Tag Archives: past

Take Nine

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Was she foolish? Yes, probably. She came here waiting for the cute guy to appear behind the counter and here he is. Only she’s jacked up on so much caffeine that she can’t count the shots she’s taken on one hand. Surely its her weakness, thats evident. She knows she shouldn’t drink it but every sip is like a surge of such great energy that it lifts her into the air like … Whatever. She just got lost in a song that played in the background. She needs to know what song that was… “Bing Crosby,” mumbles the cute guy when he returned to check. He clearly has no clue who he is. The same can’t be said for her… but it’s been a “Long, Long Time.”

It takes her back.

Arambol Crabs!

A silly crab on the beach of Arambol.

Somehow she is now on the port of Arambol, Goa. Walking with heavy steps on the cool beach to scare away any lingering crabs. She focus’s her gaze on the ground as they pop in and out of the sand. It seems to work so she repositions her head, looking to the sky. Orions belt is shining brighter than she’d ever seen in her life. Right next to it she traces the constellation of Gemini with her fingers— thats her sign. Sighing, she places her hands back to her side, holding her iPhone listening to a mix of Crosy, Fitzgerald and Armstrong. She looks around her; nothing but a vast sea of blackness to her right and glowing spheres marking the vacant huts to her left. The light from the crescent moon sends sparks dancing on the ocean. She smiles. I don’t think I’ve ever been more happier than I am here, alone on this beautiful night. 

She wore a small black dress that was gift given to her the first time she visited Goa. During that stay she had indulged in drugs and sex, more drugs and sex, and endless dancing. Now she came with a different purpose. Traveling with some girls she had met from her school and staying for a week to lay on the beach, eat too much food, watch them shop and talk for hours. They never wanted to smoke up with her but she didn’t really care. They had just left that morning and she moved into a different resort that was far more expensive but far more beautiful. Atman Resort.. When she first saw the place her jaw dropped. Huts built high above the sand, draped in silk sarrees of every colour. She was mystified. She decided to stay one more week before she had to go back home (to Kannur) and start working.

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Outside the hut.

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Inside the hut.

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Porch of the hut.

For months now she had been with the guy she had been invited to room with. It was really all an accident how that relationship happened and it simply could not be ended given all he had done for her and the fact that they were living together. But this didn’t stop her from messaging a guy she had met in high school years before. They talked about everything. She would wait for him to settle into his evening, which was the start of her day, and they would chat for hours. He kept her company. He introduced her to Bing Crosby.

The irony of it all had been that just recently (as we fast-forward to the present), she had had a dream about him. All these months she had completely forgot about him with her head muddled by the disasters that had ensued since she returned. She looked back at everything they had said to each other from the very start. They spoke in dreams, desires and love. They were separated by miles and time. Then she dropped off from communication for a while. Only to pick up again in a scrabble of unclear words that remotely described her life post-hospitalization in India. She was delusional. Yet he had gone along with it. But how could he have known?

She tried to explain to him months later on the phone. He was reserved. Probably in shock.. but pleasant. They talked for a long time, just catching up. Nothing like it was before though. It would probably never be like it was before.

But she could still sit there in the coffee shop, gayly humming the tune to “Long, Long Time.” She mouthed the words as she stared off blindly at the workers behind the bar.

When she was in Arambol by herself for that week, she slept throughout the day to shield from the sun and arose in the evening for drinks, pot and whatever else she could scavenge from the random groups of travelers she found on the beach. One night she set herself down with a few young men from Italy. They enjoyed hearing her stories of Kannur and the parties south of Arambol. They admitted that they preferred the hippy-scene but she tried to assure them of its equally enlightening experience. She began to realize something she had forgotten— judgement.

She had erased all judgement when she landed in India. Never thinking that anyone was better than her or she was better than anyone else. She wandered around the town making friends with everyone she met and never hesitated to think that anyone would only be talking to her because she was a young American girl. Now that she reflects on it, she can see how naive she was. But was it really all that bad? She had been happy not looking so deeply behind everyones motives. It had worked for her at the time. She supposes that this is what might have gotten her into so much trouble. Yet, for some reason she misses those days when she could let her mind drift off and see the world in an elaborate web of technicoloured unity. She reminds herself, this was me in mania.

She never knew she was bipolar until she was diagnosed in India and now that she knows that there is an actual word to describe her abnormal thought process, she feels a little better. Sure, she’s different than a lot of people— although some like to say that ‘everyones a little bipolar’—she at least has an understanding of why. Being bipolar is not some shifting of moods from time to time. Its not to be belittled by anyone who thinks they understand it. They don’t live it, how could they understand it? To her, her disorder was serious. It causes her to come off as something she does not want to portray. It sends her into months of pure joy, verging on insane to spells of deep depression where all hopes are lost and suicide becomes a better answer with each day. She wonders what it would be like to live without fear. Her head is always spinning around such profound ideas that when she withdraws herself to observe her thoughts, all that can rationalize them is her rise into another manic episode… She once sought after that, too. Sometimes she wonders if she is still secretly seeking it even after the fact that she realized it was a bad idea.

She just lets these thoughts go. They can’t govern her life and she can’t be always questioning herself. She tells herself, if I become manic, then I do. If I become depressed, then that’s where I will be. For now, in this moment, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I feel happy. I feel sane. I love myself and my life and I will not let anyone get in the way of this serenity.

She mentions the idea of ‘anyone’ because she saw a pattern. When she is depressed, she tends to push it onto someone. Latch on to them as though without them, she would be nothing. She places utter most importance on their existence in her life and becomes delusional to the fact that they are just another human being—doing their own thing. She is not the center of their universe and they probably (defiantly) don’t want her to be. She has to let go of her possessive thoughts and bring herself back into a reality where it is just her and everything else. I am alone, but I am at peace. I like to be alone. I feel free. I get lost in my thoughts and gaze upon the lake. I wait for the moon as I sit myself under a palm tree. Anywhere I go, there I will be. And everywhere I go, beauty follows me.

 

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Take Three

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At the end of every week begins the torture that builds up in her head. It keeps her feeling as though she wants to crawl out of her skin. She can’t bare it. It is; unbearable.

After the past few days of throwing up after taking her medication because she was starving herself, she decided it was time to eat again. Maybe this time she won’t feel so agitated by the end of the week again. It’s something about all this focus on her addiction that gets her nerves high. Going to meetings before wasting time doing IOP homework, then working out and spending another three hours focusing on her addiction in IOP into the wee hours of the night at nine when she feels like she already should have been asleep. She spends about ten hours sleeping and according to her new sleeping cycle app on her phone, she sucks at it. Every night she wakes up at least three times, totally disrupting the nature of a good nights rest. But she doesn’t care, not today anyways. She skipped IOP yesterday due to taking her meds too early, causing her to feel extra agitated. She tried sleeping for an hour, got up and went to workout and got some groceries for her mom. By the time she came home she was able to sleep well, waking up bright and early just past five. This morning she felt really good for some reason. Thoughts of past adventures in India came into her head but only this time they didn’t leave her feeling hopeless and sad.

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She could clearly remember the first meal she had out in the town of Kannur which is located in the southern state of Kerala. She had been seated with another volunteer, Petra, and the coordinator of the program, Katja. Both of them were from Germany but for some reason there accents were incredibly comforting to her in this foreign land. She had ordered a tomato utapum; and maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t had pizza in years or the fact that the thing really did taste like pizza, but she was so incredibly pleased with what she had ordered. From that moment on she dropped all her notions of a Jain diet that she had adapted to while living in the states which included–or rather excluded just about every food out there– no meat, no animal bi-product and no root vegetables (because god forbid you harm an insect and kill the entire vegetable on its way out of the ground). She remembers convincing several of the students she had met later on her trip to go to this same restaurant to order tomato utapums. Only when they got there they weren’t serving them. Apparently its a morning thing… She laughed to herself. Those girls, Tamara from Israel and Reidin from Ireland, were her favorite people she had met at the Ayurvedic and Panchakarma school (ancient Indian medicine and massage). She was big into astrology at the time and they fit their signs perfectly; Scorpio and Taurus. She always found scorpios to adore her for some reason, then again, they kind of adore everyone… And she had left behind a Taurus back at home, Alyssa, who always offered her the best advise and motherly love; Reidin did the same. She remembered bringing them to a disco-like ice cream parlor after they had lunch and she ran into her temporary lover and his friends. She tried not to think of them. She held on to the moments laughing and gossiping with the other travelers, got up out of bed and headed to the freezer. She pulled out some frozen Indian food and popped it in the microwave. As she waited she flew in and out of the kitchen, pointing her toes as she walked like a ballerina. When the timer went off she bounced over and grabbed a fork. After she finished her breakfast she noticed her legs were tapping uncontrollably and the sun was still not out. So she grabbed her coat and bundled up. She figured the food was a little over 400 calories so if she walked about an hour she could burn it all off. So that’s what she did. Cramping up on her side and briskly walking to the park, up the creek and back into town. She was pleased with the sun rising at just the perfect time. She remembered how dark it was when she first stepped outside her door. She could actually see the Gemini constellation so clearly that it brought her back to India, which at the time of her stay, clearly displayed it too. It’s like I’m chasing my sign, she thought.

When she had fallen in psychosis for two months (one month in India and another back home in the States), she had taken her astrological sign too seriously. By this time she had just been diagnosed bipolar. At first she thought bipolar had something to do with the fact that she had been in a polar opposite country that had almost directly reverse coordinates. Then after she nixed that idea and realized it had to do with her personality, she told everyone it was simply because she had been a Gemini. She even had ideas of proving this to the psychiatrist. Of course, her psychiatrist thought this was a foolish, jotting it down on her notepad as another disillusion. She had a list of disillusions being compiled by her parents, friends from India and medical authorities. She was being called crazy and she hated this idea.

She sits here now in the coffee shop again, sucking on another coffee, reminiscing on those feeling of rage. She no longer feels that way about her condition. What everyone had been saying makes perfect sense now. She had been crazy. She accepts that. In fact, the thought almost excites her. What an unique story! What an interesting past! But I should be asking for mania anymore. I know it only leads to psychosis and that state is just down right embarrassing… She wonders what else she will do today. Maybe she will post this on her blog? She has a couple blogs going; one for her poetry which she never tags and is really just for her, and another that is surrounded on holistically healing addiction and co-occurring disorders/diseases which she promotes and regularly posts on. Surely drinking coffee and writing all day is a good option but really what she wants to do is visit all her friends before she leaves. In about a week she will be taking off to live in Florida with her mother. She is a little weary about the circumstances, seeing as her mom is not a recovering alcoholic, but she has faith that it will be a good fresh start for her. I guess I’m gonna miss these people places and things, she thinks. But she needs to change them, they only lead to no good. Though of course, as everyone says, a change in scene is not a change in character defects. And as a raging drug addict, she knows she wouldn’t have a hard time sniffing out drugs anywhere she if she so chooses. After all she managed to fall on them in an entirely different country. But that was a total coincidence! Regardless, it happened.

Okay, I have to admit it was maybe not the biggest coincidence. My ears did perk up at the mention of weed and certainly cocaine. Ranjit warned me too. He certainly warned me. But I couldn’t resist, I knew the feeling and I wanted it again. I did what I could to play dumb and innocent and my schemes had worked to get me what I wanted. She regretted her actions and her lies. But this was the way of the typical addict. A past she would have to live with and a future she will strive to correct.

She felt foolish for the way she had acted a few days ago. Staying up through the night and feeding off of artificial energy just to get a kick. It didn’t bring her out of depression. It actually flung her right back in. She figured a productive day consisted of eating properly, busying her mind, working out and going to bed relatively early. She was proud of the day so far. She felt comfortable at the quite coffee shop. Having finished her coffee she felt she would do a good job in the gym like the last time she was soaring high off life. Only she didn’t want to ruin her make-up… Today was unlike the other days because she had actually taken the effort to get dressed. The sun was out and shining, reflecting off of every possible surface outside causing her eyes to give off a pretty shade of blue. She looked at herself in the reflection of her screen. How strange it is to be trapped in this body? I wonder if other people hate this too? I’d like to be someone else for a change. Tough luck. Only death will come to prove another existence, if that even exists. Of course, by all rationality it does. People die all the time. But all of us in our singular realities may live forever. It’s completely possible. Of course it is. But here she goes again thinking such thoughts that are too deep for a lonely Friday afternoon. She might be better off finishing this and moving on to some other useless project…