Years later, across a crowded room, our eyes will meet, linger even. Time will stop for a moment and our love, now past will flash before our eyes like a movie.
Years later, across a crowded room, our eyes will meet, linger even. Time will stop for a moment and our love, now past will flash before our eyes like a movie.
He was the man I loved for so many years. He held up my universe inside his pocket and picked up the stars so he could light up my night. I wanted to believe that he loved me too. Because he said so, in whispers, in screams, in his sleep, in his songs, in his eyes. For so many years, I let him invade my heart. He let me love him in my own selfish ways. We have so many misunderstandings we took a few days to settle and solve. And we have past mistakes that came up whenever we argue. He barely understood my own language but he studied it so he could see which part of me was vulnerable to hold.
If we are going to talk about endings, then probably that thing has been overused and was scratched too hard I felt numb. We broke up and we got back again. We stopped yet we started again. We paused yet we decided to keep going.
Yet, all endings always had its own severe ending. The one that makes you realize that it won’t come back. The one that makes you ache for silence because you know he won’t reach out. The ending that we all fear.
But I tried to move out and tried new places, without him. Without his shadow. Without his smile and grips and his voice that calms me down. I tried moving out and started collecting scattered dust until I could have my new universe again. I searched for him in someone else’s eyes and voice. I looked for him in someone else’s skin and smell. But I realized he was the only one. He was one of a kind that no matter how many times he hurts me, I could still take it. No matter how many times he forced me to leave, I’d still run as fast as I could in his snap of wave and flash of a smile.
I realized he never holds my universe rather he became my universe. That every time I hear the words love and pain, his face will appear crystallized.
Yet he found his new world.
He found it in you.
Now that you’re with him, you got to understand that he’s unpredictable and changes so often. But as long you could stay, please do.
I might be the girl he had as his dreams form. I might be the girl he got to watch his all-time favorite movies and the first who heard the songs he wrote as he strummed his guitar. I might be his first love as what he called it but you’re with him now.
And you will have him in ways I could never have. I am now a part of the past that will one day be forgotten.
Yet here you are, the one he sees spending the future with and the rest of his life with. The woman he sees growing a family with and pajama cuddles and morning coffees and the hand he’ll hold while traveling the world. The woman he sees sharing the same water bottle and beer-stained kisses, and teases under blankets or the hair he’ll play in his finger and the head that rests upon his chest when you sleep.
And he still has me,
more like a memory,
a told story,
an ending example.
But he has you,
more like a dream,
a vision of wedding aisle,
a wedding dress,
a mother to his children,
a body he comes home for,
a rocking chair,
He looks at you
the same way
I see him.
take care of him.
I wish I could say I have a love-hate relationship with food, at least, that way, there is still one positive side to it but the truth is I neither love nor hate food. For me consuming any form of nourishment is nothing but a necessary evil. I don’t enjoy the act nor the taste. My father said I eat like a soldier and it doesn’t change since then. I gobble and gulp the food as if there is no tomorrow and with minimal chewing. The sooner it’s done the better. If I have one feeling which associated with food that would be guilt.
I feel guilty when I eat and I don’t know why. Never been anorexic or bulimic. Never had so much issue with my weight. Of course, I don’t want to get fat who does anyway but a serious problem regarding weight I never have. But I feel guilty nonetheless when consuming a fair quantity of food. What is a fair amount in my book? Eating three times or more a day. I feel that I should be eating only once or not at all. If I could skip a meal or two, That would be ideal. I feel better that way. Believe you me if I can go on without food I will, there is no doubt about that.
I only eat when I’m dying of hunger or craving for something. Mostly fried crunchy food because sweets I can’t tolerate. I never fancy cakes or ice cream. I can eat them without a problem (if you consider lactose and gluten intolerance not a problem) but I draw the line at chocolates. No matter how hard I try I simply cannot acquire the taste for it. I can go so far as saying I hate them. I don’t care if they are artisanal or expensive coated with eatable gold leaf, if it’s chocolate, I pass.
So, where is my aversion for food originated from?
From my youth, where else you might say, but I don’t think so. We were poor and every meal we considered a feast back then. I grew up on a diet of seafood being born and bred in a fishpond. Meat was scarce and so hard to come by we only had them once a week on Sunday. If you want to know a little bit more about how my life was when I was growing up, you can read some of the painful details here and here.
Anyway, whatever psychological issues I have with food, I don’t know where it comes from. All I can say is: Food doesn’t excite me. I wish I can go on without.
And slowly time begins to fade
Slipping through my fingers
Turning to grains of sand
To be stomped on by millions of
Aimlessly walking the streets
With no destination
And nowhere to turn back to.
Slowly I begin to rot
Layers of my happiness decaying into
Like the layers on an old, dead tree
Cursed to be on earth
Way past its years
My face is young but my mind is
My brittle bones are shattering
They will join the ashes of my flesh
To make one disintegrated me
Forgotten and lost
To be trodden on by more hated feet
Not knowing where to go.
Life is just a vicious cycle
Of ups and downs
Like the scars all over my body
They reflect all the steps I take in my days
Stretched out so thin
Like a piece of cloth
Trying to fit a frame much too big
We never size things just right.
We never know what we are doing
Where we are going
Or why we are going there
We are just millions of feet
Making the time pass
Making the scars multiply
We will all end up in ash
And be walked on again
To our deaths…
-found poetry from an old forgotten file.
Last Saturday was a corporate family day. They do this event once a year. I like it better than any other social occasions like Christmas party and such because, for an introvert like me, it’s heaven. You can be among people you are not forced to socialize with. They hired the entire place for member only, free food and drinks and personnel enough to cater to your needs. What could be better than that?
This time it was a zoo they hired. I was skeptical. I hate animals in captivity and if they are there to parade for your pleasure, I hate it even more. That is why I don’t go to the circus or zoo. But I was pleasantly surprised. There were no cages, no fences, all natural open-air surroundings. What they did basically is to turn acres of acres into a jungle, then section off the place into different rooms, each designed for the needs of a particular animal. The division is so subtle it isn’t obvious and each section is so huge you can get lost. You will have an impression that the birds are free to fly around but if you look closely, high above are concealed nets to keep the birds where they are supposed to be. You can even walk among the vultures. They keep track of your movements but other than that, they are pretty docile. The enclosures and viewing areas are so cleverly designed that you can watch the animals without interfering with their privacy. They don’t even know you are watching them.
They named the areas according to the kind of animals you will discover in that specific place; what do you think of Rainforest, Taiga, Tundra and Savannah? Inviting, isn’t it?
There is an amazing play area for the kids (including big kids) with a huge seating area to rest tired feet, also a number of small play areas dotted along the way. And those little interactive sections throughout the zoo are also fascinating. There are restaurants and places to drink and have snacks. The parking area is big enough to accommodate thousands of visitors. All and all, it was a positive Safari experience. No wonder the establishment is voted year after year including this year the best park in the country.
I don’t know if I’m going to be back. I hate doing things twice and new surroundings are much preferable than something I’ve already seen. Besides, once you already have seen something, the novelty is gone. How many ways you can see a giraffe for example.
But I did learn something. The lesson I’m walking away with is ‘give something a chance’ who knows, like me, you could be in for a very pleasant surprise.
(Pardon any mistakes. Too tired and too lazy to edit today)
When I started blogging (not here, somewhere, wrong platform good for learning) I only use black & white images for that time, colors terrified me. And the contents of my blog page were darker than the images I cringe whenever I remember it. Which I cannot understand because at that time I was still more or less alive and actually having a life. Those were the days also that I could not type nor incorporate the word ‘love’ in any of my articles. I just could not do it. I tried though. But the feeling is akin to trying to eat something you utterly despise and trying to swallow it makes you want to vomit violently. Even now I have difficulties in tackling the topic. I just don’t do love, I don’t do happy.
It’s been in my mind for quite some time now, experiencing it first hand with my own family and seeing it happening almost everywhere I cannot ignore it. Pleasing or trying to please both or one of your parents is what I’m talking about. It seems that most individuals are trying to live up to the expectations of their fathers or mothers. My son spent most of his teenage and young adult life trying to prove to his uninterested in him father that he’s worth loving and someone to be proud of. Though they are both sensitive to my opinion, my daughter has an unhealthy competition urge towards me to the point of she hates everything that I am. D. who has a model childhood experience and fairy tale existence has an incomprehensively tense relationship with his own father he avoids seeing him if possible. And if they do meet, they try to outdo each other in their achievements, social status, financial aspects, and material possessions. I don’t understand.
Why, Because I never had the urge to prove myself to anyone. Not only to my own parents but to anybody. I don’t know which is healthier psychological wise: Their confusing behavior or my nonchalant approach to it. But like most of my attitudes and actions, this particular practice of mine is also not deliberate. In fact, I might continue to overlook the difference if I wasn’t born perceptive and has a habit of overanalyzing everything I noticed, trying to understand whatever it is so I can disregard its importance in my existence or add it to my huge collections of points to ponder and something to learn from. Any which way I think it’s not normal. But what is normal, especially nowadays.
I think I’m getting better. I can sleep now with the door open. Not every day and never in the night but early in the morning when I tilt the window for ventilation. Speaking of tilting the windows and doors, I can leave them open now during the day without thinking someone would get in and attack me. No, that would be a lie. In the back of my mind, the thought is still there but not quite so strong anymore not to do it. I can take a bath now too when I’m alone in the house. I still put a knife next to me but still, in my norm, it’s a colossal improvement. I hope I get there before it’s too late for me to care.
That’s my thoughts for today. Until next time and thanks for coming.
“Time spins away like a mad spider’s web, cast open over the gulf of time and existence…the pages of the calendars tear themselves off the screen, like in old movies. The pages flip past before we realize. It’s astounding! I never remember traveling this quickly in the past.”
Here we are again, another year is about to end before it could really begin. It seems like only yesterday when we started writing 2018 on greeting cards, personal agendas, and journals and look where we are now, Christmas is just around the corner and Halloween is on the threshold following hard on the heels of Thanksgiving and after that, another year, a new beginning all over again.
What I have learned this year?
Well, after years of waiting for a definitive conclusion, I now have a clear diagnose of what is wrong with me. They say I have Fibromyalgia as a direct result of Ehlers–Danlos syndrome along with Rheumatoid Arthritis, Arthrosis and all the painful consequences of the illness. I have Celiac disease and Lactose intolerance and I have abdominal ulcer since I was sixteen.
I learned how to take care of succulents and Cacti. They are still dying on me on a regular basis but out of my 200 collections, only ten of them have perished due to TLC. One died today.
I also learned the importance and benefits of air purifying plants around the house. I suffer from chronic grass/pollen allergy the whole year through and I have a serious case of sinusitis. Since I have my green babies, I have yet to visit a doctor’s office. The only downside of indoors gardening is it is quite addictive. I found out that you can never have enough plants to satisfy your cravings.
What else I have learned this year?
I found out during my three weeks vacation in La Palma that I am not as daring as adventurous as I thought I was nor I love peace and quiet that much. Though my son said to me that the real reason why I don’t do any more risky endeavors is because I have already done it all before and it is long lost its charm since then. I blame it on old age.
I learned how to use make-up and dress up properly without losing sight of comfort which I value the most. I learned to budget and the importance of wants versus needs. I am still learning the art of minimalism in the true meaning of the word which means —Minimalism is a tool to rid yourself of life’s excess in favor of focusing on what’s important so you can find happiness, fulfillment, and freedom that allows you to pursue purpose-driven lives.— Sounds great, right? Easier said than done believe me.
This year I discovered the value of learning to accept, forgive and love yourself. I hope to master the art of letting go of the past next year.
What about you?
Do you think that time does really fly?
Did you learn something new this year?
What is your hope for next year?
If you have the time, tell me. I appreciate other people’s stories.
Have a wonderful weekend and see you next week.
I’ve always been a master at giving love to others.
However, when it came to giving love to myself, I fell short.
I noticed the way I loved others was skewed; I had no limit to how much I gave. Even when people walked all over me, I kept on giving. In the end, I blamed other people for either not loving me back or for not meeting my expectations.
The idea of loving and giving to others is in itself beautiful and something we should all practice. But, I’ve realized that before giving someone our all, we should decide “why” we’re giving. The motivation behind our love for others speaks greatly of our own self-love. Personally, I gave some people so much in the past, because I was the one who needed love. I unconsciously gave them the love I wanted to be given, and I ended up building expectations around them that they couldn’t meet.
Consequently, I’ve realized that I loved a few people for all the wrong reasons—that if I could only give myself the love I need, I would be happy, and I wouldn’t need to pressure people into giving me more than they can. This is what I realized when I stopped neglecting myself. However, I won’t fool you into thinking that I’m some expert in self-love now; I’m still exploring who I am and how to love myself. But, I have learned a thing or two about self-love over the past few years—which has also affected and altered my way of loving other people.
My love for others has become healthier and separate from my own neediness.
It is said that we must love ourselves first before loving anyone else (or before we can find the love of our life). While this stands true, we shouldn’t practice self-love just for the sake of finding “the one.” Self-love isn’t a means to an end. We should love ourselves for the sake of ourselves first—for our own happiness, benefit, and comfort. Later, when we follow this path, everything else falls into place.
So, how do we do this thing called “self-love”? When I realized I needed to love myself, I didn’t know where to begin—I didn’t even know what “love yourself” means. Now, after years of building a relationship with who I am, I’ve realized that asking ourselves this one question helps us figure out the answer: “How do you love the closest people to your heart?” Think of one person you dearly love and respect (it could be your parent, your partner, your friend, or maybe even your pet). Reflect on how you treat them, how you’d never want to see them unhappy, and how you look after them. Now, do this for yourself…this is how to begin.
When we love ourselves, we are confident in who we are. We don’t need validation on how we look, feel, what choices we make, or what beliefs we adopt. Other people’s opinions become an inspiration or an addition, rather than a dealbreaker. We stop asking for validation when we become our own support system.
We set boundaries with others.
We look after ourselves.
Physically and emotionally. You don’t do what hurts your body or spirit. You leave situations, jobs, or relationships that suck the life out of you or devalues you in any way. You avoid drama and what brings you down. To love myself means that I can smell misery a thousand miles away, identify it, and choose not to be part of it.
We’re okay with who we are.
This is a big one. You see, we’re not perfect human beings, and it’s fine. Loving ourselves means accepting our emotions as they are in the present moment. Whether we feel something good or bad, we pause, notice the feeling, and allow it to be. Even when we make a mistake, we are capable of meeting ourselves with honesty and forgiveness. We learn the lesson, understand our imperfections, and will be ready to move on to the next chapter.
We spend time alone.
Loving yourself means dedicating time to yourself the same way you’d dedicate time to other people. You go for coffee alone, watch a movie, read, exercise, and so on. Alone time is pivotal for self-love because it teaches us abundantly about ourselves. Since there’s nobody around us, it means our thoughts, emotions, and choices are not affected or manipulated. Thus, we learn more about what we love, what we don’t like, what we accept, what makes us happy, and what doesn’t.
More importantly, self-love doesn’t include labeling being alone as loneliness or misery. We understand that alone time is healthy and fun. We practice it for our own sake—and being okay with being alone also allows us to give those we love the space they need and the freedom to be because we know we need this space as well.
We don’t stop loving ourselves.
Loving ourselves is not a trip to the mall; it’s a journey that has no end or destination. Just like we would check our bank account, weight, or schedule, we weekly (if not daily) check how our self-love practice is going. For instance, I keep a journal. I’ve been doing this for more than 10 years. Every once in a while, I go through what I wrote the months before and scrutinize my emotions, thoughts, and the lessons—and I work on what I should tweak for myself or toward my behavior with others.
We love others.
Because we value the importance of love, we learn how to love others the same way. We must understand that how we treat ourselves is a reflection of how we treat others and vice versa. That said, we give the same amount of love to others mindfully and consciously. We love others because they, too, want our love—and not because there’s a void within us we need to fill.
~Relephant: via Elyane Youssef
“I hate solitude, but I’m afraid of intimacy. The substance of my life is a private conversation with myself which to turn into a dialogue would be equivalent to self-destruction. The company which I need is the company which a pub or a cafe will provide. I have never wanted a communion of souls. It’s already hard enough to tell the truth to oneself.”
― Iris Murdoch
Intimacy, I suddenly realized, is a tender thing, slow and hard to gain, quick and easy to lose.
What I feel these days? I don’t know anymore. It is nothing like I’ve felt before but, whatever it is, it’s overlaid with so many other emotions that it’s difficult to isolate…
“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”
― Sylvia Plath
And here we are… Listening to The Last Summer Song. Appreciating every single sun ray. Dancing in the most beautiful sunsets. Enjoying silence and unity with nature. Daydreaming in the shadows of weary oaks. Gathering wildflowers while wearing a linen dress…
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I'm Michelle. This is my blog. I write about women and fatness, expound upon semi-coherent thoughts I have in the middle of the night, and offer tough love to those in whom I am disappointed; they are legion.
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