Appearances

Nothing is as it appears to be

Yes, you know the meaning behind these words

intimately, but grudges held against your own heart

never stopped its persistent beat.

You've never been the forgiving kind,

and neither have I, but the past is no oppressor now

Time, the perpetual traitor, is on our side.

Fighting Depression

There is more to it than that I am broke, unsatisfied with my current job, up to my neck in debt, degree-less, and have fallen out of shape. Physically, hitting the gym a few days a week as I do on and off would be an easy prescription and boost endorphins, but it's not about my looks, which are average at best. Though I realize finances or the lack thereof make up the bulk of my unhappiness, it's not so much about the money than the loss in my sense of self.

Who the fuck am I? And what do I have to show for my life? Nothing. I know I'm not un-liked by others; I have a fair amount of friends in different circles and individuals I can hang out with. I get male attention, both sexually and from more emotional interests. Still, I often feel angry inside and so alone. I feel I have let people take advantage of my docile kindness and when I look back on them I feel a distinct rage. Both strangers and friends, even my best friend, whose 7 thousand dollar debt to me still remains unreturned, and his pace at finding a good job over a year after he has graduated from college so painfully fucking slow. Finances have put a strain on our relationship, and I feel distanced from him in my frustration.

I do enjoy what I'm doing, my goals toward a degree in Math, the tutoring gigs I've gotten. But the reality is I'm broke, the gigs barely pay, and I'm getting older and have less time to go after the other vocations I wanted, meanwhile my debt is stacking along with my doubts, and I have a sinking realization that I'll need to resort to other means of paying rent and tuition. Ever since summer school ended this depression has been crawling on me, slowly engulfing the optimism which usually balances out the blackness. This time, though, the blackness is winning.

So who am I? Just a vessel for others' use. That's all my life has shown me.

My Mind Can Feel

I have to admit, I still have some nostalgic sadness which lingers from the end of the Spring semester. Once again, I'll never have another one like it, and despite the hardships, I learned so much and made quite of bit of progress over the last 4 months, both academically and emotionally.

For one, I realized my career path in life is a mathematical one - not a physical one, per say. The study of English taught me to organize my thoughts. Astronomy opened my eyes and paved the way for Physics, and Physics made me fall in love with Mathematics. I'm not one who believes in fate, but I guess you could say I believe it was a natural progression of events and thought development which led me to the where I am now: a nearly 25-year-old aspiring mathematician, teacher, and more importantly, student. What draws me most to teaching, not just the 3 month summer vacations or even the feeling of empowering others through your knowledge, but always and forever being a student - always learning.

Doing and learning math does something to me. It clicks on some logical part of my brain and makes me think more clearly not just about the Calculus problem at hand, but other areas of my life. I've never been a particularly "rational" person. My emotions range too far along the spectrum to have any solid hold on reality, but studying and teaching math all the time forces me to see the world through analytical eyes - something I've lacked for a very long time. While there are holes in my education, starting from K-9 and up, I feel I'm slowly patching those gaps which were lost on me as a youth. I feel like a kid at the same time that I feel I'm getting much older. It's a strange sensation, but not unwelcome, and feeds back into my sentiments of the concept of life coming together naturally, with and without my conscious actions.

Perhaps that's why I've been able to finally and fully distance myself from my ex. Not to say there weren't relapses on both ends, but the final product was a good one. Forgiveness, closure, reason, love, and emotional acceptance found a balance and home together. I can move on.

This summer I have decided to dedicate myself to seeing a bunch of old timer concerts, modern summer festivals, continuing massage classes, spending time with friends and family, tutoring, getting back in shape, and furthering my education: a Linear Algebra and Elementary Statistics class. It most certainly will be a Summer of Rock 'N Roll to be remembered.

Oh my love, for the first time in my life

My mind is wide open

Oh my love, for the first time in my life

My mind can feel.

I feel sorrow, oh I feel dreams

Everything is clear in my heart

I feel life, oh I feel love

Everything is clear in our world.

~John Lennon, "Oh My Love"

Dimming

From great distances, or microns near
the fibers of my skin remembers - as though you were here.
And the tear, which remains splitting
from your careless folly, is unfair.
Our love holds like the stars - the space between us substantial,
and only grows more colossal, with time.
But by talons of your emotions,
the physical differences become minute - waned memories magnified.
Like a reluctant aperture into the past
the light never dims on you.
No, the light never dims on you,
even as our detachment becomes more vast, and solidified.

The Hard Way

Nobody else around me will ever know the dark, overwhelming, parasitical anger inside, and although I have taken measures to heal or lessen its effects, it is as much a part of me as the warm and caring person who feels for others unconditionally. Finding the balance may take a lifetime, but the rate at which my mind is growing through my studies, I hope my heart follows suit. I know we're all human, but it seems as though the people, especially the men in my life and starting with my own dad, had to first completely debase and mistreat me in order to realize I was worth anything to them. And after repeated careless stakes that pierced me, my rage advanced twofold on the people who caused me pain, and in the moment on anyone who disrespects me just a little. Does it always take hurting someone horrendously first to realize you love them? And I know if I had done the same to them, they wouldn't have allowed it, but I did allow it and it is completely fucked up. Still, I loved them and there is no magical parallel universe I can just slip into where they were magically not fucked up to me. I just need the pain to stop eating away at me.

I have even considered taking anger management classes, though my busy schedule and lack of funds hasn't permitted any such luxuries. Anyways, I'll be ok. The madness comes and goes, and so have the people who proved they weren't supposed to stay in my life. What I need now is to work on forgiving both myself and the people who damaged me. I don't want to let any experience debilitate me, as I've been stunted long enough.

I've had a few guys express interest in me, romantically and otherwise, but right now I feel like it is more of an inconvenience in my life to date. Someday, someone will love me right, for now I'm learning everything I ever slacked off on and never gave myself enough credit to apply myself to in grade and high school, and I will tell you, it is simply amazing. Not just the plasticity of the brain, but the incredible journey of how we understand and came to understand the universe, and how it just works, from the most seemingly simple motions to grand schemes. There is an elegance to everything around us, and I cannot soak it up fast enough.

It would be easier to be insane. But I'm not, and I have to keep learning and growing, the hard way.

Seasons Out of Time

Having a mental breakdown in the midst of pursuing an education, especially a heavily mathematical and scientific one, is never a good idea. Depression is the worst thing to happen to intellect: preying upon logical thoughts and quickly deteriorating even common sense. And unless you're Descartes, talking yourself out of it is not really an option.

I think it's safe to say I'm no longer in danger of the looney bin; however, I can still feel leftover shards. I would never be so selfish and cruel to the people who love me to do it, but it sure as hell sounds pretty bloody damn good at times. Driving home from class tonight, a little left in my mind, I couldn't stop what deeply dismal thoughts came: the pure pain and disappointment resulting from life and all its antics, from the people I trusted and cared most about, from the ugly things they and strangers have done, and from my own shortcomings. The fact is, I know the torment will only continue and sometimes, I would love to let it all end. The more excruciating the pain becomes, the less I care for the repercussions, the more distanced and numb I feel to even my best friends.

But that's so damn dramatic. And at heart, I think, I am a happy-go-lucky, optimistic, and empathetic individual. That's who I really am - who I'm supposed to be. I know my blog is not the most uplifting out there, but if you met me in real life, you'd wonder where all the darkness lay, it is so unapparent in my everyday, smirking self. I use this blog as one of my only outlets of therapy. And life isn't supposed to be easy anyway, just like higher math, or physics, or there would be no point to it at all. Somewhere along the way, someone (or several someones) had the same problems the rest of us did, and having grappled with them, found a pattern and method in which they could be understood. My Calculus professor said mathematics is just the study of patterns, and life is rife with these. Perhaps life's dilemmas are not always solvable, but at the very least, worthy of being challenged.

We had seasons in the sun;
but the hills that we climbed
were just seasons out of time.
Goodbye, my friend,
it's hard to die.

~Terry Jacks

Growing Pains

Although I feel Summer's end closing in on me, the last two months have been jam-packed and well-spent seeing friends, working 'till I dropped, and finally learning Calculus the proper way - in a classroom. Undoubtedly, there have been growing pains for me, internally, since leaving my last rocky relationship, but it has gotten better. My ex is like a ghost. He likes to haunt me. And by that I mean not in my mind, but he actually makes repeated calls from unblocked numbers and writes heartfelt emails unable to be ignored. I even met with him once to give him closure - maybe for us both. Some couples can end on good terms. We tried and have many times, including the last episode. But for me, the memory of him includes not just the good times, but the horrible ones which have left discreet scars. And after repeated contact with him I start to feel the subliminal burn of those wounds. He blames me for not letting go of the past he put me through, and perhaps he's right. Our last exchange over the phone was beyond unpleasant. I hope he heard from my voice not just the petty words, but the pain - the pure agony that has resulted from the past year of keeping and trying to stifle those demons. Now it's time to let them go. I hope to God he leaves me be.

I made another difficult but good, gut decision to leave my job at Bevmo. It has been a fun and educational job, but I have more important and bigger things to move onto and pursue. For now, this Calculus class is the next step towards those goals. I might go on a date this Friday with a new guy I've been talking to, but my heart will stay focused and dedicated to the dreams I want and will accomplish.

SI

I want to keep cutting myself. I want to saw and bleed out all the pain from my body, until I'm depleted of all the ugly emotions and stirrings inside. Starting again after so long is intoxicating, better than any drug or drink I've taken, and more effective. I've cut superficially since, but not like this, enough to fully soak the band-aids I haphazardly tape on. The relief is immediate, and sometimes followed by an giddy high.

The aftermath is a different story. Even if some secret satisfaction lingers, I have to deal with the shame of hiding my wounds and later scars, making up lame excuses for their existence if I slip in coverage, and dreading the next heated episode of wanting to continue the act. Because I don't if I really think about it. The part of me that conquered this before feels disappointed, pathological, and defeated. If I can't deal with this now, how will I ever? Life will always be full of small and large crises, and I can't keep turning to this ritual which solves nothing.

Most of all I want to learn not just better coping skills, but communication as well. A lot of my desire to cut stems from an inability to convey what I am feeling in a productive and healthy way. So what other people see as a psychotic, angry outburst, I know is really just a plea for an ear to truly listen.

Wonder Waves

The rage inside me is a wave, continuous

and always on the move, changing

with each new amplitude - breeds a unique battle ground,

each more calamitous than the last.

But the words rolled around, over and over again

in my head, and on my tongue

are the same, trite and crass.

The meaning of them grows obsolete

and only proves the mind's subservience to a distant past,

as the will to fight fluctuates in violent streams.

Like the Sun I hold no peace,

but there is equilibrium within reach.

I believe I can but just can't figure out

how to stop, or fool, or destroy an enemy

which is neither man nor ghost,

but inherent contradiction

between the self and the soul.

Body Fear

Please do not try to touch me
for what you perceive as my body - is not,
is an empty carcass which does nothing
to protect me from others' harm.

Either the world is blind or am I, and surely twisted.

And none who hold more shame in knowing

that truth was only myth, incarnated.

They say enveloped in another's arms,

all perils not gone shall be diminished,

so I never would have envisioned

beyond my wildest fabrications,

that love itself was the specter;

the demon in my view.

Feigning to be the greatest guardian,

then turning inward to covet

the very seed you created.

So tell me what is Truth?

I know not what intimacy is, only that it handles

my body in hands which are cold, thus a degree of potency

I could not sever myself from such strange affectivity.

Now I am older, and still I feel the same.

Nowhere to place this anger,
so it stays inside my veins.
I thought I would heal with time,
but my skin would not let me forget.
I would like to love again, but you are just like him:
whereas once I held you in such high revere
now I shrink back from you in fear.

Retrograde Motion

I am back in the 90's, musically. The sweet, old school tunes of Sugar Ray, Everclear, Third Eye Blind, 2pac, Notorious B.I.G and many other gems are my only company deep into the night. A warm, fuzzy, familiar feeling returns every time I play these songs, and in my dismal circumstances I feel a balm-like hope seeping out of my troubles.

Yesterday I attended my second SIA meeting, and actually opened up to several other survivors, and one woman in particular named Evelyn, who knew exactly what I've been through, and worse. In 2 meetings, this support group has already been more effective than 7 sessions with my previous therapist, not to mention without a bloody $400 dent in my pocket. Although my abuse was short-lived, no one around me, not my family or exes or best friends, knows or is even vaguely aware of how traumatized and scarred the experience left me; how much shame, loneliness, and anger I have harbored for so long, or how detrimental the effects have been. But I'm getting better, and now I have a small, close-knit community which not only understands but helps to pull one another through the painful darkness.

Revisiting the past doesn't always necessarily mean moving backwards. Tycho was wrong about the planets, after all. Settling the past will help me get back on track with my goals, whether those are academic, financial, or emotional. Already I'm formulating and focusing. The past is a cripple to me now? I think not.

Two nights before I turned 13. I know because the morning after, all I did was play Blink 182's "Take Off Your Pants and Jacket" album over and over, that the next day, I almost forgot I had become a teenager overnight.

Paraview

I can see the horizon
just as well as concrete under soles,
others' benevolence -
covering black perilous holes.
But I am fixed on those
strange things, perfectly human deeds
unable to accept the abhorrent beast
existing within myself and other close bodies.
Roaming free, harmless
except when eyes averted, darkness
allowed to flourish, preys upon weaker beings
and engulfs the organs capable of vision.
I thought I was happy once,
until one night he crept on me, in my sleep
and since then I have been ever increasingly disfigured,
unable to love or understand
the image in the mirror.

So Long, 2010

I don't really wanna be awake or sober when the ball drops. It has been both a spectacular and painful year, and all I wanna do is down this bottle of sparkling rose and pass the fuck out. 'Cause I didn't get anywhere academically, but I went to Africa. Yeah, I saw all the lions and elephants and giraffes and shit, and even taught kids a little. But what I really learned myself was that I was a slacker and an idealist. That, and you can't really know anything about another person from first conveyances, until you find yourself at a disadvantage and see how much or how little they stick their neck out for you. That's when you really understand. People are really beautiful inside, but twisted. And I've been in love the past couple months, and where has that gotten me?

I'll probably call my dad after the year changes, 'cause my mom is in Taiwan. Thanks Dad, for fucking up my perception of love and men from the very beginning. Yet I adore him despite all the fucked up things he did, and still acknowledge what a great person and father he was and still is. And all the (2 or 3) boyfriends I had - maybe their emotions for me were real, but that didn't stop them from mistreating me or screwing me over. That's what bothers me the most, even with people who love you, you're not really safe. But that's all in the past. And the past makes up a vital part of who you are, but doesn't determine the future.

And I swear to god with a lowercase "g", I'm gonna get it right this year, which really means shitty things are bound to happen, but it doesn't have to destroy me and prevent me from moving forward. I gotta get my grades up, my body sharpened, my music in line, my mind and heart right. No resolutions, just a better understanding of life and a determination for positive vectors.

Cheers.

Brain Therapy

I have gone to three sessions of therapy and although I have revealed quite a bit about myself and my past, I feel no significant breakthroughs. I know it is still early, so I'm not concerned. Furthermore, I like my therapist. I think I lucked out in finding a gay male. Not that being a gay man has anything to do with my issues, but I'm most comfortable around men, and preferably, those who wouldn't exacerbate any soreness surrounding my feelings about the straight male species. And finding a female therapist who felt any trauma similar to mine would only make it worse. And of course, my best friends happen to be gay guys, so it only seems natural to find the same.

So my doctor is an easy and interesting person to talk to: we usually sit and reflect on our travels, pop culture, and other fun topics before settling into more serious ones. But I am afraid. I'm afraid that he can't help me, that he doesn't really understand, he doesn't really care, and despite pouring money and breath into these appointments I will come out of it no different and no better than I am - alone and in pain.

You're a lost little girl
You're a lost little girl
You're lost
Tell me who
Are you?

I think that you know what to do
Impossible? Yes, but it's true
I think that you know what to do, yeah
I'm sure that you know what to do.

-The Doors, "You're a Lost Little Girl"

Moments like this, I wish I had died instead of my aunt.

Liver Therapy

I've laid off the booze for 2 nights in a row and sleep has been pure agony. Sometimes I feel as if there is a heavy, metal plate on my chest, constricting my breathing and crushing me down. My head is filled with furious and painful thoughts. My heart is in horrible shape, and sleep has been sporadic. But when I wake in the morning I feel a little better, a little more confident that I can get through this, and that one day the torment will inevitably end.

This is the repercussion of not drinking myself to sleep - a whole lot healthier, and definitely a lot harder. My ex has finally left me alone. Funny I thought breaking up and healing would be simple, of course he had to persistently stay in contact with me for another 3 weeks and make that impossible. I guess we all want to know that other people care, that the time we had with them meant something. And although he has finally let me go, one thing that would secretly ease the pain is if he gave me some sign of concern like he always did, as I would always respond affectionately, and we would reconcile. That always did the trick, killed the anger, at least temporarily.

But now I am decidedly alone, and wherever I am, out with other people, in class or work, I feel a sharp, singular pain which I and I alone am aware of. Again, luckily, I have my schoolwork cut out for me until November, where I can bury myself and the aching. I have many terrific concerts to see, hobbies to undertake, and friends to lift my mood the way I deserve.

Summer of Love

Checking in after an eventful summer, for the urge for me to write has been rare and comes and goes as quickly as my paycheck. I did end up fulfilling one of my dreams to visit the African continent this summer, and while it was not and could not be all I had romanticized, I must say it was one of the most astounding and capricious experiences of my life. I learned a lot more than I had originally thought I did about Kenyan history, saw some really beautiful landscape, witnessed wildlife and mother nature in all her splendor, picked up some Swahili, taught a class of fourth graders, made new friends, and observed human culture and behavior, both of the Kenyans and of the UC Berkeley students whom I traveled with -a real interesting lot.

I also picked up a boyfriend, who was one of the Cal students on the Kenya study abroad. Our relationship has recently come to an end, but my summer has really revolved around him. Other than the obvious time we spent getting to know each other in Kenya, the following 2 months was a whole 'nother adventure. Every week and eventually nearly every day we planned a new excuse to have fun together, whether that was white water rafting, camping, rock-climbing, beaching, or just going over to his house to watch a flick and fall asleep and have breakfast in the morning. Although it was only a measly 3 month relationship, I fell for him. It wasn't just our mutual activities that captured me, it was his complexity and compassion - moral and emotional, and depth as a person. But I should have seen not what was deeper but what was obvious, and so I can only blame myself for the ultimate heartache. He's the first guy I've allowed myself to love for quite some time, and I suspect he will be for a while, especially given the damage that has come after our breakup. While I won't go into why it ended, I will just say that he is 4 years my junior, and that dishonesty is something I am learning not to tolerate, since my forgiving and somewhat doormat nature has caused me a lot of pain and unnecessary problems.

So I'm simplifying my life. And I'm doing really well now. I took the breakup horribly at first, even regressing to some old adolescent pathologies, but I am well on my way to recovery. There's no denying some agony buried there along with the rest of my exes, but surprisingly my head is level, my heart is already healing, and my intuition is to be optimistic instead of fearful and bitter. Thankfully I have good friends, who are rational and understanding and help me look at things objectively instead of with my own fucked-up, insecure, and depressed head. I'm formulating new and old goals: getting my act together at work, motivating myself for school, rekindling hobbies I dropped, and developing my relationships. And listening to a lot of reggae-rock, which brightens my mood to new levels.

Twin Peaks

Very rough sleep last night. Woke to the sound of my roommate's mule-like laughter, bass-heavy music, and apparently hilarious morning show. Got to bed at around 5am, but the eerie sound of creaking forced me to get up to shut a wind-molested laundry door. Heavy rain started in around that time. Not the comforting, melodic kind of pitter-patter, the obnoxious, threaten-to-cave-in-your-roof type of rain.

I dreamt of being murdered. Incest, rape, and the inadvertent killing brought tears to my murderer's eyes, but all I could feel was fear and disgust. Flashes. Heavy darkness. Grotesque laughter. A menacing presence, intangible.

Obviously, I've been watching too much Twin Peaks. David Lynch is a genius director. And the actors and actresses' talents are very well worth noting. But somehow the unraveling of lives, of hearts, and of secrets hits a little close to home. A combination of Donna and Laura, the surface never tells you quite as much as the past.

I've started writing again to gain control and perspective on my life, for the past few months, it seems like everything I've done to get back on track has landed me in a quandary. A closer examination of my thoughts, patterns, relationships, and dreams will have to take place. I intend on writing often, every morning if possible.

Today, though sluggish, sleep-deprived for over 48 hours, I begin my day with sit-ups, a shower, a bagel, and a trip to the local coffee house, Roadhouse Coffee Shop. Go figure.

strings

My life is the string which oscillates violently between two extremes, and all those I love a vital piece of the symphony.

2009 doesn't have paragraphs.

Shortly after the holidays last year I received a phone call from my dad telling me my aunt was undergoing brain surgery to remove the larger tumors which had spread from her lungs. She had just been diagnosed with Stage 4 Lung Cancer. I was on a weekend excursion with my best friend, Anthony and was caught by the startling news which filled me with unease. Around this time, my first ex boyfriend, distraught and plagued by his past and present relationships, found me after four years to sort out old emotions. We had dinner, emailed each other several times, and even considered the possibility of rekindling an old romance, until he proved, for the last time, his inability love me. This destroyed me. This also put me at peace with the past. I moved places, twice, the first being a comfortably darker pit of the city. Ditto with my jobs. I bought a really crappy car, which my brother replaced with my old precious Rav4 out of the kindness of his heart. I took Physics 111 and loved the lectures, but became wrapped up in my two jobs, social life, and riches to get anything but a D. However, what began as a purely academic and perhaps business arrangement became a close and terrific friendship with my tutor, Samy. I dropped Pre-Calculus in the summer, but I retook Physics 111, finally joined a study group, made new friends, of course sought Samy's help, and pulled off a B+. I left both my jobs during these months, and it was beautiful. But I needed to pay off debt, so I was hired at Bevmo at summer's end and began a grueling and chaotic whirlwind of 30-40 hours a week while studying late nights and in-between work for 3 classes. This time, so wrapped up in work and academia, I barely had time for my social life, much less myself. I had several breakdowns, including broken objects in my room and strained friendships. Things hit rock bottom when I received two calls, one from my dad and another from my older brother, telling me that my aunt was not doing well and I should take the weekend off to see her. I took the weekend off, but worked Thursday, then hopped directly on the Greyhound and began my nightlong visit to LA. She passed away at 1:50 a.m. She was gone by the time I arrived by bus Friday morning, 2 weeks before Thanksgiving. I attended the wake ceremony and the funeral, but I had no chance to say goodbye. I then continued my schooling, continued heavy hours at work while battling feelings of depression and guilt. Thanksgiving came, the first holiday without my aunt. I spent 3 days with my friends in Vegas, San Diego and LA - the only vacation I allowed myself since the summer. Directly thereafter, I came down with a fever and bad cough - 2 weeks before finals. Somehow I managed to survive holiday hours and lines at work, severe stress with school, and hanging connections with my friends until it was all over. Christmas with my family was heartfelt. I couldn't love them more. "Life waits for no one," wrote my youngest cousin, Amy, and I have say it's true. Exactly how I feel. I wasn't ready for what 2009 brought, but 2010 will not wait for me.