Life As I Know It

Wassup Mi Gente!

How are you?! I hope this finds you well and cozy cuz it's cool out! 

I share with you the last few days of life as I know it. It was yesterday afternoon after I had a rough moment, and even had a suicide ideation that pushed me to write this post. It was a flag, an indicator that I've been neglecting the most intricate parts of me, my mind and my spirit. Not to say I haven't been making progress here and there, cuz I have; and to be real, at the same time, I haven't. And that's the thing I don't get, the thing about being human, were not. 

The other night I found myself in Brooklyn, talking in the dark, similar to the kinda nights I use to have; they feel like yesterday, but ages ago too. You know? That kinda night.... Same yellow train line, different letter though. More south into the borough, and little more to the left, depending on perspective. Bay Ridge; where I found myself in a dimly lit room, on a barely made bed talking about... Life.

-"What's your biggest fear?" 
-"I I dont know. I fear a lot of things. Can't think of just one."

Actually, I don't think I've ever, until this moment, really thought of what exactly do I fear in life. I mean I have like roaches, boats, superficial shit, but, not in this way. So I sat there. Naked. Literally; and in so many other ways. I started to gather recent and not so recent experiences like when Papi would say were going somewhere, wherever, and he would totally FLAKE so Alex, Li, and I, would of course, be completely over it but totally expecting it; or the times Mami and Papi said they'd give me a certain amount of money for school clothes but becuz of some bill or another, or some huge loss gambling in Pin Tin Tin(Dominoes for OGs), Tre y Do(some card game I feel Dominicans made up), or Bingo, they'd end up giving me enough for a shopping spree at Danice. Hmm, I guess even in retrospect this all sounds selfish and self-absorbed but I guess as a child I felt like I wasn't worth it and, let down? Or the times I've said I'd call, text, or show up and flake, like Papi; and the times my sister waited up for me to come visit, and that time I missed my brother's graduation; Jesus! just simply being in foster care and growing up witout them makes me feel like the biggest unreliable person on earth... All I thought about were these times, and then some; when I either depended, or felt like I was being depended on, and there was no follow through. Or at least felt like the ball was dropped.

-"I fear being depended on."
-"You fear, being depended on.... Wow, ok. Never heard that before. Depended on, like how? That could mean a lot..."
-"Just in general. I guess. I don't know. I guess I'm afraid for people to depend on me... And I don't know, that I'll drop the ball. Like the responsibility of someone or people, it puts me in a panic that I won't come through. That they trusted and depended on me for something and I didn't deliver cause of watever, my own bullshit. I feel like I'm sooooo good for that. And hate it but it's like... I don't know. You, I mean I, I live in my own head. I mean, I'm dependable, right? I wanna help people, can't even help myself. I don't know... It's crazy to understand your purpose in life but feel so fucking incapable. I'm capable, right?"

I laugh. A half ass laugh, not to cry. The roof of my mouth is starting to ache. I swallow and manage to taste most of my tears but a few escaped. Just a few. I refused to let the wave of reality engulf me in Bay Ridge; the irony. And in a way, how unfortunate. Some people say that when you have sex with someone, you're givin up a part of yourself; I'm one of those people who feel this way, just not for me. What I give up physically has very little, or nothing to do with my emotional being; while my body is bare, my self is fully dressed assessing the situation, the person, and me. Or maybe I am... giving up something. Just disconnected from it. 

-"It sounds like a confidence issue. Like you feel you ain't good enough. Gotta stop thinkin like that."
-"I guess it's hard."
-"Yeah I know. All this shit is easier said than done.... Where you see yaself in five years?"
-"I see myself, hopefully, I mean, I will be, screening Family Owned in communities around the US; working on advocacy and awareness for child sexual abuse victims, survivors, and families. I don't know. I see it but..."
-"Gotta shift the focus."

Fast forward to yesterday, midday, the East Village, 440 Studios, 30 minutes late, may I add, to rehearsal for a show. Stood in front Ian, our director and basically, chocked. The piece I'd written talked loosely about foster care; "14" and "ACS" were the only images on the page I zoned in on, and felt immidiately paralyzed by the anxiety. The culmination of my late night life class, recalling a moment in my life where I felt I dropped the ball, and feeling like, I can't do this shit, made me lose focus. I couldn't put my thoughts together, or read the lines. Internally was clawing myself for being once again, unreliable. He looks at me, waiting for me to rehearse, speak, do a dance, something and I couldn't. I didn't. He asks me,

-"Do you feel empowered by this piece?"
-"I felt empowered writing it. I feel empowered writing, but completely debilitated by performing. It means being in my body, being present, giving my all. Being aware of you, the audience, the ensemble. I, I, you have to deliver, and be present and I'm barely here in the everyday."

I felt like shit. And too freaking aware of how of how I feel on stage is a reflection of how I see myself in the world. Too cliche, too real. 

However, it always feels like shit, at least to me, and I keep thinking when will I get the fuck over myself, and my childhood, and my anxiety, and my low self esteem and everything else I feel are the REASON why. So I stop. 

"I'm sorry but I can't do this."

He understand. It's all love, it's always all love. Sometimes we are so "in it," that it's hard to see, feel and understand that it's ok. 

I walked; and even though I knew I was walking to Union Square, I felt aimless. I felt deaf to the noise of the city. Invisible. 

"I'm afraid of being depended on..." replayed in my head. 

Self-prophecies are sucha motherfucker. Here I was livin out the exact thing I'm afraid of. Then my eyes started burn, maybe that's why some tears hurt more the others, they carry the pain outta of us. The roof of my mouth had a familiar ache, I didn't let a tear escape.

All I thought about on my way home was how much of a mess I still am, n a blunt to take the edge off. I felt at the edge. I got home, or something like it. Barely recognize the feeling anymore, or how it's suppose to feel. All I knew was that once again I was running late, and my headphones were nowhere to be found and how Imma travel without them?! My thoughts were getting louder...

"Look at you. Searching. Clean your shit up maybe you'd find something... You so unreliable. You fucking flake. Can't even depend on yourself. Just stay. Look at you. You should just die. Kill yourself. Do it. Fuck it.... Where are they?.... FUCK! It's almost 3.... It's not real B... JUST DO IT! DO IT!!!!!!!!"

I hit my head to release some the energy. It's crippling, and it's hurts. I feared pinching or diggin my nails into my skin, fearing it'll show. I sat down...

"The head leads the body B. The head leads the body... Move. Just go."

I went on about my day. 

The voice was mine but not mine. I couldn't tell. I couldn't understand how on some level, I know I want to live and feel I have so many things to live for, but having genuine suicidal ideations. No plan; but a loud and clear thought. Exactly a month from my 25th birthday. And it scared me. A clear separation between my body, my mind, and my spirit. They all felt completely different things. All at once. Inside me. And as much as I feel I understand on some text book level that the traumas experienced in my childhood, play such a leading role in the behaviors and thought patterns I have, understanding it logically, isn't enough. I was reminded yesterday that writing is the one way that Im able to align my self-trinity, don't know what else, or how else to call it, at least for now, while I contemplate starting therapy again.

My fingers(body) create a piece of work reflecting, releasing my thoughts(mind) that help ease, and clear my emotional being(spirit) which in turn relieves some of the physical pains associated with some of my intense emotions(body). In tune. This feels seamless. A full circle. I can dive in, swim surf splash drown, breath underneath it all, and come back up feeling as if I never even held my breath. I was also reminded that the human experience is a shared experience; that I'm empowered by writing and sharing mine, despite how scary, and shameful it feels, and is for me. I battle with these feelings everyday I refuse to write, and choose to remain disconnect from the world however; I could only continue to try everyday to create space for a more loving, healing, and empowering life for myself and showing other victims, and survivors of child sexual abuse that it's ok, and You are loved. 

Thank you so much for letting me vent on ya screen, and being a part of my healing. 

Stay building.
Stay dope.


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