Saturday, June 21, 2014

Seeing the LIGHT through darkness

This is my temporary cure it seems. Writing helps relieve the sting.  I must pour out the
turmoil of feelings that drown me, they must go somewhere or I will surely go mad. Talking helps, but I can feel myself boring my friends with the same blabber, my pathetic confessions and indecisive declarations. Perhaps that is my own insecurity and self judgement, whichever the case, I must write. I confess, I had a moment of relapse, and I am feeling incredibly foolish for being weak. I told him I miss him. It is true, I miss him so very much. Are my true feelings a sign of weakness, should I not be missing him this way. Should I have more self control and know that missing him and telling him is not owning my power. Should I simply silence my fastidious mind and stop asking so many 'should' questions, stop analyzing and making conclusions. The truth of the matter is, at this moment, I don't want to have power, I don't want to be strong, I want to fall to my knees and curl up into a little ball and cry. There is a heaviness is my chest, weighing me down, clouding my entire body, making it hard to breath. Only two weeks have passed since I pulled my self out of the tornado of emotions that was engulfing us both. It seems as if I simply jumped out of one tornado into another. I know time helps, but I am impatient. I want to be foolish, impatient, pathetic and weak. Whatever emotion pours out of me, let me feel it, flaunt it and embrace it, because it is genuine and that is not shameful.
Its so stupid, isn't it!!! So fucking stupid! To be miserable because you feel you can't be without someone. To feel as if death has taken someone away from you and you are never to feel their blissful presence filling every fiber of your being. It's stupid because that person has not been taken by death, that person is a live and breathing, but yet they are still gone, because love is what is dying.
We were in a deep dark whole, but I saw the light above, I saw hope. As Gandhi said once, “Where there is love there is life.” The deeper we sank into darkness the more the light faded, the more I lost hope. I lost my faith. Why do we kill love with our selfishness, our pride, our egotism. We are greedy, selfish, self seeking beings that so often take for granted the fragility of love.
 Let us be better. 
 Let us love more. 
 Let us love selflessly. 
 Let us be the light.

In owning our pain and sharing it with others we allow others to see our vulnerabilities, our humanity. We invite others to feel what we feel, to love what we love, to dance with us, and to take joy with us.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Scratching my scabs

How are you?
I am often asked. 
Unstable, that is the honest answer. 
I am unstable. 
I go in and out of moments, high and lows. Sometimes I'm numb. One moment I am talking enthusiastically about all the things I want to do and the endless possibilities. I am dreaming! The next moment I realize that my dream is absent of him, and then I am right back down. Absent of him, oh how that pains me. I cry in the bathroom, that is usually where I take some space when I have to. I have been crying less, no more than twice a day now, sometimes only once! It feels good to cry, but I fear that with every tear that releases the pain, I am letting go more and more. And in letting go, I am letting go of him and my love for him.

There are moments, I admit, that forgetting him appears to be an easy task. Those are the moments where I think about all the things that went wrong in our relationship. When I think about the fighting, the constant turmoil, the pain and the rejection.  I don't want those things, they hurt me so much, of course I want to move away from that and hope for something better. Then I think about all the wonderful moments that were full of love and passion! Those moments were amazing, so fucking amazing that I am terrified that I wont be able to find anything quite like it again. What a sad life that would be, to be forever longing to feel sometime thing you once felt before, this is what it must feel like to be an addict. I am so very much addicted to him. Even now I am fighting a strong urge to reach out to him, how I miss him.

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Hope in Hopelessness

I cant help it, or maybe I can, but I don't want to right now. I am still holding on and not wanting to let go, as if I am afraid to loose hope. But why? Why am I floating between hope and hopelessness. I want to move forward, to feel empowered, and self sufficient. Perhaps I do not doubt my ability to rationalize the circumstances and decide that what happened is for the best, that I will be okay and that all this pain will pass. Letting go of something you love and believe in is so difficult, giving up is so difficult. I am reading, researching, interviewing, asking questions, trying to understand what went wrong and why, but even more so, I admit, I am wondering if there still is hope for restoration, maybe not now, but down the line. Some of the greatest love stories are the ones that overcame the most unlikely of circumstances. Is it foolish of me to not want to give up on this love story, to know that love is still very much present, but it was being stunted by hurt, anger and resentment. Perhaps time itself is necessary to heal individual wounds in order to pave a foundation where love will have a place to be nurtured and thrive. True love will not dissipate with distance, rather it will grow fonder and reveal the depths of the soul. Call me a hopeless romantic, maybe I am hopeless, or perhaps I am a fool in love and denial, but regardless of my senselessness, I am without a doubt feeling a whole lot. And to feel so deeply is both a blessing and a curse.

The conflict, you see, is that I am at last embracing my emotional nature, the fool in me that loves so passionately and has such high needs. I am understanding that I am very much a feeler, however I have long convinced my self that I am a rational person. My introverted nature keeps me in constant introspection, analyzing and rationalizing. Making connections between the outer world, my experiences and how I feel, trying to understand and categorize. Trying to CONTROL.

To control is to protect, we all do it, it is our nature to self preserve, as we are truly fragile creatures. We learn to avoid pain and we welcome gratification. What does it look like to accept pain? To sit in it and realize that whatever does not kill you, ultimately does make you stronger. Let me be clear, I do not speak of physical pain, rather a metaphysical pain; the pain of the soul. Does this translate into acquiring a higher tolerance for pain? To be able to tolerate more pain before reaching a point of dismay? If so, is this something truly desirable? To accept the idea of continuos suffering and existing gracefully in the idea that pain is natural and that one must embrace it. However, if pain is continuos and something you can't truly escape, then there is no end in it. If there is no end then there is no beginning, then it is not linear, rather it just is. Perhaps what it means to be human, is to exist through a fluctuation of moments when pain is more apparent, less tolerated, concentrated, powerful and overbearing. To exist is to be in pain, there is no escaping it in this life when are souls are bound to a body and mind that reasons. Rather there is only accepting it and understanding the beauty of it. The beauty of pain is, that because we feel pain, we full heartily take joy in love. Love does not demolish pain, rather it soothes it and makes room for hope. Hope. Hope for what? To be freed of suffering, well that contradicts my former statement. No, not hope from escaping pain, rather hope is finding peace in the knowing that we are not alone in our suffering, that we are all souls in longing.

Hope in being. Hope in connecting and sharing with others. Hope in loving one another through the struggle.

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Hello, Let me introduce myself

I am not a professional writer, far from it, in fact, I more than often am highly dependent on spell check, spelling is not my strength, nor is grammar. I considered myself a decent writer, in good days I manage to put together words, phrases that can be somewhat interesting, or perhaps insightful to the very least.

However, I am here today sitting on this desk, typing because I am aiming to begin a journey and I have an urge to be as transparent as possible. I am attempting to do what I have struggled to do for so long, communicate uncensored, unapologetically, and quite frankly stupidly if I have to. I am not interested in phrasing my thoughts and feelings in any way other than honestly, however honestly comes to be. As I write this I am being hypocritical, because it is the honest thing to admit that I have already on several instances made adjustments, rephrased and omitted from my free flowing thoughts. This that I strive for, is a process, I know, because transparency is never genuinely possible in a self conscious individual. Yes I am a self-conscious individual, I am aware that we live in a world of differing perceptions and at times I stop and criticize my own perception and compare my self to others. I am however, motivated by the insightful minds that speak openly and vulnerably, inspiring within me admiration and a desire for liberation.

Liberation, yes liberation.

Liberation from what? What binds me and holds me captive?

If it were that simple to identify than perhaps I would not be writing at this moment, perhaps I would be sitting in a coffee shop with a close dear friend, sharing stories of loss and renewal. Laughing at the comedies of life.

Instead, at this moment I am sitting here, alone.

What brings me here, actually let me rephrase that, what brings me BACK here, as this blog was created sometime ago as a half ass attempt to express my self proclaimed creativity. Well, I am back because I am in need, in great emotional need.

I am currently suffering of heart break, yes heart break. How silly that sounds when I write that.

“Oh you poor girl, you are inflicted with so much pain, having undergone such a traumatic experience!”

“Oh you poor girl, a boy broke your heart.”

Yes, let me be silly, sitting in my silly chair, crying silly tears. Let it be that I am silly, as long as I feel deep silly feelings.

Let be what is, as I do not want to be anything other than what I am. As what I am is never constant, rather always transforming, evolving. Here I present to you, whom ever you are, ME, MYSELF, with all my miserable imperfections, contradictions and nonsensical blabber.

Here I present my heartbreak, and let it take me where it will as I know permanency is an illusion. Loss and restoration, dance endlessly, as one can not be without the other, they are in fact soul mates. This will do for today.

Love eternally and deeply,



An altered heart, forever scarred. 
You took with you my dreams,
the dream where love conquered all.
Days ago I longed for something deep,
depths uncovered, shadows danced, taunted and exhausted.
Now I fight, I am starving but I fight.
I am hollow, with such deep need.
Life has ways, to teach us lessons. 
Life can be cruel, we can be cruel.
Is it weak to admit that I need you so much?
I throw myself on the floor, kick my feet and swing my arms.
I don't want this! I am a little girl shouting refusal.
I don't want this! Don't leave me here broken.

Have you ever seen the face of heart break?
Blood eyes full of anguish, thin pale green skin, veins perturbing,
Swollen tender eye lids weighing down on hollow holes,
Contorted mouth,
Wet face.

Have you ever heard the sound of heartbreak?
Whining agony, cries full of desperate longing,
screeches and whimpered utterances,
pathetic desperation.
How ugly it is to be real,
To reveal real pain.
To feel a deep emptiness that you can not escape.
As if your guts have been pulled out, a heaviness in your chest.
How grotesque is to sink into the darkness of your empty soul,
to cry dry tired tears and feel hate and rage, desperation.

How ugly it is to be real.