1.01.2012
I'm Sorry Lover, You're Always Playing The Hero Anyway posted at 1/01/2012 07:16:00 PM
"I'm Sorry Lover, You're Always Playing The Hero Anyway" blacked out/edited from Richard Siken's "'Litany in Which Certain things are Crossed Out"
Bored and decided to have fun with a poem. It feels eerie and strange to me.Labels: poetry, pointless
12.07.2011
&c. posted at 12/07/2011 10:23:00 PM
nevada wind
i’m twenty-two and in love with you.
every week the doctor wonders why i
stick, why i’m sick—“i love him, that’s what”
i want to tell the shrink with the bravado of steeled
kids who grew up way too early, sneaking
out and sneaking pills, drinking wine in their beds
while their parents sleep.
no such luck.
the doctor knows i wake up in the morning
feeling like i gambled my last quarter
in the hopes of winning yahtzee, knows
i stir my coffee with the dejection
of a man slumped outside a vegas curb.
i feel your resentment kicking up
my chin like nevada dust. i wail
to the wind, imploring, “i love you,
i love you—” and dust devil
that you are, you
fly close, stinging
like warm tears on the edge
of a defiant eye, scratches
from too tight hugs. you walk by
with an indifference reserved only
for dust storms during my soft sadnesses;
the kerplunk of the last coin shot
into the hopeless coin slot reverberating.
times like these, i remember:
the native americans, how badly
they wished to be like the wind.
(crossposted from my poetry journal)
****
It's 10 in the evening and I'm waiting with bated breath. I finally finished this poem from last month, and I've decided to complete a collection of poetry about doctors, hospitals, tragedies and shrinks. It must be ten poems. Let's see if the IYAS workshop in Bacolod will take this one--it's the last I have to take to complete the national workshops, so it'll be a blast. Hopefully I become good enough for a Palanca.
I still miss my partner, why does his work have to be so retarded about time--but anyway I'm wondering if I should distract myself with writing a piece about a heroine addict. It's been in my head all day, but I'm just wary that if I start writing it, I'll be annoyed because I won't make much progress, or I'll miss the time when I'm supposed to be fetching my partner.
And hey, I'd rather be doing that than writing a sad sob story.
Labels: poetry, pointless, writing
the boy who blocked his own shot posted at 12/07/2011 03:41:00 PM
So call it quits, or get a grip.
Say you wanted a solution, you just wanted to be missed.
Everything turbulent and fearsome makes more sense when placed in the compartments of a rational mind, and so the enumeration.
1. Yesterday I discovered more of his ghosts--ones he never told me about, forgotten, or perhaps wished to forget. For a moment there was a sense of entitlement and then it bothered me that I had a sense of entitlement to his feelings, no less. As much as we want to own people, as much as a beloved announces their betrothal to us, as much as they say "I am yours," I remember that I must take this with a pinch of salt. It's a wonder what googling can do and the names that pop up, what asking a few people here and there can unearth from the past. Of course I won't mention a single word of this to him--it's his past, I dug around, and I'm covering my tracks.
I'm aware he's made the same promises before, so what remains to be seen is if he will go through with this.
I'm just going to think that I know nothing. I know though, I've always learned how to read between the lines.
2. When I remember the people I learned from, I realized we all had one point where we came from--we understood leaving, farewells, goodbyes, that last poignant note.
Ricci and I felt that with each other, and with Ophelia Dimalanta's legacy, we all learned that from her. It pains me to realize that my poetry holds such a huge sway on the way I will handle those I love, and that I rebel against myself because I do want to keep what I have now together, until that terrible word: forever.
In Ramil Digal Gulle's tribute poem regarding the death of Ophelia Alcantara-Dimalanta, "Ophelia's Water-Method to Ecstacy," he points this concept of leaving out of love so very well:
Now I can tell you’re done: small feet padding
across the bathroom carpet, hand against baby-
blue tile, wet black coils set to spring from
under the towel, an alert nakedness beneath
the bathrobe. But this time, I have the mind to leave
because leaving’s the only way for me to stay.
To depart, as you might wish, with a love for love’s
contradictions: something to have but never keep.
You mastered this last, most lasting trick: leave
everything to the beloved—dreams, books, apartment,
coffee, clothes—everything, except ourselves.
And now it scares me to understand what I have always been capable of. Even when being left behind I have managed to leave a mark on the people who have hurt me--despite me not being there. Modesty aside, I attribute this quality to the poetry I write and the poetry I was raised with.
It's very frightening.
3. This is very important. I have found the ability to leave, and cannot will it away once more. If I do, I will definitely be unable to stand on my own, and as it is I do not think I can lean on anyone completely, at all.
There seems to be no one who can give me that privilege.
You are calm and reposed, let your beauty unfold,
pale white like the skin stretched over your bones.
Spring keeps you ever close.
You are second hand smoke,
you are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins;
holding onto yourself the best you can--
You are the smell before the rain,
You are the blood in my veins.
Brand New's The boy who lost his shot.
Labels: poetry, pointless, sad
tell me the truth; posted at 12/07/2011 03:20:00 PM
I talked to my therapist yesterday. We talked about the week that passed and worries that I had the past few days. I told him that I still couldn't trust my partner completely because I felt that he was holding something back from me.
I told him that I also felt awkward because he hadn't done anything to close his past relationship, and as a result it seems like his ex has begun to blame me for the demise of their relationship, when, as I candidly (and surprised at myself) blurted out that "they did a good job of doing that for themselves," and it just bothered me that issues they needed to close were being unloaded onto me, as a scapegoat.
He asked me, "so what did you tell your partner?" and I replied that "I told him that I think it would be better if he talked to his ex honestly, told him when he started seeing other guys, and to clarify that they were over when we met, and that they should just have that last talk to finally bury the dead, let it out sea."
He contemplated for a moment and asked me what I felt about their breakup, seeing that I came into the picture two weeks after their Titanic sunk, so to speak.
I spoke slowly. "I felt, and even encouraged my partner to come forward and clear the air between him and his ex. It bothered me that later on he would insist that they become friends, and from the start I cautioned him that he should just let it alone, treat it like an execution, because it was a one-sided breakup. No one can be friends after years of deception and heartbreak--I told him that he should wait for years before even considering this possibility, and even then he must wait for his ex to extend that olive branch of friendship, not him."
I added, "I wonder why it wasn't obvious to him that this was the way to do things--even those older than me have done it themselves and I was younger, and I knew this lesson. I guess you just can't erase four, five years."
My therapist looked at me and said, "Why is it important to you that he talks to his ex about the rumors he seems to be putting around?"
And I replied that I'd always been wary of crossing the line between where I began and where they ended, and now that it was personal (imagine, I stole his man and he’s telling people!) it bothered me because we had common friends.
While that's a shallow reason, the deeper end of what bothers me is that they have unfinished business and it's starting to haunt me as well. It's supposed to be none of my business, but this is another level--I'm getting drawn into that thing that was supposed to end months ago.
"I wonder why his ex just reacted like this now, perhaps there was a trigger?" he asked me.
I mentioned that upon reading his ex's blog, he'd strangely been on the periphery--almost stalker like, as if his mind had been attuned to look for his ex and there he was, with me, in an entirely different reality from him.
I added that in the last month or two, my partner had moved, my partner insisted on taking his ex's stuff to his new place so that he could text his ex to pick it up next time. I told him maybe he'd like to just leave it in the old apartment, and let his ex come over and see if he'd like anything else from his old things. And I only said this because my partner told me he wanted to move so he could have a new start of sorts, and bringing your ex's old stuff into your new place isn't exactly moving on.
On hindsight if I'd had let him take those things so that they could have a nice talk when they met again, then it would have been done with before.
The doctor asked me, "Is it important that he talk to his ex regarding this thing? What does it signify?"
I answered that for the longest time, I'd felt that my partner had held back giving some fundamental things, or perhaps, just initiative. I mentioned that when I started dating him, he'd insisted I stay at his place that was full of his ex's things.
I told the doctor, "I told myself I'd wait a month or two, see if he'd get it gone by himself, out of courtesy to me. After all he'd been the one to actively pursue me, but he never did until I asked, a month and a half later. And more importantly, we had switched roles. I was now the one waiting on him and waiting for his next move—unlike when we started. The more I gave, the less I seem to have gotten.
It isn't important that in regards to his ex saying silly things about me, that he talk to him and clear the air now--the ex said he never wanted to see my partner again. No problem. But I will definitely mind if another thing of the sort comes up.
"So the next time this happens again, you'll be watching what he'll do is that it?" he asked. "In a way," I answered.
"I see this as a matter of trustworthiness for you," he continued, "you'd like to see if he means what he say--that when he says he loves you, he will give as much as you. Is that it?"
I nodded. "And this is the 1% that you're talking about--about not being able to trust him," he concluded. Another nod.
I mentioned that yesterday, I’d found my crawlspace. That small space where I can just be and not feel anything, no hurt whatsoever, that if in the event that he falls into that 1% and makes me lose the 99% of trust that I’d invested in him, I could just walk away. And I realized that I found myself again. And now I felt that I was closer to finding that balance between giving to the relationship, and keeping a bit to myself, so I can be safe, just in case.
The doctor said that this was a good thing—I’ve found myself and I’m trying to balance the scales so that I don’t lose myself again. “You’ve got to temper it however,” he said carefully, “you’re in a relationship that you want to work. Therefore you’ve still got to give. Don't indulge in that space.”
I told him that I am willing to give a hundred percent—everything, but only with the assurance that he was going to do the same thing. This merited a questioning glance from the doctor. I told him that for example, there are a lot of times when I feel isolated from the affections he gives the two dogs as opposed to the affection he gives to me.
There are a lot of times where I watch them and he is in front of me and I’m all alone at another end of the room, isolated. And this, I said, was an example of non-giving. I don’t want to give everything just to beg for attention and love later on—it’s very dog-like, and while I love dogs, well…it’s just not right to have to ask for your partner to pay attention to you.
The doctor said that this was typical for couples who hadn’t settled down yet—and that we hadn't settled yet because of the mistrust. “You knew his track record from the start, and small things have happened between you two that cast doubt on his fidelity. And this is a symptom. In psychology we call this the distancer—pursuer dynamic. What remains to be seen and what is needed is for him to prove, with time, that he is trustworthy.”
This dynamic is one where one half of the relationship plays the role of the one distancing the affection, giving cause for the other to pursue the distancer for more attention. I said, “that’s exactly how it feels. I don’t know if it’s just in my head, but it is obvious because when I just ignore them and do my thing, he tends to come up and ask for my attention.”
The doctor nodded his head. “I think you’ve gotten better though,” he says as we close our hour-long session. “You’re more balanced than when we started, and you’re not even taking medication, you’re coping, you’ve found yourself—you’re getting better. And this is a really good thing. I hope we can keep up the progress.”
I shook his hand, got the money, and I went out the door to fetch my partner from his work. When in love, you just gotta do some things sometimes I guess.Labels: pointless, psych
12.01.2011
make amends, make a vow posted at 12/01/2011 12:23:00 PM
Somehow after being diagnosed with Bipolar II, I imagined a series of long halls, wistful looking out of windows in some asylum, pills that make you go off the edge being constantly switched around, and this hanging sense of non-control.
I initially imagined being forced to go to a sort of Alcoholics Anonymous/Narcotics Anonymous for crazy people. "Hi, I'm Jacob. I barely hung in a few weeks ago when I was ready to buy cyanide and sleeping pills, rent a cheap motel room and send the last few love notes through text messages to all those painful loves: family, friends, lover. It was very clear and I was about to do it if not for a new acquaintance who talked me out of it, and diverted my attention."
I mean seriously. Currently what I've learned is that I can still make choices, I have to fight for it though--not in the sense that anyone is stopping me, but that I have to be more aware if it's actually me talking, or the mental disorder. It's crippling, to say the least.
Some days I wake up and feel so hopeless about my relationship, that my partner isn't supportive enough, or that he wants to see other people because he's with someone who just got on the crazy train. And when I look at it objectively, I don't have heavy evidence.
Imagine it was a court trial for adultery, older accounts of cheating, lying, hiding, answering unknown numbers, strange messages for a while, silent statements of not being over their ex are the evidence I have--he is doubtful, sure. Even my psych says that. Hence I'm doubtful. But it doesn't hold water, because when we present declarations of love and loyalty, a willingness to show messages and history, his putting himself aside to give way for me--doesn't compute. Since I feel hopeless (as evidenced by right now and since the other day) I should, logically, chalk it up to the depression brought about by this disorder.
But see that's not how this thing works. I can rationalize all I want but the feelings aren't going away until they want to--and this is why it's so debilitating. I have to constantly hide these emotions because for most people, emotions are triggered as a response to an event. For people like me, emotions appear out of nowhere, and the hardest part is, amplified when an event that agrees with the emotion occurs.
For example--I'm on the up part of the disorder. For me it's called hypomania, not too manic that I become psychotic, but high energy levels, choices made without rational thought, participation in illegal drug use, racing thoughts and speech patterns; these are all terribly textbook and they all occur give or take on or two symptoms.
But anyway, let's say I'm on the up part of this thing, and I'm at this fun party and everyone's fucked up and just happy. What'll happen is that I'll feed off this and bounce it back and my reaction to everyone and everything for that moment is happy! Boundless energy and joy! You want more drinks? Sure let me buy us some! Or I want more drinks I don't care if I'm getting home or not more drinks! Or You're offering me cocaine? Why yes I'd love to snort some of that stuff up, and perhaps ask you for more later! I want to see pretty lights, where can I get ecstacy? HAHAHAHA LET US LAUGH AND GOSSIP etc. etc. You get the point.
It's the same for my depressive phases. I become totally insecure and vulnerable and I know that anyone can take advantage of me so I become irritated and sad as a defense, then I start thinking my partner will take advantage of my depressive state, or that he wants out because no one wants to be with a sad person, or if my partner says or does something that truly bothers me but in a normal state, I can brush it aside--in a depressive state, I just react and react and sink into the quicksand of doom.
And this is why this thing is terrible for relationships. You become much more self-destructive, and you unwittingly sabotage your environment, the people around you.
But of course there's a flipside. I'll reference my psych just because it makes more sense when I use what he says. "Loving partners will be supportive and understand," to paraphrase our long winding talks about my relationship, mood, brain chemistry, etc. Basically partners who want to make it work will do everything they can to make it work--not just for the bipolar partner, but also what it takes to keep themselves healthy. Of course on another hand partners can choose whether or not to be supportive, and a lot of them aren't, but choose to stay in the relationship. It doesn't seem fair if they don't want to be supportive but stay in the relationship, but it happens--so in a lot of ways, it's hard for the bipolar person to cope with this.
Moving on. I've officially (as far as I know) been diagnosed not just with Bipolar II, but also Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and an Anxiety Disorder since August/September, if I recall right. It hasn't been what I imagined psych patients go through, but in a lot of ways it is. Medication problems fucking up with my mood, symptoms manifesting and taking supreme efforts to rein in, feeling stupid (like now, I have write pointless posts just to get stuff out of my head. I used to be so meticulous about these things) and other stuff.
People think it's so easy because we seem normal, but it really takes so much effort just to keep yourself in check--whether you're up or down--because we endanger ourselves, and possibly other people in the process.
Labels: feelings, pointless, psych, sad, technical
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