Chasing the moon

For some time now, I've been lost in darkness. Afraid of doing anything. Feeling stuck and stagnant and on nights like tonight, I find myself staring out into the sky, looking for a gentle reminder that amidst all the chaos and uncertainty, there is purpose. I gaze into the openness and am reminded that I am but a tiny speck in the universe; that there is something much larger than myself. 

Looking at the sky on a nightly basis can develop into a habit. I would like nothing more than having something apart from me to become a part of me. 

During my childhood, I believed that the moon was following me while I sat in the backseat of the car. As I grew older, I passed it off as a product of my imagination. Unbeknownst to me, the moon has actually been following me my entire life. And in thinking about it now, I am comforted whenever I see the moon - often times chasing it's moonlight myself. 

Whenever I look out of the car window, there's a certain feeling that occurs deep within me as the clouds recede in the light of the moon and stars start to take shape. Yes, they are a little different. The moon rises and falls over a different set of trees or mountains. It's beauty illuminating the darkness, as if showing you what could be. 

And some nights I can't even spot the moon. Once full and bright and close, could easily become enveloped in the darkness as the sun no longer can touch it and you are left with a sky that is incomplete, seemingly, yet, like a reliable friend, it is still there, hidden in the shadow - but still there, nonetheless. 

In all its phases, in all its glory and all its shortcomings, the moon represents change and the phases of it. The moon, like the literature, waxes and wanes, and lifts you up to heights unbeknownst to you, and casts you down to depths just the same. There is good and bad; there is good in the bad; there is a dark element to every ray of light, and vice versa, there is light in even the most inhumane, the most mundane, and the downright miserable. 

Even now as I write this, I am reminded that without darkness, you cannot see the light. And through the darkness and uncertainty, there are friends along the way that will help guide us through. 

What I Wish I could tell you

Tonight we had a conversation and caught up with one another. And as much as I would like to say that it was great - I can't. And I think back of the memories we had - the good, the bad, and the ugly.

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I honestly thought I had mistakenly fallen in love with you. When I ended us, I thought I was dodging a bullet. But it's been 7 months and I still find memories of you everywhere I go and I still look for pieces of you in people that I date. I still remember our first date talking about being the best side stepper there could be and I also remember the first time saying "I love you" to one another. I loved the feeling of having butterflies in my stomach and the thought of endless possibilities with you. I definitely miss those moments of comfort and that energy we had when we first met.

I didn't dodge a bullet when I ended us. I think I might have lost someone really special to me. I think I might have ruined the happiness that I long for these days.
You made me smile and you made me happy; but all I could focus on were the times when you made me cry, angry, or when I felt lonely being next to you - I think that was the most unbearable part - to physically feel so close to you but yet emotionally and mentally oceans apart.
But 7 months of reflection and I've realized that the good outweighs the bad. It always has and I was just too stupid to realize it.

I thought I had mistakenly fallen in love with you; but there are moments where I miss the idea of us so intensely that I've realized that falling for you wasn't a mistake. In fact, I purposefully fell in love with you.

And knowing this gives me hope that I can choose to fall in love with someone else - someone just as special and just as exciting as you were.

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After our conversation, we went our separate ways, I started realizing that I wasn't necessarily over the idea of 'us.' It was great seeing you and doing so made me think of how I am dating to get over the relationship we had and that's never a nice thing to put another person through. As difficult as it is, I'm starting to realize that I am in fact, not ready to date. The residual impact that our relationship had continues to follow me.

I would never tell you this in person - so writing it may make it easier to own. I have actively avoided all of the places we created memories in - City park, the swings, Horsetooth Reservoir, coffee shops we used to visit, Jim's Wings - these places remind me of us and it sometimes feels like opening up a flesh wound and having to experience the loss of a friend - and that has been enough for me to avoid those places. More recently, I've been revisiting those places again...and they still hurt but it's starting to feel like I could make new memories there. But truth be told, there's a part of me that wants to leave Fort Collins because I don't want to go through this process of going to places where we've created memories. Maybe I don't want to forget them or maybe I don't want to feel the sadness in my heart again. It's not because I started talking to someone new... far from it actually.


Whatever the reason, I hope you know how much you've changed my perspective of love and what it means to be in a relationship. I know that we won't be getting back together AND wouldn't be amazing if we found a better, much more fulfilled love than we had? I guess that's what I want to find and it's definitely much harder knowing that my favorite places are also places you and I have had special moments in.

Remembering Wonderful

I'm starting to forget certain things. The way you laughed, the way you smiled, the way you smelled - it's all becoming a blur. I can't feel your presence nor can I hear your voice. It's almost as if you are gone or never existed at all. 

However, the one thing I'll always remember clearly are the nights you fell asleep early to wake up at 6 in the morning, get ready for work, and you kiss me goodbye. ~6 AM is my favorite time, and honestly, I think I fell in love with it more because of you. 

It's been a while since we've spoken, and truthfully, if I have to be honest with myself, right here, right now, I don't think we'll ever have another one of those moments. Maybe somewhere deep in my fantasy or a dream, but in this universe, I know that I won't hear your laugh or voice or see your name on my phone again. A part of me dies every time I tell myself this and another part of me survives while knowing it.

Please do me a favor though; whoever you do decide to wake up next to at 6 AM, I hope they know how wonderful you are. And I hope you'll think of me too, and remember me. Please remember the boy you once met and fell for. And I hope you wonder about the man he has become. 

He is just as wonderful as you are. 

Acceptance

There's this feeling within me that I can't quite understand. It's a feeling of overwhelming sadness. Yet there is peace and acceptance. Some call this grief. In the Japanese language, this feeling is known as:

mono no aware (物の哀れ). 

In translation it means the pathos or deep feeling of things and the acceptance of transience and impermanence - a beautiful sadness of appreciating what once was and is no more - like the colors of autumn leaves right before they fall, the changes of the moon, or the absence of family, friends, and lovers. 

This term stresses the impermanence of life and that we should willingly and gracefully let go of our attachments to transient things. Mono no aware recognizes that the beauty of something (whether a person, an object, or even a moment in time) is dependent on its transiency, in a way that would be missing if we knew that it would last forever, similarly to how we often take for granted the mountains or the oceans in front of us. 

My new tattoo is a representation of this phrase. It is the appreciation of an experience, the acceptance of loss, and the excitement of whats to come. In my own processing, I've realized that there is great romance in walking away from something - the passage of time; in death, and in loss.

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When I was four years old, I said goodbye to my home in the Philippines. Though my heart was weary and fearful at the same time, I was also excited for a new life in Hawaii. At eight years old, I moved again and said goodbye to a home, a feeling of familiarity, a place where I learned to ride a bike and where I found my first friend.

When I was 17, I said goodbye to my family as I flew out to Denver for college, leaving behind the comfort and safety of a community. At first, the nights were cold, my heart felt empty, and my bones felt hallow.

At age 23, I fell in love with a boy who sheepishly fell in love with me too. And at age 25, I said goodbye to that lover, and as I protected my heart, I encased it with sleepless nights, empty kisses from strangers, and drunken stupors, but yet, there was room in my bed to feel his absence.  

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Months later and here I am. In reflection, I've learned to accept my relationship for what it was and move forward. I am still processing and healing, and I am sitting in the pain and sadness of this recent loss - but most importantly, I am okay. 

Unfortunately, there are nights where I still think about the love and the life I had with him. But not in a heartbreaking, head turning, bed tossing, aching kind of way. It's more of an acceptance, a closure - of where we happened and how real it felt in that moment. But now we no longer are.

I am sad but also grateful for the experience - the essence of mono no aware. Like shattered glass, I pick up the pieces of my life and move forward. As my tattoo depicts, I, similarly to a lotus, grew from hardship and murky waters. At the same time, I am like a bud, willing to grow, learn, and experience. The owl is of a different story - it signifies knowledge and a way forward. It is unfinished...like myself.

And during each moment of my life, when I had to say goodbye to each phase or experience, their absence gave me more substance than they ever had. So to anyone reading this who may need to hear it. Sit through the pain because there is beauty in accepting transience and impermanence.

I'm still figuring this out for myself, but this process, although difficult, has only made me realize to be grateful for the moments I can call my own. 

My silence is my departure

I could write about many things today from being in an open relationship, to the shame of emasculation, or the pain of emotional investment, or even the feeling of obligation within a relationship, etc. But today, I choose to write about what silence means to me. 

In the past, I've yelled and I blamed you for many things. I've thrown tantrums and sent you long text messages and emails explaining my pain and anger. There were times I would leave to the other room in the middle of the night because I was hurting. I also cried countless of times because of something you said or done. But you shouldn't have worried about any of those things. They were all displays of my imperfect love. They were all cries for your attention and they were all exhibits of how much I love you. 

What you should worry about is when my responses become one word answers, worry when I no longer fight with you about what you say, and worry when I stop crying, when I stop talking and when I stop reacting. Because this means you’re no longer worth the fight, you’re no longer worth the anger and your flames that used to burn my passion have now turned to ash.

Please know, that my silence is more dangerous than my words, my silence can hurt much more than my words ever will. My silence means you’re no longer the one who’s occupying my thoughts and you’re no longer worth the noise. Because, you see, I love the written word, I live for words, I can keep writing words for the rest of my life because they describe my emotions, because they come from my heart, because they represent my depth and because they’re honest.

But I hate silence. I’m not comfortable with the words left unsaid, with feelings left unattended and hearts being neglected.

My words are my love, my silence is my departure, it’s the beginning of the end. My silence means I stopped caring, my silence means you don’t deserve my words and that I’m giving up the fight for us and on you. My silence is a response to your silence. It’s how I get even with you. So no, this is not a sign of weakness, it's a sign of my strength because this will force me to sit in the silence and process. 

With that, you shouldn’t have feared our heated arguments, the ways I tried to show you who I am, the tears I couldn’t hold back because you meant the world to me. You shouldn’t have feared them, instead, you should have appreciated them, they’re all the ways I wanted this to work, they’re all the ways I tried to fight with you because I wanted to fight for you.

But the day it all stops; the day when everything goes quiet; the night you hurt me and I smile; the night you annoy me and I don’t respond, these are the moments when I'll know that my silence was becoming less and less bearable. Because it means I’m ready to go, it means I’m ready to leave and it means I’m ready to disappear. 

Sadly, this is the case now. I had told you once that my time is the most valuable gift I could give someone and now I have to give myself that time. The worst part of this is, regardless of my silence, I still have to be okay with the fact that you've begun talking to someone new. 

It gets worse before it gets better - to be bald and beautiful

This is probably the most difficult blog I've forced myself to write. Not because of what happened, but because of the aftermath and its consequences. To this day, I still feel the hurt this experience has caused myself, my friendships, and my relationships.

CONTENT WARNING: Rape and Sexual Assault.  this is about sexual assault and my process of getting over it.

Shock. Disbelief. Embarrassment. Shame. Guilt. Powerlessness. Denial. Anger. Fear. Anxiety. Depression.

These are just some emotions that I have felt after the incident occurred. In May of 2016, a week shy of my Master's graduation ceremony, I was sexually assaulted. To this day, I have a difficult time talking about it and calling it rape. Through the guise of working in student affairs and being a support system for students who have experienced sexual/domestic violence, I thought that I was untouchable and immune to such an incident. How naïve I was to think this...

That evening I had gone out with friends and brothers. We were celebrating the company of one another and ended up in downtown Denver. Drink after drink, shot after shot, we consumed an unimaginable amount of alcohol. This was a typical night as a student at DU. However, it ended in a drunken stupor across town. We visited multiple clubs and bars, danced our asses off, and as the night went on, I also became more promiscuous. I flirted with many, I kissed more than two, and I ended up dancing with you. Our eyes continued to catch one another on the dance floor, our bodies touching, and our lips connecting. But all of this was a blur to me. The day after, I was told that I was enjoying it. 

As we closed down the dance floor, we took an Uber back. I remember laying on my bed and you crawling in. I remember how my clothes were slowing being taken off. But what I remember the most was the guilt of saying no; of coming up with every excuse I could come up with to say no. You started off caressing me and kissing me. And slowly but surely you took my body and power. There was no protection during this intercourse and I couldn't move - I could no longer say no - I was frozen with fear and regret. So many thoughts were racing through my mind as you shook me to my core yet I was no longer able to speak. After this happened, we laid there in silence and you fell asleep. I was awake the entire time - contemplating and reflecting on how I got to this point. To blatantly put it out there - I was sexually assaulted by a friend - someone a trusted and cared for. This is the most daunting part of the whole ordeal. He was a friend. 

Shock – Immediately after the incident, I felt so numb. The next morning, I left my apartment calmly, leaving my perpetrator still asleep. I did not cry. Why couldn’t I cry? I got into my car and drove off to work. I recall breathing heavily as I drove to the mall. 

Disbelief – On my drive to work, I asked myself whether that really happened. Like a cassette tape, I tried replaying the events of the evening. Trying to find the moment I took a wrong turn.

Embarrassment – As I parked at the mall to bring myself back to the present, I began thinking what will people think of me? I can’t tell anyone? How did this happen to me – me?! 

Shame, Guild, Denial, Fear – I feel so dirty, like there is something wrong with me. Like I was plagued by a mysterious sickness. I am so afraid of so many things. Will I get an STD? Can people tell me what’s happened to me? Will I ever want to be intimate again? Will I ever get over this? I’m afraid I’m going insane. I immediately called a friend to process this and that's when I began crying. I blamed myself for this happening. I was the reason this occurred - at least, that's what I told myself.  Throughout the day, I thought, if only I had... I even considered that it was just a one night stand, we’re friends, I’m sure it didn’t mean anything. What’s a hookup in the gay community anyway? And with this thought, I tried to convince myself that it was just that. I was moving in a couple of weeks so there was need to ever go back to this experience. I can bury it, right? 

Powerlessness – Will I ever feel in control again? A large piece of who I am was taken from me – my agency and my voice.

 "It gets worse before it gets better." 

Anger, Anxiety, Depression, & Isolation. These were some things that I went through these past two years. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt others. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted the power back that I lost without permission. I trusted no one and I was skeptical of others. To this day I feel the consequences of this experience and I often times have flashes of this memory - reminding myself that this could happen at any given time...again. 

And now we come full circle.

Many male survivors go on to have depressive and suicidal tendencies, problems with relationships, psychological disorders and trust issues. As part of the LGBTQ community, I realize that people within this community face higher rates of poverty, stigma and marginalization, which put us at greater risk for sexual assault. We also face higher rates of hate-motivated violence, which can often take the form of sexual assault. Moreover, the ways in which society both hypersexualizes LGBTQ people and stigmatizes our relationships can lead to intimate partner violence that stems from internalize homophobia and shame. These are things that I am sensitive to. These are the things that I constantly carry with me in spaces that I'm in. Most importantly, these experiences have allowed me to gain my voice again. 

Other experiences of being assaulted at Denver Pride 2017 and other encounters have caused me to distance myself from my friends and family. The shame I still feel for having this happen to me is unbearable. As someone who advocates for safe spaces, I still feel a sense of pain. I'm slowly processing these emotions and hopefully by writing about it, I am able to address it and move on....hopefully. With some reflection with my therapist, I am able to face my issues and shed some light on why I lost many friendships and no longer trust people immediately. For me in particular, sexual abuse carries a level of shame and stigma undercutting the very notion of my masculinity long after the incident had passed. I am wanting to move forward...and this is how I am doing it.

I am moving forward - in confidence, in self-assurance, and in power. 

Unapologetic and relentlessly honest.

Writing has always been a sort of escape for me. A way for me to process my reality and to remember them somehow. We often reflect back on where we've come from and think about what we want to accomplish. But in doing so, we often leave out or forget specific instances from those moments -- I don't want to do that. I want to make sure that I remember how I felt and what I thought about. So here's to the process and here's my attempt at understanding life as I navigate through spaces. 

Similarly to archaeologists, when they uncover lost civilizations and they unearth these worlds that have long since been destroyed, you know what they find most often? They find stories: ancient languages, words, inscriptions from people who have been gone for thousands of years. Because chances are they, like you and me, wanted to know, what's the point? And they wanted us to know that they were here. They told stories and they tried to make sense out of their lives and their worlds and their tragedies. So that's what I'm hoping to do. 

I want to begin writing again - about everything and anything. I want to write about my memories, my passions, my goals, and my journey through life.

The following quote has always stood out to me:

"We often put pen to paper in times of devastating tragedies and we try to make sense of it. Maybe we'll find clarity in some of those words. And maybe, just maybe, we'll find peace. And more often than not, writing about our experiences help to free us from the chains that we placed on ourselves." 

As I sit here in a local coffee shop, I am making a promise to myself that I will continue this blog and share my experiences with people. For too long I've hid behind private blogs and feared criticisms from people and in doing so, I became comfortable sitting back and silently watching. I am not perfect, nor is my writing. But it will be helpful. Whether to myself or to someone else. It will be helpful. And I need to remember this. 

So here I am - unapologetic and relentlessly honest. My name is Jeffrey and I've always aspired to be a writer so here I go. Thank you for reading and I hope you come back and share my experiences with me.