My life seems to be at a turning point again, and perhaps that’s why I find myself sitting here in front of my laptop typing away while reassessing my current path. It’s been two years since I posted anything on this here blog. I miss this haven, this little corner of my universe where I could release what stirred within me.

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There was, for a while at least, a period when my life’s pieces were falling into place, the puzzle started making a clear picture and I liked the mosaic of colors surrounding me. I had a job working at a community college. I had a boyfriend who I’ll cal CB. That developed into a stable and serious relationship–until it ended two years in of course, but more on that later. I also began to develop a relationship with my brother. I was still in therapy which was consistent and proved to still be helpful. As a result, I was fighting less with my aging father whom I depended on so much (and still do to an extent).

In sum, my life was filling up quickly. I was stuck with so much to do that I simply wasn’t able to sit down to write. And that was fine. I was ok with that. Otherwise, I would’ve made the time.

This isn’t to say I still didn’t deal with what we’ll call borderline symptoms or just the everyday struggles life brings us. This doesn’t mean that the Pretty Little Demons didn’t make an appearance every so often. Not at all. It doesn’t mean that I had a few minor crisis moments. I had my ups and downs, but none like the previous years. Depression would come and stare at me from time to time, but I was able to stare back and roll away. I was able to walk away from most things that weren’t allowing me to have peace. Hey! No suicide attempts at least. Ha!

Work had its moments. The boyfriend and I had our moments. My old cranky dad and I had our moments, my bro and I still had our fights and so on. Since I last posted, I broke some more bones, had a series of three surgeries, won a TV award, bought a new ukulele, became the neighborhood crazy cat lady, broke up with my boyfriend, quit my job and am now in a new, promising romantic relationship…

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What the hell am I getting at? Mouse! Wake up. Wait… Oh yeah. I am now more resolved than ever to continue my writing. I had a great conversation with a friend a few days ago and the urge to speak up is rising again. It has been rising in the last two years since I left the blogosphere. But now I feel its pull. The words are present. I also have more time since I’m technically still an unemployed mouse.

Oh sweet moments of life come and go. These last two years have been full of them. The sweet moments continue between the painful ones as I know they will. I know. Asi es la vida.

Well, sleep is beckoning me. More later.

Mouse Love

Mouse tries to shoot Cupid

© MMM/PAZ 2014

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Maybe I didn’t say that right.

Yeah, it didn’t come out right. I think I meant to say, “FUCK YEAH CUPID!”

So I’m sorry Cupid. Sorry.

I just…uugh… old habits die hard. You know? Listen. Listen, I never hated you, really. I just grew up bitter about the whole thing, you know? Being “in love” is really weird. It’s weird like I’m having an out of body experience, like I’m having one of those dereealization moments continually. Yeah, those who have postraumatic stress know derealization well enough.

See, I never liked Valentine’s Day and, well, today is that so-called day. BLEEEUUUUGH. AT LEAST in Colombia, my birthplace, we call this day El Día del Amor y la Amistad (Day of Love and Friendship) and we celebrate it sometime in September… I think. That’s more fitting to my taste and beliefs and whatnot.

Anyway, shit I don’t mean to get off course. See, I’m not sure if you had anything to do with it or not Sir Cupid, but either way, this “falling in love” thing is actually happening. It happened with Monkey Man, but that was chaotic–falling in and out and in and out all while wanting to blow my brains out.

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I rejected it. THIS. BEING. “IN LOVE.”  I rejected it so much and nearly sabotaged any possibility of giving “love” a chance when it came around the corner last August.

I did.

But… I was in therapy! I AM in therapy. And shit does that help.

Fuck Valentines! Happy Day of Love and Friendship everyone.

And HAPPY FULL MOON! I love you. So so high, so full and yellow and bright…

Mouse Love

HOLY SHITBALLS! The last time I wrote a “Borderline Girl Song” series post was over a year ago… I had to search my own entries list HERE to figure out what number I left off at.

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AHEM.

I’m coughing and hacking greenish gooey phloem still, and I’m crackin bones in the process, yet I’m high high high HIGH or hypo hypo hypo or both! Yes, both. Same shit, sort of. I’m high on life and speedy typing (NOT Speed). I was crying non stop last weekend. Been giggling and singing all morning. Emotional dysregulation any? Just a bit.

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Anyway, I’m high. And content, relatively happy. Fuck. I’ll just say it: In this moment I am happy. (That’s lyrics from an Incubus song FYI)

I’m high on life… and cold medicine,  antibiotics for the N1F1 flu that upperecutted me three weeks ago, and half a hydrocodone for my cracked rib (yes I broke a rib coughing, maybe two), and dare I say I’m also high on LOVE…

Pretty Little Demons: Love? Like “romantic love”?

P/Mouse: YES!

I can’t even hear myself say or phantom the thought but, but, but (breathes), I may be falling in love with someone. This person “asked me out” back in August. (I hate the term dating by the way). That’s one of the reason I’ve gone MIA here on Bloggieland. Too busy with the boyfriend and work.

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Falling in love… maybe. Falling in love may be. Falling in love, falling, falling in love. 🙂

I’m sitting here on my bed covered in icy-hot muscle rub, Vicks vapor rub and pillows; three socks, bandage on my right leg, an orange wool scarf, and a laptop on my legs writing to you. I’m writing to tell you that people with Borderline Personality Disorder (or whatever they call it these days) can remain stable for–well, I’ve been relatively stable for a good while now and I’m busy in my “real life”, so I haven’t been able to complete a single post I begin. Started a few, but then had to go do this or that or him. heee.

Cup with spilled ice

Better Cancel School

It was 30 degrees fahrenheit  out this morning and it rained all day yesterday so we have sleet. Amber Alerts were sent and schools were closed. Truth is, the sleet melted by noon. We Houstonians can’t handle a little snow or ice. P Mouse is fine with that ’cause I get to work from home today and I ain’t going out in no cold while recovering from a cold in my wheelchair. 🙂 YAYUH.

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Anyway, where was I? Oh da song. This week’s Borderline Girl Song post is Dido’s “Thank You”.

I thank him, the guy mentioned above, for having the courage to tell me he had feelings for me/a crush or whatnot. I’m thankful for giving him a chance. I’m thankful that I gave him a chance because therapy helped me help myself give him a chance. And. Here. I. Am. Thankful for being alive, even though shit still pisses me off and I have my low moments (don’t think recovery is like that, I don’t).

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In my next post, I’ll tell you who this mystery man is. He’ll be introduced, I promise. I was writing his introduction on Monday actually–on Reverend Martin Luther King Day–but as I just said, I keep getting cut off to do this or that or him. In this case it was him. Too much info? 🙂 Then that evening, my dad and his friend interrupted… No, no, no I’m not explaining myself right. In other words:

On Monday, MLK day, I spent all day with HIM (mystery love) at his place, then that evening when I was back home, I logged on WP and started writing a post, which I will post tomorrow.

Sigh.

Well, here’s my song for this series. I dedicated this to him the other day.

In Memory of a Man…

March 23, 2013

… A mental Monkey Man.

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Chances are that what I don’t get blogged today, I won’t blog tomorrow, so here I go before another day passes.

Yesterday was the “anniversary” of the day I got the call that Monkey Man was found dead. I don’t even know if I should call it “anniversary”. Something about the connotation of that is upsetting me. So anyway, I’ll just say, a year ago yesterday, I got the news that Monkey Man was no longer with us.

Those of you that followed me back then know the story.  I will not repeat it, nor do I want to. Yesterday, I spent most of the therapy session talking about it. And slowly but surely I realize that I am moving past this. The pain will never be completely gone, but I am ok with that now. I am working at managing my life and actually FEEL ALIVE today.

Brunet Young and I discussed so much and I felt relieved. I told her how sometimes I feel “happy” that he’s gone and feel like a “bad” person for that. We later found that maybe “happy” wasn’t the right word. No, not at all.

I cried in front of her for the first time. There are just too many emotions to describe or begin to recognize when someone you love dies this way–by their own hands. And there is A LOT OF ANGER! I for one have dealt with anger management problems all of my life (common in peopole with BPD). She suggested maybe, in a way, I’m relieved, definitely not “happy” about it. And that’s ok. It doesn’t mean I’m, a “bad” person.

Why else would so many of the depressing blog posts on here be about him?

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One thing I did this week was draw this portrait in memory him. A.F., his stepsister gave me this picture she took of us sometime in 2006-2007. It was what she calls the “happy summer”. Strangely enough, I was very depressed then, but Monkey Man was glowing and everyone said it was on account of me being there.

The relationship I had with him was so intense, so wonderful, so terrifying, so loving yet so abusive at times. I learned a lot from that relationship.

But I did love him and I know he loved me.

Correction, I do love him. I know he’d be proud of how well things are going for me these days. I found a text he had sent me on my phone about two months ago, it reads:

“It’s ok my love. U r one of the most powerful people i know. I wish i had the strength u have”

R.I.P T.H.L

Art brings me comfort.

portrait of me and Monkey Man

Pen and Ink © paz
When we were younger, fatter, in a sense healthier (at least he was) and stoned. circa 2006.

It’s almost the end of the third month into 2013. I blogged for mental health all of last year. No, no. I BEGGED for mental health all of last year. And I never pledged the pledge but I walked the walk or whatever.

My fellow Canvas bloggies have established a pledging that connects people with the mental-health blogging community. This blog has been a reflection of my personal journey in the last year and a half. My mental health has improved drastically since then. No drastically sounds too negative. It has improved INCREDIBLY.

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I am at a point now where I’m not having to fight off suicidal ideations, thoughts and urges damn near every hour of everyday. I am not constantly cryin’ or having panic attacks all the time. Since the start of this blog I lost someone dear, had a ton of medical issues, and made a suicide attempt. Then I found out that my Ex-Young therapist had diagnosed me with Borderline Personality Disorder, my therapist left (that was just before the suicide attempt) and in June of 2012, I finally got back in therapy and tried different medications.

I’m still going to therapy once a week, mostly. It’s on Fridays these days. No more Thursday therapy ’cause I’m working and Brunet Young changed her schedule. Therapy has been a major lifeline, so has this blog (as I’ve mentioned dozens of times before) and my swimming. I’m still swimming despite all the shit thrown at me. I’m fortunate that my mom is still working at the gym and I’m able to go and release my demons for free, for a bit at least.

Of course I still struggle. Life is a struggle and for those with mental health issues, that struggle becomes unbearable, so painful that it kills. It is another kind of struggle in itself. But I have accomplished many of my “goals for therapy” and am still working on others.

My “stability” has settle some.

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I have a bit more clarity in my life now and feeling a sense of direction, despite my many changes in course. There are so many challenges, so much more to endure and enjoy. I don’t know where I’m at with this blog. I’ve considered retiring it many times (as a “borderline” I’ll drastically change my mind from one minute to the next ha). But I think I’m giving it a go for a bit longer.

I’m continuing my pledge to write for mental health, to shout out, to show that we are not alone in this.

Please visit my Canvas family at A Canvas of the Minds. It’s a great little blog of mental health bloggers and shenanigans!

Oh oh. And I ALMOST forgot. Thank you Laura/Soul Survivor for pledging me this year. You can find her blog, Bipolar for Life by clicking the link.

Blog for Mental Health 2013

Blog for Mental Health 2013

Amanda Has Words

March 12, 2013

© paz 2013

© paz 2013

And cameras.

I just completed a pen-and-ink portrait of a fellow blogger and friend, Amanda. Here blog, Amanda Has Words, is full of her awesome little poems. Please check ’em out.

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I’ve drawn more these last three months. Like most things I get into, I hadn’t sketched for years, had put the pencil down. But I’m back at it again and I’ve decided (let’s hope I don’t change my mind) that I will try making portraits on of my goals as a freelancer.

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I have therapy tomorrow and one thing Brunet Young and I discussed were my “abandonment” issues. I know I’ll have to finally resolve some shit from my childhood to move on from this. It seems to me sometimes, that everything that heals me also hurts me.

One thing that’s frustrating me is that my Nemo T-Rex Duck arm has been hella hurtin’. I mean HELLA. And that’s the arm I write/draw with! Damn you Osteogenesis Imperfecta!

If you guys remember (not that I’d expect you to), I fractured my arm February of last year, 2012. Well, apparently, the fracture didn’t heal properly and there is a part of the core that is still disconnect. So essentially, my arm is still a bit broken. Sigh. This is what I mean by the though, “Everything that heals me hurts me”. Why can’t I make art without something hindering me? First it was my music and hearing loss. Now this?

I know I sound upset, and I am, but I’m quite excited about my new illustration goals.

Thanks for the support Amanda!

addendum: if you visit her blog, make sure to ask her about her photography

I went to therapy today. We’re back on our regular Thursday schedule. I told my dad I’d take the bus but he said I was so humble about it that he would drive me there. We didn’t argue this time!

My next assignment for therapy is to work on logging down my interactions with my pops so we can debrief the next session. I told her about the nightmares I’ve been having. They pop up every other night. In my dream last night–or this morning rather–I was getting severely beaten. I won’t say by who. Luna heard me wake up screaming and rushed into the room with ears turned back. The fluff ball jumped on me and we cuddled. She’s so good to me.

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Brunet Young is helping me get into a DBT group that should start in January. She found an outpatient DBT program, but it’s too many hours–it’s outpatient, almost inpatient and I no longer need to be outpatient (funny, when I needed it, I couldn’t get it). So she’s looking for a less intensive program. She’s also seeing if I can get into an animal shelter as a volunteer! It will be yet another support system to implement my therapy.

What else? I pulled a muscle this morning while rushing to the restroom. I think I’ll still go swimming tonight though; Mouse and I haven’t decided. Besides, no broken bones from yesterday evening’s fall is good enough for me.

I admit though, I shaved off my Movember Mousestache. It was getting real fuckin’ itchy. Anyway, here’s what I shot on my way back from therapy.

2012 (c) paz
Houston’s downtown.
Shot from the west-side of 59 with the HTC phone my bro’s girlfriend gave me.

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For being the fourth largest city in the United States, we don’t have a very impressive downtown. Most of the buildings are scattered about like leaves in clusters, each cluster miles apart from the other. There is the medical center which is a downtown of its own, then there is uptown and midtown. I think if you combine the three, you’d have a hell of a downtown, but otherwise, it’s puny.

But this weather is nice. It was around 50F this morning and now it’s 68F. Beautiful.

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Personally, Main Street downtown is very pretty since a lot of the buildings there are nineteenth-century and early twentieth century art-deco. Mostly though, there are just plain sixties and seventies post modern blocks with faceless facades. Houston grew with the baby boomers of the ’50s, the development of 1950s inter-state highway system and oil boom. There you go.

Mouse love

Grateful Today

November 2, 2012

When you’re down under the defunct skin of depression, it’s difficult to see anything in bright light or feel anything pleasurable. It’s difficult to be grateful, even though you realize there are “good” things in your life, you’re so bereft of health, positive, motivational feelings that it becomes void. You KNOW there are good things, but your subconscious traumas take over, particularly in people with BPD. You only feel the shit smothering you in nastiness. And then you feel guilt for not feeling “appreciative”. The pain is just too strong, too overpowering. The lenses have no view of, or recognition of enjoyment.

Now, today, I am grateful for the beautiful weather, for water, for being able to swim, for my eyes and ears (though they fail me), and for my hearing aids which help my ears. I’ve learned to accept them and use them more often. This doesn’t mean I’m no longer a musician. Oh yeah, I’m grateful for music!

I’m grateful for my body, though it’s hard for me to love it. I am learning to love it for what it is–T-Rex-Duck arm and all. Swimming has helped with that.

I’m grateful that last night, even though I got drunk, I did not self-harm. I’m grateful that I ran into a lovely fella from the university after therapy and he asked to hang out. I’m grateful that he came over and we jammed a little. I played the ukulele and piano for him (though I was shy about it and stopped midway). And he taught me a little Arabic scale. He brought a candle that a lady who hosted us–the activist group we were in–at her home in Detroit for the U.S.Social Forum. That was back in the summer of 2010. I can’t believe he kept it this long.

We lit the candle and he sung a prayer in Arabic for the Day of the Dead (it’s a Mexican tradition, but other cultures have similar celebrations and rituals). His soft fro was lit by the flickering candle, and I thought of Monkey Man’s red and gold beard. I though of all those close to me who have passed on.

It was just… pleasant.

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Tonight, I will add to this on my Facecrack page.

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What are you grateful for today?