Rollin' On

This month has been extremely long. I feel like I just keep sinking deeper and deeper into a hole that there is no way I could ever possibly climb out of. Every day something new hits me. I gain a little strength only to get knocked with an even harder punch. I don't know anything these days.

Last Thursday afternoon I went with my best friend and her family to El Paso. Her brother is stationed at Ft. Bliss and they were nice enough to let me tag along for the ride so I could spend the weekend with my family back home. As we entered the city I felt giddy. Hardly anything changes about it. It still looks worn down. Everything is still rather dirty and brown all around it but it's beautiful. It's home and nothing can take that away from me. Natasha picked me up outside the gate of Ft. Bliss late that night and took me to my Tia's house. On the car ride there I sort of exploded. She asked me how I was and I didn't lie. I didn't give the usual answer I give everyone of "okay" or "fine". I told her that I wasn't doing well. I told her I was awful and then I went on a rant where I didn't even stop to take a breath and briefly described the difficulties of my life. It was nice to just talk. It was nice for just a few minutes to let go and be honest and not feel judged or feel like someone was going to jump down my throat. It was nice to have my cousin there and then to have her laugh at me and tell me to breathe because she was worried I was going to have a heart attack. It was just nice to be home.

This past weekend was good for me but it was difficult as well. I miss my family so much. That six hour drive is really nothing but it's such a barrier. So much of me is in El Paso and I guess right now especially, at a time where I'm struggling with so much and I don't know who I am, I need to be surrounded with familiar things. In a previous blog a while back I mentioned my old parish and a particular hymn. Every single time I hear "On Eagles Wings" I think about St. Raphael and being in catechism. This Sunday I went to Mass at St. Raphael and I went up to receive communion. The very second I received Christ the song began playing.

I'm back home in Arizona and a lot has happened since I stepped back inside the Rebello's van and headed back. The world keeps spinning and throwing punches every day. At some point either I will completely break or I'll find another way to adapt.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

I wish sometimes I could go back in time and do things over. But then that always arises the question of how far would I go. Sometimes I just want to travel back to moments and relive them. That All-Star game when I won MVP and I walked out into an empty field to receive the game ball and both dugouts cheered and my dad looked at me with tears in his eyes. My talk in front of 500 hundred teens and afterward having teens coming up to me with tears in their eyes and hugging me and thanking me for what I shared. The night Erin and I drove around aimlessly and went to Tempe Beach Park and wrote with chalk and I was perfectly content just being with my best friend. Being cradled in Michael's arms as he sang "I'll Stand by You" and feeling my heart catch on fire and then plummet into my stomach in this wonderful yet terrifying sensation the moment I knew I was in love. 

There are a lot of moments that I would like to relive. Moments with Jamie. Moments with April. Moments with my sister and brother. Moments with my cousins. Yet I can't. All I have are memories. Perhaps I'm fortunate because I have such vivid memories. It's like playing a video in my mind. Though memories like I have are a double edge sword. I'm haunted as well. 

I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I'm just running in circles. I'm in need of so much. I don't know how everything fell apart. I don't know how to take a step back and reevaluate the situation. I don't know how to fix anything. I don't know the solution. Sometimes I'm not even sure of the problem. 

I know my name. I know my birth date, my favorite color and favorite food. But the more days pass I question who I really am. And I'm confident everyone around me doesn't know either. 

So kiss me and smile for me

Tell me that you'll wait for me

Hold me like you'll never let me go

Suicide

I was lying on my couch last night totally consumed. My heart felt heavy and was literally throbbing with pain. Silent tears kept escaping my eyes ever so slowly and as they slid across my face I felt another year older. I felt worn and battered. Beat down and abused. Betrayed and misunderstood. I questioned why I even came back home. I questioned why I didn't have April take me to my parents. I just laid there anchored by my heartache and barely breathing.

I couldn't help where my thoughts went. I began formulating a plan and method of execution. I fell asleep to my thoughts and dreamed about my death and the aftermath. Erin not going to my funeral. Michael blaming himself. My sister not knowing what to do with herself. Time heals though. I guess the great thing is I dreamed about life without me and how normal it was. How life just goes on, as it should. It was sort of comforting.

I woke up disoriented and wondering where I was for a second. Wondering if I had taken anything. My dream felt a little too real. For some reason I reached for my wrist and I felt a deep emptiness when I grabbed it. I just began to cry.

In my dream I wrote a note. It said the following :
You won't find letters this time. I destroyed those. I'm tired of the sentiments. My life was filled with them and for what? Perhaps my flaw was I was too emotional, yes? I loved too deeply. I cared too much. My compassion ran too freely and all it did was burn me in the end. And so I leave you in what you will all call as a selfish act that you will question and will cause you pain. Pain for which I sincerely apologize. However I could no longer take what I felt anymore. Tonight in Mass it was said that we are more than our sins. We are more than our mistakes. All we are, are children of God. I take that with me. I do love you. 


Everyone says things will gets better. Though no one ever says when they will.   

Empty Hands

I want to say a lot. I think at this point I'm screaming at myself to. It's been now over two weeks without music and me releasing into song. I haven't written in my journal in a month. These little blogs here and there scratch the surface of what's eating away at my soul, if at that. I'm not really talking to anyone. Yet here I am just barely breathing on the verge of explosion yet still retreating further and further into myself. It's causing myself this great level of anxiety. This sickness that is hard to handle yet I have to just bear it anyway. That's what I always have to do.

Today at Mass I couldn't find the peace that I needed. The peace that I so often find and hate tearing myself away from as I leave my church. Instead my anxiety just continued to fill me. And I felt overwhelmingly alone. As we prayed the Lord's Prayer and everyone joined hands my heart ached in pain because I had no one's hand to hold. I was in an empty pew by myself, like I am every Sunday. For some reason today, I couldn't handle that fact that my hands were as empty as my heart.

When The Music Died

I kept coming to this website over and over again. Almost like I expected a new blog would appear from me by just refreshing the page a few hundred times. My thoughts were so powerful that they could fill a page without me putting forth the effort of typing. My heartache so strong that I didn't need to actually stroke the keys. It seems like so much has occurred in such a short time. Really it has been a short time. Yet it feels like so long ago. My friend April dragged me out of my apartment even though I looked half dead and crazed and I told her I had been locked up in my apartment for years. She kindly reminded me that I had barely even lived there for over a year. April is my dandelion. If you've read all three books of the Hunger Games you should understand. She's my sunshine on my cloudy day. Hah. She's my cupcake. But not even she could make me feel better. I'm lifeless.

My precious music. Oh not even Taylor Swift. The amount of heartache that reached me when I attempted a song...no. The music died.

Is it Over Yet?

I just kept staring at the blank box before me, wondering what I could possibly fill it with. It is not lack of ideas or some sort of writer's block that poses as a problem for me. It's more of this fear of saying too much. Exposing too much of my soul. Releasing too much of this heartache and pain that I'm trying so desperately to keep locked away but by each and every day I'm failing to. There aren't any more excuses to fall back on. This is just me completely drowning.

I keep wanting to crawl into someone's arms and just cry. Sob. I would like to say that my heart aches but that's a lie. My whole being aches.

I was talking to April about the "Choke" episode of Glee and my devastation of Rachel's audition. The moment the lights turned off on her on the stage I felt sick and it took everything in me to not just break down. Because well you see, I feel like Rachel Berry. I had so much going for me and then bam, everything fell apart. Maybe I didn't personally put a star by my name but there always was one there and now it's gone. I can't do anything. Of course things for Rachel are different but the feelings Rachel felt when those lights turned off I feel right now. Just complete and absolute failure.

At the end of the episode Rachel sings Kelly Clarkson's "Cry". I might as well be singing too.


...Is it over yet? 
Can I open my eyes? 
Is this as hard as it gets? 
Is this what it feels like to really cry? 
Cry 


I'm talking in circles 
I'm lying, they know it 
Why won't this just all go away 


Is it over yet? 
Can I open my eyes? 
Is this as hard as it gets? 
Is this what it feels like to really cry? 
Cry 
Cry

Family Ties

It's perhaps no secret that I have family problems. A large majority of them stem from my relationship with my mother and the dynamic of the household I was raised in that I have sworn myself to never return to. I hate the fact that I'm so uncomfortable even visiting my parents' house. I step inside and I just want to run back out. I feel like there isn't enough air in the house. I'm on edge from the second I enter until the moment I step back into the sanctuary of the home that is my apartment. It's terrible, but I can't help how I feel. Now you can't ever confuse my feelings for lack of love for my family. As much as they drive me insane I'm devoted to them, perhaps to a fault. My mom has destroyed me more than anyone else in my life but she's my mom and I'd do anything for her. My daddy is well...my daddy. I think maybe in my heart I'll always be sitting on his lap watching a football game, or on the baseball field at short while he's watching me turn a double play. Sometimes I don't think he sees me anymore. Whether that's because I'm too old or because drinking and his own problems are really all that matter, but he's still my dad and I can still hear him calling me "golden" and that's all I've ever wanted to be. My sister is my whole world and my heart breaks each and every day with the knowledge that I can't fix or do everything for her. My little brother doesn't have the slightest clue how deeply I love him and how much I want him to succeed.

Now this is just my immediate family. I have a whole extended family that really, I barely discuss. Now one would think that would happen for a few reasons. Perhaps they just aren't important. Or I don't want to talk about them because they're even more insane than the family I do try to run from. However that's so far from the truth. In particular my father's side of the family. I say little about them because my emotions get the best of me when I think about them. My heart aches too much for them. I don't want to run away from them but toward them and that idea scares me. I feel my Tia Lecha and Tia Stella hug me and I know love and it overwhelms me. My Tio Checho just makes me smile every time I see him and he's just goofy. My cousins aren't just cousins to me. I grew up with them and shared too much with them. Especially Frank, Natasha and John. And when Frank came down while I had cancer and spent close to a week with me... I can't even come close to explaining how much that meant to me. And although Chito is well, Chito, I love him and I'll always have his back. Then there is my Tio Rene who honestly, I don't know very well and that is a very unfortunate fact. However that takes away nothing from the amount of love and respect I have for the man. Last and certainly not least there is my darling grandma. Undeniably the most beautiful woman in the world who each time I see her tears instantly flood my eyes and saying goodbye to her is the hardest thing in the world. She's magnificent and the epitome of cool. How I love her so.

I didn't mention a few people, and not for lack of significance. I carry everyone in my heart and they each are a piece of me in a very special way. So often I am told I am strong and resilient because of everything that life has handed me. I tend to shake that compliment off. However if anything has made me strong, it's the love I have for everyone around me. The deep amount that I truly care for my family and my desire for their well-being and my fight to do my best to never let them down. I'm at a time in my life where I feel like such a failure and I can't take the person that I am. I feel so useless and all I want is some purpose back in my life again. I want it for me, but mostly I want it for all of them.