Isn’t It Just?

“If you swim effortlessly in the deep oceans, ride the waves to and from the shore, if you can breathe underwater and dine on the deep treasures of the seas; mark my words, those who dwell on the rocks carrying nets will try to reel you into their catch. The last thing they want is for you to thrive in your habitat because they stand in their atmosphere where they beg and gasp for some air.”

― C. JoyBell C.

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Listening To My Body

I have yet to learn.

I must have told you already in one of my so many blog posts that I feel guilty when I am not doing something. A day without anything tangible created is a day wasted. That’s my motto. I didn’t know when did the habit begun and where I’ve learned it. As long as I can remember, it is part of my life. Nobody taught me to feel guilty. If someone did I don’t remember.

The result is: I never rest unless I fall down dead. So to speak. As long as I can put one foot in front of the other, I’m up and running.

Some people run on reserve. I run on empty.

I go on and on till I collapsed out of sheer exhaustion. Sick for me means I passed out or delirious and can’t get out of bed. 40°C fever means I am still gallivanting out there and throwing up is part of life. I will lie in bed yes if I’m so dizzy I see stars or can’t open my eyes because of blinding headache. But the moment I can stand, I’m in the garage, on the floor repotting plants that don’t need repotting especially in the middle of the winter when they lay dormant and agitating them means risking their fragile life but still doing it all the while saying to myself: they don’t need moving, they don’t need water, wait till spring when they have the best chance to grow and flourish.

I’m crazy I know.

Look at me.

I still have a fever and didn’t sleep. I was up the whole night with my head in the loo yet I am here sitting in front of the computer typing nonsensical arguments with myself.

Why I do it?

I don’t know.

Bad habits.

Habits I really (really) have to unlearn.

I have to start listening to my body. (My mother-in-law said)

I’m not getting any younger. I have to accept that the way of life I gotten used to doesn’t fit/applies anymore to my present self. I have (there are so many I and have in this post) to take my foot off the gas pedal and stop before I crash. (As if I’m not crashing daily lately) There is no shame in being lazy every once in a while. Stop, smell the flowers (not roses, I hate roses especially red, they are so common) learn to sit and enjoy the moment instead of running a race. Chew your food, savor the drink, close your eyes and take pleasure from doing nothing.

Listen to your body and relax.

Relax.

Relax.

Relax.

Yeah.

Shit.

How to do it?

Can someone, anyone tell me?

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A Letter to my Children: You do not come from a Broken Home.

My dear children: I know that the world may try to tell you otherwise, but I want you to know that you haven’t come from a broken home—because there isn’t anything damaged about my love for you.

Perhaps we are nontraditional, and possibly sometimes, it feels as if we are wayward, but there is nothing about our family that is broken.

I never intended to be a single parent. And though I had hopes of the fairytale happily-ever-after, I soon realized that I was just not meant to live in a perfect castle, high on a hill, while those below thought my life was something more “perfect” than it really was.

My dear children: I see now that this was the journey that we were all meant to walk.

I would never have wanted you to grow up thinking that love was a responsibility, instead of a gift. Because while I didn’t get it right the first time—you just might.

Perhaps if I can show you that sometimes love isn’t easy—and that the first step is always to learn who we are and how we love—then maybe you will know more than I did and make choices that are founded in greater awareness and courage.

I didn’t know how little I knew about life and myself when I began my journey of divorce, but time did a beautiful job of teaching me.

I know that sometimes it’s hard just having one parent at home because Momma can only do so much at once. There is only one lap to sit on and one pair of arms to hold you close. There is only one adult to fix things, cook and plan entertaining endeavors. Sometimes I drop the ball because I’ve learned that I just can’t do it all.

It’s just me—and while I know I am enough, just as I am doing the best I can, I know that you still want more.

When you tell me that you want a boy to live with us, as I am driving on the highway, you don’t see the tear slide down my cheek because I honestly want it just as much as you do. I can’t provide that as easily as I can other things—I can’t magically snap my fingers and make it happen.

But I do have faith that when it’s meant to be—and at the right time—I will find us a good man.

For now, all I can do is love you my deepest love, not to make up for the fact that there is only one parent to kiss you and tuck you in at night, but because you are worth this type of love.

To say that you are from a broken home implies that you would have been happier and healthy if I had stayed in a marriage that I’d outgrown.

The reality of two adults who aren’t truly in love with one another is not as good as being single and modeling how to exquisitely love myself.

I know that what I say doesn’t mean a damn thing if I am not willing to do the hard work to back it up with action.

What good would I have been to you if I had preached to you about finding love, loving yourself, following your heart and all of the magic that is worthwhile in this life if I wasn’t willing to follow my own advice?

The truth is, my loves, we need make mistakes to learn lessons.

If I hadn’t followed my heart and decided that I wanted my life to be the greatest example for how to live, then I also wouldn’t be the mother that you truly needed me to be.

How differently would you have grown up if I taught you to ignore your heart?

If I instead taught you the value in keeping your mouth closed just to keep the peace?

You wouldn’t be the type of women who will one day change this world.

My goal from the start has been to raise amazing young women. I never intended to keep watch over you, teaching you your ABCs while you learn how to best blend into society so that one day you might get a mortgage, and an IRA and find yourself settled down but empty.

You’ll grow up to be young women with soul.

Women who have vision and ambition who know they will have to work through blood and sweat to get the life they want and deserve, because nothing is ever given in this life for free.

Women who follow their hearts no matter where it leads and who possess the courage to help others to do the same.

You will be game-changers and status quo destroyers.

I first had to become this type of woman to raise you.

So, no my darlings you are not from a broken home.

You are from a home full of love and soul that will teach you how to navigate life and have one helluva time while doing it.

~Author: Kate Rose

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Quick Recap

Right after the New Year, I got the flu and took to bed.

I was so ill I could not stand up for five consecutive days, not even to pee. I forgot what time of the day it was or what day it was. I did not even mind if the doors were open or if the lights were on or not. I was shaking violently under two layers of duvet, sweating like a dog but freezing at the same time. I could not swallow food or tolerate even a sip of water. I was miserable.

On the fifth day, though shaky on my legs, I managed a trip to the doctor. The time I spent in the waiting room was torturous. Every sound magnified by tenfolds and the lights! The lights hurt my brain and the smell made me want to puke violently.

I got medicine for my sinusitis but the flu, you know the flu__ there is no cure for it.

I am still shaky but I can go downstairs now and gulp fruits, the only type of food I can tolerate so far. I managed to take a bath yesterday. It took me two hours and by the time I’m finished I was so exhausted, I had to sleep.

I didn’t leave the house for three weeks now and if I spend another day inside I will be crazy so, sick or not I’m going somewhere, anywhere.

I hope to be back on my feet before February 1st because I have to attend a corporate reception/party of some sort. I don’t want to but duty calls.

Wish me well.

Quick Recap:

Two more trips to the doctor and two different antibiotics later and I’m still ill.

The dizziness,  the nauseousness and vomiting, the never-ending coughs,  the excessive amount of phlegm and the headaches never leave me. I’m out of my wits! What to do, what to do!

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getting Through The Cracks

I grew up where, when a door closed, a window didn’t open. The only thing I had was cracks. I’d do everything to get through those cracks – scratch, claw, bite, push, bleed. ~Dwayne Johnson

Only I didn’t do all those things. I was not aware of the cracks. I thought they were doors. I didn’t want to escape, I was happy where I was. I guess if you don’t know any better… I knew there were people who were dissimilar from us but to me, they were just people. I never envy them nor aspire to be like them. Though they behaved differently towards me and my family, their attitude never made me feel inferior or less fortunate. It should have been. Perhaps if it was the case I would try harder getting through the cracks instead of___ what are the right words to describe what I was thinking/doing back then___ going through life one day at a time, more or less happy (in my own way) making the most of how little there was.

I don’t believe in destiny like I don’t believe in supernatural even though I had enough experience to write a dozen books about both. Things happen and that’s all there is to it. I got through the cracks somehow and stay out. No amount of coincidences, conspiracies and risky endeavors catapult me back where I came from. If I believe in luck I would say I am probably lucky.

Lucky that even though I follow my heart most of the time and pride is my greatest sin and I seem to be fond of illogical thinking, I’m still alive and in one piece and far from destitute. Hmmm… maybe the last one is debatable since I am not rich in my own right. Sometimes it is good to be a woman.

There are people who want nothing in their life than to get through the cracks but if offered a lifeline they use it to strangle themselves. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Watched it happening from the ringside often enough to know that those cases are classified as lost causes. No one can help them unless one is willing to commit suicide. Try to teach them to fish and they will hate you for not just giving them the bounty on a silver platter spoon and all. They want to eat fish but they don’t want to go fishing. They expect you to feed them through the cracks. Day by day, year by year. All their lives.

I guess it could have gone wrong for me also if I didn’t make certain choices. I tried it for size and those few times are the only decisions I ever regret making. No harm done. No course altering or life-changing events but still… those deliberate error of judgment is not to be repeated. Shameful they are.

Chances that could stir my life towards the one I had dreamed of never happened. Not for the lack of trying. It just didn’t happen. Everything I had envisioned for myself never materialized. It reminds me of the saying about God gives us not what we want but what we need. Who needs decades of nightmares I wonder.

If I could choose my own destiny I would choose to be a successful career woman ( what I mean by this is I work as a bestselling author/painter, Broadway/actress, an FBI agent ala Mulder and Scully, food/restaurant critic, travel photographer/journalist, a psychologist or even a pirate) unmarried, childless and enjoying one night stands in every city. Like a man.

Too much to ask?

Or

Maybe I just have to be content that I got through the cracks in one piece.

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Secrets

Anyone can possess, anyone can profess, but it is an altogether different thing to confess. ~ Shannon L. Alder

They say secrets are like cancer in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind. Do you believe it?

If you ask me I’d say it depends what kind of secret. Sometimes secrets are best forgotten, hidden even from oneself. Pretend it doesn’t exist and it becomes irrelevant. I wonder if all the things we omitted or never mentioned are classified as secrets. Is there a single person alive that is not keeping some things for himself? I don’t think so. All of us hides something from someone. Not always necessarily important or crucial or even damaging pieces of information but little irrelevant things like everyday thoughts, preference, fantasy, dreams, likes, and dislikes or even lust or crush towards your neighbors, co-workers, or random somebody on the streets.

We all have it. Secrets. Who didn’t fake an orgasm, or tell their wives they look good even it nowhere near the truth. Children keep things from their parents, friends, teachers. Employees from their bosses and vice versa. We hide facts for whatever reason. Some for the good of others, others for personal gain but one thing is for sure, we all withheld information from someone else at some point.

Agree?

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Hypocrisy And Self-Awareness

The difference between my darkness and your darkness is that I can look at my own badness in the face and accept its existence while you are busy covering your mirror with a white linen sheet. The difference between my sins and your sins is that when I sin I know I’m sinning while you have actually fallen prey to your own fabricated illusions. I am a siren, a mermaid; I know that I am beautiful while basking on the ocean’s waves and I know that I can eat flesh and bones at the bottom of the sea. You are a white witch, a wizard; your spells are manipulations and your cauldron from hell yet you wrap yourself in white and wear a silver wig.

― C. JoyBell C.

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Everything Is A choice

“You know how sometimes you tell yourself that you have a choice, but really you don’t have a choice? Just because there are alternatives doesn’t mean they apply to you.”

― Rick Yancey, The 5th Wave

It is a good excuse to tell yourself when you are terrified of flying out into the unknown. I’ve been there done that. Officers of the law, social workers, lawyers, and well-meaning people including a taxi driver on my way to the airport who told me that I don’t have to stay with that man because look at me, I look like a doll and there are lots of guys who are going to happily fall in line just to get me had advice yours truly to take the money and run or just run.

I didn’t.

Picture this: A poor pregnant immigrant girl in a strange land, or a very young mother of two; no family, nowhere to go, she doesn’t speak the language, no diploma, no work, no money. Going back home is not an option. Her family made sure she understands this. The husband warned her of the consequences of trying to run away with the kids. What choices she got? What would you do in her place?

There is more to life than this.

A policeman once told her while kneeling in front of her holding her shaking hands looking her in the eyes with a strange mixture of appeal, pity and something she didn’t understand amidst the devastation her drunken husband had caused the night before in their rented apartment. She heard the words but its meaning was lost to her. It was like watching a film, a fairy tale, she knew the place probably exists somewhere but far away, and not for her. Never for her. So, she just smiled and nod and closed the door. This is the reality she thought. This is her world. This is where she belongs…

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Secondhand Experience

For several years, I had been bored. Not a whining, restless child’s boredom (although I was not above that) but a dense, blanketing malaise. It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is itself derivative). We were the first human beings who would never see anything for the first time. We stare at the wonders of the world, dull-eyed, underwhelmed. Mona Lisa, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building. Jungle animals on attack, ancient icebergs collapsing, volcanoes erupting. I can’t recall a single amazing thing I have seen firsthand that I didn’t immediately reference to a movie or TV show. A fucking commercial. You know the awful singsong of the blasé: Seeeen it. I’ve literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can’t anymore. I don’t know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. If we want to play the stud or the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. We are all working from the same dog-eared script.

It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collection of personality traits selected from an endless Automat of characters. 

And if all of us are play-acting, there can be no such thing as a soul mate, because we don’t have genuine souls.

It had gotten to the point where it seemed like nothing matters because I’m not a real person and neither is anyone else.

I would have done anything to feel real again.

~ Gillian Flynn

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Handle With Care

Words…

They’re fake bullets, so why do I feel like I’m bleeding out? ― Jodi Picoult

As I said already before in one of my posts: Even after all these years, words still have the power to hurt me.

I said also that words are like knives. It can only hurt us if it hits the target, and what hurts the most are those that hit closer to home, in other words, the truth.

What I didn’t tell you is: it is not always the case. Sometimes words can hurt us even though they are not true if they come from people who are dear to us and those that we value the opinion of. It hurts knowing they think of us that way regardless of where the truth lies. And often times, at least in my case, I never correct their wrong assumptions. I find it a lost cause. Their minds are already made up. Trying to change their ideas of you is like mopping the floor with the tap wide open or shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted. It is difficult to change one’s (first) impression once it’s formed. Better charge it to experience and walk away. Other people’s opinion of you doesn’t make who you are. It’s a thought, not a fact. It’s a perspective, not the truth. It is disheartening yes but I will never let other people’s opinions define me. I will never give them the pleasure of insulting me. I may shed tears in private because of their ill-intended remarks but I will not crumble before them. Never. I will always hold my head up high and will never let myself be stirred into a fury, losing my dignity in the process. It’s better just to ignore and walk away.

How about you?

Would you defend yourself and your image with tooth and nail?

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In God We Trust

“I think that God that we have created and allowed to shape our culture through, essentially Christian theology is a pretty villainous creature. I think that one of the things that male patriarchal figure has done is, allowed under it’s, his church, his wing, all kinds of corruptions and villainies to grow and fester. In the name of that God terrible wars have been waged, in the name of that God terrible sexism has been allowed to spread. There are children being born all across this world that don’t have enough food to eat because that God, at least his church, tells the mothers and fathers that they must procreate at all costs, and to prevent procreation with a condom is in contravention with his laws. Now, I don’t believe that God exists. I think that God is a creation of men, by men, and for men. What has happened over the many centuries now, the better part of two thousand, in fact, is that God has been slowly and steadily accruing power. His church has been accruing power, and the men who run that church and they are all men, are not about to give it up. If they give it up, they give up luxury, they give up comfort.”

― Clive Barker

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