TRIGGER WARNING: It’s depressing. If you are having a bad day, do not read it.

Dear Ruth:

I try to not be a complete self absorbed asshole and respond to your last letter as I update on my life but today I cannot. This letter is going to be a word vomit of my pain and my loneliness and all the negative feelings that have been roaming my heart.

First, I should tell you that I am PMSing. Hence, depression comes by to say hi, every month on schedule. Sometimes I nod to it and smile, acknowledging its existence but not giving in. This time I have little energy left after the hell of a week I have had, and it has me.

Wednesday morning I woke up with a cough. It seemed like an average cold except my body was in pain, I attributed muscle ache to the PMS and went to work for the next two days. Thursday night I drugged myself on cough medicine and went to bed. I woke up in a puddle of boogers, drool and my sweat. I showered and got dressed for work before realizing that I was not functional. Friday morning at 7am, before it even opened I was at the door of the Urgent Care Clinic. Dr. said it was bronchitis and I got pain meds and antibiotics. Jayne and Pixie came over to hang and brought me plenty of fluids.

I spent all Friday and most of Saturday on the couch. Having difficulty breathing until I realized it was not getting better. Second trip to Urgent Care Saturday night. I ended up getting a shit load more drugs to deal with the shortness of breath and had to buy a nebulizer the next morning, so I can give myself the treatments and not run to the clinic every time I am suffocating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Besides the constant feeling an asphyxia, the random pains, spasms, fever, a nose that has been running marathons the last few days and other even grosser symptoms, I have to deal with regression. I have had asthma since childhood. I spent says, sometimes weeks in the hospital. It changed my upbringing and made me into the melancholic over thinker I am. You become this way when you near death pretty often.

My entire immediate family were having a trip this weekend to Cartagena, Colombia, a few hours away from Barranquilla where they live to see some cousins that went to visit from the US. My friends in New York City were having Dinner somewhere in Bay Ridge. Cory was moving into her new dorm. I felt so alone. And for good parts of the weekend I was not alone at all. I saw my rooomate, my ex, Jayne and my friend Pixie who took me to UC visit 2 and drove me around to get the medicine and the nebulizer.

But I felt so alone. I felt the weight of the life I chose for myself away from my family into a vast land of loving strangers where I will always be foreign. The homelessness that I try so hard to evade, instead invaded me. I could not think of an emergency contact. I did not know who to tell at first that I was sick. The only person who I told how miserable I was was my BFF who lives in NYC.

I was stuck in regression. I remembered bitterly the times I ran to the ER with Trace and how I dont have someone to do that with me. I remember the times in New York where I would go weeks sick. Undocumented and uninsured, I was always afraid of the seeking medical attention. My roommate worked at a pharmacy and would get me antibiotics under the table. I would get inhalers as gifts from random kind people who understood. Dragged myself to the ER more than once though, always alone.

Regress even more into childhood. My family made miserable by my health problems. My insurance card got lost EVERY single time. My father would yell and become violent. I cannot stand him to this day. My mother taking care of me, my sisters, my brother, her job, finances and her abusive unfaithful good for nothing backward glance of a husband. Asthma the only inheritance I received from him. I left them I escaped. I moved away from this dysfunctional shitty environment and chose the American Dream.

Here I am, so many years later still as alone and just as broken. Hustling, fighting struggling. On my own for a while now (eleven years of independence to be exact), my resilience is exhausted. I want my reward for all those years of hard work. I want to not have to worry about money when I am sick (I have insurance though, which is a HUGE progress from where I started). I want partners who meet me all the way and commit. WHY DO MOTHERFUCKERS NOT COMMIT!?!?!?!?!?

I just wanna stay with someone and share life. I am tired of break ups, falling in love with the wrong people, dysfunction, disappointment, abandonment. I am tired of being the orphan, the homeless wanderer, the ship without a port. I want to look at a form, see the words Emergency Contact and not cringe. I want to have someone near, who I know will be there.

This may never change. Someone may or may not come. I may one day or perhaps never have a family. And I live every day in patience, love, and gratitude. Ignoring the uncertainty and rising above the loneliness. But not today. Today I feel how alone I am in every cell of my body and every crevice of my soul.

I am going back to work tomorrow. I hope is up from here and that I menstruate soon enough to stop lamenting. I am sorry if this letter is not what you are used. I have to live with this gigantic monster called depression that sometimes chews its way of the cage.

Thank you for reading this and I hope it was not too self piteous.

I promise you a decent piece of epistolary literature next time, when it stops raining inside my head.

Love

Nora