrived home, I was drenched. I didn't think that it was all sweat and sure enough, when I checked my mostly grey attire, I realized that I had gotten wet from the rain. I didn't realize that it was drizzling hard enough for me to get that wet.

Light though it was, the rain was steady. Unceasing. Silent. But unceasing. And the world around me got cleansed this way.

And so shall I.

Eloquence

I just made this long rambling post about me having had several bad days in a row these few days because of my racing thoughts which how my mania manifests itself and I read it and I realized how bad it actually was how things were all just jumbled and then I suddenly talked about how it wasn't all that bad because I'm working on a story that I want to get published but I ended up with this wall of words and now this is a run on sentence and so what if I just abruptly

4

The past two days were 4s (out of 10). The racing thoughts won't go away. I have congruent, tangential, perpendicular, multiversal stories, plotlines, scenarios, what-ifs, should-haves...my brain won't stop. My. Brain. Won't. Stop.

The doctor decided to remove some of my meds and I guess this is me adjusting to them. But, and in all my eloquence this is what I can muster: this sucks.

But.

I received a message that comforted me to no end. I had no idea that there were some people out there who actually, actually, care. Silently praying for me. Thank you. THANK YOU.

And for that, I'm going to try my best to make tomorrow a 6 or 7, at least.

Please, let it be a 6 or 7. I'm exhausted.

Precision of Language

“Even trained for years as they all had been in precision of language, what words could you use which would give another the experience of sunshine?” 

― Lois Lowry, The Giver

I have been told by several people that I am the strongest person they’ve ever known. I know it’s bad manners to deflect a compliment (because that was the spirit in which they paid it), but I might have to disagree.

I overcompensate, that’s what. I’m the poster child-woman for Napoleonic Tendency. I think. (Add that to the list of maladies, why don’t I?)

Either way, deflecting or overcompensating, these days, I don’t feel so strong. At least not when I’m alone. These days, my husband has been my source of strength.

I don’t know what people see in me, why people love me and stick with me even after everything I had done, but I’m quite simply, grateful. So this, this post-meds afterglow (for lack of a better term), this is me being grateful. Not strong. Precision of language is essential. Precision of meaning.

Meaning is greater than language. And gratitude is stronger than, well, strength.

Default

All this free time because my brain doesn't race as much as before is...boring. Which makes me wonder (uy, Sex and the City ang peg): What is my default state? Manic or depressed?

Half an hour on the treadmill and half an hour doing laps around the pool, all that time alone, and I still don't know what I should be feeling, or what my state of mind ought to be.

It's like I'm living through the lyrics of the songs I listen to.

Like looking at the mirror without really seeing myself.

Or, looking at a mirror with a mirror behind me and I can't tell if I'm seeing the reflection of my other reflection or is it the other around? (Okay, that was confusing.)

I'm supposed to see my shrink again tomorrow, so hopefully Dr. Yoda can enlighten me.

Blah. Oh gods and goddesses of Happy Mediumism, enlighten me.

Katinka 2.0

On my second stint at the basement (with barely a month in between confinements, dang it), I was constantly asked by the nurses and the orderlies, "Anong nangyari? Bakit ka pinabalik?" I couldn't  couldn't explain it since it was so complicated, so I just said, (sarcastically, natch), "It's more fun in the basement!" It almost felt like a homecoming. Like I was with my people (schizos, catatonics, and my fellow bi-polars). As it happened, the nurses and the orderlies were my only friends on my first few days back because I was still reeling from what, in fact, led me back to the basement.

(Aside: This was the conversation that prompted my return --
Me: I don't what's wrong. It's like it's getting worse! (Through mega tears yan a.)
Doctor (who looks and acts like Yoda): *deadpan smile* ---> [I swear, I know that's an oxymoron, but he really does always have that expression. Yoda nga e.]
Me: What should I do???
Doctor: You need to go back downstairs. I'm sending you to the basement again.
Me: What? When?
Doctor: Oh. Now.

And, scene.)

I couldn't quite explain what happened, but whatever it was, it was certainly getting worse ("it" being my depression).

I felt like such a pro on my second foray into the world of the behaviorally disordered. I already knew what was contraband, so I didn't even bother bringing them. I knew the routines such that taking my vital signs 4 times a day became a breeze for me. I also knew I could get away with not eating as much as I should, so I found a takaw buddy who ate most of my food for me.

The first few days were still horrible. I'd still have "spells" that rivaled the ones I actually had in the outside world. Eventually, they changed my cocktail of meds and I started feeling better (I'm on 6 different medicines, sana naman, diba?).

The great thing this time was that the nurses and doctors allowed me to have my real journal, provided that one of the residents got to read it. For the first time in my life, another set of eyes looked into my Moleskine. I felt naked and afraid at first, but it helped because the resident's daily therapy with me had more substance.

One of the nurses also noticed that I could actually draw. Now, now, I know I've been saying that I can't draw for sh**, but she said I had something when it came to the abstract. So she gave me a sketch pad and some materials and I discovered that...I love to paint! I had never really taken painting seriously, but it turns out I could. So, yay.

I've been out for a few days now, and I can definitely say I'm starting to feel like my old self again. Even Chad noticed it. I have moments of panic (especially with crowds), but when Chad is with me, I stay calm. In time, I want to regain my confidence in being alone. I used to be able to go off and do all sorts of things by myself, but now I feel so iffy about being among strangers.

No matter; I feel like I'm at the cusp of a new beginning. If only this visa application would go without a hitch, then everything will be okay. I need to start from scratch. Katinka 2.0.

Jump, high-five, freeze frame.

Aaaand, scene.

Photosensitive

I was out by the pool for close to three hours the other day. I needed some time alone, and I hadn't been out in the sun for longer than a few minutes. I didn't realize I was out that long though, until I got back from the pool.

Some people get sunburned, well, I got a rash, covering the entire area that was exposed to the sun; which is to say, a good portion of my body. From afar, it just looks like I have mad sunburn, but it's a rash all right. When I looked at the mirror, it looked like I was still wearing my swimsuit. My entire torso is hot to the touch, my shoulders are red as lobsters, and my legs look like they were stepped on repeatedly. (I've had this done to me before, so I know. Long story.)

Apparently, all that time I spent in the basement and fetus-like in bed (close to a month now) has made me intensely photosensitive. Who knew a month without any prolonged exposure to the sun could do that?

So, fantastic. I am now allergic to sunlight.

The rash will go away eventually. I'm hoping so will the photosensitivity.

It's like my body is one with my soul in rejecting all forms of happiness.

---

And so it has come to this: I am alone in this one. Utterly alone. And I would like to elaborate on that, but I can't. Because this has robbed me of everything. Addicts have rock bottom, I suppose the depressed also have theirs. I'm certainly living in mine.

---

All I wanted was a little sunlight. And now I have a rash. I hope it goes away eventually. I'm hoping so will the photosensitivity.

Update

What do you do when the worst that could possibly happen actually does happen?

I give up.

Praying Again

I am nervously awaiting news that could -- will -- change my life forever. My husband is there, taking care of it for me. Despite everything I've done, he is sticking up for me, defending me, protecting me.

I hardly know why I deserve it. 

Last night, he asked that we pray together again. We used to, every night, until things got...busy. Messy. Complicated. And now I find this, posted by the priest who married us.

I hear You. Loud and clear. 

I'm still just as confused, but I hear You.

"I am praying again, Awesome One"

(Ich bete wieder, du Elauchter)

You hear me again, as words

from the depths of me

rush toward you in the wind.

I’ve been scattered in pieces,

torn by conflict,

mocked by laughter,

washed down in drink.

In alleyways I sweep myself up

out of garbage and broken glass.

With my half-mouth I stammer you,

who are eternal in your symmetry.

I lift to you my half-hands

in wordless beseeching, that I may find again

the eyes with which I once beheld you.

I am a house gutted by fire

where only the guilty sometimes sleep

before the punishment that devours them

hounds them out in the open. 

I am a city by the sea

sinking into a toxic tide.

I am strange to myself, as though someone unknown

had poisoned my mother as she carried me.

It’s here in all the pieces of my shame

that now I find myself again.

I yearn to belong to something, to be contained

in an all-embracing mind that sees me

as a single thing.

I yearn to be held

in the great hands of your heart–

oh let them take me now.

Into them I place these fragments, my life,

and you, God–spend them however you want. 

-Rainer Maria Rilke

This Might Be A Source Of Laughter In A Few Years But Not Friggin' Now

This particular bout is rather intense. I've been in bed for the most part of two days and I can't get up. All I want to do is close my eyes in the hopes of somehow being able to shut everything away. The last time I felt this intensely was that day.

I'm about to lose everything I've ever worked for. Am I scared? Defeated? Angry?

All of the above and nothing.

This will kill me; but then again, I'm already dead inside.

Everything is not going to be all right.

Moody

"What Are Mood Disorders?
Four basic forms of mood disorders are major depression, cyclothymia (a mild form of bipolar disorder), SAD (seasonal affective disorder) and mania (euphoric, hyperactive, over inflated ego, unrealistic optimism.)

Personality and Mood Disorders
People are more easily demoralized by depression and slower to recover if they are withdrawn and unreasonably self-critical or irritable, impulsive, and hypersensitive to loss. Most people with major depression also show some signs of anxiety, and 15-30% have panic attacks. As a biological mechanism for coping with danger, anxiety creates a need for help or protection that may give way to despair if it is disappointed. Chronically anxious people may also medicate themselves with alcohol or drugs that can cause depression."

Mental Health America

http://www.nmha.org/go/mood-disorders 

---

There. Do these answer your questions now?

Boing

Yesterday was a bad day. A really bad day.

I got up early so that I could walk to the drugstore to buy a new batch of my meds. I had none left, and so I knew it was imperative to obtain them, stat. Shoving my (new-found) fear of crowds and strangers aside, I arrived at the drugstore only to find out that they were out of stock of my anti-anxiety meds. They had the two others, but the one that I needed to take kaagad, they didn't have. Immediately, I felt, well, anxious.

Oh, the irony was just too...ugh.

The nearest drugstore that was open at that hour was about 10 blocks away. And I walked it. Because that's how important those friggin' meds are. Because I was already starting to panic as I was walking.

But you guessed it, when I got there, they were out of stock, too. By that time, I was hyperventilating. People were starting to look at me. My last hope was the hospital across the drugstore. They had a pharmacy, right? They would have my meds, right?

They did, but they couldn't dispense it to me because my doctor hadn't written the prescription correctly and since it was a controlled substance, yadda-yadda-yadda.

I lost it. Yup, right there in the hospital's pharmacy. (Good thing I was the only customer there.) One of the pharmacists asked if I wanted to go see a doctor but I shook my head. I mustered all the strength left within me (by that time, I had walked the entire length of BGC, I kid you not -- I got lost along the way to the other drugstore) and hailed a cab and went home.

As soon as I got home, I realized that I had one of those pills left. Enough to last me the day. Madre de Dios, I could've just gone back home after drugstore number one.

And that's when the real attack happened. I couldn't breathe and I couldn't feel my face. And my neck felt like it was burning. And I shut my eyes but the tears kept flowing and flowing and flowing.

The rest of the day was a blur because my meds and the post-adrenaline rush of the attack zonked me out.

I have my meds now. In fact, I should probably take them in a few minutes as they're about to wear off. I keep telling myself I'll bounce back, and my good days almost make me believe that that's possible. I suppose it'll really have to take longer than I want it to.

Big day today. Will be doing stuff that will require me to be with other people. I hope I do okay and not shake uncontrollably again.

---

I am a ball. I am a ball. I am a ball. And I shall bounce back. Boing, boing, boing.

Baron Munchausen and Don Quixote

So I saw my shrink today. To say that I feel emotionally and mentally exhausted would be a gross understatement. He kept asking questions to which I would lengthily answer and punctuate with, "I don't know." Every single question was answered, ultimately, with an "I don't know."

I don't know anything, apparently.

Unrealistic. That's what he called it.

Perhaps the scenarios that I concoct in my head to escape from all this mess is taking over, making me sadder than I should be. (Because oh, how reality pales in comparison to my dreams.)

Idealistic. That's what he called it.

The dragons-slash-windmills are taking over, I suppose. And worst of all, I have no Sancho Panza. This is all me, all in my head. Nothing is real.

"You have all of these ideas and opinions about so many intangible concepts," Doc said. Insert hashtag, youdontsay.

What is one to do, then?

I'm losing grasp of what is real, what could actually be, what should actually be. I'm being weighed down by expectations, obligations, unsaid arguments, and that huge elephant in the room that refuses to leave the room. Where are the damn poachers when you need them?

I'd like for my brain to stop. Enough with the Universe stopping so I can get off it, I just want my brain to stop.

I should write a phenomenology of happiness, if only because I can describe it by the negation thereof.

Because you were never there when I actually needed you. Because you kept providing what you thought I needed. Because whenever you were there, you were inaccessible. Because I was alone. Because I was lonely. Because you wouldn't even ask. Because you wouldn't have understood anyway. Because you fell in love with a concept. Because even now, I feel like everything is my fault.

(Maybe because everything is my fault.)

Because I'm freaking blogging about it and not arguing about it with you.

Made up stories, dragons, and Dulcinea. Oh my.

I don't know.

Manic Monday

Well, not really. I'm somewhere in the middle of that bi-polar spectrum right now. I woke up discombobulated as I had nasty and very vivid dreams last night. In my dream I had a vicious fight with her and I told her everything I thought about her and I kept screaming, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" I think I actually woke up in the middle of the night, disoriented, but the meds bid me back to sleep. (Thank you, Seroquel, Rivotril, and Serenata.)

I had That Talk last night and it's a toss up between feeling sad and relieved. At least we were able to define what those six months would mean and what we should focus on. The last thing I want for this to become is nasty. It will be difficult, but we have the rest of our lives to consider. We talked about what this would mean for the both of us and, of course, what this would mean for the most important person in both our lives.

Okay, wait. It's sad. I've just had an honest feeling check. It's sad. But it is what it is. Nobody gets into this sort of thing thinking that it would end some day. (Some Day. Oh, that term.) But we'll see. Nothing's final. At least the first step has been taken.

Today's going to be an errand day, but I just might stay at home again. I still don't trust myself in huge crowds. And then tomorrow, Shrink Day. I'm actually looking forward to that. Although my doctor reminds me of Mr. Miyage. :) But he does make me feel like a child, talking to Santa. That's weird, right? "Dear Santa, please fix me." No matter. I'm still looking forward to it. Sorta.

What an epic week this'll be. I can tell already. But then again, maybe it's just the Monday vibe. Who knew that being a bum would not immune me from the Monday blues? :/

Uy, Pumopoetry

(For) Now

The wind flirts with my eyelashes

And I am forced to close my eyes

For a moment

And see sunsets of a world crafted

Out of our missed chances

I grab a hold of a memory before it flies away

And I fling it back to the deepest recesses of my mind

There it shall burrow until

It becomes inseparable with the reality

I fashioned for myself

I lace my fingers with that Promise

And It rubs a consoling thumb on a finger

Whose nail has been bitten to a mere nub

The thumb says, “Why do you weep,

When I told you I’ll come back?”

But the finger only knows of this Now

And the wind stops, and I open my eyes

And see the grey skies

For miles and miles and miles

This moment

At the cusp of dreaming and waking

This moment kills me

And makes me want to live forever

Only to die

Drowning in thoughts of if-onlys