That Perfect Moment

I lie there, wrapped up in you,

You're always a few inches above me;

I look up at your beautiful face,

Your eyes closed, I'm where I should be exactly

Warm skin, gentle touch, steady breathing 

My senses buried in layers of you,

My mouth smiles, my heart aches

and I know that I love you, I really do

An honest glimpse

Ahhh... so much has been on my mind. I don't even know what exactly at this moment, so I'm just gonna let my fingers type...

I spent my first, entire full work-week at my apartment on Milner Hall. My feelings about it is still fluctuating. On Monday itself, I lay there on the bed, fully clothed with my jeans on, all dressed for class, and all I could feel was an overwhelming sense of 'I wanna go home'. It was the strongest 'homesickness' feeling I'd ever felt before. My mind started shooting thoughts in all different directions along the lines of: 'What am I doing here?' ... 'I hate this place?' ... 'Why am I even trying?' ... 'Maybe starting back school was just a big mistake!' ... and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I was thinking about mom, our financial situation, my brother, my health, my counseling session and if I should go, my classes and if I should go, my bf, my friends, my body and it's extra layers of fat and acne ... and I felt the anxiety and despondence intertwine with each other, going round and round, pulling me down..twisting around my throat like a noose!!! ...  until there was nothing left to do but collapse into myself and switch the lights off on my consciousness. There we have it... I was dressed and ready for class, which was just 3 minutes walk away from my room, but instead I fell into a deep, dream-full sleep.

I woke up only to my alarm, which nonetheless I snoozed a few times. I had a session with my counsellor. Before I could change my mind, I just peeled myself off the bed, brushed my teeth and walked right out the door and proceeded towards C.A.P.S My clothes may have been wrinkled, my face still showing the lines of the pillow creases and my hair, well - bed head... but I cared not, and just walked. My mind was blank and my focus only on each step and each breath. I walked into the room w/o the slightest idea of what I was going to say, or even of what I was thinking. All I could do was feel... and what I felt was blank and very, very down. The counsellor is impressive... and I use that word in particular because I actually am impressed. I've had my share of secret disappointment and disillusionment w/ psychologists in the past; there's nothing more disenchanting than walking out of a session and knowing full well that you were able to 'fool' your doctor by silly layers of self protection and enigmatic obscurity while never once actually touching on what's really, really bothering you. Now I've met two professionals who are able to 'see through' my facade and really make sense of things, and help me make sense of things as well. Anyways, back to that particular session... long story short, I cried my eyes out. I actually, for the first time, spoke about certain things regarding mom's death and illness and my feelings and connection to it all. It felt so disconnected, like I was just vomiting out stories at random, jumping in all different directions; yet somehow at the end, it all came together, with her help of course... and best of all, it came out of me. 'It' being a slice of whatever I've been keeping locked inside of me... still keeping locked inside - Guilt, Fear, Sadness, Regret, Anger, Pain...

The crying made me feel better and then, like a miracle, I left that session to walk into a most beautiful surprise! My bf showed up at my place with sandwiches all ready, arms wide open for cuddles and whispers of 'I love you' with feelings so true and strong that the moment of happiness was nothing short of palpable; in every way.

Sputnik Sweetheart

So that’s how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that’s stolen from us—that’s snatched right out of our hands—even if we are left completely changed people with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.

Thursday, 17 November 2011

My First Night in Milner

It’s 10pm on the dot and in lieu of the internet, I’ve decided to take my need for expression & addiction to typing to the white blank pages of a word document. Don’t get me wrong, we actually have internet here – it’s an Ethernet connection. However, after much trying and pushing the cord into both the blue and red ports (and even trying different Ethernet cords), my brother finally told me that ‘Oh the Ethernet port in your laptop doh work eh’ O_O ß yes… this was me. I realize that I would really be forced to do work tonight after all. 

I ventured out of my room after some time because I was really, REALLY, craving that coke that I had put in the fridge earlier today. This coke had a tiny little yellow post it label with ‘Tunks 320’ written on it; 320 is my room number. I actually requested this room in particular because of the view of campus, rather than the busy bus route. To fuel my conviction that room 320 was a better choice than my 310 and 311 options, I added that the latter 2 were situated too close to the common room and kitchen so chances of being disturbed by smells and noises would be higher. As I am typing this, I am beginning to be really thankful that I chose 320 after all, ‘cuz despite being pass the half-way point down the corridor, I can still hear the clatter and chatter of people fixing up dinner and watching some tv in the common room. It’s kind of comforting to be honest. Anyways, back to what I was saying… I ventured out for my coke. I met a girl in the kitchen, cooking some food. I forgot her name already … typical. She was really nice though, recognizing I was new, asking my name and where I’m from and then introducing me to the other guys who were gathered around the tv. She also told me the ‘blue’ Ethernet port is the right one to use.

Anyways, I’m gonna read some notes or a novel on my kindle. Oh, I don’t know if it’s the a/c or the altitude or all the tiles and blank walls… but the static electricity on me is super high. My clothes is sticking to me and my hair is all straight and scary. Last time this happened to me was when I was in India and England. Never really in Trinidad, at least not to this extent. All that’s left is to wake up tomorrow with a host of plastic bags gathered around my bed – that’s a story for next time.

Goodnight

Genius

Some things are better left unknown

I feel so much self loathing tonight. Guilt and shame

Panic... Don't

Anxiety...
What is this?
The first time I got what I can call a true 'panic attack' was on January 1st 2011, in Woodfood Cafe in Chaguanas... where Mom, Dad & I decided to go in and 'check it out' ... It was shortly after finding out about mom's relapse and ... well, long story short, I found myself heart racing, head spinning, unable to breathe and needing to stand in 1 spot & hold on to a counter trying to calm down.
Now, 11 months later... this feeling is slowly becoming a part of my everyday life. Maybe not so much in intensity, but I'm a bundle of 'freaking out in my head' and keep consciously taking deep, steady diaphragmatic breaths. I've never been the anxious, scared, freaked out type... I am easily excitable, yes... but never this easily freaked. It's scary. I'm scary. I'm scared