Category Archives: Twilight Zone: The Everlasting Metamorphosis of My Life

The Abyss of…

…yes my dearest cyber friend…

…the abyss of DEPRESSION…

I know I need to write about it but the words escape me. No! There’s no shortage of words, what exists is the inability to combine them in a full depiction of my current state.

Most of what I feel is an endless line up of emotional paradox. Instances of mind states that seem to fluctuate from mediocre happiness to assertive self-loathing.

How did I get here?

Am I not supposed to feel lucky to have everything I have, to be everything I am, to just be? As some of my most intimate and well-intended friends so motivationally and predictably tell me so?

ugh…I feel bad for feeling bad. I feel ungrateful for feeling ungrateful. It’s a self-sustained spiral.

I have given myself many reasons for having arrived here, floating in these murky waters and enveloped by this thick fog that has effectively blinded me to everything that surrounds me. Feeling as though I’m trying as hard as I can to move, only to  find myself in another spot that seemed slightly clearer…and it is…but only for a fleeting moment. The currents keep pulling me towards all that murk and thickness. The gentle kelp wraps around my legs and I’m stuck again.

But…but…I’ve always been a strong swimmer.

I’ve always carried my own “de-murkenator”.

My legs have always been strong in detangling myself from all the easily breakable kelp.

My tools for de-humidifying all the fog and cut through any thickness have always reached “mission accomplished” status.

No matter how long it took. They’ve always worked.

Are there any manuals or 1-800 numbers that can walk me through the rebooting process?

Is there a return policy on these things? I want my fucking money back!

I am so FUCKING frustrated. Unmotivated. Insecure. Irrational. Unsure.

I tell myself with the assertion of timeless fables that there’s a reason for all of this.

I am HUMAN.

It’s ok to find myself in this…

I’ve had a major life transition with its accompanying pressures.

I’m away from the people that I love the most. Where can one possibly go to shoot the shit? Where can one possibly go to cry? To laugh? To commiserate? To just be together?

How is it possible to change the laws of mathematics so that $1000 – $3000 equals $5,000?

How am I not to feel utterly angry, appalled and helpless at the unjust fact that my mother has been barred from entering the US for another 6 years? As if she was a criminal.

How can I not worry about the fact that my mom was living by the foot of a major slum in a big Rio de Janeiro city? Sharing her room with other strangers…sharing a tiny space in a closet for her clothes while keeping the rest in bags and boxes?

How can I not worry about the fact that my mom has no income and relies on her children for financial support. One of them, being me, whose income has been reduced to the point that it’s not enough to sustain her own needs, but still must send money to her mom. Well…because if that doesn’t happen…my mom…goes…without…the most basic of needs: food and shelter. Even if it’s not the kind of food my mom deserves. Even if it’s the kind of shelter that lies at the very first steps leading up to the slum.

How can I not feel somewhat responsible for having filed her visa paperwork while she was in Brazil? Meanwhile, if I had filed the same paperwork if she was here…the BAR would not have applied and she would have received her green card in a matter of months.

How can I not be pissed that my mom went to Brazil to be with her 96-year-old mother, but was only able to see her very few times over a period of 3+ years? Her own sister was keeping my mom away from my grandmother for reasons I will never understand…but unfortunately have to do with her greed for whatever money my grandmother had. My mom was on a schedule for phone calls!!! Once a week if that!!!

How can I not be FUCKING ANGRY that my grandmother passed away and my mother was only informed of her own mother’s passing on the day of her burial services? What the fuck kind of human being does that? My mom’s sister did!

I couldn’t be there with my mom to comfort her, to hold her hand, to cry with her…to be her daughter and friend. All because those greedy, soulless motherfuckers (aunt and her husband) were HORRIBLE human beings.

There are many more terrible things these two have done to my mom and continue to. Why? It is so unfair!

Yes…I can worry. Yes…I can feel sadness for this reality.

But DEPRESSION??? What the fuck is wrong with me?

I tell myself to suck it up, but continue to choke helplessly.

I’ve resiliently sucked it up so many times before.

You see…

My major life transition? Well…I am in a fully paid PhD program whose faculty has given me due recognition for my ability and intelligence. A program, that had my head spinning for a few months, but whose enriching challenges I’ve overcome and may I say…mastered.

I’m away from everybody I love because that very PhD program had me move about 1,700 miles across the country.

I own my condo, which is rented out to wonderful tenants, in an area that will pay dividends in the future.

Though I cannot change the law of mathematics, thankfully, I have earned the respect of my colleagues and seniors to be able to boost that first number from $1000 to enough at least to break even.

My mom is a cancer survivor! She received treatment in the same country that has now barred her for another 6 years. There’s much brightness in that. I am Thankful.

Although I cannot send all the money I’d like to…I still can send enough to cover the basics.

My grandmother lived to be 96 years old! What a blessing! She had a wonderful life and was always so healthy. There is much brightness in that too! She got to meet her first grand-grand children when she came to visit us in the US the last time.

Those greedy motherfuckers are just that…greedy…ugly…motherfuckers. Pointless and worthless human beings.

I get to travel often back “home” to see my family and friends who I love and miss dearly.

Many of them have visited me. I can call them any time.

So you see…although things are not perfect…they’re pretty FUCKING GOOD.

I just have to keep reminding myself of all of this messy wonderfulness that life is.

Break away from that gentle kelp. Keep swimming with a purpose…with my de-fogginizer and de-murkenator. With my FUCKING strong legs and arms and body and being.

Realize that the murk is nothing but stirred up sand from the bottom that quickly settles if I’m just patient enough. That the fog, with its moisture…is pretty damn good for my skin…and may I say…adds a romantic and curiously mysterious feel to life.

I promise to keep reminding myself of that..while also reaching out for help from folks that have been trained to help folks who find themselves struggling just like me.

 

 

 

 

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This is what it is…

<sweetest bull dog>, Amor, Lindo, Gostosinho!

First of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Feliz Aniversario!

I don’t really know where to begin.

I’m not sure if you knew this but I daydream a lot <read…constantly…it’s a mystery how I get things done in my life. Really!>

For me, daydreaming is such a great and fun way to think up ridiculously utopic ideas, to find myself in completely off-the-wall wild situations, to live absolutely “cheesy” romantic moments (yep…that’s right!) and experience everything that is latent in my experience. Well…since I met you I’ve been finding myself in the space(s) between being awake and daydreaming. Let me see if I can explain…

I find my thoughts wandering through the pleasant, calming and ecstatic emotions of daydreaming about being with a man I love, desire, respect and admire while simultaneously experiencing reciprocation.

With eyes wide open, I daydream that this man is virile and gentle, intelligent and goofy, nerdy and a bad ass, wants me but doesn’t need me, is supportive and understanding yet can put me in my place…a man who can see through my insecurities…witnesses my crazies and ugglies…and who sees and is curiously perplexed by the essence of “me”.

As I vividly experience these (non-serial) series of moments, concocted by yours truly, I transition in and out of that awesomeness that my subconscious so kindly graces me with to find that I am actually living it.

Being with you and loving you is morphing those “spaces” together. I didn’t think it was possible. This is that space between being awake and daydreaming that I mentioned earlier. It’s that feeling of “pinching oneself” and quickly shaking your head from side to side in happy disbelief…as in…”did you just see that?”. It’s that feeling of “is this real?” The feeling of “fear that it is a fleeting reality” The naïve feeling of “oh my! Could my incessant daydreaming have caused this man to actually exist?” (I may need to run some trials on this one J).

I don’t know what this is…and I don’t need to explain it. All I know is that you are in my life and I’m experiencing moments that I had only daydreamed about in the past. Thank you.

I love you, like my mind does when it wanders through some ridiculously crazy adventures…wades through all the ”cheese”…and continues to push forward in complete curiosity.

Thank you!

Happy Birthday!

Love,

Sassi the Spider


Note to self…self-compassion…

write about it!

exercise it


Breakthrough…Thank you sweet chaotic guy

Hi <sweet, chaotic guy>,

I’m not sure why or what I am writing, but I know it is necessary. This means that whatever follows below…is purposefully unedited.

I deeply dislike how things played out, and quite honestly, am a bit perplexed by our reactions and the resulting lack of resolution.

I’m not sure how something so beautiful, pure and vulnerable (i.e., opening up to you about how my feelings had evolved over the past few months) turned out to be so contentious (?), antagonistic (?) and just generally unpleasant.

I have been on your end of things, and have had guys open up to me about their feelings. Even when I can’t reciprocate the feeling, I always feel flattered and go to great lengths to not hurt them in such a vulnerable moment. It’s worked sometimes, and other times…well…it’s a matter of time. I am still great friends with every one of them.

On the topic of keeping the friendship, I will correct myself. I obviously want to keep our friendship. I think it is really special when you find somebody whose interests, dreams, perspectives and many other things resonate with your own, despite the healthy/constructive differences. I don’t take it for granted. I don’t take you for granted. I don’t take our friendship for granted.

When I impulsively said I didn’t think a friendship with you was realistic, I was referring to my reservation to continue being hurt, even if inadvertently, by you. I don’t like being hurt. In fact, nobody should like or tolerate being hurt.

I feel that you had some things to tell me that you had not shared previously. And you made those things the focus of our conversation (asking me what I do for work/school, revisiting things that happened months ago, etc). You said I was raising “all these walls” and acting standoffish. Paradoxically, I was feeling completely bare, vulnerable and open. I was confused by the way you were reacting. It’s almost as if you were in disbelief that I had just shared those feelings with you.

I must admit that I may have given you the impression that “anything goes” with me. Possibly even that I’m “too understanding”, but I was counting on you knowing I’m human, and as a human being…well… have feelings. At the end of the day, people are not that different from one another at the most fundamental level (for as much as we’d like to believe we are).

Sex in the beginning was just that…sex. But I’ve always taken sex a bit more “deeply” (?) I guess. And over the months, it became an extension of our friendship, another way to share intimacy, to share affection. But that’s on me and I take full responsibility for it.

For me, hearing you talk, at length, about your ongoing “obsession” and struggles with your ex, and your ongoing pursuits of other girls, just felt straight up shitty. I urge you to please put yourself in my shoes. Imagine a girl you’re interested in (and having sex with) describe to you how many guys she’s been sleeping with (while sleeping with you), etc…how would that make you feel? Maybe, it wouldn’t affect you at all…but for some reason, I doubt that.

I also feel the need to elaborate on calling you “self-absorbed” and saying that I am not your “psychiatrist”. Ugh…this actually made me feel horrible. While many of the things I told you are true, and by true I mean, how I perceive you, I also think that a bit more context would help you understand that I didn’t mean to hurt you, or point the obvious.

<sweet, chaotic guy>, I feel very honored that you trust me enough and feel comfortable to share all the things you have shared with me. Some of them were very intimate and sensitive things. Thank you. I was always a bit confused with whether you shared all those things with me because you trusted me, or just because you do that with everyone regardless of trust.

I also know that because of your childhood and the way you were raised (sometimes I feel like I could sit your dad down and tell him….”WTF?!”), you have a deeply rooted need for attention that escapes your conscious control (right now anyways). Well…because you had to fight so hard to get your parents attention and love. Especially your dad’s, and that’s a major caveat to your personality today.

In some of your “hyper-focus, hyper-sensitive” moments, you also told me “Yeah <sassi the spider>, I used to be picked on a lot when I was younger. So I can be a bit over-reactive and defensive at times.” Or in talking about girls you’ve dated you said, “I used to always go for the low-hanging fruit.”

I’m bringing all of this up because I want to reassure you that I was always actively listening and present in the moment with you, <sweet, chaotic guy>. And based on all the great moments that we shared, whether we were climbing, biking, eating, or just being…combined with all these subtleties of your personality, and non-verbal cues that I actively observed, I do truly understand where all of this seeming “self-absorption” comes from. However, the word “self-absorbed” does have its negative connotations, so I need to find a better word to describe it.

So I felt REALLY shitty for pointing out something that you must already be painfully aware of. And I know I can be very strong and assertive when I talk, which can “hurt” even more. IT WAS NOT MY INTENTION. I truly find GREAT pleasure in making people feel loved and happy.

I never had a problem listening to your “dramatic adventures”. I actually thoroughly enjoyed them. Some were interesting, some not so much, some were funny, or serious, or really not a big deal at all.

But in all of this, I also think that you can be more self-aware, so that you also allow others to share their stories with you. This shouldn’t happen only when you are working with a subject to get their stories. That focus should be there for people who are special and part of your daily life. This is NOT advice. This is just constructive feedback. Please believe me.

I’m writing all of this to say that, if I do really have feelings for you, then it’s natural and obvious that I would still like to keep the friendship. It’s silly, and quite childish, to wish otherwise. We all have our kinks to work through.

There are quite a lot of things we’d like to change about our pasts huh? But the beauty is in embracing everything and finding resilience despite the adversity. It’s what makes us pretty awesomely textured human beings. The rest is just trying to figure out as we go, making gradual progress towards a better us.   I am probably better, because of your presence in my life. It is very likely. Who knows…?

Finally, I must really thank you for this major milestone in my progress in “openness”, in re-learning to just let go and feeling comfortable in vulnerability. I’ve always been open, loving, caring, sweet (and a pain in the ass sometimes J). I think somewhere along the way, after my last relationship, things changed and unfortunately, I wasn’t fully aware of it. I guess I still had much to process from my 7-year relationship, and virtually blocked people out. By people I mean guys with the potential for a relationship. So I may have hurt others inadvertently as well.

I feel like most things in life are all just a fleeting reality. You live in the present, embrace the learning experiences and continue to push forward. Hopefully, as you push forward, you are a slightly improved version of your “yesterday” self. That’s all you can hope for. I feel that’s precisely what’s happening here, and it feels quite great.

<sassi the spider>


Well…it happened

Precisely on April 17th, 2015…

I’ve rolled myself out and exposed every little crevice…

It’s liberating…

It’s confusing…

It’s scary…

but I did it…

(more to come)


And then there was fluttering…

I love him <no, I don’t really love him>

I don’t love him <but he sure has poured through some long uninhabited old cracks>

I love him as a friend <but it feels so incredibly comfortable, and familiar, and unassuming, and easy>

It has been too chaotic…intense! <What does that even mean? There you go again, trying to distill every real moment to its most fundamental units until it makes sense, in your coward attempt to numb yourself so you can go back to your self-induced slumber>

I don’t remember when or how it happened. I have been deceiving myself for some time now. How did I get here? Does it matter? Isn’t what matters what is, and what can be…

I want who I am to really be.

I’ve been shyly and desperately breaching the surface to gasp for air. I heard somewhere that humans need air, but my heart should be studied. I mean…my lungs.

That lovely air! Oh that loving air! It feels so soothing…so supple is my heart. I mean…my lungs.

I can’t imagine the vulnerability of my lungs as they expand and passively deflate with each breath.

I can’t believe the strength of my heart with each butterfly that is felt.

The cadence of the breath changes with the flapping wings.

Every time.

Heart gently pounds…

I think I mastered the art of controlling my breath in these moments. Masking true expressions of vulnerability…of myself.

Lately, I have intermittently been letting go. I want all the flapping to happen. I want all the unsynchronized breath it causes. I delight in the vibrating skin over my left breast.

I have always been that being of pure spontaneity from the moment I left my mother’s womb.

Perhaps, even before.

Why have I been muffling myself?

I want the intermittence to become permanence. I want all its wonders, warmth, pain, bareness, ugliness, frailty, chaos, strength, truth, synergy…

I want its human-ness.

All this fragrant fluttering will kindly fan me awake from that wasteful slumber.


Robotica

Am I a robot?

I found myself wondering today.

I ran a quick inventory of my past experiences to rebut such a silly thought.

I reached deep into areas that looked greyish white with all the dust.

The hallways extended into the horizon, I could barely see the end.

It felt endless.

I strolled around the seemingly infinite corridors for a while.

Some were well lit. Others in complete darkness.

It was like walking around a very old library…or a museum.

There were rays of sunshine coming through the small cracks in the windows like laser beams.

I could see stuff flowing in the air for brief moments in those bright rays.

Not just dust. There were other things. Doing their dance.

I could tell the Sun was setting.

I felt my way around in the dusking alleys…pupils dilated…until I remembered…

I came prepared this time! I brought a torch.

I dusted, and mopped, and placed some vibrantly colorful flowers in some areas.

I retrieved some old laughs, painful tears, hysterical giggling, stories of love, and anger, and deception, and deep devotion.

So much! I felt inundated.

Everywhere I turned there I was! Young, old, ugly, beautiful, kind, mean, angry, ecstatic…all at the same time.

“Well”, I thought to myself, “if I have emotions then it follows I am definitely not some technological marvel of a robot.”

A robot that looks so human.

A robot that feels human to the touch.

A robot whose metal body is immune to the rusting and rotting resulting from all the lacrimal matter.

After hours of close examination, I realized I had forgotten to fire the torch.

Curiously, I could see everything clearly.

On a second scan, of more recent files, I was confused.

I found it rather numb.

Chapters of what could be turned into the most dramatic stories.

A lot of frustrated and angry projections of which I was the bull’s eye.

The archives showed a cool poise.

A deliberate reaction.

Almost coldly calculated.

Dense dialogues filled with words to harmoniously accompany such…such…a robotic expression.

As I began to once again question my automaton existence.

I was quick to file away said archives.

Accompanied by the absence of desire to access them.

“They are what they are…” I thought to myself.

I am worried.

Or could this be the result of all the years of internal laboring away?

Similar to the dusting, revisiting, placement of flowers, as I happily and inquisitively strolled along those infinite hallways.

Nah! I am human!

I must be. My parents, who are human, conceived me out of love.

I pinched myself just to make sure.