Poolside Convo
Well...I'm back...sort of. For those who followed my blog, you know that I haven't been in the writing community since my New Orleans trip all the way back in March 2017. I've been so absent from this universe. A lot has happened. I had a draft saved since December, but I found that my mind wasn't ready to recall the memories and experiences I needed to use for this post. I was just okay, and I needed to feel more at peace and feel some sense of healing and growth in order for me to discuss this. So...I'm finally here. I'm ready to talk about all of it.
~ Brokenness ~
On June 2, 2017, a cousin of mine had passed away. Jillian Baluyot, one of the closest people to my heart, had tragically left the earth. Depression had taken away one of my own. We were close...well...all of my cousins were a tightly-knitted group that was doing life together. But, never in a million years would we expect one of our own to go like this. I didn't know if could make it for the next year. I can't say it was all difficult because there aren't any words that could describe the moments I had to deal with over the next few days. I woke up with tears and went to sleep at night with a headache from crying so much. I only fell asleep because the fatigue of crying and the trauma of losing her exhausted me. Eventually, I grew tired of having repetitive nights like this and bought over-the-counter sleeping aid pills to knock me out right away. Thankfully, I didn't have to completely rely on it and only took the pills for about a week straight. I didn't know how my family was capable of digging through their phones and camera rolls to find photos and pictures of her. It felt like I was the only relative that couldn't do that, and it hurt me so much to admit that I couldn't. I was angry at myself because I didn't have the strength to find old videos and photos in my phone of Jill. For those of you familiar with SoundCloud, she had uploaded a cover of Frank Ocean's "Self-Control." So many people had posted screenshots on their Instagram stories of listening to her cover song. I couldn't do that either. To hear her voice and to see her again through all these digital gateways was something I couldn't bring myself to do. It wasn't Jill but just a small glimpse of what she was prior to what happened.
After all of the funeral services, my friends from college eventually showed their concern because I was missing out on parties over the whole summer. A couple of them texted me, and visited me at work asking how I've been. I knew they wanted to catch up so badly, but I barely made the time for them. If any of my William Paterson friends read this, just know that I'm deeply grateful for all of you who reached out to me...You guys are the best. I dedicated most of my time to being with my family. My biggest comfort was surrounding myself with the people that I've been growing up with because only they truly understood the pain I was going through. The pain was mostly mutual. My cousins and I eventually got tattoos in honor of Jill. Finally, I was about to get my first ink. Her signature is now on my left arm forever. Each and every one of our signatures is completely unique to us. It can't be replicated, unless through forgery. But, to me, you could never forge or copy the impact of Jill, her pain, and her joy in my life. It was the closest thing I could think of that was an embodiment of what she meant to me. It was a bittersweet moment for most of us, but it at least brought temporary joy to know that we could do this for her.
Once the fall semester started, and everyone was back in school...it felt that reality was really hitting me. Life was truly about to keep going on, and I couldn't heal at the same rate that it was. The freedom and time for everyone to meet up and do something was gone, and I had to go back to my daily routines.
~ Deep in Hurt ~
Before all of this, I thought I had it all figured out. Whenever something in my life came my way to break me down, I had opened up a secret manual in my mind. I had a personal mantra to follow every time I had found myself at a roadblock in life. I didn't feel invincible, but I felt that I could take anything head on with some help. However, I gave myself most of the credit for coming out of obstacles with a sense of realization, and accomplishment. It helped me become more disciplined because it only took several steps to help me move on from life's heartaches. When Jill passed away, I had nothing to follow and refer to, anymore. When I realized my mind-manual had no use, I started to feel lost. The biggest fear I had was confronting the pain and grief head on, then trying to figure out what to do with it. So, I tried to find different ways of coping with what was going on in my head. I spent time with my closest friends by constantly going out and hanging out. I'll admit I even gained some weight because I had gone out to eat so many different times. I started writing on my tumblr account as if they were letters to Jill. Writing had always helped me through my most difficult times and cleared the clutter that was building up in my mind. There were words of frustration from not being able to have her back, words of admiration from the love she gave everyone during her lifetime, and words of sadness from the realization that the Flores cousins were going to be one less at every party and holiday gathering. I wanted to see her there for my milestones, and I yearned to see her grow as a woman...but, all of that had vanished in one day.
Months passed, the winter came, and 2018 eventually had started extremely rough for me. To keep things short and vague (for the purposes of not tainting anyone's name), there was a lot of misunderstanding which led someone to tell me I was something that I wasn't. Don't worry about the details, just know that it hurt, it frustrated me, and made me feel like I wasn't ever going to escape a perception that people had of me. It made me not want to be within the church community I was once so deeply rooted in. It had pushed me so far away that I took as much Sunday shifts as I could just to not be there. I dreaded the Sundays I was off and was forced to go. Playing drums for the worship band didn't interest me at all, ministry seemed so pointless since I felt that I was just seen as a bad guy in the end, and I genuinely didn't find a belonging within the community. I hated the church for most of 2018. When this happened, I was left to cope with the grief I still had and deal with the anger and frustration from this ridiculous drama. I stopped going to weekly small group gatherings and stayed within the confinement of my room playing PS4 with the door locked. I failed a midterm exam and began to make frequent mistakes at work. I found no more identity within my faith. I refused to walk along with others. If the community was only going to offer this sort of judgment towards me, I wanted absolutely no part of it. Instead, I went out and had the fun I wanted to. For almost all of April and May, you could find me going out to bars and clubs spending my weekly paycheck on drinks. If I didn't go out on a Friday, I went out on a Saturday. If I couldn't avoid playing drums for the band on a Sunday, I'd do it hungover.
It was obvious...I was lost and didn't know how to act. All I knew was that the intoxication, dancing to loud music, and meeting girls was what brought a smile to my face. It felt like there was no one left to help me along the way of facing my grief head on and helping me ease my frustration with the drama that came my way. The best way to describe what happened over the course of 11 months is to imagine your home being swept away and crumbled by a storm. Your home was built from a foundation of who you are, the walls were the comfort of the people you were surrounded by, and the roof was all the accomplishments and/or everything that you've felt so proud to have ever done and receive thus far...Imagine all of this crushed down to bits and pieces and not figuring out what to do next. That's what all this drinking and going out was...the entire post-destruction of my home and never figuring out what to do next. The hardest part about being lost and not knowing where to go next is the frustration of actually trying to go the right way but ending up in a place you never wanted to be.
June 2, 2018 eventually marked our calendars. I was afraid the day before because I didn't know what sort of emotions I was going to be filled with, but I knew Jill's death anniversary had to come.
~ Glimpse of Hope ~
I was more than okay. For most of the year, I had been trying to heal from the pain with the goal to make it go away completely. There was this misconception that healing was ridding of the pain and being free of grief, and I was wrong. Eventually, I had accepted the loss as a part of my life. I knew I couldn't do anything in this world to bring back Jill, but I also couldn't do anything to make me stop missing her...and I was absolutely at peace with that. I miss her everyday, and I won't miss her any less. I still went out a couple of time throughout the rest of the year but did far less drinking once September came around. I was still trying to ease my frustration over the issues I had with certain people at my church which served as a sole purpose of my summer antics.
When September had come, I realized it was time to put a stop to the temporary lifestyle. If I had come to terms with myself and finally accepted the unrelenting feeling of missing Jill, then I figured it was time to accept that life goes on and I along with it. I had finally graduated college, after a long six years. I found a temporary full-time job (with decent pay and benefits) while I search for a job to get my career started. I began feeling more comfortable with being within my church community (in and outside of the actual church grounds). With all of this suddenly falling into place, I realized something big was really coming my way...adulthood. Student loans started sucking my paycheck, credit card bills became a big responsibility, and I've never worried about my credit score before. Like I said...I had to go on just as life did. Time wasn't something I always had, now. I spend my hours either working or working out. It was finally time I started to work on myself. I wanted to transform my body and build my resume while building muscle. All the time felt like it had to be "me" time. But, all this "me" time had a very important purpose: It was a foundation that I could build a new home on.
If you're all wondering if I had this conclusion to the loss and frustration I experienced, you're wrong. It always hurts, I always miss Jill. But, my intention with this overdue blog post after a 2 year writing hiatus wasn't just to explain my whereabouts. If you can only focus on what I was doing to cope with everything, then I think you need start looking at people with a different lens. The whole truth I realized about people is that we can never truly understand each other. We will never mutually and fully grasp what another person is going through or feeling. I could've never understood Jill's depression and the toll that it took on her on a daily basis; However, it was the same way that some people had no idea that my spring and summer antics of 2018 was all a way of coping with everything. Through my separation from God, He was still able to give me a lesson: Only He knows your troubles. I shouldn't put the blame on anyone else for not knowing mine.
~ Brokenness ~
On June 2, 2017, a cousin of mine had passed away. Jillian Baluyot, one of the closest people to my heart, had tragically left the earth. Depression had taken away one of my own. We were close...well...all of my cousins were a tightly-knitted group that was doing life together. But, never in a million years would we expect one of our own to go like this. I didn't know if could make it for the next year. I can't say it was all difficult because there aren't any words that could describe the moments I had to deal with over the next few days. I woke up with tears and went to sleep at night with a headache from crying so much. I only fell asleep because the fatigue of crying and the trauma of losing her exhausted me. Eventually, I grew tired of having repetitive nights like this and bought over-the-counter sleeping aid pills to knock me out right away. Thankfully, I didn't have to completely rely on it and only took the pills for about a week straight. I didn't know how my family was capable of digging through their phones and camera rolls to find photos and pictures of her. It felt like I was the only relative that couldn't do that, and it hurt me so much to admit that I couldn't. I was angry at myself because I didn't have the strength to find old videos and photos in my phone of Jill. For those of you familiar with SoundCloud, she had uploaded a cover of Frank Ocean's "Self-Control." So many people had posted screenshots on their Instagram stories of listening to her cover song. I couldn't do that either. To hear her voice and to see her again through all these digital gateways was something I couldn't bring myself to do. It wasn't Jill but just a small glimpse of what she was prior to what happened.
After all of the funeral services, my friends from college eventually showed their concern because I was missing out on parties over the whole summer. A couple of them texted me, and visited me at work asking how I've been. I knew they wanted to catch up so badly, but I barely made the time for them. If any of my William Paterson friends read this, just know that I'm deeply grateful for all of you who reached out to me...You guys are the best. I dedicated most of my time to being with my family. My biggest comfort was surrounding myself with the people that I've been growing up with because only they truly understood the pain I was going through. The pain was mostly mutual. My cousins and I eventually got tattoos in honor of Jill. Finally, I was about to get my first ink. Her signature is now on my left arm forever. Each and every one of our signatures is completely unique to us. It can't be replicated, unless through forgery. But, to me, you could never forge or copy the impact of Jill, her pain, and her joy in my life. It was the closest thing I could think of that was an embodiment of what she meant to me. It was a bittersweet moment for most of us, but it at least brought temporary joy to know that we could do this for her.
Once the fall semester started, and everyone was back in school...it felt that reality was really hitting me. Life was truly about to keep going on, and I couldn't heal at the same rate that it was. The freedom and time for everyone to meet up and do something was gone, and I had to go back to my daily routines.
~ Deep in Hurt ~
Before all of this, I thought I had it all figured out. Whenever something in my life came my way to break me down, I had opened up a secret manual in my mind. I had a personal mantra to follow every time I had found myself at a roadblock in life. I didn't feel invincible, but I felt that I could take anything head on with some help. However, I gave myself most of the credit for coming out of obstacles with a sense of realization, and accomplishment. It helped me become more disciplined because it only took several steps to help me move on from life's heartaches. When Jill passed away, I had nothing to follow and refer to, anymore. When I realized my mind-manual had no use, I started to feel lost. The biggest fear I had was confronting the pain and grief head on, then trying to figure out what to do with it. So, I tried to find different ways of coping with what was going on in my head. I spent time with my closest friends by constantly going out and hanging out. I'll admit I even gained some weight because I had gone out to eat so many different times. I started writing on my tumblr account as if they were letters to Jill. Writing had always helped me through my most difficult times and cleared the clutter that was building up in my mind. There were words of frustration from not being able to have her back, words of admiration from the love she gave everyone during her lifetime, and words of sadness from the realization that the Flores cousins were going to be one less at every party and holiday gathering. I wanted to see her there for my milestones, and I yearned to see her grow as a woman...but, all of that had vanished in one day.
Months passed, the winter came, and 2018 eventually had started extremely rough for me. To keep things short and vague (for the purposes of not tainting anyone's name), there was a lot of misunderstanding which led someone to tell me I was something that I wasn't. Don't worry about the details, just know that it hurt, it frustrated me, and made me feel like I wasn't ever going to escape a perception that people had of me. It made me not want to be within the church community I was once so deeply rooted in. It had pushed me so far away that I took as much Sunday shifts as I could just to not be there. I dreaded the Sundays I was off and was forced to go. Playing drums for the worship band didn't interest me at all, ministry seemed so pointless since I felt that I was just seen as a bad guy in the end, and I genuinely didn't find a belonging within the community. I hated the church for most of 2018. When this happened, I was left to cope with the grief I still had and deal with the anger and frustration from this ridiculous drama. I stopped going to weekly small group gatherings and stayed within the confinement of my room playing PS4 with the door locked. I failed a midterm exam and began to make frequent mistakes at work. I found no more identity within my faith. I refused to walk along with others. If the community was only going to offer this sort of judgment towards me, I wanted absolutely no part of it. Instead, I went out and had the fun I wanted to. For almost all of April and May, you could find me going out to bars and clubs spending my weekly paycheck on drinks. If I didn't go out on a Friday, I went out on a Saturday. If I couldn't avoid playing drums for the band on a Sunday, I'd do it hungover.
It was obvious...I was lost and didn't know how to act. All I knew was that the intoxication, dancing to loud music, and meeting girls was what brought a smile to my face. It felt like there was no one left to help me along the way of facing my grief head on and helping me ease my frustration with the drama that came my way. The best way to describe what happened over the course of 11 months is to imagine your home being swept away and crumbled by a storm. Your home was built from a foundation of who you are, the walls were the comfort of the people you were surrounded by, and the roof was all the accomplishments and/or everything that you've felt so proud to have ever done and receive thus far...Imagine all of this crushed down to bits and pieces and not figuring out what to do next. That's what all this drinking and going out was...the entire post-destruction of my home and never figuring out what to do next. The hardest part about being lost and not knowing where to go next is the frustration of actually trying to go the right way but ending up in a place you never wanted to be.
June 2, 2018 eventually marked our calendars. I was afraid the day before because I didn't know what sort of emotions I was going to be filled with, but I knew Jill's death anniversary had to come.
~ Glimpse of Hope ~
I was more than okay. For most of the year, I had been trying to heal from the pain with the goal to make it go away completely. There was this misconception that healing was ridding of the pain and being free of grief, and I was wrong. Eventually, I had accepted the loss as a part of my life. I knew I couldn't do anything in this world to bring back Jill, but I also couldn't do anything to make me stop missing her...and I was absolutely at peace with that. I miss her everyday, and I won't miss her any less. I still went out a couple of time throughout the rest of the year but did far less drinking once September came around. I was still trying to ease my frustration over the issues I had with certain people at my church which served as a sole purpose of my summer antics.
When September had come, I realized it was time to put a stop to the temporary lifestyle. If I had come to terms with myself and finally accepted the unrelenting feeling of missing Jill, then I figured it was time to accept that life goes on and I along with it. I had finally graduated college, after a long six years. I found a temporary full-time job (with decent pay and benefits) while I search for a job to get my career started. I began feeling more comfortable with being within my church community (in and outside of the actual church grounds). With all of this suddenly falling into place, I realized something big was really coming my way...adulthood. Student loans started sucking my paycheck, credit card bills became a big responsibility, and I've never worried about my credit score before. Like I said...I had to go on just as life did. Time wasn't something I always had, now. I spend my hours either working or working out. It was finally time I started to work on myself. I wanted to transform my body and build my resume while building muscle. All the time felt like it had to be "me" time. But, all this "me" time had a very important purpose: It was a foundation that I could build a new home on.
If you're all wondering if I had this conclusion to the loss and frustration I experienced, you're wrong. It always hurts, I always miss Jill. But, my intention with this overdue blog post after a 2 year writing hiatus wasn't just to explain my whereabouts. If you can only focus on what I was doing to cope with everything, then I think you need start looking at people with a different lens. The whole truth I realized about people is that we can never truly understand each other. We will never mutually and fully grasp what another person is going through or feeling. I could've never understood Jill's depression and the toll that it took on her on a daily basis; However, it was the same way that some people had no idea that my spring and summer antics of 2018 was all a way of coping with everything. Through my separation from God, He was still able to give me a lesson: Only He knows your troubles. I shouldn't put the blame on anyone else for not knowing mine.
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