Creation Spark Therapy

So today did not entirely suck despite it being a singles Valentine’s Day for me. I woke up early and I had to argue with myself to get going to class. But I did it anyway. I had to meet up with the assistant dean of students and talk with him. Between now and last week I’ve already shared my struggles with five people. I feel like a broken record. It’s so much easier to write and share with people here because I know what sort of people are going to read thanks to the categories and tags. I don’t have to worry about the wrong person reading this that’s going to leave a nasty comment because it’s not written for that particular dumbass.

Having to talk with people face to face is a different hurdle for me. With a counselor, I don’t have a problem with that. Therapy usually helps when you actually speak. But to have to repeat myself again, vocally, and listening to myself talk about my tired ass issues makes me feel crazier, dumber, and more neurotic than I already think I am sometimes.

So I spoke with the assistant dean and he suggested that I sign paperwork for disability. I’m not thrilled about having to do it, but I said I was going to deal with my problems with everything I had. I need all the ammunition and help that I can get. If it requires me to swallow my pride and fill out an application in order to be accommodated then so be it. I don’t know how this is really supposed to work, but what I have got to lose at this point?

I have my own ideas on how to tackle this depression. But I know for a fact that I can’t put all my eggs in one basket with it. That’s why I’m willing to cooperate with the counseling and whatever the Dean tells me. If I believed that my methods alone were the best way to deal with this I’d never have to leave my room then.

I’m combining different methods of treatment. Tactile Sensory Therapy and meditation that I learned from last semester. Cognition Behavioral Therapy which allows me to identify the distortions that occur within my mind. I’m also learning new tricks that I can use as well.


I saw this and the idea that came from it really stuck to my mind. It’s helping me get more motivated. Even on days when I don’t want to get out of bed. I like points. I want to collect them. I took it a step further and added more things on my own list so that points rack up to exactly a 100. This increases my productivity. Every little bit helps right?

And of course there’s the use of my creativity. I call it Creative Spark Therapy. CST for short. Writing and creating is helping me. But the use of creativity doesn’t have to be limited to writing a story or creating a new wrestler. It could be creativity done in cooking, coloring pages, designing graphics, or playing with Photoshop.

I’m most likely going to come up with other inventive ways to combat my depression.

My mind is getting clearer. I’m digging down deep to find the strength that I need to follow through on things. And my “creation spark” is beginning to shine brighter than before. I’m going to come out on top. I’m tired of this depression kicking my ass and always feeling like I have no choice, but to just deal with it. It’s taken so much from me and I don’t want to lose to it anymore.

I’ve made my intentions known. The Universe will provide and I’m willing to go at things with maximum effort.

It’s time to call it a night.


Declaration of War

Oh boy oh boy. There is nothing that makes my life feel more complete than being able to experience anxiety and depression only to address it nonstop. How’s that for an opener?

I had written that I wasn’t depressed and that I was doing a lot better thanks to my creative binges. But now suddenly….


Here’s a rundown on what’s been going on with me. My depression has been coming and going in these waves. Some waves are small and easy to power right through. But now those waves are growing and trying to swallow me whole. It’s just like last year. I felt this happening inside of me and I didn’t do anything about it until the summer semester, which was after so much damage had been done. My loyal followers from back then will know what I’m talking about. All you newbies, sucks to be you right now if you’re lost and confused.

My energy keeps waning, I’m losing the ability to concentrate, I have little food stored up in my house, and my bank account is in the negative while my refund check is taking FOREVER to process. I’m literally as hungry and irritated as all of Venezuela right now. If you don’t get the cultural reference, again it really sucks to be you. Consult Dr.Google to connect the dots.

I had already made the decision to go seek counseling again earlier this week. My Mom and my cousins are my motivation for wanting to get better and keep going. I’m not in my darkest place and I want to keep it that way. I want to go to keep a problem from getting bigger. I don’t want to go when I’m in another tight spot that I have to fight tooth-and-nail to get out of like I had to last summer. I told this to one of my professors when we met during office hours. She suggested that I go to the Dean of Students with this. And I did. I marched straight to his office right after and spoke with him. He set up an initial consult for me and I went yesterday.

Between that Monday night phone call with my Mom and the consult I was feeling fine. There was nothing negative going on. But when I got back to the house things changed. Flood gates burst open and now the Nightmares are back with a vengeance.

I’m getting triggered left and right by little things again. Sounds of footsteps, a dog’s barking, doors opening and closing. I can’t seem to handle being around people all of a sudden. I see someone smiling, couples holding hands, friends having a good time, not having a care in the world and it just fucking offends me.

I tried to go to bed early but my brain just wouldn’t turn off. My body felt hot. The hunger pains kept increasing. My thoughts were racing. Suddenly I can’t concentrate on my schoolwork nor my creativity.

I’ve always referred my depression as the “Nightmare Syndrome”. I’ve made the analogy that dealing with the negativity combined with daily living feels like fighting a bunch of monsters, referring to them as “Nightmares”. I can’t help but almost feel like they’re acting out because I opted to deal with the problem so soon. Like they’re trying to exact revenge upon me. Maybe even try to make me quit before I truly start up my sessions, continue my creative work, and finally finish things with school.

Anyone who’s been following me from the very beginning know where this is going right? I’m not backing down. I’m going through with things. Yeah, I’m already feeling cornered and trapped, but I know I can get out of it. I’m declaring war on my Nightmares. Whatever challenges come my way I will show no mercy. Anyone who stands in my way, says or does anything to make me feel shitty about myself or try to obstruct me in any way will be dealt with in the same way as those Nightmares.

I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m royally pissed off, but I have the greatest weapons, armor, and powers to fight back and win. And I’m not alone anymore! I know I’m not! I got my Mom, my cousins, my real friends, and a whole lot of characters living in my head that can help me!

So I’m going to counseling again, but I don’t see that as a failure or defeat. I need help and I went out of my way to ask for it. I don’t care how tough you think you are, but admitting to needing help and nutting up to ask for it requires a lot of strength and courage. I’m showing strength and courage by getting the jump on things before it becomes a Doomsday situation in my mind. That is all.


For the longest time I’ve always wanted to be able to write stories. From the time I was little I was always making these scenarios in my mind, not realizing that I was weaving stories in my own way. I was weaving stories in everything that I was doing. Scribbling down ideas on notebook paper, playing with my action figures, daydreaming how I could emulate the adventures I’d seen in films and books.

For a much longer time I prevented myself from truly embracing my creativity. Whenever someone insulted me or hated on my ideas I took it hard. Whenever someone said that being a writer wasn’t a “practical” career choice it dashed all my hopes and dreams of the future.

Everyone’s thoughts, opinions, comments, intentionally hateful or not, suppressed me. Then I started to buy into it. I suppressed myself with my own theories, my depression, and the like.

I refer to my imagination as the “creation spark”. And now I feel like my “spark” has grown to the point where it’s devoured me in body, mind, and soul. Lately whenever I get involved with something creative it feels like reality fades away. And not only that all the usual noise I’m used to getting from my depression and anxiety…it’s completely silenced.


Whenever I’m creating something on my WWE game, time slips away from me. Nothing else matters. I don’t hear the disembodied voice that tells me I’m not good enough, never pretty enough to attract a suitor, or that I’m worthless. Even bigger thing to point out is that I’m not comparing myself to other creative minds anymore. I don’t feel anyone else towering over me. That, by itself, is one of the most liberating and empowering things I’ve ever felt.

I don’t care about anyone else’s work. Not even the ones I’ve always admired like Stan Lee, Tarantino, or any of the people I’ve known in my personal life. In my mind, I’ve already declared myself the best creator there is. I haven’t been limiting myself to this WWE game of course. I’m creating my own worlds, finding myself, learning new things, and it’s helping me make sense of everything in this reality that’s always warped my mind.

Somehow I’m becoming completely “Nightmare Proof”. My brain is getting re-wired in a way that overpowers all the depressing thoughts and feelings of anxiety. I feel a lot stronger. I feel like I’m my most authentic self right now. Things don’t worry me like they used to. And if there’s a problem I’m prepared to deal with it.

I’ve always referred to my depression as the “Nightmare Syndrome”. I’ve talked about how every experience feels like fighting monsters left and right. I think now this is the time where I have all the right armor, weapons, and skills needed to actually fight back against all of the things that have ever tried to destroy me; my depression, this unfair reality, and all the people that try to break me down.

I’m still getting the hang of things, but I’m going to see what happens from here and keep everyone posted.

Oh yeah. One more thing. I’m going to create a second site meant for fictional works that I’m willing to share. So for all the loyal followers that are interested, stay tuned and I will keep you updated.

The name of the site is Creation Spark Central. I will be sharing stuff like my fictional universe, my wrestling promotion, my own superheroes, my own everything. Show you what kind of acid trip imagination that I have. It’s not just to show off my writing skills, but also nurture my creativity so that I will never lose it again. I’m not trying to get published and become famous here. Writing and creating need to be fun first before they become a full time job after all.

I leave you with that. Signing off now!

It’s That Time Again…

Time to brave through the academic gauntlet!! I’ve got a podcast, two articles to write, and another mammoth sized paper to finish before the Christmas break hits!! It’s going to be tough but I’m going to go all out and give it everything that I got!! Here I go!!


To My Biggest Hater


Dear Depression,

I don’t have to listen to a word you say anymore. I don’t need to believe anything you echo into my brain. Yeah you might be a part of me and you might be another driving force behind my writing, but that doesn’t change that fact that you are a hatchet faced lying piece of shit. You’re the part of me that doesn’t want to live and be happy because it’s easier for you to stay where you are, as you are. Stagnant, twisted, hating others, and then react like a fool when things don’t go your way. All you’ve done is weigh me down. I try to show you that life is worth living, I try to love you like all the other parts of myself, I try to convince you that not everything is all doom and gloom, not everyone is a cancerous human being, and not every challenge has to be a fight to the death. I try to show you that there is beauty in everything but all you’ve done is piss all over everything and spit at my face.

You might be a part of me, but you’re just one part that I have to live with. There’s more to me than just you. You’re not the driving force behind anything I say or do anymore. You’re not my crutch, I don’t need a crutch. I don’t need to prove or do anything for you or for anybody else. So I’m gonna live, feel good, and do the damn thing for myself. You don’t get to be a factor in anything anymore. So fuck all your noise. In fact, fuck your shit. I’m done with you. I’d love to say “It’s been fun”, but we both know that’d be a bold faced lie. This is goodbye!

Alex “Pen” Martinez

Bad Catholic

I’m not a religious person. I don’t like taking part in theological discussions. My relationship with the Universe has always been questionable at best. I like to say “Universe” instead of God. The name “God” feels so foreign and heavy in my mouth whenever I say it aloud. It makes me feel uneasy. The same is also true with the idea of getting down on my knees and pray. So whenever I feel the need to ask the Universe for guidance or help I write letters instead.

I was baptized in the Catholic church, but I haven’t set foot within an actual church since I was probably 11 years old. Never mind the fact that I’m gay, but the idea of conforming under the Catholic faith just seemed too restrictive for me. I wanted to keep myself open to other beliefs. I try to be understanding of other people’s religions, but then I sometimes thinks that it clouds their eyes. Sometimes I think it even robs people of their free will.

I had written before about how the Universe had sent me signs. I do my best to interpret the signs on my own because there’s no one else who can read them for me or tell me my fortune. It’s how I’ve been doing things for the last 8 years. I thought it would lead me to a better reality where I wouldn’t have monsters living in my head or have to always fight for my own survival.

The inside of my mind is a battlefield. Wars raging on 24/7, all 365 days of the year. My depression has created monsters and villains that I see trying to destroy everything good and decent. The heroes I see in my mind’s eye are the people that I wish were in my life to fight my battles for me. I have no such people in reality. I have no champions that are flesh and blood. I only have myself. And my inner demons are always these intangible beings. The irony is the deeper I fall into depression the more aches and pains I start to feel all over my body. As if I were in a real battle for my life.

I don’t know why but today my mind has been in that dark place that I’ve been trying to get out of. I didn’t understand why. Especially after I had spent all of yesterday cooking up a storm. I was feeling good while making gimbap, frying up shrimp and chicken, and chopping up vegetables for my stir fried rice while listening to good music playing. I was happy with cleaning up in the kitchen too. Then I enjoyed all that good food while watching The Hateful Eight on Netflix. Then I went to bed happy and woke up a mess. Then the power blew out. The electric bill had been paid. I know this because I’m the one person in this house who is in control over it.

One of my roommates had a small fire coming out of the outlets in his room. The fire had been put out, the house is still standing, but he also cut the power of the house. Next thing I know the landlord came over to address the problem. As usual everyone except me gathered around and commenced with the usual, “I hate my fucking landlord” bitch rant. I’m the only one that doesn’t take part in it. My biggest reason why is because I’ve been down that road with my Dad, with Mike, with the roommates I had at the Cottages, with all of Boone. I was angry with the whole Universe. I had all this malice accumulated inside of me and it nearly destroyed me completely. I don’t want to go through something like that ever again if I can help it.

I knew that they were going to be pissed off about something so I kept my headphones plugged in and I did my best to write something, anything, to keep myself from falling further into whatever bad spell I was already in. I had the volume up high, I made sure to pick the loudest song on my playlist, I was getting lost in my own world, and I was finally able to string together some sentences that didn’t come across as incoherent. But that’s when Marissa went and pulled out my headphones so I could be part of the “house meeting” with the landlord present when I really didn’t want to. There were talks about possibly stepping out of the house for a night while someone came in and worked on the wiring in the house.

It had been suggested that we should spend the night at someone else’s place if we couldn’t brave through the night without power. When someone asked me what I was going to do I slipped out, “I have no choice but to stay here. I have nowhere else.” I might have slipped out “no one” instead of “nowhere”, now that I think about it. Everyone heard that. I didn’t know why I had said that out loud.

Marissa offered to let me come with her to her boyfriend’s place and so did the landlord. I didn’t know how to answer other than just say, “Thanks. I’ll keep your offers in mind”. I was very monotonous with my response. Everyone went their own way and left the house to do whatever. The power in the lower part of the house had been restored, but not in the upper part where I sleep. So I stayed down and did my best to distract myself from my own thoughts. At some point the landlord came back to the house with these mini-fire extinguishers in case something else happened. Next thing I know I blurted out more stuff.

I told him about my depression. Not everything about it. But he knew there was something off about me nonetheless. I described it to him as this dark miasma that tries to suffocate me. I don’t know what came over me when I was sharing all this. I don’t even know why I was feeling down in the first place. It wasn’t even the strongest spell I had experienced, but I was feeling it anyway. The next thing I know he put his hand on my shoulder and asked if he could pray for me. I said, “Sure”. I mean, how could it make things worse? So he closed his eyes and prayed for me. He gave me a hug, offered up a room at his place if I felt uncomfortable about staying here tonight, and said we could hang out sometime.

Everyone always talks about how much they hate him and joked, “Oh well, we’re not supposed to be friends with our landlord”. But I didn’t pick up on any insincerity or malevolence from him at all. Especially during that prayer. This was only 2 hours ago and it made me want to write about it.

For a moment I almost thought he was the “Dream Man” I mentioned before. But I know that’s just wishful thinking. Pretty sure he’s as straight as straight gets. But I did appreciate his concern and that he listened to me. Even though it was through some involuntary slip.

Normally I wouldn’t give something like this a second thought, but there’s something about all this I just can’t seem to shake. It makes me wonder if my trust issues weren’t limited to people alone, but maybe to the Universe when this entire time I had believed that the one person I mistrusted most of all is myself.

The more I think and write about this I’m plagued with more questions. I don’t even know if I’m making much sense right now to be honest. But at least I feel better. That depression spell or whatever you’d like to call it has run it’s course.

I’ll find my answers and I will stand by own convictions.
Until then, signing off.