riri @africanmoose - Tumblr Blog

why am i like this lol

i’m honestly quite proud of this one. i’m no artist but this was really fun to shade.

unrelated but my mom is so sweet and i love her and she’s my hero. after i opened up to her about my traumas, i found a book in her room a couple weeks later about ptsd and how to help a loved one cope. wow. i hope i’m a good mom too.

ICYMI: watch me stress off deadlines, work a ton, graduate, go to vegas, graduate again, move back to the bay, and chop my hair... and also get drunk a ton

going through such a transitional period in my life it only seems right that my hair goes through it too

I'd like to talk about my bae (ba-eh: pangasinan for grandmother)

My parents immigrated from the Philippines to Vallejo, CA when they were quite young. They both worked as CNA's for the first few years of their American life. During this time, they had me and my brother. Of course, they didn't have any time to watch us because they were so busy working in order to provide us with a better life. So, my bae was the one who watched us.

I have vivid ass memories of her going off on a 4-year-old who made me cry, her bringing a small stool to the bus stop to meet with me and my brother to walk us home from school, and mostly, her fried chicken.

More recently, she moved back to the Philippines. Now approaching 90 years old and battling the God-forsaken disease of Dementia, she didn't recognize me when she first saw me. I walked up to her, waving and smiling, having not seen her in a few years. She looked a lot smaller and a lot more frail. I was in front of her for a few seconds while she politely smiled at me, but it was the kind of smile you give to strangers who you've locked eyes with. I talked into her ear (she's mildly deaf and refuses to wear her hearing aid), "Bae, it's me, neneng." She kind of studied my face a little deeper, so I told her again, "It's me, bae. Neneng." Something inside her clicked and she screamed, grabbed me, and held me close. We were both there, holding each other, sobbing. The next thing that came out of her mouth was her begging me to eat. I ate and she watched me, still cryin her eyes out. "I don't know why I'm crying!"

There were a couple of opportunities we had to talk. But it was really hard talking to her while she was in that state of mind. She would constantly mix up her three languages (using mostly the one I didn't know), her timelines and stories were mixed up, and she could never quite hear me. But I loved talking with her. I sat with her for some hours just listening to her talk, letting her convince me to eat even if I had just eaten, and just looking at each other.

She spoke of her times working, the time she broke her arm, how she doesn't really know what's going on, her memories of me and my sister, and stories of her past. I tried to take in every little detail of her voice, her skin, the way she sat- because I knew that this was probably the last time I'd be seeing her.

On my sister's 13th birthday, my dad discovered my Bae in her room around 4am. She was groaning, her lips were turning blue, she was shivering yet sweating, and ever-so-confused. They rushed her to the hospital.

The next time I saw her, she was intubated in the ICU. I waved and smiled through tears. I tried talking to her, asking her "Do you feel better, bae?" and "Are you still hurting?" She just gave me that wondering look that strangers give you when they're trying to figure out whether or not they know you. I looked up at all the wires and the screen displaying numbers and acronyms I didn't know and started bawling my eyes out. She held my hand and I told her, "I don't know why I'm crying!" I sat with her for hours and hours every day. We learned she had a mild stroke and a small heart attack.

After her 3-4 days in the ICU, she was admitted into a regular room. Again, we spent hours and hours just sitting with her and taking care of her in every single way we could. The day she was extubated, the first thing that came out of her mouth was "DID YOU EAT YET??? AY NAKO PAGKUMAIN KA NA!!!” I cried every single time I saw her. Mostly when she would beg me to take her home or when she tried telling me there's no hope or even her just telling me she loved me.

When we got word she was getting discharged from the hospital, we were all so juiced- but it never sat right with me. Considering everything she was going through, how could she be in and out of the hospital in less than a week? When I saw her, it made sense to me. We were at the point where we're just going to make her as comfortable as possible.

Our goodbye was probably the hardest goodbye I ever experienced. My mom kept telling me not to wake her up, that it would be better if she woke up and we weren't here anymore, that it wasn't smart because she's under 9 different kinds of medications so she needs her rest. But I knew she'd be pissed the fuck off so of course I woke her up. I literally could not stop crying when I told her we had to go back to America. Her sobs still ring in my ears. I laid there with her, hugging her, both of us crying. I thanked her for everything and I kept telling her I loved her very, very much. She kept nodding her head to let me know she heard me but she wouldn't stop crying. Neither did I. I kept repeating that I loved her and she said it back to me. My family, at this point, were waiting in the car and came in to physically peel me off of her, but I wasn't going to move. My mom told me that this was terrible for her heart and I had to leave in the best interest of her health. And so I kissed her and left.

I cried for an hour on the way to the airport.

2 years off SSRI’s. this is me drinking watermelon juice out of a watermelon the size of my head on a floating restaurant in the island my dad spent his childhood.

it’s been some two years and i’m so ready to close this “long distance” chapter of our relationship and be home with you

#gif

i'm going to immortalize this weekend on here because this is a memory i never wanna forget.

ryan and I booked a hotel in DTSF with an (obviously) incredible view of the bay bridge. I came to school with him, had him open his presents before we hit the road, we got wine from target and lunch at veggie grill, then we killed time by the pier before our check in. the room, in itself, was amazing. I FELL IN LOVE WITH THE MIRROR. he convinced me to go to the gym with him, lol. afterward, we got wine-drunk and, after freshening up together, we spent an embarrassing amount of money at taco bell across the street. the night was full of slurred conversation and drunken laughs. the next day, after he did a damn good job of convincing me to go back to the gym, we gathered our stuff and checked out. we went to SFMoMA (his first time at a museum!), had an interesting lunch there, and went home to eat again and watch the office. ugh i just rly love this man.

me: taking 19 unit's and still 1 week ahead in my school work, working 40hr work weeks at work, getting a promotion, hydrated, clear skin, in a healthy relationship with a man i plan on making the father of my children, being in good terms with my parents, aura clearer than a muthafucka, practicing self-love, financially supporting myself, absolutely unbothered by people who don't want to see me progress even more in life.

you can't tell me shit. bitch, i get shit done.

prior to taking 19 units and having 30hr work weeks

a despondent inference

so like, sometimes, i think i'm gonna have a super tough life when i get relatively old. like, i have extremely bad memory. i'll have very vivid memories of some real random shit, but i will repeat myself to someone like seven times before they tell me i've said it before. and shit like that gets me so scared that i might be more susceptible for alzheimer's or something. and the fact i struggle with anxiety makes me seriously afraid i'll have a heart attack someday. i know a mental illness might not be a possible cause for a physical ailment but in the heat of it all, it seems extremely possible. idk! i tell myself to relax but it's a scary, scary thought.

wow honestly i have not been this homesick since i've first moved out for college. back then, id be able to say fuck it and go home almost every other weekend but now that i'm working 30hr weeks and balancing 19 units again, it's looking like i won't be going home for.. a few months at least. and i feel like a huge part of this is because of ryan. being with him almost every single day this summer and spending as much quality time as we did was so incredible, and now, not being able to see him at all (and knowing i won't see him at all for a long while and hardly getting the chance to speak with him due to both of us working and school-ing) has definitely got me experiencing some withdrawal. this sucks ass but the mindset has to be "work hard now, play hard later".