February 4, 2013 § Leave a comment
If you get bruised, don’t pick at the wound because it just might get worse. If it still hurts, then it’s not yet healed so give it time.
For the past few months, I’ve been riding on a roller coaster of emotions — that of pain, love, longing, hurt, happiness, envy, and satisfaction, to name a few. Most people on the social media sites just know how I’ve been going to lots of places almost every weekend, posting all those photos and videos that I enjoy working on. Then they’d read some positive self-convincing posts in the middle of the stream, which I really don’t mind. I am, in essence, trying to convince myself that things will be a lot better, that there’s so much more in store for me beyond this broken heart, and that I believe the best of my love story has yet to be told.
A good number of people know how random the personal messages I send them can get. Sometimes I’m well distracted that I forget about what I’m going through. Most times, it just hits me. I get a good idle moment on a bus, while trekking, during my sunset run, in a line at the canteen, and I think — whether or not I have done everything that I can to make it work, if I have given enough of myself, if I have been patient and kind, if I did anything to cause hurt to others, if I deserve this kind of pain. In those idle moments, I start writing text on my phone and later decide whether to hit send or not.
Eventually, I resolve that I feel what I feel because that’s how my heart is wired to react. If I don’t feel loved, then there’s definitely something wrong. If the happiness is gone, whatever I do will not suffice to keep the relationship alive. If I feel that I need to say something, I will so I cannot regret not having done so. But I can only do so much, I said. So this thing is no longer in my hands and maybe I will be content with whatever God has planned for me in the future.
Maybe we could just be friends. I have come to accept that we weren’t meant to be together but just maybe, we could still share anything under our umbrella of interests. And that may be just fine. I can handle that. That will be enough, I thought. So there was that acceptance part which is the end-all of this loss. I think I skipped some parts in those five stages of grief. I just kept on going and going about my daily life, wanting more out of everything I’ve been fond of doing, doing what I do best. And when I finally came to that point of acceptance, I realized, “Hey. That’s a good thing. I can do this. Maybe friendship will be enough.”
So I was done with it. Eased my way into re-establishing a friendship. But then some pain resurfaced and I couldn’t handle it. I then reconsidered, maybe it’s not yet time. If pain still persists, then I am essentially not yet fully healed. All my friends have said I should give it time to heal. It won’t happen immediately but it will happen. It dawned upon me that heartbreaks are like wounds. We were always advised by our elders how to take care of our wounds. If you get bruised, don’t pick at the wound because it just might get worse. If it still hurts, then it’s not yet healed so give it time. In reality, we have been learning our lessons on overcoming heartbreaks back when we were kids. It’s really very simple and very cliche. At the end of the day, time heals all wounds.
Right now, I am a bomb full of emotions and I’m letting myself explode. My readers may not understand why I am doing this — exposing myself raw and open. I haven’t written such entries in a long time but I remember how writing reminds me of what I believe in. Even after several years, I look back and recall that that Ayla was real and hasn’t changed much. She’s still a believer, still trusting that this will pass. Later on, there will be no pain, no hurt, no resentment. All that I need is time.
August 22, 2011 § 2 Comments
There’s a hopeless romantic in everyone of us, I suppose.
There’s this longing to be desired, to be loved, to be wanted. We search for happiness and wish to find that someone who will send us beaming from the inside, the one with whom we will share all our dreams and burdens, the one with whom you don’t have to pretend to be anybody greater, the one you’ll be entirely comfortable with.
Some of us may have felt that great love once but eventually lost it. Some may still be on the lookout for that first encounter.
Though I have been in love at least twice and got myself broken into pieces, I am not losing hope. Though the pain was real and the agony seemed to be unending, I am not losing hope. Though my heart has been bruised and eventually mended, the pain has subsided and the sad memories faded, it remembers what got it beating and it is not losing hope.
For years that have come and gone, the good things of the past always help us look forward to better futures.
The desire. Remember the fire in the kisses. Remember the stares that got me melting. Remember the lips that pressed on the eyelids. Remember the hands that caressed my face and brushed my hair to sleep.
The sweet nothings. Remember the going-out-of-his-way-and-travelling-two-hours-to-see-me-for-ten-minutes. Remember the calls he made just to hear my voice for at least 30 seconds. Remember holding hands as he walked me to my place. Remember the trinkets he offered every meeting. Remember how he knew I was not in good shape even without saying.
The romance. Remember the dancing with no music. Remember the embrace that kept me warm through a cold night. Remember making faces in pictures together. Remember the sweet smiles he threw and the hellos he kept on saying even if I’ve been in front of him for hours already.
My heart is appealing:
So this I say to myself with conviction. Stop stalling. Stop wallowing. Stop compromising. Stop settling. No more part-time lovers. No more intimacy without commitment. No more shutting out. No more pretentions. No more maltreatment. No more disrespect. No more make-shift relationships.
But I will not settle. Nothing less of what I deserve. Nothing less of the love I was shown. Nothing less of the happiness that made me glow. Nothing less of what I have on my own.
I am a hopeless romantic. But I will never be hopeless.
[Originally written June 16, 2008.]