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

Dreaming and Waking Up

I didn't wake up in a funk today, mostly because Lucia (who did not sleep beside me last night -- for the first time! D:) walked up to me and woke me up. I was having a wonderful dream (or maybe I was already half-awake and daydreaming, I can never tell anymore since I sleep so much these days), and I wish I could've lived in that reality a while longer, but my Reality, Lucia, wanted to snuggle.

This is the reason I still wake up.

--

Last night, we went to a children's party and I saw all my former (?!) colleagues from school. They all gave me hugs and were fantastically supportive, but I was anxious the whole time. In fact, my hands were trembling so much, I had to grab on to my husband's jacket to keep them from shaking. He kept telling me that everything was all right, that they were all rooting for me, but it was overwhelming to be in that huge crowd, with everyone knowing and not knowing, all at the same time.

My hands were trembling so much, I couldn't feed Lucia properly. My hands wouldn't cut the food properly, let alone lift the damn spoon to her mouth without the food spilling over.

When we finally left, I could feel the pain in my wrists, fingers, and hips (I took to standing outside, calming myself down with that which I sorrowfully picked up again...it calms me down, somewhat). As soon as I got home, I took a shower, drank my meds, and fell promptly to sleep.

Being with other people exhausts me, mainly because I have to pretend so much. I don't know why I do that.

---

I am grateful then, that exhausted as I was, I actually had wonderful dreams. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful dreams. In my dreams, I had That Day. I hate that I have to settle for that, but if that's what's given to me, I shall hang on to it, by all means.

It's so difficult. For everyone, I know. I know that. I wish there was a way to comfort everyone involved. Especially...But I shall have to do that in my dreams first.

Maybe they'll cure me of the pain (soon, I hope, because it's still so painful), but not...this. Not this. Never this.

This is the reason I wake up, too. (Inasmuch as I want to keep on dreaming those dreams.) This is what's fueling me to want to get better. For myself.

Today will be better. Because of those dreams. And because I was woken up by my angel.

Goodbye and Thank You

Passed by school today to get my personals and put certain things in order. On the way there, I was having mini panic attacks again. My fingers actually started to hurt from all the tension. When I got to my cubicle, I stood there for a while and just...breathed. It felt oddly comforting to be surrounded by my things, stuff I've accumulated from teaching since 2003.

First things I packed were my shoes, then my personal books, then all my journals (all 4 Moleskine journals, God I'm garrulous). I managed to run into two co-teachers and a bunch of my 4A kids. I wanted it to be a quiet exit, I didn't want to have to see people I knew so that I could save myself from shedding a few tears, but it was useless. Especially when I passed by the classroom.

All their desks and chairs looked so organized (the most organized I've ever seen!) and there were remnants of the busy week they just had. I saw all their banners. I saw my old podium. I saw the clean blackboard. And I saw the emptiness.

I had a good talk with my friend and co-teacher before I left. We shed some tears, because we knew, at the back of our minds, that this could be an actual goodbye. I know I said it was a goodbye-for-now sort of thing, but who knows? The future is so murky at this point. But more than that, it was just the painful realization that everything is changing. Acceptance will come sooner or later, but for now, the realization is overwhelming enough.

I'm going to be okay. Today is a better day. Well, an easier day, at least, panic attacks notwithstanding. I dunno. Ask me again later. But at this precise moment, I'm actually feeling a little. Full stop. Meaning, I can actually feel something. It's not necessarily sadness -- it's just that I feel the emptiness now. And the desire to fill that emptiness.

It's like realizing I was hungry, and now I want to eat. (Ironically, I've lost almost all my appetite. I've lost ten pounds already. A perk of depression, wee.)

One day at a time.