I’m still here! Part one

The storm is over. The ocean’s merciless waves gave away to the smooth horizon of still water. The sky is clear of dark massive clouds that hovered over like shadows. Everything is quiet. Perhaps too quiet, but definitely peaceful, a complete opposite of what happened last autumn.

It’s funny how I used this metaphor to describe my life right now because fishing is one of Renny’s favorite things to do. Last October was the last time we did something together with our son as a whole family. We went fishing at Matagorda, a small and quaint fishing town just off the Gulf of Mexico. It was Rex’s first time playing on the beach and Renny caught a flounder.

Last March I visited Renny at the Travis County Jail after four months of silence. It was painful seeing him behind the thick glass window. He seemed fragile; he broke down crying and apologizing, but there was nothing I could do for him anymore. There was a little left inside me that missed him, but I had to leave him there. Last April, I wasn’t home when the judge sentenced him to the state prison in Huntsville, around seventy miles north of Houston. I wasn’t even in Texas when he rode in the inmates’s bus to his home for next several years or so.

Renny and I still write to each other. It was hard reading his letters. His words frustrated and angered me and I replied with ugly words. The letters became more civilized as time went on and we understood each other better. Of course, too much damage had been done and we will never go back to the way it was in the beginning of our relationship.

I got many opportunities to travel this year, hence the reason why I haven’t been keeping up with my blog. I know a lot of you who read my blog in the beginning are curious about what’s been happening to me in the last six months. I had to put a hold on my film project because my wounds were still fresh, but my desire to see it on the big movie theater screen is still strong.

In my travels, I met a lot of awesome people and when they asked, it was hard for me, but I told them my stories. They were impressed by how positive I sounded when I recounted the dark and frightening moments, but they didn’t know that these moments still sometimes sneak up on me unexpectedly and I become scared for a few seconds. I became resentful toward Renny for that reason. But I learned on my journey that letting go is the best thing to do.

It’s on

This is it. My biggest fear and challenge is standing right in front of me, staring me straight in the eyes like a bull staring at the matador’s red waving cape. As the bull charges, I’m officially entering the blogosphere as a blogger about something very personal to me. I believe what I am going to do will be the hardest thing for me to do in my entire life, but I believe it will accelerate my personal and spiritual growth. With that said, I can’t wait to see how the whole thing unfolds and what kind of impact it will have on me, people who are close to me, those who know me, and everyone else who decide to follow me.

I’m a generally reserved and private person, so for me to reveal to you my heavy and personal stuff is a HUGE deal to me. I mean, I’m face to face with my biggest fear and challenge in the combat right now, but my need to tell this story is way greater than all fears I have put together. So that fact, along with Catherine and Beatrice- my producer and my sister respectively, who also are wonderful supporters and champion confidantes- encourage me to build the courage to share my story with you the rest of world.

The story is long and most of it will be told in the documentary. To sum up, as I’m typing these words, Renny, my husband, is currently at the Travis County Correctional Complex for various drug-related charges. When I first met him at our friends’ wedding in Temecula, California in July 2009, he was in his fifth year of sobriety and a man with great intentions and even greater dreams. His biggest dream was to create a documentary that exposes the truth about the severity of drug addictions among the Deaf people and the lack of available resources and services that serve the Deaf and American Sign Language user population.

We worked together day and night on the documentary. We even had a production team. Then, one night Renny relapsed and everything changed. My life as I knew it ended. During the entire course of his relapses which lasted one year, I tightly grasped my faith that everything will work out in the end. Well, we can’t predict the future, can we?

Last Thanksgiving, I had an epiphany. We worked so many hours and had so much good footage and it was left to waste because it was supposed to be Renny’s story and now, he’s in jail. I realized I experienced everything just as much as he did. Pretty much the only thing that I didn’t do was smoke the crack. This story could still be told, but through my own eyes. I iChatted with Cat, my producer, about my idea and she completely supported it.

I just returned to Austin, Texas, from a month-long stay at my parents’ in Ohio. When I was there, I went to Cat’s house in Toronto, Ontario, Canada (wow that’s a fingerful as I’m typing this blog on my iPhone). It was a very productive week. We looked over the footage and worked on the storyline and strategized different ways to raise fund in order to shoot more interviews and scenes and, especially, for the postproduction aspect.

My wish for 2012 is to embrace this journey in which I believe will heal me.