Tag Archives: take

Part of Me by Katy Perry

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How can you hate a girl that not only walks to her own beats but shares them with the world? This is an empowering song from Katy Perry that can be related to a break-up OR recovery! It’s all about a fresh start and staying true to yourself. Just read the lyrics and interpret it through your own story. You may find a deeper meaning like I do.

Lyrics:

Days like this I want to drive away
Pack my bags and watch your shadow fade
‘Cause you chewed me up and spit me out
Like I was poison in your mouth
You took my light, you drained me down
But that was then and this is now
Now look at me

[Chorus:]
This is the part of me
That you’re never gonna ever take away from me, no
This is the part of me
That you’re never gonna ever take away from me, no
Throw your sticks and your stones,
Throw your bombs and your blows
But you’re not gonna break my soul
This is the part of me
That you’re never gonna ever take away from me, no

I just wanna throw my phone away
Find out who is really there for me
‘Cause you ripped me off, your love was cheap

Was always tearing at the seams
I fell deep, and you let me down
But that was then and this is now
Now look at me

[Chorus]

Now look at me I’m sparkling
A firework, a dancing flame
You won’t ever put me out again
I’m glowin’, oh, whoa
So you can keep the diamond ring
It don’t mean nothing anyway
In fact you can keep everything, yeah, yeah,
Except for me

[Chorus x2]

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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.

 

One Word at a Time

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When I came back from India, where I hit my rock bottom, I wrote some journal entries and some poems. Grant it, I was still in psychosis for a month, so much of my writings are teetering on questionable madness.. but at least I have documentation of my unraveling thoughts. I have spoken to many people who see me in meetings jotting quickly —and mindfully— everything interesting that someone might say. They come to me after, questioning and prodding. “What are you doing? Why do you do this?” Inspiration, I say. For the future. To distract my mind all the while keeping it focused on the purpose of me being here. I reflect on these words somedays, these phrases that are jotted down in a penmanship only I can make out, it lifts my heart.

My journals on the other hand, don’t always do the same. People question me about this too, saying, “I don’t journal. I’ve tried. I just can’t get into it. Where do you start? What do you say?” I simply reply, anything. Everything. Theres no judgement but your own. Its just you and the paper/the keyboard, whatever. You just let your guard down and scream through the only words that come to your mind in that moment. You let it out. You get lost in the present as the words slip out of your hands and manifest themselves in front of you.

I find it healing. I also find it necessary to let go of all the thoughts that collect in the back of your mind. You make them real when you scribble them down. Something tangible that you can reflect on in the future. You start to realize how crazy you are. How human you are. You can map your progress, track your emotions and notice the moments in time that you let yourself fall and the moments you picked yourself up.

Its unlikely that I ever write on a good day. I am far too merry and cheerful and I often think I sound like a idiot. My ambitions are bloated and my head is held too high. I sometimes get scared when I observe this. It makes me think of mania… But its on those good days that I like to spin the clock back and see where I’ve been. Remind myself of the way life was regarded before I woke up with this smile on my face. I can see clearly that all things will pass. There is evidence of my mind when I felt I was stuck. Where time didn’t exist and the idea of life moving on to send me into the unknown was far from my imagination.

Today is one of those days to reflect. Not that I am in the best mood in the world; my thoughts have wandered here and there, sending me on a whirlwind of inspiration and thought provoking questions. After spitting out the ideas that were trapped in my mind (untangling them enough to make sense), I took a break. I shifted my attention to a long lost entry written when I got out of rehab, it read:

 

“Nothings doing it for me; running, Spongebob, Facebook, reading. Nada. Nope. I still feel like a heavy lump sits in my throat, a thousand butterflies wish to come up from my stomach, my body aches, my head spins, my eyes droop lazily on my clean face. I’m at a loss. I’ve been out of rehab for a few weeks now and plans of moving are becoming more official by the second. Halloween comes closer to reality. I just want to move. I just want a job. I want to go to school again. Some grandiose voice in my head tells me to study philosophy and be a professor. Write a bunch of books. Be a success. Be a success? Why am I always wishing for success? I can hardly handle failure. And I am such a great failure. The essence of depression wreaks from my veins today. Taunting me through every controlled breath. Gently caressing me, telling me things will look brighter. Don’t use. Don’t use, I tell myself. Moments like this, these receding moments that have lasted over 12 hours… they are the ones that make me want to use. Make me want to just pass out and sleep to wake up to a new day that has more purpose, more umph in my step. Where are those days? How do they come to me in my life? How do they even exist? I know that they have before, I can remember the ease of those days. Where did they go? What brought me here? I digress.”

Writing

As I sat there and read these lines I saw a glimpse of my past. Grateful to be here in the  future/present. Though I can’t say much has changed. I still get the occasional craving, though I try not to bother my mind when things are working out. I remove myself, not allowing my thoughts to unravel, revealing nothing but increased anxiety. Stop, I say. Don’t go there. You know how you’ll feel when you go there. And surely I do. You do to. You know how it is when your mind gets caught in a single thought. How it spins down, causing you to loose control, throwing you into a black hole. Thats no fun. Certainly counter productive. But its during these times that we have to remember to do only two things. Only these two things (from my experience) seem to work; prayer and journalling.

We need to take a step back from those winding thoughts and give them to our higher power to answer. “This too shall pass,” God most commonly replies. Then we have to let it out. Its no good bringing someone else down by removing them from their busy lives to complain and ramble on comically about nothing at all. At least, thats what we feel in these moments… So, instead of locking it up inside to save it for a rainy day, you got to just write it out and give it to yourself to listen to. Once its all down and you hand hurts from the process, you can read it over. Wow, you’ll think. Thats it. Thats me—right now.

You’ll feel better. Trust me. I know it may seem hard at first. Maybe time consuming. But it really isn’t. Once you lose yourself in the rapid collection of your thoughts, you’ll pull back feeling a weight lifted from your shoulders. You’ll realize that everything that had concerned you in those moments that were just vented seconds ago were actually real. There for you to decode and “digress,” as I say. Its out, your free. Free from those emotions that once felt like they were going to take over and drag you down so low that there would be no way you could get up. The feelings where you felt like you just wanted to give everything up, just to use, now seem like foolish memories. You thank God they’re gone.

I recommend to everyone I meet to journal whenever they are bored, alone or confused. Sometimes I find myself coughing up broken sentences and take those opportunities to write poetry. They don’t always have to rhyme, you know. None of that it matters. You have to keep in mind that these entries are for no one other than yourself. Of course, if your proud of your creation you can always share it, barring in mind that not everyone can or will relate. I certainly keep that in my mind every time I post a blog that is actually written by myself. I have never been trained in the art of English, but I enjoy it. I know that not many people (or no one at all) will actually read the things I put out there. I don’t let that bother me. And you can’t let it bother you. Let any shred of doubt be transformed into emotional release. Because writing is like a form of meditation; you focus your thoughts on present, reflecting on the things you feel and the anxieties that are stressing your mind — then you breath— and let it go; one word at a time.

 

 

Take Eight

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She just couldn’t do it. She tried so hard to withdraw those memories from her mind. The ones that tormented her everyday of her few months of insanity. It was too hard. She thought about the people she hurt, the things she did and the crazy conclusions she came to. She wasn’t sure how to go about it.

The experiences in India were so different than in Illinois. In India everything was so profound, so spiritual. In Illinois it all surrounded around a boy that walked into her life at just the perfect time of her unraveling mind. The disillusions she had of him were the clearest memories of them all. The most embarrassing of them all. Surely he knew she was crazy right?
She doesn’t know what he knows or what he thinks. She only knows he doesn’t care, at least that’s what he says. The fact is though, she cares. It was her entire life that flipped upside down during those months and if “God” or reason has anything to do with life, then what was the reason he came into hers?

She read his poetry as if she was cracking a code. She was in such deep thought as she combed through every line. Around every phrase she formed another dissolution. She went to him, almost in tears, after she read the Egyptian Book of the Dead. She was convinced it was her life written out in clear text right in front of her eyes. He didn’t understand like she thought he would…

She thought back when he took her to a graveyard. This was such a bad idea given her state, given her thoughts that she already had about her mortality. She hadn’t remember the plane ride home, she was sure that she was dead and that he was clearly dead to. She remembers looking at the scar on his right cheek, wondering how he died. She didn’t want to ask, she thought it was a touchy subject. Besides, she had multiple conclusions about her own death besides the mystery of the flight back home.

When she was in India, trapped in a room (that was for her own good because of the way she was acting out) she had extreme pain on the top of her head every time she woke up. And every time, that pain was in a different place. It was like someone had shot her and left her there to die, only now she was a ghost… Maybe. It wasn’t clear to her at the time. Those thoughts she experienced in that room were…as said before– profound. They were extreme hallucinations and vivid meanings behind every object in sight. Stories played over in her head, lessons taught throughout her childhood were painted on the walls, echoing in her brain… Driving her mad.

She’s come to terms with the fact that she’ll never know the answers as to why she went through such a traumatic mental maze. She’s just grateful that she found a way out. She still has questions and she hates how all of the relationships she formed before her psychosis had disappeared in the dark. She can only hope that someday she will be able to let it all out. Let it all go. After all, people are entertained by the stories she tells of those month of insanity. Those months of believing she could control the air, never die and find meaning in everything she saw and heard. She was invincible yet so confused. It was too much to handle. All the knowledge she thought she found through her observations were not the answers to life. At least, she has no proof that the unraveling of her mind brought her to the right conclusions. She can no longer define the line between truth and reality. And as she sits in a Starbucks with no person she knows, surrounded by no place she recognizes, she comes to the realization that everywhere she will go from this point on and every person she meets will have no idea of her past. She decides that this might be a good thing but she still has flashbacks of all the places she went, all the people she met when she was insane. Moving on and letting them go was like letting go of those memories. Finally accepting that that was then and this is now.

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(This is a picture I must have took of myself on the plane ride home. I’m not sure how I even got it that colour… I have absolutly no memory of the entire trip back. Even the drive to the airport, home or even most of the days afterwards.)

Take Seven

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She remembers a time when her phone was so heavy. When she could find any excuse not to pick it up. But something about today was different. Something couldn’t keep her hands off her phone. She went down a long list of all the girls she met in rehab. Only about a quarter of them picked up but every conversation was worth it. Talking to some of them for almost an hour. Reminiscing, complaining, and expressing so much gratitude for their sober lives. So much happiness to hear from her again and know how well she was doing.

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In rehab, she had been something of a teachers pet. She sped through the steps one through three thoroughly. Constantly asking questions and seeking advise from the other girls and counselors. She kept everything neat and pristine in a large three inch binder. It was so packed after a few days that she could hardly get it to open. She didn’t care and all the girls found her so amusing.

When she first arrived she was in a daze. Having just came out of the psych ward for a week, she wasn’t sure what she was getting into. All she cared about was the fact that she was out of her house. She was going stir crazy. Knowing not to talk to any of the people she got high with in college, she tried contacting her old friend from high school. Lets call her Sunny.

Relying on Sunny was such a fail, such a disappointment. Sunny was afraid of her now. Everything she had vented to her about her experience in psychosis and her admitting to her addiction had just caused Sunny to push her further away. Its like she changed. Everything was different. She no longer accepted her. Sometimes she wonders how things got this way. We once promised we would always be there for each other, no matter what. We were going to be friends for life. But what good is it if she choses to ignore me? I am sick of all the excuses. We had a month to see each other… She seemed to be so apologetic when I called her in rehab…

I really needed you Sunny! Why didn’t you see that? You were the first person I called when I got back from India and I really could have used your support.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what was going on.”

“You could tell something was wrong though…”

“But I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t understand what you had went through! I guess I just thought you would be a bad influence on me…”

“Really?… I was trying to get better. I was seeking your help and your support. I just really need your support. Can you promise me that you’ll always be here for me? When I get out, can we see each other and really talk?”

“Of course! I’m so sorry, I just had no idea. I’ll be here for you.”

Lies. All lies. She should have known better. She should have seen this coming. It had been so long since they had talked. Even while she was in India she couldn’t get a hold of her. Sunny was surely going through her own shit but is that an excuse to leave a friend behind? That was the last kind of person she wanted to be. She had been a poor friend before to quite a lot of people. She had dismissed them and left them with nothing but sour words all for the sake of her independence.

She always had a hard time keeping friends. Making them was easy, it was listening to the same stories, committing to emotions, understanding the expression of feelings and dealing with the neediness. She couldn’t handle all the responsibility. She could never give them what they gave to her. She knew that. At least thats what she thought back then. Several years later she has a different approach. Finally grasping the importance of friendship, she’s changed her views and made it somewhat of a goal to be a better friend. She started with picking up the phone. And she’ll never forget the support and love she received in those minutes that turned into an hour, but will last the whole day.

Take Five

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Take Five

Sure enough(she really should’ve known) when it came to going up, she would come down. This rapid cycling has been going on for about two weeks now. Today she spent the whole day laying in her bed crying. Going over all the insanity she had experienced six months prior when she was in India. Every time she managed to stop, she burst end out in tears again. She decided to make some calls. After several failed attempts she finally reached a girl she had met in rehab.

Amy had been a good friend from the start. At the age of 19, with it being her first time in rehab, she had more in common than most of the other girls. They spoke about their dreams of travel and made up a master scheme to backpack around the US with all the money they would save in sobriety. But those dreams were about to be shattered… 

The moment she picked up her words formed in an endless stream, overwhelming Amy on the other line, “Hi! How are you!? I’m terrible, I don’t know what’s going on I’ve been crying non-stop and I just don’t know why I think its a bipolar flare up or something I know you don’t have bipolar but I just thought I’d see how you were doing I just need to talk to someone! How are you?! What are you doing?!” 

It didn’t take long for Amy to come out with her guilty truths. She had relapsed and judging on her tone and lack of inspiration, she wasn’t coming back just yet. She explained how she had ODed… 

Amy listened as she began to cry for her. “Oh! No! I feel like I want to relapse now! How could you? What’s going on? What made you relapse?!” 

Amy immediately replied, “No! Don’t relapse too, be strong! It’s just tough for me, so many things have been going on, I just can’t control…”

Ahh, but there lies the problem. Amy thought she had to control this. But that’s not it. Give it to your higher power. That’s what I’ve learned in NA and AA. It took her another phone call to a member of NA, Ryan, before she realized this. After that call she had prayed so hard she though God would get annoyed.

Ultimately it took her a long walk, a couple more calls before she was able to calm herself down. One girl, Tay, told her firmly that everything passes. Tay may not struggle with bipolar disorder but if there is anything she knows how to do, its lift people up when their down. When she hung up with her she felt empowered enough to get out of the house and keep her mind busy. Though that was another faulty idea, as her sister, Jacquelyn, pointed out. 

“You need to face your thoughts, not just dismiss them and burry them in your heart. You can’t escape from yourself or you disorder. You have to learn to live with it. It may not be who you are but it will always be apart of you.” Jacquelyn told her.

She found all of these people so gracious and understanding. She knew again– because she needed reminding– that she was loved and not alone

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Titanium by David Guetta featuring Sia

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This is a really great song that is so uplifting, especially in those time when you feel like giving up. It’s all about strength and courage. The video is a little odd in my opinion. At first I thought the kid was a serial shooter like we see from time to time in the news… But he’s not. You can give it a watch but I seriously suggest just giving it a listen and reading along with the lyrics.

Lyrics:

You shouted out
But I can’t hear a word you say
I’m talking loud not saying much
I’m criticized but all your bullets ricochet
You shoot me down, but I get up
I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away
You shoot me down but I won’t fall
I am titanium
You shoot me down but I won’t fall
I am titanium
Cut me down
But it’s you who’ll have further to fall
Ghost town and haunted love
Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones
I’m talking loud not saying much
I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away
You shoot me down but I won’t fall
I am titanium
You shoot me down but I won’t fall
I am titanium
I am titanium
I am titanium
Stone-hard, machine gun
Firing at the ones who run
Stone-hard as bulletproof glass
You shoot me down but I won’t fall
I am titanium
You shoot me down but I won’t fall
I am titanium
You shoot me down but I won’t fall
I am titanium
You shoot me down but I won’t fall
I am titanium
I am titanium