Cos' I've got weird values,
and radical thoughts about breakthrough.
If I told you, it'd just scare you,
so I gotta act like I'm caught up in the
same undertow.

- Walter Mitty and his Makeshift Orchestra, Dunce

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"Memories are not recycled like atoms and particles in quantum physics.  They can be lost forever."

-+-

I hope that everyone had a fantastic Thanksgiving and then some!  I had amazing, epic plans for this Thanksgiving break.  I would see all my friends and get ahead on all my schoolwork.  My return to Sacramento would be truly glorious. 

Except, I didn't factor my yearly ritual with my mom -- Black Friday shopping.  We typically wake up in the early morn, but this year was the first time we began at midnight.  For some reason, I underestimated how long we would take to shop.  This is after two years ago, when we shopped for almost seventeen hours straight.  But a lifetime's worth of clothes later, we finally got home at around 8 a.m., when I knocked out until late afternoon, waking up with a wicked cold.  I instantly became largely unmotivated to distance myself from my cough syrup, but I was still ecstatic to spend time with three of my friends from high school: Jessica, Huong, and Khanh-Hien.  Outside of that, my Thanksgiving break was full of bed rest and soup.

So as I write this, I am wrapped up in a blanket with a congested nose.  I should be working on my Physics paper, or reading up on Biochemistry, or studying for Microbiology, but colds are always the bane of me -- they always render me completely infantile and lethargic.

But my first time home was a refreshing change from the old life.  I think we could all feel that I was a slightly different person from when I left at the beginning of June.  It's hard to articulate, but I just know that I liked it.

Because I have a headache and I currently really miss how it feels to breathe, there isn't as much liveliness to this post as I'd hope for.  My mind is sluggish, instead focusing on the discomfort of my scratchy throat.  There isn't bombarding amounts of excitement, sensationalism, insightfulness, or philosophy. Much has happened, but I don't have the motivation right now to dive into it.  I just have the sniffles.

Except… there's something about being boring that I'm very thankful for.  I miss being this comfortable, even if it's only transient, even if it's only until tomorrow morning when I leave again for Merced.  For once, I'm not being tossed around, I'm not paranoid over social cues, I'm not stressing out over deadlines (although I actually should be; thanks, procrastination!).  Sometimes, a piece of me misses being dull.  A piece of me misses settling for less, for just relaxing and being lazy.

Then I remember what life was like when I was dull.  And I remember that boring is only good in small quantities -- it's a micronutrient that destroys me when I get carried away with it, when I stop trying and when I stop working towards ambitious endeavors.

So tonight, my cold and I will battle.  My weapons: Dayquil, Ricola cough drops, and bed rest.  I am already feeling significantly better compared to yesterday, so I hope that it gets fully vanquished soon.  I really want to hang out with my Merced friends when I get back to town!

And tomorrow, I will go back to being extraordinary.

Rest up, weary traveler.  You have a long journey ahead of you.

I hear she's kickin' ass across the board
and rock two hundred thousand higher scorer,
just in time to save the world of being taken over.
She's a warrior. 
... Please don't tell her that I've been meaning to miss her,
because I don't.

 - Jason Mraz, Please Don't Tell Her

Whenever I listen to this song, I hope that this is how Phuc feels about me, because that would mean he's doing well without me.

I will admit that it feels poetic that even though he's the one that dumped me, I'm the one wondering if he's doing okay without me.

And I will also admit, I sometimes still wonder if he wonders about me.

-+-

"Christa, I saw this wallpaper and it reminded me of you!"

If that's not boss, then I don't know what is.

-+- 

This is a post about Phuc.

I haven't had a Phuc-centric post in a while.  I have included elements of that past life in my posts to drive at my self-improvement when compared to my past life, but outside of my obligatory anniversary post, I actually haven't written just about Phuc in months.  Flipping through logs, my last time writing about just Phuc was in late August, when I realized that... I'm actually happy now, without him.

Today,

today I saw a video of him.

There was no one around to complain to, no one around to vent to about this.  Even if someone was around, the normal reply is always a bitter, "Who cares about him anymore?"  That's always the reaction -- and it's extraordinary valid, because I've been moving on quite smoothly.  I'm in a much better place in my life now, and it's impossible to deny that not being in that relationship anymore is a huge part of that.  Life is so much brighter now that it lacks the hate of his friends and his apathy.  People tell me that they love my boldness and optimism; I used to be a self-hating wallflower.  I don't feel ugly anymore; I used to dress up only for Phuc because I otherwise didn't want to draw attention to myself, and now I feel confident enough to dress up everyday.  I don't feel useless anymore; I am a valuable member of my stem cell lab, and I hope to be a valuable member of science in the future.  My self-worth used to be measured by the opinions of Phuc and his friends, and thus I had no self-worth; I can now hold myself up against the fleet of people that bully me and eye me with harsh stares.  

But this in particular resonated with me.  After all, it was a video of him.  So I came here for a good old-fashioned ramble.

So here, because it is ridiculous of me to say I saw a video of him, and not share what I'm talking about:

I swear to god that it was an accident when I ran across this.  It was some random link on my Facebook newsfeed when I clicked on it.  I clicked on it, and there it was.  Phuc's name, top billing.  But I watched it all the way through.

The entire time, my heart was in my stomach and I felt like I had a lump in my throat.  My head felt light.  But it was my first time hearing Phuc's voice since we broke up -- the new Phuc.  It was my first time really seeing him outside of random photos.  I've only heard his voice in old videos before, from the old times, from when we were still together.  This was my first time hearing him in his new life.  It was like a car wreck -- it benefits me in no way to look, but I couldn't draw my eyes away nonetheless.

What struck me most was my emotional reaction.  I was just so... overwhelmingly relieved to not be part of that life anymore.  The entire time, all I could think was, "This is not the man that I fell in love with."

Back then, I clung to him in spite of all the pain and all the hate, because he was all I had.  And if I didn't have him, then I was hopeless.  No one would ever love me or want me again.  And I definitely, definitely don't have a significant other in my life right now, but I just don't feel that pessimism anymore.  I just know that someday, someone will love me, because I'm worth it.  And it's seriously a huge leap for me to say that.

"Christa, I really think you'll find someone that will love you more than me. ... I don't deserve you.  Don't wait for me."
"No, no one will ever love me the way you love me, and I will never love anyone else the way I love you.  I want to wait for you.  Please let me wait for you."  

Half a year ago, I laughed at everyone that told me that I'll find someone else, that I'll move on.  Nothing feels impossible anymore, and the idea that I could actually be loved again someday... that's no exception.

I have mentioned this before, but I still don't actually know why Phuc broke up with me.  He never actually gave me a real, decisive, concrete reason; he just gave me a few generic, cop-out reasons.  I have been running on assumptions, inferences, and hypotheses.  But the day after we broke up, we spoke on the phone.  And he yelled at me that all I ever did was tear us apart.  That it was always up to him to build our relationship back up, and that all I ever did was tear us apart and break him down.  All I ever did was tear us apart.  That was one of our last conversations.

So I spent months... months blaming myself for our break-up.  I deemed Phuc absolutely blameless.  I have weeks and weeks of online journal entries from summer that reflect my guilt for being the reason that we broke up.  I was just trying to put the pieces together of how I ruined us.  It was all because of me that we fell apart.  It was all because of me that Phuc had to break up with me.

I don't feel that way anymore.  I am no longer under the delusion of the dependent girlfriend.  I am no longer the girl that is lying to herself that this man is still the person that she fell in love with when she was fourteen.  Because he's not anymore.  He hasn't been that man for a long time.

By no means am I implying that I am innocent in our break up.  Nothing changes that my depression crippled both of us.  That I was heartbreaking to deal with.  Nothing changes that I was selfish and was not communicating anymore.  Nothing changes that I gave up.

But I have finally stopped putting all of the blame on myself.  I have stopped seeing myself as the devil.  

But no matter what was the reason that he broke up with me, I am a much better person now.  Even though life has offered its share of tribulations, and has not been smooth sailing in the least, I am still at a good place now.  Because no matter what is happening to me now, even though there's so many challenges, it's still better than where I used to be.  That comforts me.  Anything is better than being in a suicidal depression.  I am miles and miles away from being in that place anymore.  And I count my blessings whenever I remember that.

I have hope now.  I am thankful to Phuc for making me let go, because I never had the strength to do it myself.

And even though I mean nothing to Phuc anymore, even though he's a different boy now, I still wish the best for him.  And if he ever chooses to reach out to me, I would still show him the same kindness that I would show anyone else.  That is why he still matters to me, in spite of my contentment with my new life, and in spite of my internal Typical Dumped Girlfriend criticisms.  Because as painfully saccharine as it is, everyone deserves kindness, and I will continue to believe so wholeheartedly until I'm proven otherwise.  Even this boy from my past life is no exception.

I will admit, that my mind chooses to think, "when he reaches out to me," rather than "if he reaches out to me."  And even though that seems unlikely now, it makes me happy.  Because it means that I have hope now.

Sometimes, it all boils down to hope and kindness.

Ambitions
like ribbons
worn bright on my sleeve.

- Vienna Teng, Eric's Song

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How do you resolve yourself when people are trying to convince you that you’re replaceable?  You’re no one special.  You’re a footnote.  You’re no one.

That is the dilemma that I am currently in the process of overcoming.  It is especially interesting to me, because it used to be a persona that I embraced wholeheartedly – I embraced being nothing, and I accepted being no one.

I can’t be that person anymore.  I used to make every effort possible to be invisible.  I was so afraid of criticism.  I was so afraid of people not liking me.  If I were invisible, if I were no one, then they don’t have the option of hating me.  They can’t hate what doesn’t exist.

Being able to tolerate the derision of others is one of the most enormously sudden changes that I’ve experienced.  I don’t know when I abruptly stopped being the girl that couldn’t sleep at night because she was tortured by the thoughts of people hating her.  Even hate that was only hypothetical was enough to make her suffer, to suffocate her in tears and screams. 

By spring of this year, after months of struggling, my depression was somehow both substantially better and substantially worse.  I was able to spend longer periods of time feeling like a normal person.  But internally, I gave up.  Fine, I saw therapy, and I felt better.  But I wasn’t fighting anymore.  I never stopped feeling like I was only prolonging the inevitable.  It stopped being a matter of if I’ll get better, if I'll recover from the symptoms of suicidality.  For me, it became a matter of, how long can I put it off?

During those periods where I felt “normal” again, it was always hate that broke me and made me relapse.  My self-esteem was so fragile.  It was very easy to make me feel worthless, or to make me feel like I wasn’t worth being alive.  And when I was still in that relationship…  Well, there was just a lot of hate.  That’s what made me snap in the end.  Every time I was hit by hate, I would realize all over again that dying was the best deed I could do for the world.  I just wasn’t strong enough to handle it or combat it.  I just tried to prolong the countdown.

After getting out of that relationship, getting better was always easy when I didn’t have to face that kind of hate anymore, the kind of hate that kept whispering in my ear, “Everyone would be happier if you weren’t around anymore.”  It was always easy to build myself up when I spent months being surrounded by nothing but love.  It was always easy when it was just a life full of love.

Right now, I’m coming to terms with the fact that there are people that just don’t like me.  I’m loud, annoying, and obnoxious.  I’m reckless and overly extravagant.  I’m weird, and odd.  I’m intense in my passions, perhaps too immensely so.  I’m stupid and intrusive.  I’m a ditz sometimes.  I’m forward, and rude.  I’m ignorant and oblivious.  I am naïve.  There are those that find me endearing, and those that find me so saccharine that it is sickening.  I’ve found that is the trade-off that I need to make to reach out to those that do appreciate it.  I have learned that it is an inevitable consequence of being social.  I have to accept that in order to brighten the days of some, I have to grind the teeth of others.

But when I was bullied and harassed, and when I now seem to have a fleet of people against me, my ceaseless passion for life was tested.  I was hopeless at first, and I felt like I was about to be devoured by hate all over again.  I was initially so afraid and worried.  Every second was being experienced in slow motion, with my heart in my throat.  But it was different this time.  It was different, because this time, even with the hate and the bullying, I soon learned that my life is still a life full of love.  My life is just immense with love.  That is something that didn't change.  There is possibly a world of hate against me now, but we all watched those Disney movies enough to learn by now that hate means nothing in the face of love.  

Even though last week tore me down, the foundation remained.  It is strong, and it is sturdy; it is kindness.  Hate now drives me towards kindness.  Those people that bullied me, those people that tore me down with condescending words and harsh stares… I decided to combat that with headstrong kindness.  I won’t stop studying where I study, I won’t stop being wholehearted in my laughter, and I won’t change my daily routine just because of paranoia and self-consciousness.  Meanwhile, I still don’t stop holding the door open for them, and I still don’t stop smiling at them and wishing them a good evening when I pass by them in the halls.  If someday, they want to look past my oddities and obnoxious tendencies, my heart will always be open to offer kindness.  I refuse to be bitter, and I refuse to close my door.  Admittedly, my days are now strange and uncomfortable.  They are awkward and uneasy.  Sometimes, I don’t feel safe.  But in the future, if any of them ever reach out to me, I would still be there for them.  I would still show them the same unyielding kindness that I offer to everyone else at this school.

I am still confused, and I still don't know why any of it happened.  I still don't know why I was targeted.  I still don't know what is happening.  I still don't know why my former friends and acquaintances are avoiding me.  I don't know what people are saying or thinking that is changing how people interact with me.  But I can't just stop my entire life because of it. There is nothing I can do now but to keep my chin up and keep moving.  I mean, I've gone half a year without ever really knowing why Phuc broke up with me, right?  I can get through this.  I just have to keep moving.  I can't let this stop my stride.

I just know that I’ve come a long way from that girl that cried in her bed for hours on end just by the sheer idea of hate.  Hate would just stop me in my tracks, and I was left meaningless and directionless.

Now, I have discovered my answers in my community of friendship and love.  I have experienced just so much support and caring.  It’s truly extraordinary, and it dwarfs the hate by an enormous degree.  It truly inspires me to not allow my integrity to be compromised.  “Hate should always incite change; it should always inspire a revolution towards kindness.”

Stay hopeful, bright eyes.  You can get through this.

But if it keeps being totally suck forever, at least you only have to deal with this for two more years before you ship off to grad school, haha!

I don't know why or how this is happening, but I'm kind of afraid.  My belief that coincidences don't exist anymore is tearing me apart right now.  Please tell me that I was targeted randomly.  Tell me that I'm imagining the people whispering and pointing at me.  Tell me that I'm imagining the uneasy stares that make me feel unsafe.  Tell me that I'm overthinking things, and that nothing's happening that's out of the ordinary.  Just tell me that I was targeted randomly. 

Please, just tell me that I was targeted randomly, and make my heart stop pounding outside of my chest.

I know everything that shines ain't always gonna be gold.
I'll be fine once I get it.
Yeah, I'll be good. 

- Kid Cudi, Pursuit of Happiness

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"You're awesome, Christa! I love how you always say you're doing awesome, even when you're tired."

-+-

As much as I will miss being able to blame everything going wrong in my life on the month of October, I admit that I am quite relieved that month is done with.  Among many things, my integrity and my determination in the lab was truly tested for the first time, my ex-anniversary came and went, all that jazz.  However, although I heavily connote October with dread, it truly developed into a month full of love, as well.  I had so much support and love through all of the hard times, and I had the most Halloween-y Halloween that I’ve had in years.  And I love Halloween, so that was awesome.

In a far more personal way, November is now an equally impactful month for me.  It was a year ago, in November, that I first came face-to-face with the lowest point in my entire life.  It’s something that I should meet with more shame and stigma, which is how I approached it in the past.  But I already trespassed into the forbidden grounds of transparency a long time ago, and nothing has steered me away from it yet, so I might as well focus it productively.  So I’ve decided since then that the possibility of informing someone -- and possibly even helping someone else in the long run -- is far more important than the value of secrets and inhibitions.  But it was last year that I was forced to admit my depression. Prior to last November, I was able to scrape by on denial and wishful thinking.  That is because last November, a critical symptom was added to my depression: suicidality.   Last November, I wrote my suicide note and I planned my death.  That is the weight that November carries with me.

But unlike October, November is consequently very beautiful to me.  After all, a year ago, I didn’t think that I would still be here today.  A year ago, I stopped expecting to see my twentieth birthday, I stopped expecting to see my college graduation, and I stopped expecting to ever see the end of my depression, low self-esteem, and loneliness.  A year ago is when I lost all hope. 

Yet last week, I began fervently exploring programs for graduate school.  I’m going to turn twenty-one in two months, and I absolutely cannot wait.  I freakin’ love birthdays.  Now, I am just ecstatic to see what the future holds for me.

I love being able to carry myself with confidence.  I used to look in the mirror and just beat myself down.  I used to cry about my weight, my complexion, my hair, my body.  I thought that Phuc would be the only boy in my life to ever think I was pretty or attractive.  I thought that Phuc was crazy, because I was sure that to the rest of the world, I was disgusting.  It made me so self-conscious.  I just wanted to be a wallflower, a nameless face in the crowd.  I wanted to be forgettable, because if anyone noticed me, then they would inevitably notice how repulsive I am.  Now, I love dancing like no one is looking, then being cheered on for an encore.  I love singing like no one is listening, then hearing the room roar with applause.

I used to hate this university, and tried to get out of this city at every possible opportunity.  A year ago, everyday was torture; I was surrounded by people, but always felt so alone.  And now, I have an extraordinary community of love, enthusiasm, and support from my friends, my colleagues, and my professors.  Every time I leave Merced now, a piece of my heart is left behind.  My heart is dropping at the very acknowledgement that I won’t get to spend my birthday in Merced.  If home is where the heart is, then there's now definitely an element of "home" in this little town.

November is beautiful because I love being able to trace over the memories of the past year, and I truly feel like I have overcome.  Can you imagine that I was so close to never experiencing these past several months?  I never would've known any of the people that I know now.  I never would've been able to attain what I have accomplished, or any of the things that I am still yet to accomplish.  Yet, I am thankful for the trials that I encountered.  I truly believe that if I never had suicide as an obstacle, then I would not be as aggressive with life as I am now.  Because I felt the pain of loneliness, I now try to reach out to the lives of as many people as possible, so that they won’t feel the loneliness that I felt.  Because I felt the burn of hate, insults, and demoralization, I now make every effort to pick people up, and to be unbridled in compliments, joy, and kindness.  The old belief that I was worthless now resounds with me as a challenge.  Now it’s a laughable concept to shoot for anything less than extraordinary.

November is beautiful, because me being alive right now, a year later, is proof that it gets better.  Getting to breathe in this air and getting to write these words is nothing less than beautiful.  It’s so appropriate during this month of gratefulness.  I am thankful for being alive.

If there is anything that I have truly learned from the past year, it is kindness.  It took me more than half a year of torture, hate, and suffering to learn that.  Everything I have now, it is because of kindness. 

And I am thankful for that.