valoir le coup, c'est bien dans ma peau

Slowly, unsurely, but with loads of effort, I’m beginning to feel more grounded and sane. I’ve even been deemed well enough to return to school in Fall. I’d say a lot of it is due to the people surrounding me right now.

Agata signed up for the same ballet class I’ll be taking. She says it will be fun for her, but that mainly she wants to see me at least once a week. Amazing gal.

Lorissa promised to do something new and edgy with my hair.

Ryan owes me a glass of wine, and I feel he’s definitely earned a Scotch in reciprocation.

Calle has written the most beautifully supportive things.

And Keven, the absolute best rescuer. The other day he played The National’s Sorrow on his guitar for me. It was so beautifully appropriate, it really touched me, and took me back to the day that Leila literally serenaded me with Mirah’s Archipelago under the shade of the biggest tree at the park. And Keven’s actions are all the more punctuated with the familiarity of our closeness; we truly were best friends, and if that’s real, well it just never goes away. We even reminisced about being raised with the same parental dysfunctions: an impulsively volatile and unpredictable mother, and a quirky French father that was fantastic but mostly absent. Thus the primary source of our deep bond.

And so we laid back and stared at the starry sky, and talked about some of our favorite memories. Like the first time he told me he loved me: he had my landlady let him in when I was at work, and he laid down rose petals and herseys kisses in a path from my bedroom door to a big heart on my bed, where inside he had written in rose petals “I Love You”. I fell down on my knees and cried. And in return, that same night I drove to his house in the middle of the night, and I lined up little toy cars from his front door to his car, where I had written on his drivers window “I Love You Too”; he drove around with the window up for weeks. Or the time I attempted to recreate Shutter in our apartment to surprise him when he came home (we had had to miss it that month); he immediately changed clothes and we danced around our living room for hours, and he thanked me for months afterwards. Or the time I came home on Valentines Day and he had completely transformed the living room- bunches of my favorite flowers hung from the ceiling, scattered around the furniture and floor amongst hearts, chocolates, and a million love notes he had written.
Such fantastic and beautiful memories. I’m so grateful to own them.
We truly had great respect and admiration for each other. So upon hearing my recent story, Keven made me promise him that I’d never let anyone talk me into anything ever again. He’s right- I’ve to learn from my mistakes or I’m bound to find myself back here; and I’m too smart and have worked too hard for that. He also told me that my own decisions, the ones that come from the deep recesses of my cracked heart, have given me a beautiful life that most people wouldn’t be brave enough to live.
But his best compliment was when he said I was truly beautiful, ‘because so very much of it came from the deep inside me, that it seeped to the outer”.
Wow.

And, with other folks, in the grand tradition of the character that Zach is, he gave me the most bizarre “compliment/or was it”: You’re perfect just as you are Kendra, because you have the body of a model, the style of a designer, the demeanor of royalty, and the mouth of a sailor.
thanks? Typical ‘endearingly weird’ Zach. Aww.

Either way, weirdos, exes, best friends, and old lovers, I’m  grateful for the people in my life right now. I can’t wait to meet Pris’ Roy. (We get to make out.)
And I can’t wait for my new hair, my new ballet class, my new semester, and this new play.

current mood: enveloped.
current music: derby – don’t feed the bear

friedrch nietzsche

"I can forgive you for what you did to me, but how can I forgive you for what you did to yourself?"

the long way back

Well it looks like Ive more lives than a Buddlist cat.

I’m gonna do it. Pris. Opening in November, its already sold 800 tickets, and upon hearing the news, my father insisted I go through with it. It’s the female lead role, and my father is convinced it will help my psyche. He is only vaguely aware of my director’s version of Pris: a sex doll and aspiring ballerina; and he’s enrolled me in a ballet workshop to brush up on the skills I learned as a girl. Though he is still deciding whether or not I’m to take a sabbatical this upcoming semester.

I must say, hanging out with my pops has been pretty rad-tastic. Its nice to speak Spanish again, and to listen to his French-accent-soaked Spanish. And for the first time, I don’t feel like a burden. He is happy for the company, and the break from his usual long work hours. He is a quirky guy, but we’ve found we’ve loads in common and I’m more my father’s daughter than my mother’s victim than ever before.

And though I’m not comfortable with the idea, I’m now officially ‘on medication’, and I’ve to admit it is helping to stabilize me. Apparently, I might have been misdiagnosed as Borderline; the problem could be something else, something far more easily managed with the drug cocktail of uppers and sedatives the new doctors mixed for me. Shaken, not stirred.

And the new team of professionals has enlightened me as to why this happened in the first place. Apparently, because during the breakup, my ex seemed to be one way in person, and then quite another over the phone, etc, it REALLY threw me off. They said all this that happened to me was my frail psyche’s response to the psychological shock of someone’s mismatched behavior. It makes sense, as throughout my life, I’ve had mini versions of what they’ve deemed a ‘nervous breakdown’ any time someone’s actions and words contradict each other. You see, *I* am always upfront and honest and direct; what you see is what you get; my heart is too big for my brain to betray it, and so I always come from a place of empathy. So it really rattles my universe when other people act differently; my brain simply cannot compute it. I was receiving mixed messages and not knowing how to act; feeling abandoned, feeling lost and confused.
See? Very little to do with my ex himself. I just really did. not. understand.
So, that is their explanation for my downward spiral. Learning this has been essential in my recovery. Its been such a rough road, and while I’m still on thin ice with myself, I can see where my path evens out.

Eckhart Tolle said: Suffering cracks open the shell of ego, and then comes a point when it has served its purpose. Suffering is necessary until you realize it is unnecessary.

And I’ve a great support system taking care of me right now. Of course, Agata’s been an angel, a guide, a shoulder, an ear, a mother, a best friend. When I cry to her that I’m humbled by all she’s doing for me, she simply responds with “I know you’d do the same for me, because you already have.” She deserves a fucking medal.
And I’ve even found myself a bit surprised. Keven has stepped out of the woodwork and into the compassionate role, and the familiar comforts of his beautiful face, incredible voice, and gentle heart have served as soothing reminders of the beauty of the human soul, especially his. He sent me some songs written about me, and his idyllic voice wrapping around nakedly honest lyrics felt like the warm blanket I needed. And Ryan’s steadfast loyalty and kind empathy have acted as a gauze, slowly absorbing the blood from this broken heart.
Folks  like Lorissa, Calle, Colin, Jon, Gamin, are like balm.

While it IS tough and mildly humiliating to not be allowed to make your own decisions, right now I am just grateful to the Universe that I’m not alone during this. Like I told Ryan, I’ve been navigating Life all my own for 28 yrs, and look where it got me; it might be time to let someone else take the reins for a while. But in the meantime: Pris, ballet classes? Here I come. (Just give me a minute though).

Current mood: all too human

Current movie: its kinda a funny story

razor rain, silver lining

i was offered the part of pris for a stage version of blade runner spin-off. shes a mix between siouxie sioux and livethroughthis' courtney love.
two months of rehearsals starting september.

but i dont even know where i'll be next week, much less in september.

also, ive learned: agata is the best person on the planet; my father is a gentle hero.

still i sigh.
why me, universe? love makes my world go round. pseudo replicant or not, i cant cut off my empathy, my emotion. and agata says thank goodness for that.



current mood: small
current music: my dad likes AM radio

finally broke me.

well it got worse.
agata came over with the mobile crisis doctors, and after they looked around and listened to me sob for an hr and a half, i was taken into the psych ward. there, they gave me meds, a bed, and diagnosed that i  was in the middle of a nervous  breakdown. i had become severely depressed and had lost  the ability to take care of myself.
listen, i know its very little to do with him specifically. but when Love is your lifeblood, and it gets sucked out of you, with nothing left except mouthfuls of venom, unaddressed  hopeful implications, zero communication, even less than an iota of compassion,  utterly and completelty ABANDONED, how much can a gal like me, who loves  deeply and with her whole heart do?

sweet agata called and  emailed my dad who drove up the next day, and i was signed away to his care. im currently in a hotel, unsure of what the future holds, as im not allowed/capable of making decisions for myself.

this is really sad. a disporportion reaction, yes. especially cos it all could have been lifted by just the tiniest sliver of empathtic love.

i promise ill always act from loving kindness, cos i wouldnt wish this on anyone.
please keep me in your thoughts.

current mood: broken, vacant, embarrassed.
current music: (though its merely in my head) hum - stars

it is possible to unravel even at rock bottom

i'm in bad shape.

i've stopped functioning. really. its never been this bad for me.
currently agata is on her way over to determine whether or not i need to be hospitalized. again.

the thing is, when Love is your lifeblood, this is what it comes to.
i can do ANYTHING as long as that partnership love is in my life. but he doesn't even want to talk to me. so all the life has been completely sucked out of me.
im miserable. im embarrassed. im numb to everything except this choking pain.

so yeah. this is a new low for me.