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

stepping into a new day

so she is clear.
No Evidence of Disease - or NED as we now call her.


we waited (waiting rooms are NOT for waiting...) and worried. Her worry team, me, E, Bet and mom. The doctor came around the corner in a flash, and gave us a huge smile with one of those TV talk show hosts wave "How ya doing there!?"

Could it be???
was it too good to be true?

well it was true, and it was good!

long LONG story short, he said that the scan was clear. Nothing.
He was so very happy, but nobody was more relieved than my mom, then came me, and b and e were a tie for 3rd.

we celebrated by going out to our chicken bbq hut to celebrate. Oh that comfort food is better than any booze!

And we ate, waved our sticky fingers at eachother the way the doctor did to us, laughed and cherished this new lease on life.

We are always mindful that we never know if this shit will come back or how or when, but today was a good day. Today was a good day indeed.


I have other shit to gripe about, like how to of my "supposed best friends" never called, emailed, nothing to see what the results were - and to them i say a big -
F*&K you. You have been terminated!

Life really is too short to worry and give effort to people like this.

and i removed my dad from my fb.
it was too hard knowing and not knowing what he was doing and that he (or i should say - his whore wife) was watching my every post.

out of sight - out of mind
and in my mom's case, out of body, out of life...

it was a good day indeed...

a letter from a friend way down south

Y has to be one of the most spiritual people i know. She is an incredible woman and from her, have learned so much about life.

She is a wise sage, a patient mentor and her advice on this issue has opened the door to peace and acceptance.

Thank you Y so very very much.

I am glad you wrote. I have had a rough week here and couldn't write anything positive. We have had a lot of rain here so my fibromyalgia was very bad and the pain was excruciating, and at work I don't have air conditioning which is unbearable on hot and humid days which makes me crazy working at the mental hospital! I love New mexico but it is the Third world here for the most part so all that I like about less developed places sometimes makes it hard to live here , too.

I have thought a lot about your situation with your father and I am going to say it as is. Hpk, your father does not behave like a mature adult, he behaves as if you owe him something all the time. He is what is called in the mental health world, a person suffering from a narcissistic personality disorder. they always feel they deserve more than others and feel they should be praised, noticed, entertained, honored for just being alive, and they feel they should do nothing to deserve that, and when they don't get the attention they want, they get vindictive.

Check the Wikipedia entry for narcissistic personality disorder. My mother was like that, and also very physically and emotionally abusive, and the only way I can think of dealing with her memory is to remember that she couldn't be an adult, a stable mother because she had a very serious personality disorder that she wasn't willing to work on to be a better person. Without having met your father, but having heard of his behavior from your mom and you, I think I can safely say that he also has a personality disorder and is not willing to be humble, forgiving, or self critical to make peace with his own life and family.

It's a shame, but that is his karma and his choice, and at some level, we chose to be born to an inadequate parent or (2 in my case) because we needed at a karmic level to learn about independence, to think in more creative ways, to learn about a certain kind of suffereing and be there for others who also have similar karma. that is how I deal with the situation, and I still grieve for parents I never had, the childhood or adulthood love and life direction I never had, but I try to accept it and look at my survival and my good relationship with my husband as a blessing and success and try to make peace with it.

I am especially grateful for your mother's presence in my life because she was an older female friend that listened to me, was present as a friend, and genuinely liked me through the years when I lived with a deep sadness that I wasn't loveable because my own mother didn't love me.

You have a wonderful man in your life, your husband, and it is all right to be a parent to each other spometimes as well as a spouse. Nathan and I are like that with each other, and we value each other espcially because we will forever be refugees from our strange childhoods, and we talk about the childhoods and youth we could have had if we had met each other earlier, and this fantasy is also very healing with us.


I will call your mom, tonight. I think of her all the time. I really don't understand why she is going through this. I don't know. god does work in mysterious ways and everyone's life path and spiritual journey is mysterious insome ways. i don't know why suffering happens. i wish i did. this is a very deep question, all I know is that I try to remind myself to be grateful for being alive, being alive one more day and to enjoy beauty.

I really think you need to connect with a cancer support group as a caretaker, you need to share your burden. And yes, most people will duck when things get rough, and yes I have experienced it in my life many times.

It would be good for you and E and your mom to look at finances, long term plans, Plan A and Plan B, and Plan C, to evaluate what you all can live with, what you can't, what is your bottom line, at least as you can identify them for now (because life does change all that as well), so that you feel empowered by having discussed the undiscussables! There is big relief in that as well; check all the programs, services, obligations etc around your situation. That is also something a based cancer survivor group might help you with.

a letter to a friend with news on mom and reflections on the "c" word

I have to make this short, it's been a long fucken day

Surgery went well - they got the shit out - including her appendix.
They are pretty sure it was the cancer coming back - she said something weird: "I might have to retire - the cancer is aggressive, and it will come back again and i'm okay with that..."

Every time i hear this it makes me think of resignation

"Yea, but your tumors - the others that they thought were the "end all of your life - the last batch - shrunk and disappeared..."

"yea, you're right..."

Its so hard to be fighting for her.

I know that i will have some fighting of my own to do soon too. It will only be a matter of time until I get something to do with skin cancer - my chances are now up to 85% that i will get it in my lifetime (it also runs in families) - both parents with cancer, the shit that is up with my cervix (they found abnormal cells - see the doctor in september...) if something happens to me, i won't be able to take care of her...

fucken hell. the mind is starting to spiral again.

not good.

but i don't have cancer yet, and she is on the road to recovery, but i can't help but have all this shit hang in the back of my mind all the time....

anyway sweetie - sorry to sound like a downer.

I need sleep - long day today followed by another 2mrw.

It's so hard to be positive when you are so tired.

Why is that so?

If being happy takes so much effort, how can being happy be a good thing?

Doing my silly monologue thing.

Dangerous when i find myself starting to sound like Carrie Bradshaw mind melting with Camus...

if no news is good news, then new news is bad news.

the cancer is back.

There is a growth in her stomach and we are meeting with her surgeon on tuesday to see what the next step will be.

her oncologist wants it removed pronto.

She is worried that she will have to take more time off work, which is not a good thing.

We are all floored.

What happened?

The other tumors had disappeared.

And then this?

The doctor thinks that the prednazone she was taking for her rheumatoid arthritis (an immune system suppressant) might have compromised the il2 treatment (which was an immune system booster)

why why why

this is not fucken fair.

My breasts are like a well marbled porterhouse steak

my breasts (according to my ultrasound of them today) look like a well marbled porterhouse steak.

Unfortunately, those are not my melons, so I thank whoever put those up on the net for me to make this wonderful analogy.

While mom was going for her PET scan, i was seeing the breast specialist about the lump in my left armpit near my breast. He looked at the mammograms, other ultrasounds, and then decided it needed further investigation. Two hours later, at the other side of town, i saw him again, this time, radio waves would bounce off them to send home pretty pictures.

He explained the whole image: "this is your rib, muscle tissue, fatty layer..."

"Geeze. That looks exactly like the porterhouse steak I had yesterday on the bbq"

He laughed aloud.

"that's the first time i ever heard that one before!"

"It looks like a good one. Well marbled..."

He laughed again. And then I began to laugh at the nonchalant way those things just rolled off of my tongue. Yea, that was pretty fricking funny.

They found the lump and took a biopsy. I saw the needle go in - black and white - live feed. In and out, "jiggling it a bit to get all the cells we can." It began to hurt.

"We're almost done."

And then we were.

The results. Did I really want to know?

"you can either pay to have them done here, and you get the results in 10 minutes, or you can wait to get them from the hospital in 2 weeks."

What do you think I chose?

so for 10 minutes, i tried not to stress, thinking that if it was indeed breast cancer or the beginnings of it, there was nothing I could do at that point, only move forward the best way I could. I ran the elliptical tape of spanish phrases and verbs in my head to drown out the ticking of the clock.

I walked into his office, sat down and watched him look at my dossier.

"it's normal. No cancer. You have nothing to worry about."

That is the best two words anybody can say to me. "I do" was the one that E told me a month ago, and "no cancer" today. I walked outside, relieved and tired. Had only slept 4 hours the night before. Perhaps exhaustion beyond normal fatigue is a good way to combat stress. Maybe not, but today it worked.

Mom might get her results on Friday. I want to go with her, and feel that i should, but I would like BSpgty to come along. We all support each other - I support mom, and BSpgty supports me and my mom. Mom supports BSpgty and myself.

I really really hope mom she gets those same two words.

I hope...

the scariest thing

excerpt from a letter to a friend, freeform...

i saw firsthand the side effects of IL2 treatment and it feaked me the fuck out.

I'm so shaken, i can't close my eyes...

20 minutes after her dose, mom began to shake - i mean almost grand mal-like seizures. Apparently the body goes into septic shock. And apparently, this bout was not bad. Last week, she was shaking the bed. Two nurses had to hold her down lest she fell out and onto the floor.

she writhed in pain - moaning and shaking. All I could do was stroke her hair and shoulder and keep on repeating :"I'm here mom. It will all be okay..."

will it?

She was admitted monday night, and they didn't start treatment until today - thursday.

That's a long time to wait. She's fed up, exhausted and wanting this to be over.

she doesn't think she'll make it to # 3.

The more she gets, the better her chances are for getting rid of this thing forever.

2 is not a good number. The doctor wants 8.

minimum...

I'm so overwhelmed.

Have been swinging up and down - manic to depressed, but a more desperate depressed and manic. I'm afraid I'm going to hurt the cats in a fit of uncontrollable rage, throw my computer out the window (those invitations. I'm sick that they are not working out...) but most of all, myself.

I stood on my balcony today - warm and sunny. Spring is finally here.

But the urge to dive to the cement below head first was almost overpowering.

They are becoming more and more frequent. 

I'm slowly losing control.

But nobody believes me. Nobody who knows me now believes me. They didn't see me 20 years ago, when out of desperation, trying to stop the voices, dangerous rage and abyss of depression allowed me to fly into oncoming traffic - arms spread, eyes closed, willing to give away my life to the air.

what happened?

Somebody saw me.

I was saved.

times like this, i wish I had not been noticed...

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.