Overcoat.

It’s never easy to write about real stuff. What’s slightly more bearable is to write about a shadow of what’s really going on. Taking two, three, even ten times more effort to play dress up with the words I want to say. A necktie over a tattered shirt. If only. Rather, it’s an overly ornate overcoat around a naked body. Ready to meet the world.

Morning screams of FUCK YOU translated as dust mites chewing away at a discarded dress.

Thankfulness for God, Church, and Family

If you know me or have read my posts, I tend to over-analyze and try to explain every detail or concept in my writing. I’ve realized that I tend to hover over topics such as beauty, love, mental illness, depression, and compassion, but rarely delve into a personal outpouring of it here. Even as I write right now, I have to fight the urge to overshadow the emotion and heart with analysis to defend my reasons and thoughts. Don’t get me wrong, I do believe that analyzing and philosophizing about these things is important, but there are times for the restless mind to take a break and surrender to allow something else to lead it into quiet waters.  This post will be those times of surrender as I express what I’m thankful for.

 

God:

Thank God for this life that given me through the cross. For every good and perfect gift that I have been blessed to have. Thank you for the good and bad times. For the times where you gave and took away. Everything I have is from you; all my thanks that I give points back to you.

Church:

I cannot express how blessed I am to have church in my life. No church is perfect and believe me, I’ve had my share of ups and downs with it, but there’s no doubt that without this church, I would be in a very dark place. The amount of love, care, support, and guidance I’ve received throughout the years is beyond what my words can say. Thank you for every individual that I’ve crossed paths with not only in East Valley, but also in other church, schools, or random encounters.

Family:

Oh man, this one’s difficult, not because there’s nothing to be thankful for; rather it’s difficult because it reveals how unthankful and selfish I am towards them.

This month, I’ve been learning to stop focusing on the things I don’t have, but rather focus on the things that I already have, and what I have is a family that loves me- loves me so very much. I feel uneasy writing my thanks for my family on this blog at a crowded Starbucks. For one, I need to say these words to my family, not on a blog. For two, I don’t want to be holding back my tears at a public place as I write and reflect on how thankful I am and should be for my family so I’ll end it here.

 

 

Good Morning Family

I wake up to an ever so common theme of birds chirping and my mom rustling through the house. Sometimes I awake the typical Fuck You’s that are constantly repeated until the rustling stops or he gets tired of yelling. Most of the time it’s the second one and today is one of those days. As I begrudgingly get up from my unkept bed, my mom greets me as she enters my door-handleless door, opens my window, and tosses some wadded up toilet paper outside.

I head to my straight to computer without putting a shirt on or brushing my teeth and scroll mindlessly through my email and facebook, hoping for something different. Nothing. Same old junk mail and bullshit. “Hmm.. maybe I’ll write a post today”, I say to myself as I try to drown out my mother’s questions. “Anything to escape from the incessant antics of my family.” So I open up WordPress and here I am! Writing away my mornings.

For me, mornings signifies the beginning of an old day with the folks. Same old habits, frustrations, and detachments that I’m so accustomed to. If it wasn’t for the times I leave my house for work or when I go out with friends or by myself,  I would live my life in a perpetual pattern of “home stuff”. The depressing thing is that this is how my mom and dad live. Same old stuff every day.  Week after week,  month after month, year after year. Hmm… I just realized that it was my dad’s birthday 6 days ago. It’s hard to remember these things when every day, whether it’s birthdays, holidays or labor day, all seem the same.

If it wasn’t for the times I leave my house with my parents, they would live a life in a perpetual pattern of “home stuff”. Oh, the irony. The people I’m trying to escape from are the very people that rely on me for their escape.

I’ve written a lot about escapes and I realize that this is not my portion in life. I can choose to live in a blissful ignorance of my surroundings, or live in the reality where suffering and joy can ensue. For me, life is a long and arduous fight between these two options. It’s the red or blue pill, the “two roads diverged in a yellow wood”, “Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied” and the narrow or wide road. This IS what makes all the difference in life!

There’s so much brilliance and wisdom that have come from the pens, mouths, and movie screens of people throughout the entirety of human history. In a world where many of us are herded like sheep to the slaughter, very few people decide to go against the flow of comfort and the crowd. These few are the ones that get embroidered in our history books and hearts. People like MLK, Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Neo, and Jesus.

It’s 12:19 PM. The time of mourning is over. Maybe I’ll grab lunch with my mom or clean the house that my dad’s been telling me to do.

 

 

 

Family

This is a candid post about my family and I. I never really know how to start a post like this. I guess i’ll start with a list

  1. I have a mom and a dad
  2. Dad doesn’t talk to mom. He only yells at her
  3. My dad had a stroke so his language and understanding is very off
  4. Mom talks all the time. Mostly to me, sometimes my dad, and sometimes to no one in particular.
  5. My mom has bipolar disorder so she talks a lot. Her language and understanding is very off, but in a different way.
  6. I’ve never had a reasonable conversations with my parents.
  7. I relay their messages to each other even though they’re in the same house.
  8. Oh I also have a brother that I haven’t seen in… is it 10 years? 15? I actually don’t know.
  9. My brother stopped talking to my mom and dad. I haven’t talked to him in 2, 3 years? I lost track
  10. I’ve never seen my parents kiss or show affection to each other. They sleep in different rooms.
  11. My dad is very depressed. All he does is sleep, sit, and watch tv.
  12. My mom is depressed. Don’t get me started on what my mom does…
  13. It’s been like this for 25 years

List are good but it lacks a story. Stories are difficult… maybe i’ll save that for a later post

I write this post, yes to vent, and honestly with some bitterness, resentment, sadness, and anger. I’m only human. But my family has made me who I am today and I am thankful for it. I’m thankful for them. They indirectly taught me patience, compassion, love, duty, and respect, through their lack of it for each other. They constantly challenge me and put me through the fire. Every second at home is a fight for sanity and peace within the chaos. For those that know me, yet do not know these details, this IS my life. This IS my personality, my humor, my mannerisms, and the essence of who I am. This doesn’t change who I am because it is who I am.

I sit here and write all this in a Mcdonald’s at 11:25 PM. I should be home so my parents don’t worry about me… But I’m here for a reason. McDonald’s is the last place someone wants to be at 11:28 at night… It’s fucking depressing here. But I’d rather be here than home. The only thing that draws me back home is the worry and loneliness that my parents constantly feel when I’m out so late. Plus that’s where my bed is. I need sleep 🙂

Dad.

I close my eyes as I type this. I try to reminisce about the moments I have with my dad. I try to find some emotion in the life we had together. I try really hard this time because I don’t want to feel empty again in a crowded boba shop. I remember once we both laughed at a scene from a television show that I have no memory of. I remember him taking me to the arcade and giving me $5 to play Tekken and Soulcalibur.  He would wander the arcade or maybe sit down or nap. I really don’t know. I remember taking him to the mall on an unbearably hot summer day for him to cool off. I bought him a $5 coffee and some water and then wandered the mall without him. I had no desire to go to the arcade like I did as a kid. All I could do now is walk and think.

I remember that he cooks for me and drives me to school even when I was in college. He yelled at me for getting a F in Algebra. He gave me money for food. Now I give him money.

He hugged me once when I said I was depressed. He yelled at me once when I said I was depressed. I hugged him once in a medical hospital when the physical therapist told me to. He hugged my mom once after he saw her at the psychiatric hospital. He yells at my mom when she’s at home. Those are the only hugs I remember, but not the only yells I remember.

Now my dad is depressed. I scoff at his lack of understanding of who or what I am. I want to yell at him for his lack of compassion, lack of empathy, lack of philosophy and reason. But I want to hug him to ease his sadness. I want to give him $5 to play some video game so he can forget about reality and so I can wander around, think, and maybe take a nap. I want to have deep talks with him about the memories he has in his life. Hopefully they’re more than the memories I have of him.