To Reminisce

There are days I miss my old Salsa friends, ones that I've made over a decade of dancing.

I don't tell anyone because I have no one to talk to these days, but I get overwhelmed with a crippling sensation of loneliness.

It's not all doom and gloom, don't get me wrong. I've reconnected to some old acquaintances, made new friends out of folks I never did before, created and maintained my own mini Salsa community, among others. In fact the other day, I just performed with some of them.

So yeah, this isn't a 'Lost Cause' post. Just a mental note, that despite my really busy schedule and all the craziness going on, I get these pangs of loneliness and isolation. I usually keep it to myself because I don't really know how to talk to people about this - moreso Emily. I bury it deep down, and do something else to pass the time.

Week of Madness

This has been one fucking crazy week.

For starters – I need to finalize up to 2 major tenancy agreement and 1 killer SPA within this week. Next, I have a host of new projects that are moving (at their respective pace) and I’m doing the ground work. Finally, the cream on top of this silly cake is that we agreed to take on a paid Salsa performance.

Yes, that’s what you heard. A paid Salsa performance.

Money there is really good, and I’ve always dreamt of starting an inclusive dance company. We have always received calls for performances and we’ve always turned it down for various reasons (read: excuses). But over the years we’ve met some decent folks who we can work with. So when the opportunity came up again, with us as free agents, why the fuck not?

Problem is: The event company finalized the details late. Plus other complications, we only started working on it last week Thursday. Performance is this week, Friday. As of last night (Wed) I think we nailed the entire choreo (by yours Truly, can ya believe it?). Tonight (Thurs) is the Final Practice, probably with costume as well. Tomorrow is D-Day. You can say, the first of many, the kickstarter to the Project I’ve only ever dreamed about.

No one is reading this, but send me your love and best wishes anyway.

Clinical Depression

You know what's disturbing for me? Reading up on suicide cases. I can't ever imagine what goes on in the heads of victims.

The only certain thing, the only undeniable fact, is that depression is a very real thing. It comes is many different forms but all forms ultimately serve one singular purpose - to break you down and destroy you.

My lonely emotional roller-coaster is at times overwhelming. From our failure to conceive, to the grueling medical processes that follows, to the costs involved, to the failure that followed and the anxiety of the next attempt.

I drown myself in work and hobby, and it helps. It really does.

Currently, I'm super skint. Broke. Not as bad as I was in the years past (with much worse financial management) but I'm struggling due to excessive overheads. IVF is fucking expensive, make no mistake about that. Thank God its already halfway through October. I'm trying to see out 2019 without going under.

It's not all doom & gloom but I'm screaming inside sometimes. Is it all worth it?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Pain Leads to the Dark Side (contd)

I’m furious. At who and what, I am unsure. God, myself, Emily... I have no idea. I’m processing this anger in the worse way possible. I’m burying it deep down inside, hoping to never bring it up again.

I’m frustrated. We’ve tried so hard, spent so much, given so much time. All for fucking naught. I’ve been stifling the urge to scream several times today. To just throw my head back and scream till I go hoarse.

I’m sad. Emily’s sad and dejected. I’m sad because we have one less chance to make a dream come true. I’m sad because somehow we failed. Miserably failed.

Writing this is therapeutic enough, but I want to talk to someone so badly. I’ve got no one. Emily has me to be concerned about her, despite claiming that she doesn’t need one. But me, I’m all fucking alone. I’m usually fine with that but my thoughts are bringing me to dark places.

I need help.

Pain Leads to the Dark Side

Emily shared an article with me, which was entitled “My Failed IVF Cycle Felt Like a Pregnancy Loss”. She’s been reading a whole lot on the topic since yesterday, when we received the unfortunate news. It goes without saying that the past 12+ hours is a painful cocktail of emotions for the both of us, which is the true purpose of me, writing this.

I won’t even try to justify any of my views here as it comes from a very deep and dark place, not some politically correct news editing room.

As expected, Emily is sad at the outcome. Dr. Surinder appeared perplexed. We did everything right, and we also took additional precautions on top of that. On paper we were in the best of conditions, save a slightly thinner lining than preferred (6.6mm vs 7.0mm). We don’t understand where we failed. The Good Doctor suggested perhaps there was something wrong with the fertilized egg, and hence the body naturally rejects it. If this was the case, then maybe we should be thankful.

In any case, I’ve been made to understand that even in the best of cases, pregnancy chances are about 70% - 80%. High enough, but as some say in tabletop war gaming: “All rolls fail on 1”.

                            

Rock Bottom, Coming Right Up

I don't know how to get myself out of this mess.

The longer this is taking, the worse I am feeling. Car repairs and car insurance payments have sucked me clean and dry. I'm not at rock bottom yet, but I can see it taunting me, not too far off.

I'm doing so many things wrong these days. I don't even know where to begin. I'm clearly not as good as I thought I was. I trusted someone I shouldn't have, and now I'm paying the price. Expensive price at that too.

I'm getting so desperate now. I have this terrible feeling that all things good in life has deserted me. I'm writing this post in the faint hope that putting it out may have a calming effect on me. I'm all out of ideas and inspiration. I feel like crying but something in me doesn't give up that easily. I don't know how long I can hold up.

Down in the Dumps

I've stopped updating this post since 2011, but even that is overstating. I probably stopped earlier than this.

I'm writing again after so long because I hope that by expressing myself with my written musings, this may, in whatever small way, be therapeutic for me in these trying times. It's helpful to know also that no one will be reading this post or this blog. No one has been doing so for years I believe. Time to clear off some cobwebs.

I'm clinically depressed. A wreck. A mess. It's only been about 2 weeks but I feel like exploding. It's not going right at all. It's like you want to cry, but Generic Male Standards of Behavior dictates otherwise. So instead of bawling like a sissy boy, I instead look out to immerse myself in emotional circumstances, such as, sad movies, getting angry at random things and heartwarming short videos on YouTube. Today, I was a Nando's, Paradigm Mall, with a couple of friends. We ordered, the drinks came soon enough. We waited for the food. Didn't come. I was calm. Eventually we shook the awkwardness of asking the pretty waitress with strange ear-piercings about our dinner, and another waiter, what appears to be a Hobbit of some sort, responded by giving us the wrong order. I questioned Frodo about the order and he immediately checked the order in some computer terminal just next to our table. Frodo then confirmed our order, which was apparently wrong from the beginning.

That's when I flipped.

I repeated my order firmly once, and then twice. He seemed more confused than trying to calm down an irate customer. I stormed out of there, refusing to pay for anything. On a separate note, Pasta Zanmai in Paradigm has excellent service.

The evening didn't end all that badly. However, this emotional outburst is merely the tip of a terrible iceberg. I've been cooping up this feeling of inadequacy for a while now. My morale is at an all time low. I know some people around me are trying the bestest to cheer me up. It's not working, through no fault of theirs.

To make matters worse, I am ashamed of expressing my true feelings in all this. I'm ashamed that my friends and close loved ones may think any less of me. Objectively I know they probably won't think so, but you try telling THAT to my sub-conscious self.

I may not kill myself as that would be over-dramatizing what some people may call a trivial situation. But I also can't speak to my closest friends as, I am, as mentioned above, ashamed. I feel trapped. Unlike Admiral Akbar, I did not see this coming. I'm not sure how I'm getting out of this one.