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.