Oh, people! *rolls eyes*

I just missed writing.

I guess I miss writing because I miss talking to people.

I have become one of those ladies that you run away from at the supermarket. I am begging for a conversation. But not just any conversation… I miss talking to people I find interesting and people who make me laugh. You know… people who know who Jordan Catalano is.

Ironically enough, I thought about leaving facebook today because, even though I live on the other side of the world and have no friends around, sometimes, some of the people I left behind STILL manage to exhaust my patience with their posts about the shit they believe in and that I just… don’t.

I miss people because right now there are only 10 people in my life. But I still wish there were like 20… tops!

Nothing complicated about that.

And this is what I doodled today… it’s not related at all to how I was feeling. Or is it? I don’t know…




I can take next to nothing.

Even though I am and always have been panicking for all sorts of reasons, I am still conscious enough to realize my reasons are small.

There’s a saying in Portuguese that says God will only give you as much as you can take. If there is in fact a God up there, I’m happy He realizes I can handle next to nothing and that’s fine by me.

Today, I came home with chest pains.

I called my cousin during lunch and she told me that not only her 14 days old baby probably had a syndrome , it’s possible that he’ll need brain surgery.

She was desperate. She hasn’t slept ever since he was born. She is afraid of looking away. There’s absolutely nothing she can do to help her child and that killed me.

I pray to this God I believe from time to time that things always work out for me. I am not strong at all. I’m afraid of birds. Tiny birds. That’s how much I can’t handle problems. I am just not prepared for this world.

Our kids are a handful. I sleep with one eye open. I haven’t felt rested in about 3 years. I am exhausted and I miss tons of things.that can only mean one thing: We are the lucky ones.

It wasn’t schizophrenia.

“You are depressed”, they said. ¬†The word “schizophrenia” was also mentioned.

So, they ignored everything I had to say. I am not blaming them… I too would ignore a crazy person. Once you are labeled “crazy”, people just stop listening.

Still, I gave them the benefit of the doubt and I was totally fine with accepting that maybe I was depressed and maybe I was a very lucid slightly schizophrenic person. I was not in denial, I just wanted to finally give it a name and get the right pill for it. Try to fix it. Fix me.

I tried what they said, but it didn’t help. And my stomach hurt.

A whole year went by. Different pills, different therapies, different doctors. And my stomach still hurt.

It was my turn to stop listening.

I did not feel depressed. I felt pushed down. Exhausted. But, most of all, I had an urge to live. I wanted to laugh and be happy. I wanted to not care. It couldn’t be depression. Right?

Right. Actually.

I focused on my stomach pain (it was starting to get weird).

I asked the doctor to get tested for what I thought I had – after I googled my f*** fingertips off. She said I didn’t have it. It took her good 3 months to finally let me get tested.

I had worms.

Yes, worms. Microscopic ones (not to gross anyone out…). I had them for so long they – most likely – released a substance to my brain that mimics depression – so, I’ve read.

And the reason I believe that is because after 3 days of worm medication, I had no more panic attacks. 3 days… and I felt like my old self again.

Right now, I’m just happy all the people I see around me are actually real. If I think about it, the most¬†schizophrenic thing I do is writing here as if I as talking to someone even though no one reads this shit.

Something to think about.

Night, guys.

fight club