I Will Not Be Silent.

This is going to be a different type of entry. It’s the sort of entry I never thought I’d ever have to write. So something happened yesterday. To save myself the trouble of having to type out all the words, refer to the screenshot below of a Facebook status post I made yesterday.

Screen Shot 2018-06-13 at 12.40.20 PM

 

There’s the whole story. I feel disgusted, insulted, and pissed off. I can’t believe that I’d ever be on the receiving end of this bullshit. He says he’s sorry but I’m not feeling anything sincere from it. He actually thought that video was going to get a rise out of me? Give me a fucking break…

I’ve sent a report to Facebook help center, I’ve taken a screenshot of my facebook post from yesterday, I’ve told my friends about this, I am not keeping quiet about it.

I tried to be cool. I tried to be classy by not even calling out his name, but fuck all that!! I am not Jesus, I am not perfect, I will not show mercy or forgiveness. I will tell my story. You cannot silence me.

That’s it. I’m done.

 

Advertisements

Taming the Dragon

71500a5b002662e5bd47b1a4ca552689

Front page news WordPress readers!! I am a Hufflepuff!!!

My whacky writer’s brain has been both a blessing and a curse for me. I escaped into my imagination whenever things became too much to deal with. It wasn’t just a place where I hid myself, but also the only place where anything made sense. Things seemed less complicated.

Many things in my life serve as creative fuel for me. My depression and anxiety, memories of good and bad days, lessons I had to learn the hard way, people I knew and wish were closer to me, things I had to overcome, and all that I desire.

Like Jewels, my nephew and niece, the man from my dreams….whoever he might be….whatever he’s supposed to really look like….hence the photos of man candy below….

 

dominick-cruz-ufc-fight-night-81-pre

My writer’s brain runs on auto-pilot though. During my sessions with my counselor I told him how I called my depression the Nightmare Syndrome, how everything turns into a monster that I always see with my mind’s eye, and how it seemed as though they were always destroying everything in the world of my imagining that crossed over into my reality.

We used a lot of fantasy analogy. It’s something I had kept to myself for the longest time. I was mostly embarrassed to admit to any of it. I try to keep things as realistic as possible when talking about everything, but in the end it’s my creativity that has helped me more than anything else. Before the Zoloft anyway.

The Babadook came up in my sessions. I’m sure anyone who has seen the movie can relate to the analogy that there’s a beast that lives with those who suffer from mental illness. In my case it wasn’t just the one monster. We also talked about my favorite video game, Persona¬†and I explained to him how the characters gain their power by overcoming and learning to accept their Shadow selves.

It was my counselor that brought up the analogy of a dragon being a personification of my depression. It coincided with the Shadows I mentioned. The creature can seem frightening and its easy to believe that its always out to get us. But sometimes it’s just misunderstood. Sometimes it can be used to draw strength from and propel us to move forward.

A few posts ago I did the Persona thing. I P4’d that bitch. I had come to terms with my depression and accepted it as a vital part of myself. It helped a lot. I felt my cognition take a huge shift. The rest is history. I’m doing good, but I’m not out of the woods yet.

My dragon and I are learning to co-exist. We’re not soaring the sky, but we’re not at each other’s throats either. Achieving peaceful co-existence with the dragon and unlearning everything that’s been hardwired into my brain is crucial to this recovery.

Within my mind exists my own universe where all my imaginative creations reside. I call it The Otherverse¬† and I’m putting everything into it to help me deal with things. It’s not about getting published and becoming the next J.K. Rowlings. It’s about healing and learning to truly live again, learn to better love myself, and to enrich the reality that I live in as well as my mental health.

The first step to any journey is to acknowledge the moment and who you are.

To pull some quotes from Dan Millman’s Peaceful Warrior…

  1. Where are you? I am here. What time is it? Now. What are you? I am this moment.
  2. There are no ordinary moments.
  3. There is no starting or stopping. There is only doing.
  4. A warrior does not give up what he loves. He finds the love in what he does.
  5. I call myself a Peaceful Warrior because the battles I fight come from within.

Have a nice day everyone.

Here I come World!!!

P.S. I consider myself a “Hufflepuff Warrior”.

 

 

 

 

 

My Personal Wish List

Despite the latest post where I ranted about a shitty week I had I’m in a good place mentally and emotionally. I’m better than I’ve been in years. Instead of waisting away in what used to be my prison cell at the Cottages of Boone I’m in a place that I’m happy to call a home away from home and I’m enjoying the view of snowfall while listening to Utada Hikaru and filling up blank pages with whatever comes to mind.

I remember a year ago around this time how desperate I was for change, how badly I wanted things to be better than they were. Things are better for the most part, but I want more.

Some of the things I want I probably can’t reach yet until I’ve reached a higher level of self-love. But it’s all something to look forward to. Dreams aren’t as impossible to realize like they were before. The only real difference then and now is that I’m actually taking the steps required to attain those goals instead of waiting for the universe to work its magic into my life and lamenting on how powerless and hopeless I am to do anything.

I like my roommates and I like the friends I’ve managed to make in Boone, but I don’t feel like I can share everything with them. I can’t let them in completely. We see eye to eye on a lot of things, but there’s a lot of stuff I like that they can’t relate to.

I love video games, anime, movies, pro-wrestling, Japanese culture, writing, superhero shows like Garo, Kamen Rider, Ultraman, and Super Sentai.

Meanwhile what’s everyone else into? White hipster shit.

It doesn’t help that I live in a house full of people that are as white as can be. I come from a Venezuelan family so there’s shit I’m used to that I’ve seen all my life that makes everyone else go…

durr.gif

It reminds me of the dumb looks I’d get from people at Walker Hall students. That’s where all the students majoring in communication, journalism, and some number crunching crap all congregate. It doesn’t matter what I’d say. I could be telling them my name, my favorite thing to eat, or what direction the bathroom is at and they look at me like this….

deer-in-headlights

Like some dumbass deer in headlights. I remember wanting to pluck out their eyes and squash them like grapes every time I’d get that look.

I broke my roommates coffee maker the other day. It was made of glass. It was close to where all the washed dishes were collected. I reached to grab something, it tipped over, and shattered in the sink. As soon as I told my roommate the first thing that came out of his mouth was…

“Oh no!! That cost $60!!”

Now it’s my turn to make a face like this…

032fc390b13d0983767a67c0ffe6bed8.gif

Because look at this shit!

21764844_1802920763332852_5457494805219245411_n

It’s big, it’s glass, and clearly its fragile as fuck. And he paid $60 for this tacky freak of nature? It looks like it belong in a mad scientist’s evil lair! Unless the coffee that thing makes cures cancer or bestows immortality to whoever drinks it I don’t see why anyone would want to pay good money for this.

Meanwhile I make my coffee with this…

21740174_1799807950310800_5064514841900630415_n.jpg

You know how much this thing cost me? It costs $12! No lie! It makes damn good coffee!! And does it look like it breaks easily? This little episode just made me go….

“Pfft!! White people…I swear….”

I put that on my Facebook and my female roommate put up the angry reaction emoji for it. Do I regret it? NOPE.

Getting back on point…here’s my wish list.

1. I want to be more comfortable around people so I can let them in.
2. I want to keep focusing on self-love. I want to get to the point where I can say, “I’d date me.”
3. I want to keep writing and ultimately make a real career out of it.
4. I want to graduate from App State.
5. I want to go back to enjoying cooking.
6. I want to go back to enjoying movies even if I don’t have someone to go to the theater with.
7. I want people that I can talk to about all the nerdy things I like so much.

I’ll work toward these goals just as I have worked with everything else.

Later days.

Read me the Signs. Tell me my Fortune

If you’re someone who is not into spirituality or supernatural belief then this blog is probably not for you. If you’re someone who is so grounded into reality and you only believe in what you see in front of you then this blog is not for you.

I’ve been getting signs for the last ten years now. Rephrasing; I may have been receiving signs my entire life, but I didn’t start paying attention to them until ten years ago.

Back when I was at my worst and mentally hit rock bottom is when I started to really notice them. The signs kept coming to me in different ways, but I always felt this sort of “resonance” (for lack of a better word) from them. At the time they would always tell me that things were going to get better. That I wouldn’t be stuck in the same sucky situation I was in at the time.

These signs were persistent. Try to imagine having pop up ads or spam mail taking up space in your brain. That’s how persistent they were. I thought I was going crazy. I was already depressed and living in a sucky reality. I thought believing in something out of this world wasn’t very helpful. I go to therapy and everything seemed quiet for almost a month. And then they kept coming back. At that point I was like, “Screw this! You want me to follow? Fine, I’ll follow!”

I figured that if I did that then maybe it would finally stop and I could go back to living in reality in the best way that I could. Somewhere along the way I had been convinced that it wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me. That it’s something bigger than anything else, trying to guide me. I remember back then that I was at my happiest. I was at my strongest. Remember the little analogy I made of dealing with anxieties to fighting monsters. Well that’s where I was slaying them one after another. Built up a serious undefeated streak. Like….Goldberg in WCW/WWE (past Goldberg) or Asuka in NXT. Or Ronda Rousey in the UFC (before the KO from Holly Holms, of course). Plus I really was leading a depression free life for close to two years. So not only was I at my strongest, but I was at my happiest.

But the Universe didn’t prepare me for everything. Eventually I got knocked down. I crashed and hit the ground hard. I kept taking one hard hit after another. I was defeated. And I felt like the person that I was, the better version of myself, had been stolen from me. The Universe then fell silent for a really long time and I was forced to go at everything blindly. What caused all this to happen? More like, what didn’t cause it to happen? I could write about what might have been the cause for at least ten more entries if I felt like it. But I don’t want to focus on what happened, what I cannot undo.

Sometime back late March (at best guess) I start getting signs again. I’m supposed to just “stay with it”. During this time I was struggling with suicidal thoughts in Boone. Obviously nobody wants me to die, human or otherwise. I’d have thought that I should be instantly back to my old self again, but more “powered up” somehow.

My mom and my cousins say that I’m the strong one. But I honestly don’t feel it. One serious downside to these signs is the mysterious nature behind them that leaves me with more questions when I’m already confused as is. And I’m not the same person that I was before all this. I feel like I’m always “blocked” by something. I think more than likely I’m the one “blocking” myself from everything. I’ve built these walls around me to guard myself from anything that I had viewed as a possible threat to me, which seems to be like everything.

I am still getting the signs. I am so deep into this that I cannot ignore them. I cannot pretend like they haven’t played a part in my life, in bringing back the good that did outweigh the bad. I’m the person I am now because I followed them when I had nothing else to go on. I am the person I am now precisely because of who I was. People don’t just change, they continue on from that point.

I think the message that I’m supposed to be getting is meant to trigger a change in my cognition. Since moving to Boone I thought I had lost the person that I was and all the strength and wisdom I had accumulated at the point. I thought I had “lost my powers”. But the truth is that I never lost anything. It’s all still inside me. It’s just waiting to be tapped into. It wants to wake up. It wants expression. It wants sweet release.

I am so done with being my own worst enemy. I hate on others for either getting in my way, questioning everything I do, undermining me, weighing me down, but in reality I might just be projecting from my own doubts and weaknesses.

If I’m able to release all that’s in me and use it to succeed, awesome. If that’s not it and I’m supposed to just start over from scratch again, I will do it. Either way there is nowhere else to go except forward.

The Price I’ve Paid.

One of the joys of being a neurotic depressing hermit like myself is the beauty of drowning myself in my own thoughts which means having to inevitably over think and analyze every little thing. I say that with as much fake enthusiasm as I can possibly muster. How do I further illustrate the beauty of overthinking? Imagine being stuck in the middle of desert and you are passing the time by counting every little grain of sand you come across. That’s what it’s like for me. “Analysis Paralysis”, that’s what I like to call it.

I hate it. It doesn’t help being a writer because I’m constantly second guessing myself and every idea that comes to mind. I get a light bulb which signals an idea. Then comes the usual song and dance that occurs whether I keep an idea to myself or when I make the mistake of sharing it with others…

“Oh that idea has already been done!”
“Refer to this author’s piece of work!”
“Your characters are too cookie cutter!”
“But that’s not realistic! Even for a fantasy story!”

Oh wait, here is anew one that has been on repeat lately.

“Are you trying to write the next Harry Potter or Game of Thrones? Best give up while you can.” That was from one of my roommates whom I’m pretty sure was only projecting his own limitations onto me. Easy to believe considering he has as much imagination and personality as a baked potato. Which I’m also sure reflects hisIQ level.

And here comes the kicker…

“Hey man! I’m just trying to help!”

That’s when I just want to punch someone in the face and say, “For the love of God, stop trying to help me.” Not too many people know about this story that I’m working on and I prefer to keep it that way. The ones that I’ve told haven’t tried pushing themselves onto me where as others have done exactly that. Plus I only share ideas in small dose. How small? Grains of sand small. Even with people who are writers like myself.

It’s lonely having to do this on my own. But it’s not that much different from the loneliness I’ve felt for the majority of my life. I used to have imaginary conversations and adventures all the time when I was younger. That was when my creativity was flourishing and at it’s strongest. I feel like I’ve lost vital parts of my true self when I agreed to compromise for the sake of others and tried to be more mature, more practical, and to live in the real world with real people.

I made a horrible mistake by choosing to major in journalism. I had the chance to switch my major to creative writing and I missed it. Even though I knew I wasn’t happy with the communications department and that getting out of it meant that I’d be happy. But no, I told myself that it wasn’t the mature thing to do, that I didn’t give it a fair enough chance. I am not meant to be like those other aspiring journalists. My mind is wired in a way that’s too different from them. I’ve tried to be open with the people in my classes, but in the end there’s nothing we have in common. We breathe in oxygen and eat food for survival. Comparison stops there. Plus I feel like I’m always under attack with the professors in that department. Even when I do the assignments in the most pragmatic way possible it’s never good enough or they don’t understand anything. Like I’ve written something in a completely alien language. Plus I swear to God whenever I do speak everyone always has this stupid deer in headlights look about them. Again, I’m filled with the need to punch them in the face. It’s not just at the communication department. It’s everywhere I go and every person that I meet. Then I have to hold my tongue back from saying what I really want to say…

-I’m sorry that I don’t do drugs.
-I’m sorry that I don’t drink like a frat boy.
-I’m sorry that I’m not into sports.
-I’m sorry that I play video games, watch movies, or do whatever that makes me a “hipster” in your eyes.
-I’m sorry for breathing the same air as you.
-I’m sorry that I don’t want to be like you.

Now I’m just ranting….

The point I am trying to make is…

The price I paid for trying to be mature, practical, and “normal” has cost me dearly. I feel like I’ve only been betraying myself. Nothing should come at that cost especially when your own happiness goes with it. I am not a normal person. I will never be a normal person no matter where I go or how much older I get. It’s time I make peace with that.

I believe that if I can make peace with that I will be happier, I will be more creative, and I can be freed from inhibitions placed onto me by others and from my own insecurities.

Audioslave said it best in song, “To be yourself is all that you can do”. God rest the soul of Chris Cornell, by the way.