dear cloud: 20

•••

06

April 1, 2018

Sunday

________________

Dear Cloud,

Hi baby.

It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon right now. I’m currently onboard a plane, the destination: back to our country, to home.

And since it’s a Sunday, that means we’re allowed to be honest.

 

Since that’s the way it has always been for me.

Today, I’ve never been more happy.

I’m happy and overwhelmed and excited because the Springtime brought you to me and because of you, I was allowed to restart my life over again. I am able to reinvent myself until I become a better version of Me. To continuously adapt and transform with everything life has blessed, gifted and thrown at me so that I can make my way towards You.

You who are everything and you who mean everything to me now.

Which is why I now know what’s in store for me. What’s waiting. It’s such an impossible dream but I know, I feel it in my soul, that I’m shaping my life to become better for you.

To prepare for you.

I also know that right now, I’m the one thing, and only thing in my life I can control and yeah. I do have a lot to work on because a convenient, easy, safe yet wonderfully challenging, and happy life is what I aim for, what I want to give you. And while it will take so much hard work, patience, faith and time, mixed in with more blood, sweat and tears, these can and will be built in 6 years.

For now, I’ll do right by our promise and begin piecing our life together with what I have. Laying down the foundation for the next great adventure of my life. To start working on and writing out the first draft of tomorrow—a tomorrow that leads to the reality of you.

And these will be built from love and everything I love right now, and the happiness I chase. Because the best things in life are mostly free and I am blessed to be able to grasp most of what makes me incredibly happy in my hands because they are right in front of me.

Such as being blessed with the unconditional love and support I get from my family—our family. Like the wonderful opportunities of being able to see the world and everything it has to offer with new eyes. Being able to enjoy the Universe’s kindness through the reality of real friends and strangers. To also seeing each day as an opportunity to keep learning and growing, while also failing upwards too, towards the best version of ourselves.

But do you know what’s a favorite of mine from all these, the one that can make me instantly incredibly happy?

It’s the music and all the songs I get to listen to. And all the rest that’s just waiting to be made and discovered and then listened to—once or always, anytime, and on repeat even.

There’s so much of the world to uncover, and I promise you we will do these together, but the hard cold truth is that sometimes that takes time and a lot of money—things I don’t always have. But, mang, we are so lucky, so blessed, because music?

Music will always be there. It has been there for me, for my Home, and now it will be there for you.

It will be there for you whenever you need it, or even when you think you don’t need it. For music has been there for me since I can remember and will play such a huge part in our lives.

It has helped me go through hard times and happy ones. It’s what keeps me sane and pulls me back from walking off the ledge, over and over again. It’s what helps me keep the faith and keeps me a little farther away from the Bully and Death, helps me manage my Issue, drowns out what might hurt me and shields me from all the words that can cut me down like knives, words shaped like bullets aimed at my soft, human heart and my struggling hypothalamus. It’s what anchors me, keeps my heart in the clouds and my feet on the ground, and reminds me constantly that music connects me to Home—no matter how far apart we are from each other.

And I am excited for you. Excited for you to hear and feel how music and songs will be there, just for you, patiently waiting for you.

I can’t wait for you to listen to your first song. To discover new music and see what makes your ear holes and soul so happy you can’t help but dance.

I’m also excited for the songs that will pull at your heart gut and make you feel everything. And the music that makes you cry. And cry.

And cry some more.

I want you to hear, and really listen, and let your soul, mind and body embrace everything and I am so, so, soooo excited for you. You have no idea, my darling.

I cannot wait for you to find your favorite band or musician, discover what you’ll consider as your favorite songs. I cannot wait for you save up your allowance to buy your first CD and listen to an album straight for the first time, because that will never ever happen again. To really crack open the plastic wrapper and mull over the album and absorb everything and anything from this piece of important plastic. I cannot wait for you to beg me to take you to this gig or ask for tickets to this concert for your next birthday—and I promise, to always, anytime say yes, begrudgingly even when I know you have school or exams the next day (but if you’re grounded, that’s another story, dear).

I cannot wait for you to cry over a band breaking up, or a music legend you look up to passing away. I cannot wait for you to get weird and sad and whiney over a musician that makes your heart burn. I cannot wait for you to keep discovering and listening to new genres and getting to learn how to appreciate every one of them without bias because good music is good music is good music, regardless of what other’s opinions are about them (—music appreciation is yours and yours alone. Accept rec’s, but my goodness, don’t stop listening to what you like just because someone else doesn’t appreciate these. Don’t also force your favorites on anyone. Just offer these and then allow them to build their own appreciation or opinion on your musical taste. But don’t worry, I have amazing taste in music so you’ll definitely have this as well since it’s ingrained in our DNA.)

 

I cannot wait for you to come up with your own playlists and mixtapes, arranging the songs and letting them flow and sound good to you and to whoever you want to gift these to. Or when you make these for yourself to commemorate your favorite experiences or even those that suck or make you feel like shit. I cannot wait for you to associate songs to feelings and experiences and even people. I cannot wait for you to feel the most kilig over songs, muling the lyrics and connecting them to your latest muse. I cannot wait for you to rage about something that annoys you, that you listen to angry music so that you could be as spiteful and petty without hurting anyone and just release all that violence by listening to anything loud and mad and then calm down after such a deafening but mood-changing music experience. I cannot wait for you to hide away and tear up when someone breaks your heart and you listen to sad songs on repeat for comfort (—I’ll make sure to bring you chocolate, bought or homemade, and wrap you in hugs and pepper your face with kisses, and just stay quiet, and to just listen if you want to share the sadness with me.)

 

But most of all, I cannot wait for you to love OPM, to really listen to the lyrics that come in Filipino or English, or both, or in a different dialect, or any genre or form these songs come in. I want you to love old songs, the classics, and appreciate and discover new local artists and support them by sharing their music with more people. I want you to love the songs that make up your history and the songs that you will carry with you forever and will fit into any mood, or your feels, or experiences you live out.

There is so much to be excited for, my dear. So while you are not here yet, allow me to make you playlist after playlist of the songs I love and I hope you will soon love too.

 

But if you don’t, it’s okay. I just hope you still listen either way.

Love, always, anytime

Your mother

️

r e c o v e r y: day 67

Happy Independence Day!

This next piece was written because I was trying to resolve some inner conflict. Because I realized, there were so many things going on in my life, so many answers I still needed to figure out, but I couldn’t get these immediately even if I kept following up so many questions.

And yeah, I know what I needed to do was remind myself, to still have a sense of control of the things I could still manage, so I don’t lose control of the one thing in my life I could actually still. Control. Which was: Me.

So that goes without saying, that this involved me, myself and my thoughts and how to deal with stress and well, a bunch of other things.

This is me trying to solve my own problems. I hope when I share these words with you, I pray you give me the patience to understand where I’m coming from, see all my frustrations to all my limitations when I was raised to feel like I was unlimited—because a lot of people asked me to be as patient as possible because of this Issue, my condition.

So here goes. This is called,

Answers

April 25, 2018

Wednesday

Yo, it’s me.

It’s me again. Sorry to bother you, I know that you busy helping other people out.

But, God, I’m kind of confused. I think a couple of screws might have come loose.

Before I lose myself, can I be real with you this time?

Please.

You see, I have so many questions, things I want to know, want so badly to understand.

And I’m trying to find you and hear your voice, but all I get is silence when I’m already patiently waiting for you still amidst all the chaos and the noise, inside and outside of my head.

There’s a million things I haven’t done, but still want to learn. I wanted to know it all, still want to know it all, maybe I was a know-it-all. Had this drive to know it all, everything and anything I can, because there is a million things I haven’t learned yet—but I could. I know I can.

I know, just knew what I wanted.

And I needed to know now.

I want to know now.

Because there’s so much I need to learn in order for me to grow, in order for me to keep progressing, to know who I am, so I could figure out what I could be, but also so I can know everything about what was wrong with me, and know how I can still be better.

Because I’m not okay. But I still wanna be better.

I wanted better.

But all of a sudden it’s like my life wasn’t mine no more, feels like I’m living in another timeline which wasn’t right anymore, on another level you see, ‘cause all of a sudden people can’t keep up with me. Or maybe they’re the ones living in slow motion, maybe I’m too fast for the rest of the real world, that they can’t even see

Me.

Everyone living life at their own pace, taking their time, taking all the time in the world and it was so frustrating because I was on time.

It’s true: I wasn’t too early, nor was I late. I was right on time.

But no one was getting me up to speed on what I needed to know. What I had to know.

When you want all the answers now, but no one is telling you what you want to hear.

When they’re all tiptoeing, daintily around you, making sure they don’t hurt you, or make you feel uncomfortable, not wanting to trigger you, because they needed to establish rapport too and they had to make sure I could trust them enough just so I can still be honest enough—but they can’t even set timelines?

Yo, that ain’t right. You see I work in advertising, so I’m used to living the fast life. I needed a date, I had to have those timelines set in place so I could manage my time wisely.

‘Cause none of you hear it, but I do. My clock was ticking at an irregular speed, faster than my own heartbeat. And it sounds a little like this.

When everyone’s clock was set like this.

Now, do you see the difference?

Because it’s a sound that’s been bugging me for awhile telling me I need to go now, I need to wake up now, I need to fight now.

And I need timelines for I have a strict deadline, I was working on borrowed time, time that was no longer mine, yo, my brain is on the verge of breaking down, I was deteriorating. So I needed help.

911, what’s your emergency: Hey, it’s me. Can somebody help me out, please? Can anybody help me please?

No?

Shit, line’s dead.

Fine, I’mma just help myself. I’ve been doing that so well for the past 24 years, anyway! I can take a hint! No problem.

Step back a bit, I gotta chill for a second, rewind and then start from the beginning—2000 and 11. Consult my old notes and studies again—oh hey, did I mention, I have a degree in Psychology, by the way. I knew my shit. Three years college education, 9 terms tuition paid in full, at a Top 3 local University, thank you mom and dad for enrolling me in the best school.

Now my blood runs green and white, and my head was still screwed on tight, but even with all the teachings from my teachers, I yearned for more, because these we’re just slides, notes on paper.

So I consulted a doctor. WebMd, my favorite physician and daily magician, for all your medical questions, they got the answers, no need for prescription papers, no paper money needed, no extra charge, just a click and refresh.

And, Oh. My.

I see.

And when you’re matching lines on the internet to the moments in your life when you thought you were doing great, doing just fine— all of a sudden it comes crashing down.

I realize the signs were all in my face, I was doing all the symptoms, I was exhibiting all the signs, even when I felt like I wasn’t overstepping boundaries—I was already losing my mind.

I mean, ever since I can remember I’ve always felt like the odd man out. Like I didn’t belong, like maybe I didn’t deserve to be here. It’s taken me a long time to finally accept me, accept that I had space here.

Me.

But just when I thought I was okay, turns out I wasn’t quite exactly alright anymore. But I know, I know that my heart was never out of place.

I knew I was hurting nobody, knew I was not hating on nobody: no person, no group of people, nobody, nothing. Not a thing. Not even even myself. Because I wasn’t a fan of pain, but I kept getting hurt for some reason....

But maybe that was the first sign—thinking I was not in the wrong, and maybe I was so wrong for thinking I was still right.

And it clicked.

I was crazy.

I was, because I always thought I was. For I believed in fictional magic and magic that could exist in this world—I thought I was magical even. But also I believed in faith and having patience, and trusting the process because everything was a gift.

I believed. I just did, and aspired and set out to do the unimaginable and keep on hoping and wishing for impossible dreams, knowing I could make them come true. To just look up and forward, focusing on the now but looking toward a future I wanted to achieve and grasp. Because I finally knew what I wanted and I realized that I deserved to still have it.

But these apparently, no matter how wonderful in my head, were and could be symptoms.

I was amazed at myself, for suddenly being so goal-oriented, wanting anything and everything for just believing and knowing I did deserve to finally have everything and anything now.

While these were all me but also could-be-symptoms. I knew the signs, I just thought it was all me.

It was still me.

It is.

This mental illness, this disorder, my Issue—is me.

It was now a part of me. And I love me for who I am.

But. I knew there had to be a change on how I loved myself. Knew I had to change how I took care of myself.

And I was deteriorating and fading fast but no one was giving me the answers I needed to hear because I still had a timeline I wanted to follow, a strict deadline that was drawing near, every moment I wasted not figuring out a problem I had to resolve made me feel like I was closer to something far stronger than anything of this Earth. And I needed to know everything about the problem, all the things that could wrong, because solutions couldn’t be drawn because I didn’t know what exactly was so wrong, all I know was that I was the problem—it was me, all along, and I needed answers to questions so badly—like what exactly was wrong with me?

But most importantly: how do I fix this?

How can I fix me, because I want to get better.

I need to get better.

So I consulted. One more doctor.

After all the online self-help articles on coping and managing because I can no longer be treated, I needed help with my management of this brain defect, this mental illness as well as all the stress, and so,

I made my way to the most reliable and unreliable source of knowledge on the inter web—hdoubletpcolondoubleslash.wikipedia.dotcom

I landed on the page and.

Found what I needed to know.

Don’t get me wrong, I know you can’t self-diagnose. I’m still patiently waiting for the analysis and the assessment of my true medical diagnosis.

But since it’s taking a little too long, and I’m a ninja always on the go, I finally have some unvalidated answers that can help me.

Help me help me manage, actually.

So yeah, when you’re sitting in front of a computer screen, not living in denial anymore, but wanting to change things.

Change yourself. So you click refresh

And you do it again. Learn everything and then,

You go again, go ahead and click refresh. Click refresh. And again.

And it’s a cycle.

Click refresh, click refresh.

Like waking up everyday, making a choice, coming to a decision for peace of mind, a new state of mind, and then you begin again.

Put in the work, the real work, on yourself and the one that helps you pay the bills and your meds.

And in between you find happiness, get to pursue what you love, and protect the ones you love, and also yourself—because you love yourself.

And then when the day is over you, fold your hands in prayer, feel a cross around your neck and then you say thank you.

You say thank you, out loud.

You say thank you because you mean it. You say it because you are grateful you had one more day, you had more moments, you had more time.

You say out loud, “Thank you more please” for you had one more day to stay alive, and know that you want more of these everyday’s, because you so badly want to stay alive and live—because I did.

I want to stay alive.

I need to stay alive.

And then repeat.

Click. Refresh.

r e c o v e r y: day 5

February 22, 2018

Thursday

2:31 AM Thoughts

I’m brought back to last Saturday. You said our timing was off. I stand by what I said, that the universe has been good to us.

The universe has been so good to the both of us.

But.

But maybe, just maybe. I’ve been right all along. I’m not blaming you, or everyone else who thought they liked or loved me for the matter, but I think signs point to the fact that I make people unsure of themselves, less assertive of the way they fall in like with me. It’s so easy for people to admit they have crushes on me, or that I appeal to their nature and curiosity, but that’s all there is to it.

It’s an accidental rush, you don’t know, can’t understand what just hit you that you can’t do anything but blurt out, “I love you.” instead of saying what’s really going on in your mind, like, “What the hell is happening to me? What the hell did you do?”

It was all an accident. A mistake. A bump in your path. Don’t worry, that’s all there is to it.

Because maybe,

Just maybe that’s the kind of romantic love I inspire from others. A shy love, a scared love, an anxious love, an “I’m not ready for you yet” love, an “I don’t want people to know I like you” love, a “nasasakal ako sa’yo” love, an “I don’t have to tell you or act on how I really feel” love.

All these types of love that can easily fade away. Temporary. 

Liking me is the usual, loving me isn’t mandatory. Hit and run, every single time.

There’s something about being in love with me that makes them so ashamed they need to hide our love, or worse. 

Leave.

And how I wish I knew why.

I can’t change even if I tried, even if I wanted to, because no one has told me yet, this secret that everyone else but I know.

I am the unlucky one. The fool. The idiot.

But.

This is who I am, this is how I love. With all I can give, with all of my human heart can show, charging forward relentlessly, taking every risk, going that extra mile, running, never walking, always towards you. Because I believe everyone needs to feel loved the way I love wholeheartedly, extra, with 120% of me. 

It’s tiring. But I won’t stop. 

I won’t stop. But it’s never enough. 

I don’t know what else to give. I don’t know how to change their minds.

What more can I do so that I can just stand right next to you? Please, tell me what should I have done so that I can still stand right next to you?

Because if loving you means you fading away, you waking up from a dream you thought was love, you leaving me behind?

Then I don’t want to love you.

But.

But I’m coming to terms with these facts now.

That maybe, just maybe, that’s all I’m meant for. That my love is just good enough to inspire a one week love, a forgetful love, a hidden love, an unrequited love, an “I can only tell you how I really feel when I’m drunk on a Sunday” love, an “I’ll outgrow you like all the others” love, a “Nobody has to know” love.

Nobody needs to know, love.

Because I am but a phase. A boss level in someone else’s life game. Overcome me and you’re guaranteed a future towards lifelong happiness and success, where true love awaits all those who venture here. It’s waiting for you, you only need to leave me behind to achieve it. 

No one ever picks me. 

I am the one left behind. 

I am but the day in someone’s yesterday, already forgotten. 

I am the person you thought you were in love with. But you grow up, move on, taking every love I ever gave you with you and away from me. 

Wendy, I am your Peter Pan, please open the window. Can’t you hear me, I’m calling out your name? 

But.

But I guess, that’s what my love is. 

It’s like a fairytale. A story. A short one.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s strong. So strong no one knows what to do with it.

It’s like a fantasy, a dream you have when you’re about to wake up, and when you do only remember traces of this love but later forget the important bits that kept you in the dream in the first place. 

My love is all of these things.

And above all, my love is fleeting.

It’s the love you need when you need it the most. It’s the love that might heal you.

Or not.

So whatever happens, whatever might have happened, I know I made someone feel so good about themselves, no matter how short. So good they forget me and leave me behind. Healed and then, the pursuit of happiness leading away from me. 

Now begs the question.

Should I have chased after you instead? 

dear cloud: 19

To CLOUD(y with a CHANCE of anything and everything because you will be the child of the girl made of storm),

I want you to love running.

Yes, you heard me, right.

Let me repeat myself: I want you to love running.

And, my dear, I don’t want you to just like it—you’re going to hate me one day for this, but I don’t care, because I am your mother. You have to love running.

And if you don’t, you’ll just have to learn how to love it.

Just like how you should learn and teach yourself to love anything and everything that excites and interests you, anything that catches your eye, everything that catches your fancy.

My darling, only know how to love one way, my way, and now yours.

Two words: Love. Hard.

Love hard, Cloud.

Go big or go home, right?

In school, at work, on stage, in life and especially in love—love like I do. Love like we do.

Love. Hard.

Love so hard you wear your heart, proud and unashamed, be as you as you can be, on your sleeve for the rest of the world to see always, anytime.

Love so hard it sets your heart on fire, makes you burn inside out, hurts you but still transforms you, makes you feel so alive always, anytime. 

Love so hard it changes you, teaches you, challenges and pains you, knocks you off your feet and the air out of your lungs always, anytime.

Love so hard you laugh and you cry, confuses you, makes you smile so bright your cheeks hurt, makes you bawl so bad you feel your soul cleanse itself through every tear always, anytime.

Yes, my dearest, my last hope, my CHANCE, I want you to love.

Love hard always, anytime.

But only second to how much you should love yourself. Again, always, anytime. 

Now back to running.

I want you to love running, Cloud.

I need you to love running.

I need you to run.

I need you to run as fast as you can.

I need you to run as fast as your legs can carry you.

I need you to run as fast, as if you were running your very last, making you run even faster than you know you could, surprising yourself.

Surprise yourself. 

I want you to use your two legs to jump and run, and feel the stretch of your muscles with every stride, allowing you to swing your legs, allowing you to leap and leap and leap, and go even further.

Further away from me if you want to.

Just keep running.

I want you to run and run and run.

I want you to love feeling out of breath, holding your breath, preserving the air inside your lungs, the only way running so hard can teach you.

And I want you to run so hard that you always end up feeling that way—out of breath. So that you live your life looking at the world, allowing anything and everything to steal your breath away at how wonderful it really, truly still is.

Run my dearest, darling, you.

So that when you run and reach the point when you think you’re already out of air to breath, promise me you’ll gather whatever strength you didn’t know was still in you—and then.

Keep running.

Full speed ahead towards the direction of what makes you happy.

Keep running.

Full speed ahead towards the direction of uncertainty and what scares you, and what makes you uncomfortable.

Keep running.

Full speed ahead towards a destiny of your choosing and work twice as hard for.

Keep running.

Full speed ahead towards a life you are allowed to shape into any form, making your own choices and decisions, and owning them.

Keep running.

Full speed ahead towards the best version of you, and continue reinventing yourself over and over again, so you never stop learning.

Keep running.

Keep running.

Keep running.

Keep running and save yourself.

r e c o v e r y: day 59

Hey there,

So... cried a lot last night because of, well, my own doing. As my 🔋 already told me, "See no Evil, etc.", but did I listen? Nope.

So yes, my own doing.

And then, a couple hours later, I cried again early this morning, but rest assured, this morning's cry session was very much a happier one compared to the one last night.

Because, today, I was reminded once again that there are people in my life who want the best for me and try their best to support me, or even genuinely even want to surprise me. And it's crazy because these are people who aren't even blood-related to me, or have known me for years. So yeah, #blessed indeed.

Because I feel really blessed that even if the One has left, in their place I now have the Two. When they left, two people came into my life to restore the balance and are there to keep me sane. Everything I ever felt with my twin flame I realized that I was so lucky because I got a 2-for-1 deal when they both came into my life, filling in the homie-sized hole that was left in my life.

At the start it felt weird to be talking to someone too close to Home, but. 

It felt right. I felt at ease. I felt happy. I felt safe.

Talking to my first 🔋 made me find a safe space. Talking to my second 🔋 makes me happy, especially when I see that she was also happy, and that if I was really lucky, I could make her happy. And when I'm worried, I go back and rant to my first 🔋 and then he tells me what I need to hear, because for some reason, they were always right, and then immediately I am put to ease.

Everything I felt towards my twin flame or Home, I could actually find this in other people, and it wasn't the same, but it was still enough.

It was still enough. 

And that's why I wanted to talk about something very personal today.

Ever since March 9, I have been talking to 🔋 almost on the daily because there are new things I'm trying to figure out about myself. And then when my manic episodes started happening, and already started seeking help and support for my mental health, there were things I sometimes have difficulty telling my parents right off the bat. And sometimes when I'm freaking the fuck out, I don't know how to think and what to do. And that's when I turn to the most gentle of oxen for they were always right.

But aside from that, I have to give credit where credit is due, because I wouldn't be where I am right now, who I am right now, if it weren't for the people who put me here. I owe it to my family who was the perpetual support system, to my friends who are the family I got to choose, and all the people who ever truly believed in me. I have Home, as well as my two 🔋🔋and, most importantly, I also have Cloud now.

But mostly, I owe the positive shifts to myself. To be here now because I chose to be here.

And that I still get to choose.


So I'd like to share another preview about  r e c o v e r y  that tackles my mental health and the Issue.

Ever since I can remember, well, since I was 10 years old actually, I always felt like I never belonged.

Always felt like I was different in a bad way. Always had this urge to leave, because I had this sinking feeling in my gut that I didn't belong no matter what I did, or where I was. Always felt like a stranger in my own home.

I felt out of place, and I just had this constant urge to get away. As a kid, I've always wanted to run away.

Back then, maybe I just had an overdramatic flare, or I just took too much inspiration from adventure movies I watched as a kid.

But when I got into college and studied Psychology, I realized I had suicidal tendencies.

I never really told someone properly about this self-diagnosis, but it was true. I wasn't obsessed with dying  just yet, but I was still suicidal in the sense that I just didn't want to exist, that I wanted to just be away.

And now that I'm much older and very much aware of what I now have, I have actually never felt more myself.

10 year old Arielle was different, she felt it and she was afraid, and she tried to be someone she wasn't.

But.

23 year old Arielle knows she's different, she feels it, and yeah, there are days she is afraid of what can happen should things go wrong, but the Me I am now is very much braver,  even with the Issue and all my issues.

I do admit that I'm not always right, even when I want to be. I also can admit that I'm not as strong as my twin flame, their hella stronger than me definitely. A twin flame is a mirror of who you are, but I know I can't be this person entirely, for what I have is something different and it's what separates me from everyone else and makes me who I am, even from them.

So even if someone owns half my soul, it doesn't make me any less of a person. 

I know who I am now more than ever. 

And especially with this Issue.

It was important to come to terms with having the Issue when Cara had her Bully.

I was afraid of being Cara, of being like my best friend in the end. But I had a resolve, I made a choice, that whatever happens, I will never allow anyone to feel what it's like to lose a best friend to suicide.

Never.

So with that, and if you're still with me, I'd like to share with you a piece I love. 

It's just me getting mad and fighting, as per usual. But it's me fighting the good fight for anyone who's ever felt that they were misunderstood for being who they are. Especially people who are like me, who struggle with the real world and come home having to deal with their own personal Issues, their own Bullies, their own demons.

That no matter what shit we have to deal with on the daily, no matter the heartache and heartbreak, no matter what the Issue does to the chemical balance in your brain, or if the Bully talks you into stepping closer to the edge of the ledge, or if death's just waiting for you around the corner as you cross the street? We gotta keep fighting, because no one should ever take us alive.

For we are still alive. This is our life. We are still alive to keep up the good fight.

This is me still fighting. For you, for You, for Me, and the Future.

I wrote this on a Monday, because on Monday's I try again.


~

April 16, 2018

Monday

I’m Fine, (No,) Thank You

Recently, I get asked a lot: How are you?

Before it was easy to answer. But now those three words are a loaded gun waiting to fire off. At me.

Because no matter what comes out after, doesn’t matter because no one believes me. Not anymore.

That I find it funny that when you used to make up words, when white lies were fine, when you said you’d go home earlier but couldn’t, when you used to lie between your teeth and say: I’m okay?

They believe you.

But when you start being honest, because honesty is the best policy, when you hate being guilty, when you can finally say what you’ve always wanted to say like: Yes, I’m doing okay?

They don’t. They don’t believe you.

So thanks for asking but what’s going on here? 

Because everyone all of a sudden thinks they know me. Thinks they know all about me from what they see.

She seems so fragile so twisted so odd so peculiar so loud so selfish so messed up so different.

So different. So? Why would you want to leave out the rest?

What happened to the other things, like: she seems like she’s strong enough, doing okay, doing much better, she can handle it, she’s doing good, why she’s so brave, so honest, so authentic, so nice, so selfless, you’ve changed a lot, where is all this maturity coming from, why she’s brilliant.

I know I’m brilliant. I have a different shine, I have a different light.

But no one’s really seen it before.

And somehow this makes others nervous, this makes them so afraid that there are people who want to dim this brilliance, snuff out the flame, turn the lights out. 

They shut me down, drown me out, make it dark, turn my light off. 

Turn them off because they don’t like what they see. 

They see me and they see danger.

And they are afraid because of what I can do.

They’re afraid of how my actions can hurt them when I don’t even know them.

They see me as a threat that needs to be destroyed. Sees me as an obstacle that needs to get out of the way, even when I’m not there, not even physically present in the room.

Thousands in attendance, why they were even looking for me, I wouldn’t know, but just because I didn’t show, all of a sudden I’m the talk of the town. And all because they didn’t see me. 

But no. That’s not who you see.

Because when you see me being kind, when you see me being grateful, when you see me saying thank you the only way I know how, when you see me hugging strangers and inviting them to dance? When you see me bow, and sing out loud and jump around because I still can? When you see me having the time of my life, celebrating my tiny successes and my life? When you see me celebrate me for who I am? 

You see something else. 

You saw me, you did. And you didn’t like it.

Because all of a sudden everyone knows enough about me that they can talk about me. And they can talk for me.

And they can talk to me and say, “There’s something wrong.”

Yeah, I know.

That’s why I’m here.

That’s why I’m asking for help in the first place. 

Because I know.

And when everyone’s telling me what I already know, what I’ve always known since I was 10 years old.

From a stranger who I’m supposed to trust, just because they have a few PhD’s between the two of us

From a friend who is more experienced and older than me, tells me she cares but also that I do not know how to listen?

Now who’s being more unfair?

When I know I’m not the victim, but you’re talking to me like I’m about to enter into a lifetime sentence.

I’m still not playing the victim card because I know who I am.

I know I’m the hero because like one I fight all the time. I know I’m the writer of my story, because I’m a work in progress. I know I am different, but that’s what makes me who I am. 

But you look at me and treat me different in all the ways that don’t count.

Like I’m wrong. 

Like I’m a lie.

Like I lie. 

Like I can’t be trusted.

Like I am ugly.

Like I am not worthy.

Like I am my illness.

But I know you really care. I do.

When you worry, when you worry for me, when you are afraid for me.

When you’re afraid of me. 

But no.

I’m tired. 

I’m tired.

I’m tired of proving myself. I’ve been doing that my whole life. Proving my worth, proving that I deserve to still stay, proving that I can be fought for.

But I just want to be me now. Can’t I be me for once? Now? 

And I know, I know okay.

Not because I think I’m always right, I just know because I’m self-aware not delusional.

I’m aware that I am sick. Yes, I’m sick in the head. But that doesn’t define who I am.

If you have a cold you aren’t branded for life when you’re trying to cope and even when you get better. They’ll even sign off your Sick Leave forms for you. 

When you have a headache, you can swallow a pill or two, and no one will judge you for it. They will give you the pill, no prescription needed.

Arielle

When you get into an accident, they rush you to the ER, give you all the medical attention because they want you live, They’ll fix you and then confine you in a hospital because they want you to be safe. Keep you safe until you recover. Because they want you to.

But when I can admit that there is something wrong in me but still can have the strength and the courage to say “I’m doing just fine”, because I don’t want to live in denial, I want to live in the now, and when I have accepted all of me but still is aiming towards my own Recovery? 

No one believes me.

No one.

In the time I needed them to believe me and in me—they don’t.

And I can be as genuine as true as me as I can ever be, but you will only see what you want to see.

What you choose to see.

And I chose for myself too. I get to choose because I can still choose. Because I still have that power to.

I am still free to choose.

And I chose. I chose to see what I want. And that means being able to stand in front of a mirror, to see all my flaws, see that I am broken. Look up and see me, but still say “I am hella cute”, because it took me so long just to be able to say that out loud and really mean it. To be able to say and own, “I am hella cute” even without the mirror, even with eyes closed, because I don’t to need to see it anymore just to believe it. 

And I chose. I chose to see the happiness I found in my life, what I’ve been surrounded by all my life. I used to be afraid because I thought the whole world hated me. I come into every room and think, “Shit, I don’t deserve to be here.”

Felt like a stranger in my own house, the black sheep of my family, the extra chess piece you can kill off at the start of the game because you can.

But I chose happiness anyway. Because I see it, I see it now and so I put on my shoes and chase after my happiness, what makes me happy, because it’s free.

And I chose. I chose who to love, whether or not they deserve it—whether or not you think they are worthy of me. Not everyone is as blessed, are as lucky as me.

I’m sick in the head, but I can still choose who I spend my time and energy on because those are valuable to me. And I have a lot of friends who I consider as family, and I have a family who I can call my friends.

But I will still choose Home, because they redefined what home means for me. I chose Him, because he matters to me. And I am alive because he exists and tells me he still wants me for all of me.

Teaches me to try to love again. Not just Him, but I can love myself again. 

Allows me to really listen to every unspoken “I love you so much” even when it’s not told to me. Even when Home can’t tell me in person, I know how much they still love me even when they can’t say it in words. But I still know His heart, hear it beat for me, because I hear my own heartbeat, because I chose to hear this.

I hear it. 

It reminds me that I am still alive. That I still exist. That I still have a lot to do. That I can be better because I deserve enough for being enough. 

So I keep choosing. Make my choices everyday. Choose to wake up and start over. 

But I will choose what I want and what I know I need.

So don’t tell me that there’s something wrong with me.

Because I know. We know.

We all know.

Because:

We’re crazy, not blind.

We’re sick, but we can still come to work the next day.

We’re tired, but we still make the choice to try again.

We’re trying, because we know we can be better.

We’re trying so hard to be better because we want to.

Be better. 

So thank you though for showing me how much I still matter.

But no, thank you, I won’t allow you to dictate and redefine things for me any longer. Society, schools, governments and even religions have already done enough, I don’t need more people to prove something that’s already been proven. 

No, thank you to misplaced advice. No, thank you for all those times you approached me just to see if I’m still on the verge of breaking down, just to reassure yourself that you’re a good friend. 

No, thank you for all the words I don’t even need to hear, especially “I’m sorry’s”, because I’m tired of hearing that. 

So,

No, thank you.

But all the same. 

I’m doing just fine. Thank you. 

How about you?