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.
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.
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