My Life: A Small Update

Hello?

Is this thing on?

I have been absent in the world of the blogging for years. Today, things will begin to change.

When I first started by blog, I was in a world of chaos.

I had just received my Bachelors in Psychology along with my Minor in Counseling and I was tirelessly filling out resumes day-after-day in the hopes of landing a job in the a field that related to my degree. I was constantly thinking about my ex and believing that living in close proximity to him would be the spark to rekindle our relationship and the change needed for our relationship to work. In addition, I was living in a house occupied by fifteen of my family members.

The pressure to begin my adult life and start my professional career had increased to the point that I was sleeping and eating less and throwing random tantrums when my family asked questions about my life.

After researching ways to deal with stress and reading on how writing could be a helpful coping strategy to deal with my anxiety,  I decided to start this blog.

During the process of writing and reflecting on my life, I was better able to understand the multiple traumas that had occurred in my childhood and how they shaped my perception of the world. The more I wrote, the more comfortable I became about sharing  intimate moments of my life and gradually, the number of followers on my blog started to grow. Soon, they began sharing their own traumatic experiences, disclosing how they overcame those obstacles, or how they were dealing with their daily struggles.

Regardless of how different our paths in life had been, my followers were able to find something to relate to in my writings and were supportive and encouraged my journey of self-discovery.

Engaging with them offered insight on the importance of sharing life moments with strangers and made me aware of my need for connecting with people no matter how different we each may seem.

That was five years ago.

Today, I can confidently say that, at the core, I am still me, but my understanding of the world has changed.

I no longer carry the burden of others on my shoulders and have prioritized myself and my mental health.

I can only laugh now when I think back on how I used to blame myself for the actions of those around me and how I approached life trying to vigorously help every single person that meant something to me.

I almost lost my sanity in doing so.

I can let go now and move forward with my life.

I would like to say thanks.  For the people that randomly showed up in my life – the ones who broke my heart, the ones who pieced it back together, and the ones who filled it with love.

I am not alone. And I hope you, whoever you may be or wherever you may come from, understand that you’re not alone either.

I was once you. And in some strange way, I hope this journey that we call life, brings us closer together.

Here’s to the future and the continuation of sharing my life experiences with the beautiful people willing to listen.

Thank you! Truly.

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My Life: Becoming a freelance writer

Hello? Is this thing on?

If so, I would like to say hi and welcome you to my blog. And for those who have not heard from me in years, I would like to apologize. My life these past two years have been chaotic (and that’s keeping it simple). I went from home to home trying to find a place to call my own, changed job positions, and invested a significant amount of time and money on pursuing a Masters degree.

However, life happened and I am no longer in the right circumstances to continue.

I hope to share with you, in time, that chapter of my life. You’ll understand all of my struggles, my joys, and my pains. But for now, I would like to share that I am no longer going to school. These past few months I have been trying to find meaning in my life and in the process, I have decided to become a freelance writer. To tell you the truth, I don’t have a idea of what I am getting myself into, but that has never stopped me before.

When my guidance counselor told me that I would not go to a four-year college, I ended up graduating from San Francisco State University with a B.A. in Psychology and minor in Counseling. When all my other brother’s dropped out of school, I applied to a Masters program and got in. And I will continue to move forward regardless.

My stories aren’t too sophisticated (trust me, I know). Nor are they grammatically perfect (that is a creative choice). But they are honest (I promise). And that’s why I want to write and make a living out of it. I want to share my story and help at least one person get through the day. Or to make them laugh. Or cry. Or make them not feel alone.

And with that announcement, I would like some help from you.

I know this may alienate the people who read my blog, but I would appreciate any leads that can help in me becoming a freelance writer or at least a place where I can make a living sharing my stories.

Here is a list of some stories that show off my writing skills. I hope you all enjoy them! 🙂

Life: A Message To My Future Daughter

The Night My Life Changed: An Introduction

The Brother Who Left My Life

The First Sexual Encounter Of My Life

I know it’s a long shot, but it’s an attempt. Hopefully someone out there can hear me. Thank you.

Sincerely,

EDDY

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The Roommate Who Saved My Life

When I was 21 years old, I moved to San Francisco by myself. At that time, I didn’t realize just how lonesome the real world could be.

This is the story of how my roommate saved my life and how I wasn’t there to save his.

His name was Justin, a sailor who had recently moved from Maine to San Francisco in order to attend the local community college. He was white, short, and skinny. He often wore tight t-shirts, tight cut-off shorts, and too much makeup that made him look feminine. He fit my stereotypical image of a gay man, so I knew he was gay when I first saw him. He was flamboyant when he wanted to be and usually spoke whatever was on his mind, no matter how inappropriate his comments were at times.

We were the complete opposites, but we got along quite well. We shared details about our lives during the first days he moved into the house, and we quickly developed a friendship. I wanted to be completely honest with him, so I decided to tell him I was gay. At first, he looked at me in shock and then, very excitedly, told me he would take me to gay clubs, bars, and show me around the city. I smiled. He was my first true friend in San Francisco.

On our first night out, Justin gave me vodka to calm my nerves, but I felt more nervous and drunk by the time we arrived at the club. Once inside, I couldn’t believe I was seeing men kiss, touch, and dance with each other. Suddenly, I became part of the gay world and I felt strange and partly scared. I wanted to go back, but Justin didn’t allow me. My world had just been changed and Justin was to thank.

While inside the club, Justin warned me that the gay world was all about sex and that I should be careful because men in these clubs prey on younger guys. I looked around and saw a room full of friendly men; his comment confused me. He advised that long-distance relationships do not work because most gay guys cheat; I assured him that my boyfriend and I were happy even if we were living far away from each other. Finally, he told me that most gay guys in the community have fucked around with each other, so a true gay platonic friendship was rare. I didn’t know what to say; I had no intentions of messing around with him.

That night an older man tried to take me to his place because he knew I was drunk. Luckily, Justin found me before my panic attack worsened and we took a taxi back home. After that incident, he told me that he would be there to protect me. And he kept his word.

I can go on and tell you about the many times Justin took care of me when we went out clubbing or how he called me a prude for being so afraid to show my sexuality. Or that one night he said I dressed too “straight” and decided to dress me in a tight flannel shirt that showed some skin. Or how we spent hours in his room talking about music, our families, our relationships, and the little friends we had. But that’s not the story I want to tell.

Justin passed away in April of 2012. He was only 22.

I had only known him for 2 months before he moved back home, but that was enough for us to consider each other friends. But soon I became busy with school and we hardly talked. I last messaged Justin a few weeks before his death to tell him that my boyfriend had cheated on me throughout our relationship. Justin was right, gay guys often cheat.

I learned of Justin’s death later that month. It was ruled as an accidental fall.

Truth of the matter, Justin had been going through some hard times. He didn’t have many true gay friends he could talk with about his problems, so he often took trips by himself when he wanted to clear his head. I often wonder what would have happened if I was there to talk with him during the night he fell off the tower. Truth is, I often think about him.

You see, Justin tried to teach me about the gay community, but he taught me about life. Older, more experienced, individuals can take advantage of younger, less experienced, people. Sometimes relationships just end or people cheat while being in one. More importantly, he taught me that true friends are rare.

I needed Justin during that time in my life. The gay world for a newly “out” individual can be dangerously lonely.

On the night he moved out, we were avoiding that awkward goodbye hug. Finally, after constantly checking his room for any missing belongings, he approached me. He gave me a hug and said that I was one of the good guys. He said that I shouldn’t be afraid of being myself, my gay self, and to take care of myself. I told him I would try to be more gay and for him to take care of himself too.

If I knew that would be the last time we would see each other, I would have hugged him longer and tighter. I would have thanked him for being there to teach me about the world and for protecting me from the bad guys. I would have told him that I loved him for being himself. I would have told him that he could always talk to me whenever he wanted to cry. But I didn’t say any of that.

As he drove off, I waved goodbye. I then went to his empty room and cried.

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