The Welcoming Hand of The Interested Stranger

Sorry, no pictures on this bloggity update unfortunately…nothing to give a relief for your eyeballs at all.

A lot has been happening, been seeing a lot of new things, and so life goes on, I guess.

Stuff went bad again….I dont know where I left off, but I went back to the house for a week, Damon remained sober and full of energy and piss and vinegar for one full week….then the very morning his mother left for her job he was back to drunk and I said fuck it for the last time.

The embassy has come through, just yesterday they told me the loan fiiinnnaaalllyyy got approved,  but in the last few weeks, I’ve met two people who know quite a few people around town, and they’ve been spreading the word of maybe me getting a job…..needless to say, the embassy option will have to wait at this point, because I would rather be poor, full of good food, and happy, paying taxes to the Philippine government than poor and depressed and suicidal, inhaling black mold spores and eating out of garbage cans in Canada, repaying a criminal government that I hate.

I’ve gone down to Zamboangita, excuse me if the spelling is wrong, met a German man who owns the White Chocolate Hills beach resort, as well as two other resort owners that have been very kind, and seemed decently interested in possibly having a native speaker of English to help out around their properties.
They said they would be in touch.
Then, I went and met with a Korean man who runs an English school that I may be able to assist at, and on Monday I will be meeting with someone from one of the call centers around town to see if they’d be interested in hiring me.

The Lady I met and who’s taken me to meet people knows the woman who basically brought all the call centers into Dumaguete, so undoubtedly, she will know of someone to be interested if there is a prospect.

So I’ve been rushing my little bottom off to and fro, socializing and meeting with people, as well as keeping the word out that I want a job and I want to stay for good.

I keep thinking about how much Damon would hate me and embarass me and look down upon me now…… every time I meet someone I can hear him in my head saying ‘Oh, this person is stupid, moronic, loser, they don’t know anything, god how boring, blah blah….I’ve been trying to not let it get me down….logically, I know his view of other people ((as well as this whole country)) is depressing and off-base from reality…which is so ironic, when he tells me he loves the Philippines, but then says all Philippine food is disgusting, over salted and full of MSG…….When I know from direct experience, eating with the cops, eating with Ma’am Hoffmann, etc that rice and vegetables, or pechay and malunngay soup and jackfruit and ya know…..all the other foods I’ve tasted aren’t bloody disgusting or salty in the darn least…..I can’t say much about the salted fish…of course they’re salty…but SO DELICIOIUUUUSUSUS…I was scared to try them for the longest time, but the other day, I gave in and OHMYGOD…..so crunchy….so saaallltttyyyyy….so goooooooood….
And I’m addicted to the BBQ pork chunks down the street from the copstation…..I cannot get enough of them.

Anyway just a small update, can’t stay online for too long as it isn’t my computer, as usual……I will try to write again soon.
Damon also tried to make me feel bad for writing this blog…told me it’s practically a form of mental masturbation and that I am not allowed to air my personal life on the internet…….but honestly, excuse my language, Fuck That, I don’t censor myself, I can write about what I want, and if he didn’t want people to know the bad stuff, he shouldn’t have been, frankly, an asshole.

I will continue to write, because this blog actually has a purpose, once I have a solid place to write updates, and once I get more and more immersed in the Philippine culture and lifestyle, I want a space to be able to share my experiences, hopes, dreams, and reality of life as a foreigner in the Philippines.

I hope you will all continue to join me.

 

Live To The Point Of Tears

Gosh, what a month, what a month.
The above picture is from my FAVORITE comic/graphic quote-book-thing, ‘A Softer World’
Always cheeky, poignant, and reassuring…they used to be in The Coast, which is a free newspaper in Halifax, NS, and I used to cut them out every week. I still have them all tucked away in a box at my moms somewhere.
I found out later you could buy a full-color book version at Strange Adventures comic shoppe, but I found the process of cutting them out and sticking them into an envelope kinda kitsch and wonderful, so.
Yep.

Anywhoo, I guess I have a lot to update you on, so here we go.
I wrote down stuff as it happened to better remember, but it’ll be a bit spotty, my memory has never been great.

On God-knows-what day in Jan, Damon had been drunk for weeks, and I decided enough was enough for me.
I took a Jeepney downtown to Lee Plaza, got a bit of cash out, picked up smokes, and went to Coco Amigos.

I sat there chain smoking and crying, had every intention of sleeping outside, but it was raining and I had forgotten my umbrella. I was half-hoping Damon would show up and take me home but he didn’t. After a while, I was really tired and I just wanted to go home, so I got the last Jeepney back to Valencia and walked back to the house, and slept on the porch.

On the seventh of February, I again packed up and got ray to drive me to Coco’s. I had no money this time, and so I went over to the boardwalk across the street and sat there, smoking.
After a while, I curled up and tried to rest, but kids kept bothering me asking for money and stuff….that’s kinda an annoying part of downtown…..all the kids beg, and I’ve been told that the women sometimes lend their kids out to other homeless/beggar-people so they can have a better haul for the day…..people pity people with kids all around the world, I guess….and they cash in on that fact here.

Anyways, A man and a heavily makeupped Lady stopped eventually and started asking all kinds of questions…I told them my story, told them my visa had been expired since January, etc, and they told me I should go to the Mayor for help in the morning.
After they left, two guys stopped and asked to take my picture.
I was immediately creeped out, wondering why they wanted MY picture, and one guy said he was from Manila for the weekend and so he wanted a picture….My antennas were wiggling furiously, but let them take one..

After they left, the group of kids that had been hanging around told me to call the police because I was going to get taken.
I asked them if they meant kidnapped, and they said yes……so I didn’t know if they knew much English, and I don’t know if that’s what they really meant, but I went to Coco Amigos, and got them to call the police.

They eventually got there, and I told them I was pretty much homeless and my visa was expired….everyone was super nice, and they let me smoke….They took me to the copshop, let me use the computer, gave me hot chocolate….I answered questions and gave all my info and stuff….and then we basically just talked about our two countries, Canada and the Philippines, talked about jobs, food, education, etc until I got tired.

I slept in a bench in a back office, and the next morning it was kinda super rainy.
The day started a bit hectic, they were trying to figure out what to do with me.

We went to see a social worker in Valencia, who gave me P200 for food, but said there was pretty much nothing she could do for me because I had no money or tickets to get home to Canada, and they had no money either.

We went to the Immigration office, and they said I had to update my visa and obtain an exit clearance just to leave, and that they couldn’t help either. I asked about deportation, but since I hadn’t done anything wrong, they said it’d be impossible, and that it takes months anyway.

One of the Female officers bought me lunch at a little cafe and we had a bit of a chat, she told me she’s dating a female judge in Ontario, she showed me pictures, and talked about Canadian money, I pointed out that the toonie and the ten peso looks similar to each other and stuff, it was a really nice break from the stress of the past few days.

After a few hours of head scratching, I was taken to la Casa Esperanza, which is a crisis center for women and children in Dumaguete city. I was told I would be able to stay until Monday, this day being Saturday.

I was shown around, read the rules, and shown to my room, which I shared with a woman and her baby, and a little girl.
It wasn’t really all that different from being at Adsum House, which is a shelter for women in Halifax that I have lived at quite a few times in the past.

My stay was fine, all the girls tried to teach me Tagalog, and I managed to remember a few….I now know shark, water, plate, dog, cat, eyes, and bat…and I have a list of other stuff that I’ve yet to memorize.
I had to beg for coffee and to be able to smoke cigarettes outside out of sight, which had me a bit stressed out for a few days, but I got through it.

On Monday, I heard nothing, then on Wednesday I got really homesick, so I asked them if I could go back to the house and see if things were any better, to try to make peace and stuff.
Two officers and a counselor took me back to the house, and right away I could tell Damon hadn’t even stopped drinking at all.
I spent two days at the house before I figured everything was royally effed, and so I went to the Valencia police station, and told them I wanted to contact the Canadian Embassy about going home.

They cleaned up a little nippa hut on the property and told me I could sleep in it while we got everything straightened out.

It was awesome watching how fast they cleaned and fixed the hut, it was a wreck before I got there, and a team of about six or seven guys zipped around and put a tarp on the roof and all that.
So I lived there for about a week and a half, then Damon sent me a stupid message on Facebook saying my Lush package had arrived….I paid a lot of money for it and so I went back to the house to get it.

Stupid fucking idea.
Damon was sitting in my pajama pants, all contrite and resolved and told me he had stopped drinking and he didn’t want to drink anymore and it was too inconvenient and blah blah blah blah blah, long story short, I decided to give him yet another goddamned chance, and he lasted a week.
As SOON as his mother left for her job, he picked up a bottle and started in on me yet again.

I’m now back living in the hut at the police station, trying to get the Canadian embassy to help me, and being very hungry and frustrated and tired and depressed and suicidal and pretty much the lowest I can currently be.

Donations would sincerely be appreciated at this point.

The Bloody End for now.

 

Anything You Lose Comes Round in Another Form

 

 

Lots of things have happened, and fear not, I have not abandoned this bloggity at all, the technology in the house all went kaput at pretty much the same time….
Donna went to Makati for surgery a few days before my birthday…..which was January 17th….then the tv died, and the internet started glitching up….

Damon drank again for four straight days and that was terrible, I got called all sorts of nasty things again, and at one point it was so bad I took my bag, packed it, and got a jeepney to Coco Amigos on the waterfront downtown.
I sat there for hours, had a calamansi juice, and smoked cigarettes…..I foolishly assumed he’d come try to find me after so many hours, but I was wrong. I was going to sleep outside and start doing what I needed to do to survive, but I got really tired and it was raining so I got the last Jeepney back to Valencia and walked back to the house.

What a terrible cycle it is….He drinks and treats me horribly…..I tell him I want to go home, and that he promised to send me back if things didn’t work out…then he stays sober for a few days so I feel like everything’s back on track, then he gets drunk again.

I’m tired of it, but I’m literally stuck here…I have no way to get myself home, I have about $100 in the bank, and I don’t know anyone who can help me out. I don’t want to ask Donna because she’s dealing with the chemo and stuff right now….but I’m going to have to.

My visa extension has also been expired since January 18th…..so technically I’m staying in the country illegally right now….but again, no money to do anything about it.
Maybe I could be deported. lol

Anyways, while Damon was on his little binge, I’d go up to the top of the path with a book and a beer and just sit and read all day….one day I was just crying and begging God for help, saying I needed to talk to someone, and that kinda stuff….and a few minutes later after I calmed down a bit, two missionaries, Sister Seaberg and Sister Fatiau sat down on the bench beside me and talked with me for quite a few hours.

They’re Mormons, and we’ve been hanging out ever since, they come to the house, we’ve cooked pasta for them, we went to church, and I’ll be going again this week, and while I don’t think I’ll join the church as a member, it’s just really nice to be socializing and to have someone to talk to again in the ‘real world’

Damon was invited to start a cooking class in the church, but last night while drunk he was going on about how he’s not going to go anymore and blah blah, so tough luck for him.

 

Not much other news, we’re going to be switching internet providers soon, because this one has terrible connection.

Write more soon….I haven’t died, don’t worry. haha

 

Like Old Barbed Wire Embedded in a Tree’s Heartwood

So depressed.

Damon’s condition has worsened to the point where he hasn’t even spoken to me in three days. 
His mother has been away, and so he literally locked himself in her room and hasn’t spoken to me.
His Facebook status right now is about ‘evaporating’ to Tasmania.

I went and had a talk with one of the Sari-Saris on our street, and he owes them close to P700 in a matter of five days.
All of it went to booze and smokes.
He told them he couldn’t get to the bank to get money out because there were brownouts due to the typhoon.
They said the last time he got rum from them was this past Monday, and that he was shaking and already drunk.

First of all, the Typhoon didn’t effect our area.
Second, he doesn’t have a Philippine bank account.
Third, that’s not the only Sari-Sari that extends him credit in this town, and last month he owed the other place P800, which he paid off by stealing money from his mother.

Who knows how much he owes to people around this town.

Needless to say, my dream of going to a Typhoon-effected area is kinda dead at this point and now I have to worry about either coming up with $1,500 for a plane ride back to Canada, or coming up with over P30,000 to rent something here in Dumaguete by myself.

Either way, excuse my language, I’m fucking fucked.

I feel so sad, lonely, duped, and stupid.
Embarrassed and ashamed.
Lonelier than I’ve ever felt, and very, very scared.

Living with someone who has addiction issues is very tough.
Sometimes there is a chance for rehabilitation of the person, but sometimes there isn’t, and being the loved one of someone with addiction issues is even tougher, because you have to know where and when to draw that line, and you have to be strong enough to stand by your decisions.

I did a good bit of research the other day regarding alcoholism, alcohol abuse & dependence, and biological effects, both short and long term, of alcohol use.

From this I’ve come to the conclusion that Damon is in the late stages of severe alcohol dependence, and I have a feeling he’s going to kill himself if he keeps going the way he is.
He’s drinking a pint or more of 80 proof dark rum a day…….I think he’s damaged his health and brain to the point of no return, and has underlying psychological factors as well that would make quitting next-to-impossible for him.
He has severe ataxia, and his irritability, depression, and paranoia are skyrocketing every day.

I actually don’t know how many times he hasn’t been able to get access to alcohol in the last year, but if he has had to stop for a few days and re-start, his body and brain would be experiencing a ‘kindling’ effect, where each withdrawal episode is worse than the last, which leads to much faster deterioration of the body….seizures, extreme mood changes, possible cardiomyopathy, hepatitis, and other effects.

He’s killing himself, and he doesn’t even care….in fact, he tells me he wants to die.
From a cold, removed point of view…I don’t believe there is any rehabilitating him.
From a devoted wife’s point of view, I still hold out hope that there will be a day in the future that he snaps out of it’s grip, comes back to reality, and wants to get sober.

I want to help him, be there for him, fix him, take the pain away…….
But I know from personal experience with addiction that the only person that can help someone is themselves.
The age-old adage of ‘Can’t help you unless you want help’ is unfortunately all too true.

It’s heartbreaking.
I’ve become attached to things here….my cats…the people…the house and garden and neighbors…..my damn husband and his mother….and forcing myself to think of alternative options is killing me emotionally. 
Even writing this out is making me tear up.
It just sucks.

 

Fads Are Orderly… Food Carts and Fires Are Not

About a week ago, Damon bought me some acrylic paints, a silk screener & squeegee, and a barbecue recipes book.

When I first got here, back in May, I tried to make an outdoor underground stone oven/fire pit thingy, and failed miserably at the endeavor… I had forgotten to put in a ventilation hole, it wasn’t deep enough, and overall, the design was totally wrong.

When I got the barbecue book, my desire to build an outdoor fire-pit was renewed, and yesterday I spent the day hauling rocks from a little ways up the lane to our back yard.
Once Ray caught on to what I was doing, he helped out, and took a few trips on his scooter to collect the bigger rocks I couldn’t carry.

I tried last night to start a fire in it, just to see how it would work, but I’m terrible at fires, and it fizzled out within seconds.
This morning, I collected some more dried out leaves and stuff, and I’m going to try again this afternoon to light it…I really want to cook chicken wings in it, but I guess I’m going to have to wait until it’s totally finished.
I plan on digging a hole in the middle, making it a bit deeper the easy way, and packing the holes in the rocks with mud.

All in all, I’m proud, and I like being productive and building things.
I like fitting rocks together, they’re like a big piece-less puzzle.

Donna’s leaving again soon, probably around the 23rd, for four days, which is absolutely a good thing.
Damon’s drinking a lot again, and I’m really getting weary of trying to keep our spirits up.
If any of you lovely readers have dealt with a depressed spouse, or an alcoholic partner, you know how hard it can be.

I try to be quiet and out of the way and supportive and cheery, but when you’ve got a mother-in-law that treats you like a five year old, and a husband so upset at things in his past that he yells about it, it’s hard to be that perpetually cheerful happy-girl on a twenty four – seven basis.
I’m told to ‘make the house mine’ and participate in the household, and decorate and give input, but then when I do, or I make a change to something and tell everyone, it gets moved, ignored, or ridiculed.

Sorry to rant, it’s also very hard when you have no one to talk to about these things…

I wish we could get our own place, because his mother is literally killing him, and it hurts to see him so upset.

But what can I do?
I’ll just keep on doing my own thing, and hope he eventually comes around.

 

No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming.

Damon made me the most delicious pasta the other night.
It was so beautiful I took a photo of it.

Damon-food

Today we did indeed go for a drive, up to a beautiful waterfall and swimming area… He had made BLT wraps for me…((It was supposed to be a picnic)) And I stupidly forgot to take pictures, forgive me… But this is the kicker that I don’t really understand… He seems to be in a terribly bad mood.

He sped us home at eighty miles an hour on gravel roads, then went to sleep. 
In turn, that’s made me frustrated and confused, since I thought we were having a really nice, calm day filled with beautiful sights, and I have no idea how to make him feel any better, or what even went wrong in the first place, but he gets in moods like this, his mother usually being the main cause with all her nagging and complaining about jobs and money and trivial things… I really don’t know how a human can complain so much while living in paradise, to be honest.

I, for one, have never seen a waterfall like that in real life, I was very excited… I got right down to the edge of it and felt the wind and spritzy water whipping into my face… All the little Filipino kids snuck around behind me and were tagging along, even though I didn’t really say hello due to my shyness with strangers, only smiled and nodded… I think they were surprised a foreigner, let alone a girl was getting so close to the water.
It was colder than I had anticipated, I was expecting warm volcano water or something, but it was about the same temperature as a warm lake in mid-summer in Canada…not terribly cold, but definitely not bath-water-warm, either.

On the property, there were ducks and rabbits and turkey-looking birds with spots, I saw a little lizard running along the rocks, and there was a chili bush like ours, only much, much bigger.

 

Our backyard chili bush

He says we’ll go again sometime, but I don’t really want to speed up there, the roads are scary and bumpy, and on the way up, I watched someone wipe out on their bike.
The idea of crashing a bike going eighty with no helmet, and nothing to protect the knees, arms or anything is a terrifying thought.

Maybe I’ll just think about going alone next time.

Buy my Groceries?