A letter to a friend

a letter to a photographer friend today - a reply to his message after seeing my film
Clair Obscure.

I was surprised by what gushed forth
sometimes I surprise myself, in a good way :-)

Oh Dave,

you have no idea how much your message has touched me. So many emotions. I don't know where to begin...

first, I'll start from the end...

Interesting you picked up on the whole doc/60's-70's feel. I guess my religious viewing of films such as shock corridor (Sam Fuller), Titicut Follies (Frederick Wiseman), 2001 (Kubrick), A woman under the influence (Cassavettes) and of course, One Flew over the cuckoo's nest (Forman) and Let there be light (Huston). Film has been a huge part of my life. When my parents divorced, i was 11, and my weekly father's visits consisted of dinner @ Wendy's or McDonalds followed by a movie. That's all we did. That was his way of connecting. After watching a film, we'd go for ice cream and have our own "At the movies" critique session. You can imagine how interesting they were when we saw 2001 a Space Odyssey and Apocalypse Now (he snuck me into that one. Opening week - crazy insanity. He literally snuck me underneath his coat!!)

And when I did film production @ university, we were old school. 1990. Cutting film was an organic experience. Almost spiritual.

manic depression is often a ticking time bomb, present in the family tree and detonated during or after a traumatic event - my detonation was my parent's split. After that. puberty wreaked havoc until I was 19. That's when I had my full blown breakdown. It was ugly. It is truly a miracle I lived to tell the tale. I should have been dead by now, more than half a dozen times over...

After almost a year of being shuttled from emergency room to another, I was helped by a doctor who was starting a crisis clinic at one of the hospitals. She was a pioneer in her field and research into bipolar. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, but little did I know, the tunnel would be filled with sewage, rot and stigma. (funny enough - while I'm writing this, I just realized that the whole scene in the tunnel might have been a subconscious link to that...)

I was hospitalized for a week and then a day patient for a month. The big mental hospital is actually an old mansion on the mountain. Ornate, yet now devoid of all its glamour, it was a hollow shell of a once grandiose existence - so much like the life of a person with bipolar - after the crash...

I knew I was not 'crazy/over the edge" as some of the people there were, but i was not far from it. I had actually looked into the abyss. Stood on the precipice of no return. It was a welcome end to an existence filled with pain, confusion and relentless chaos. That ledge was so narrow. Despite my new 'medicated lithium state", it was terrifying to actually know that i was so close to jumping into an alternate reality because mine had become a living hell. The woman who sat in the waiting room, in the buss, arranging her groceries, watching out the window as the world passed her by, letting the wind blow through her hair. That could have been me. In that waiting room, in that other world...

what brought me back, i still don't know. But to this day, I am forever thankful that by some divine intervention, i returned. Perhaps it was the will to live, my higher reptilian brain telling me to push through. Or perhaps it was my old soul telling me it was my gift to be able to share this experience with the world. That my suffering was indeed necessary to be able to coherently explain life "on the other side" and to give others hope, and others insight into an existence that is nothing short of hell on earth...

Your relationship with your ex-girlfriend - bless your heart. We all need somebody as understanding and loving as you are to her. You are insightful and kind to realize that bipolar is something bigger than we are. It is bigger than our logical mind. It is our emotional mind on crack. It's the vortex of fear and isolation, of gravity and pain twisted around synapses that fire furiously, out of control, without a plan. Rabid. Paralyzing. What we say and do during our mixed states is not of our own consciousness. It is the muddled kaleidoscope of isolation, broken dreams and terror.

And ADD, I suffer from that too, albeit a mild version but  I know all too well how that can turn a normal task into a labyrinth of confusion and complication.  Mine runs into elliptical and illogical ruminations about death, paranoia and other worst case scenarios. Sometimes, I can't even step out of the house because I'm afraid that the earth will open up and swallow me whole, or that I will spontaneously combust. My mind checks over the details like a mega processor, but the computations never add up but information spews forth at random, adding to the confusion and chaos in my brain.

Dysthymic  Disorder - that languid melancholy, worn like a wet overcoat. How it turns the most beautiful sunset into a realization that another day has passed and life is that much shorter.  How the excitement of a new day is filtered through the density of apprehension that what we didn't do yesterday is yet another reason to put off what we could have done to what we should do, but then as the sunset begins, we get lost in an endless cycle of regret and what seems like idyllic hope. I really hope that you are able to manage those episodes. That you have found a medication to ease the pain. I have found that CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy has helped me a lot), but as with all ways of seeing and learning, it takes practice. The key is to stay positive and focused. Which for people like us, is nothing short of a hurdle in itself. Having friends who understand and believe in you are key.

But I think the worst part is dealing with the people who think "it's all in your head". Yes. It is. But despite that when they say : "just snap out of it" - mental illness is a chemical imbalance. The brain is a complex system of nerve tissue, fibers, neurons, dendrites and synapses - all working together or against each other. Even in the 21st century, science is still in the initial stages of comprehension and unraveling the mystery that is the human mind. I have had to deal with people who say: "just get a grip on life", "everybody has problems", "it's all in how you deal with it" or the best one: "buck up and face your problems like a man/woman".  It is my hope that one day, people who are these ignorant naysayers live one life in the mind of somebody who suffers as we have. I have no doubt that they would quickly change their mind and opinion, but until then, I try with my photography and films to drive the point home.

Did you see my "blue series" on flickr? I have a bunch of other "self portraits" that try to illustrate life on the other side of sanity. With each shutter click, i hope that one day I will get closer to being more cohesive, better at expressing my experiences. It's important that people know and understand. Ignorance breeds contempt and hatred. Our world is filled with enough of that. 
People who suffer by no will of their own need a fucken break. 

All my life i've had to deal with people labeling me a "weird/off/strange/psychotic/wacky". A good friend of mine from high school with whom i recently reconnected with said that people often came to her and asked: "why are you friends with her? She's pretty messed up." But she stuck through, believed in me and said - 'that's why she's so special. And that's why she's my friend." If only i had that kind of unconditional acceptance from my friends and family. 

After a nasty court settlement when i turned 20, my mother, father and both lawyers on both sides sat in our lawyer's office and when asked if we had any last words, I looked at him and pulled out a piece of paper.

"dad, you think that this is all in my head - this depression. this mania. my suffering. Here is a list of doctors that will tell you that I am in fact suffering from bipolar disorder. That it is real. I encourage you to get in touch with them and talk to them yourself."

without looking at me, he packed up his briefcase, took the paper, folded it into a tiny square and shoved it in his pocket. 


"Well, if I were to ask the doctors when all my problems started, they would say that it all started when you were born."

And with that, he left the room. His lawyer, my lawyer and mother all stood there, silent and shocked. His lawyer apologized profusely. So did our lawyer. So did my mom. It was something I would have to get used to.

How ironic is it that to this day, my dad, even though he has seen my film, still does not believe that what i suffer from is a legitimate and medical condition.

It is still something I am getting used to. But if my film can touch one person, then all of this will have been worth it.

And your message has made me smile.

I'm so happy that it touched your life. That means everything to me.

Please stay well Dave, and i have faith that one day, we will be able to share our stories on the battle field. We have come through the difficult task of survival, overcoming the stigma, and through that, will inspire others.

hpk

a letter to a friend about a dream I had...

This dream, it started off weird. I was in the ocean - my mom was warning me about going out too far - that I would surely drown, but i went farther anyway.

The sea was turquoise. Tropical blue. Cuba blue I call it. I was so buoyant, the buoyancy became almost a meditative state. I floated past a hanging tomato plant (saw one on tv the night before...) in the middle of nowhere. The vines were filled with these beautiful succulent tomatoes. Next to it floated a man - who told me I could eat one. (garden of eden perhaps??) and i did. It was not as sweet as I had hoped, but more meaty. He said something that I wish I could have remembered because it seemed to be some sort of life lesson thingy, but he did give me a blessing to go across the ocean.

And so I did. 

Looking into the horizon, it soon began to morph into a cityscape, and at the foot of that cityscape, a beach with people bathing, enjoying the heat. I swam faster in anticipation. The depths were varying in degrees. Spots that should have been at least 100 feet, were only 2, and others vice versa. I could not make sense of the discrepancies, but was not scared anymore. Regardless of depth, the other side was visible. There was no longer an "ocean between us"...

I walked onto the beach - literally, another sea of people. Side by side, back to back. A sandy metropolis of chairs, oiled bodies and chatter. The sidewalk seemed so close, the skyscrapers leaning over the people. I walked to the bustling streets, looking for a phone.

I was carrying something, i don't remember what, but it was perishable and needed to be protected from the elements. I asked a street vendor to hold it for me, but refused. After that, it quickly became night so I entered a coffee shop/pastry boutique, white haired ladies buzzed behind the counter. 

I leaned over and spoke in french to a sweet old woman who was also from my city and took pity on my situation, and gladly said she would hold onto my "package" until I came back from my meeting with you. I was releived. 

I walked outside - and it seemed to be a mix of what i imagined LA to be (from what i see on tv LOL) and new york. Metropolitan hustle and bustle. I walked to a pay phone and become despondent that I had forgotten your number at home and began to panic.

Reaching to pick up the telephone book, i saw a photo of you - smiling, and holding your camera, looking up to a tall building. It was on the bottom part of a phone - sometimes a space used for giving useful information on emergency numbers, how to dial international numbers etc. I could not believe it! What were the chances!! I called the operator, explained my situation to her and told her who you were (and that you were on the phone box) and she immediately connected me to you, and as if by magic, you appeared!!

Oh we were so happy to see each-other! We jumped and hugged like two 50's school girls who had just scored tickets to see the Beatles. "we have so much to catch up on - so much to do!!" you said, as you led me by the hand into the heart of the city. I looked behind me and saw the ocean again - both sides of it - the new and old shore, both there, open, waiting for me to return, wishing me well on my new journey...




Oh my dear friend. I know that we have more journeys to take together, so many lessons to learn and teach each other and so many photographs to take.  it's all a beginning, and perhaps is something that will never end. Some people I have met in my life I know I will meet again - soul travelers i call them. Please stay well. I know that life is difficult for you now, filled with melancholy and uncertainty, as is mine too, but as long as we can see both sides of the shore, we know that floating in the middle of the ocean is never a finite thing :-)

fuck logic

Fuck logic

here is a letter to a friend.

I am so upset right now and hate having my eerie ability to act on my gut questioned.

I will have to go through my archives to find ALL THE TIMES (and yea, there were many) that i did act on my 'intuition" and amazing things happened. But this time, Mr. Logical had to ruin the day.

Mom goes in for surgery 2mrw to remove the mass.

I was shocked when she said: "you have to take this trip. Even if i have to take a cab to or from the hospital before/after the surgery, so be it. You have to go..."

and this is my mom...

so here is the email i sent to Y, the woman who many months ago, out of the blue, while holding my hand and feeling my energies, told me that I had to go to Lake Placid, because there was something there for me. This is the same woman who has told me and my mother many times of many things that without a shadow of a doubt, have come true.

Mystic perhaps?

Or as e would say - "lucky guesses"

but one guess is lucky, 20 is more than luck...

and lake placid - what were the chances that e would have to go there?

And of all places in the U.S - there???

Hi Y,

thank you for getting back to me. I passed along your email to my mom. She is in prep mode - right now she's at work and 2mrw she goes into surgery 1st thing in the morning. We are all very stressed. The doctors have been very supportive of her and she is getting the best care. Her new surgeon is so wonderful and the moment i met him, i had such a wonderful feeling. i know she is in good hands.

She will have to take another unpaid leave, which is pretty disturbing as she has run out of paid medical leave time. And it's tough too - I don't think either of us has had time to grieve the loss of her mother/my grandmother. it was her death, my wedding and now my mom's next surgery. Cuba honeymoon was a Godsend. Without that, i don't think i would have been able to survive this next journey.

Speaking of journey...

I need your advice.

The man just got an invitation to go to Lake placid for a business seminar/trade show. This came up completely out of the blue, and of course, I flipped when he told me because i remember your telling me that you had a feeling that lake placid was the place for me to go (that time we sat on my mom's steps when you felt my palm/energies). I told my mom - she said: "Go. Even if i have to take a cab to and from the hospital. If Y said to go, you have to go!"

I feel the same way. As does she still.

But e on the other hand, is not really sure.

He's trying to make excuses for me not to go - "ah, it's business, you'll be bored and stuck in a hotel room" and his latest: "we can go another time"...

but I have been telling him - IT"S NOT THE SAME THING!

but alas - a skeptic is always a skeptic, and now he has me doubting my gut feeling which is telling me to go.

But would it be the same thing if we go another time?

I feel that this chance is like a gift of fate - and that perhaps something will happen, perhaps not, but i don't want to not take this chance. In my experience, if i act on something that feels right - then something usually comes out of it. But if that instance/coincidence is changed in any way (like e's wanting to 'reschedule") - it just won't be the same.

Y, please tell me i'm crazy, but without e being able to take me down on this trip, it just wont happen - whatever is to happen.

You can't 'reschedule" fate! Am i right?

E will have to leave on monday so that does not give me much time to make a decision. I have been quickly looking into alternative ways to go down there but there are none. The amtrack route or the buss routes don't stop there, there are no planes that fly there and there is one transfer buss point and it will take 5 extra hours. I don't know what to do.

What is your gut feeling??

I have been feeling so lost, and weep all the time. I feel that i am running out of options, time and faith.

Photography has become painful - a grim reminder of something that i had once loved so much but is now giving me grief because every avenue i have taken in terms of getting my work out there has closed in my face. The same with film and writing.

I don't have much energy - and with trying to be supportive of my mom, it leaves me empty - both emotionally and spiritually. This void has become my cancer....

I'm so sorry to have to end this on a sour note, but i am such a mess right now, i can't even type any longer.

if you can get back to me before next week, it would be so very much appreciated.

and yes - i need to come down and see you and N. Your kind kindred spirits would be just the kind of prescription for a wear soul that the doctor would order.

take care of yourself and we will talk soon

anchor

I have not been here in a while

when we were going through my g.mother's things yesterday, we came across her journal. She kept one right till the end. I guess that runs in my family. Grandfather loved to write, so did she, and here i am, fingers dancing on keyboard . A word is a word is a word. I find comfort in that.

this is my anchor.

Like memories, Words never really go away.

the following is a letter to a friend who is on the other side of the ocean, with family, friends and her home.

I hope that you are home - having a wonderful time, taking in the nordic air, taking a dip in the ocean, knowing your life is complete and on the right track without the ghosts of the past, one in particular perhaps very near where you are...

Well, on my side of the ocean, just got back from the clinic.
they are so full of shit. ONLY one problem at a time is their thing. The doctor turned up her nose when I told her about my pit - so my stomach took priority, meanwhile, my armpit is going numb and the scope traveling up and down my arm and into my breast. I go for a mamo 2mrw but won't get the results for weeks...

so had to fork out 200 for bloods (that's plus the 100 for the ultrasound on friday, plus the 250 from three weeks ago for those bloods that found nothing...)

I'm falling apart,


And it's so weird knowing my grandmother is gone. Mom said :

"Funny, it's like we expected her to be around forever - we almost forgot that she was almost 90!!" 

But it's still weird. I know you know what i mean...

We had a nice dinner - my mom, her friend b and e - remembered the qirky things about her - how she liked to keep stacks (and i mean stacks) of napkins "just in case". WW2 remnants of that mentality. 

And how she used to pencil in her eyebrows like huge arcs over her eyes. 

How I was her special granddaughter - the first. 

And how my doing my greek impressions she would always laugh and laugh. 

I wish I had a chance to talk to her one last time...

She said a few things to the nurses a few days before - "How will I know my daughter (m - her daughter who died of cancer last year) if I won't have a body.?" and when asked if she needed some Myoflex for her joints, she said "I won't need it where I'll be going..."

Funny how they just know.

Did she give up? Or just give in ? we will never know...

The hardest will be on thurs for the viewing. and then the funeral on friday.
Mom will fall apart more or less depending on what she finds out wedensday. God I hope to high heaven that the cancer has not come back, let alone spread...


I am going to nap. Round two with my eye doc at 2:30pm to see if I'm losing my sight and/or will need surgery.

It's snowing here - big fluffy flakes.

just when we thought spring was finally here, the sky opens up and cries soft tears...

a letter to a friend...

today, feeling so very vulnerable - a letter to a brilliant photographer and kindred spirit...


Hey R,
Thanks so much for touching base with me. I was really happy when you did - every little email goes a long way to help bring me out of the slump I have fallen into. I'm sure you put two and two together when I made that comment on your photo "speed limit"...

So how have you been?
well, my health - it's so up and down. I had a horrible dream that the doctor's office called to tell me I have cervical cancer - I know, a dream is just a dream, but still shook me up enough to haunt me for the past two days. Guess it's that my mom's 3 month PET scan is coming up - and next week, she gets the results. Perhaps I'm projecting, imagining what it would be like to be in her shoes, and it's not pretty. It blows my mind to see how strong she is and has been through this whole thing. I don't think I have even 1/100 of her guts as I find myself falling apart at the seams on a regular basis.

So I had this procedure to scrape off the pre-cancerous cells from my cervix. Not a huge operation - done in office, but it still was a medical procedure along with needles and lots of industrial medical device noise. Thought I was hemorrhaging last week when all of the sudden, the bleeding got worse. Had to go back to the same doc to see what was up. I don't imagine that a prostate exam is any walk in the park, but for a woman to be lying down, legs spread open to the world is perhaps one of the most vulnerable places to be - physically and mentally.
Not a pretty place at all...

so it wasn't hemorrhaging, but a part of the healing process. My body was not happy - i guess the trauma had shaken everything up cause I felt sicker and achier, more emotionally vulnerable and volatile (on top of my bipolar which seems not to be managed very well lately). Shaken, not stirred - and ready to pop. So it's been really hard on me, not to mention everybody else around me.

I have seemed to abandoned photography and flickr. Funny, the thing that I used to save me in times of pain and fear has now turned into pain and fear. I once told somebody that manic depression is a mental cancer. Now that I reflect upon it again, it feels so much to be true. It's always there, can be manageable, but when it comes back, it's usually full force - relentless in its erosion of anything healthy - thoughts, hopes, dreams.

sorry to ramble on like this.
I sit here contemplating whether to delete this chunk of email or not, but perhaps in exposing these demons, I can begin to understand them and keep them from overtaking my life...

I see your photos and each and every one of them transports me to another world. You have a signature style, but no two images are even remotely alike. A quiet, yet profound maturity - a weathered soul with wisdom and insight garnered through years of hardship and joy. You really have such a gift, and in allowing the viewer to suspend their connection with their own present state, and enter yours through your photography, there truly is a healing element in that. I thank you for letting me heal through your images.