Monday, November 12, 2007

Puerto Rico







Soy tan confuso.

I'm working in Puerto Rico until this Friday. Blogger is in Spanish and I don't understand what's going on most of the time because I know very little Spanish. It is very beautiful here, but work is stressful and I am upset because I left my lovely purple skirt to be dry-cleaned this morning and they melted it with the iron. I am more upset about it than I should be, and irritated with myself. The depression is getting old. For most of my life, I have managed my moods, and what I know now are the symptoms of post-traumatic stress. It takes a lot of work, though. What I usually do when things are going badly is avoid people as much as I can until I feel less fragmented. I can hold my life and myself together reasonably well in the meantime. I’m good at it- I can hold down a job (successfully) and seem pretty normal. My friends are patient; I drop out on them. I feel guilty for being so undependable and flaky. I wish I could move on from this and expect more from myself. I have made some progress but it seems painfully slow.

Its strange how losing someone you are close to can destroy everything you believe, about yourself and your life and the world around you. I guess suicide can be especially profound in this way because you never believe someone you know could really end their life like that, but I suppose death in general is like that for some people. Even after all this time, I am afraid to rebuild my emotional life, afraid I can't do it, I’m too damaged, and afraid if I do I will lose everything again. I am finely attuned to loss. The world is unpredictable. I feel paralyzed. I want stability and to believe in myself, but it doesn't seem possible. I don't know how to work through it.

The things that help me feel better are yoga and writing. Those wacky mantras and meditations on my yoga DVDs seem to work on some level. I suppose its doing something for my chakras. I have wanted to write on my blog for a long time, but depression is so boring. I feel insecure and humorless instead of engaging and interesting. I am writing anyway.

There is something really compelling about the beach here. The water is so warm, and you can walk into the water far enough that the waves will crash over your head. It's thrilling. It feels like you're going to be swept away for a moment, and sometimes the water pushes you forward with such force that you lose your footing. You don't know where you're going or which way is up. The salt water stings your eyes and everything is blurry. Your lips taste like salt. You stand up and wait for the next wave to knock you down again.