Tag Archives: connection

what could have been

My life could have been perfect, I’m pretty sure my mom feels that way. She says she feels tormented on the inside to see me suffer the way I do. She does not approve of my husband, she does not approve the way I changed ever since I met him. She just doesn’t approve anything I did, have done or will do.

A long time ago, I stopped trying to make it right. I stopped disillusioning myself for the happiness of her or any other person for that matter. There is no way I can make it right in her eyes, besides, any measures to get back in line with her dreams have long gone. Sometimes, I do think I could have had an easier life, an easier way of living at least. Life and “living life” are two different things, ya know?

Unfortunately or fortunately – depends on how you see it – life has been… painful, tearful, disappointing, mesmerizing but fun at times. My childhood was carefree, common problems with classmates and friends, plenty of shameful events and plenty of fun times. in hindsight, it was the foundation of my conscience of being “different” or bi-cultural. It was very clear from a young age I’m neither one or the other, but always and one plus the other totally opposing cultures. A sense of pride is what I got out of it, my life was just so much richer, unique and made me find a place somewhere in between even though never really belonging to one or the other. Sounds difficult, but it worked out for me, in a kind of double-agent way.

But perhaps because of my sense of not belonging, I was lost. But definitely because of my dad passing away at my blossoming age, I was lost even more. The future didn’t exist for a long time, school was of no interest, fleeing into good times at the clubs with my friends was what I wanted to do. That period of my life seems ever-stretching but seemed long, because that backlash happened quite some time after my dad’s passing. My dad. My hero. A man of not many words, only the very necessary. The calm factor within the family home, opposite to the explosive and drama queen character of my mom that I just could never really figure out.

I still can’t deal with the explosive character of my mom. We have been clashing back and forth ever since that strong, calm pillar left us. I’ve thought of running away many a times, running away from a situation that I didn’t know how to deal with. Even up til today, I don’t know how to deal with it which is why I moved away almost an hour from our family home. Not too close, not too far. It felt liberating.

I have barely 3 weeks left to deliver our second child and just a few nights ago, she broke me. Again. Just like during the first pregnancy. But you are not here. I can’t crawl away in your arms, I can’t feel you hugging me, I can’t hear you comforting me. I can’t get to that feeling that the two of us can face the world alone. And that hurts.

I keep telling the baby to wait for daddy to come home, it can’t be long now. It has to be.

I could have had an easy way of living, I could have had finished my studies all the way, I probably could have had my own house, my own capital. But instead, I took a different road. A difficult one, very rocky, the type of road you have to go all the way down first before you can reach the point where it can go uphill. A lot of times we can see how high the mountain is, but we just keep slipping down. I know a lot of women in my position would have quit a long time ago, there’s no way a woman could stay this loyal, this understanding, this enduring towards any man. At the expense of estranging from the rest of her family, her financial situation, her frustrations.

Christmas is coming near, but it means nothing to me. A New Year is coming ahead, but it’s meaningless. I live by the day, hoping the baby will stay in place for a while. I try to stay strong for the baby, for our son, but when I’m alone and have a moment of silence, I break down. I can’t stop crying until I distract myself again with cleaning up, moving things around, watching movies. I search the pictures on my mobile phone to see you and our son, smiling into the camera like it was yesterday. It’s been two months.

I could have had it all, but only as an empty shell, with that lonesome feeling of not belonging. But I chose to belong to myself and to my husband, on a tough bumpy road that only seems to be going down. But hey, we can still look up and see the sky. Together with you, that is a mighty feeling.

 

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falling out of love

We’ve been in non-communicato for so long, I forgot our friends and family would expect both of us to come over at their birthday party. Fortunately, they helped remind me by asking if you were working – which I used as the excuse for that night. I haven’t told anyone yet about what has been happening all this while, no one really knows even though it’s just a matter of time they will know.

For so long have I defended you, supported you, protected you, saved you, played along and lied for you. It has become such a relief not having to worry about you anymore, yet still part of me worries about you. Worries like I used to so many, many days and nights before. You were my world, my everything, I swear I thought I could not breathe in the air without you. It all seems so futile now, so insignificant, so… betrayed.

I do believe I loved you and was in love with you, just like I believe you were too in return. But I also believe this was meant to be, part of what was supposed to make us in life on the long run. There would not have been any other woman who could’ve done all the things that I’ve done for you, out of love, out of care, out of ignorance. A hope that I was contributing to helping you become who you wanted to be, because I see your potential, I see your passion.

Perhaps my purpose has been fulfilled, helping you do the field work to get started. I still see your potential, your passion and your drive to make a success out of yourself at whatever expense. Sadly, I will not be that woman on your side to see you reach the top and frankly, I’m at peace with that. You might still be angry at me, I’m sure you will be for a much longer time, til that one day comes you will realise I did it for the both of us.

The love we thought we felt gripped us around the throat tighter and tighter, all I did was cut each other loose. I don’t wanna drag you along with me, and I can’t handle seeing you drag all that shit with you either anymore. I can’t give you that again, because I have given it all out before.

I’m giving you the space to do what you feel you need to be doing, I’m giving myself my freedom back in return.

Sometimes I wonder, how could I not have seen clearly? The more I repeat the things you’ve said to me, the more it has started to hurt me. One thing I realised only today was you asking me who put these ideas and thoughts in my head, when we clashed last year. It makes sense to me now, even though you tried to blame my mom or someone else that I might have been talking to. It makes sense because your thoughts and ideas became mine, you were feeding me the words that I needed to know in your own opinion. That’s why you became suspicious about who else could be messing with my head, because you never imagined I could think for myself one day.

That one is gonna sting for a long time.

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ironic

“When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.” Alexander Graham Bell saidonce upon a time. And as I look upon a new day, this pretty much covers it.

A New Day. Could be a New Beginning. Closing chapters, start writing a new one. Flip the page and start all over again. I wish it were that simple. Sometimes you don’t wanna let go, because I knew it worked before. And there are times I give up and throw it away.

Maybe some things will never change. Yet maybe other things are meant to change. Why’s it that they say people don’t like change, when it’s what we crave the most in our life?

Something I wrote on June 16, 2009. That was before our make or break point last year, after which we decided to try and make it work again. To him, it was the weakest moment in his life to do so. To me, now, I’ve given his weakness back.

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sell me a lie

I used to believe in every word you said. I used to put my trust in you. Every time, you knew when to say what you needed to tell me and I was happy to wait a little longer. Was it really love that we felt at that time? Was it really?

Your control over me happened in stages, boxing me up with each fold you were making. Now, I’m just angry at myself. Angry for letting it happen, angry for letting it get this far. Besides that, I started to doubt if you meant all you said to me. Looking back I feel dissapointed if that is what love really is, an intimate game we played with each of our hearts at stake.

Looking forward however, it feels like a relief. Even though things will not automatically solve itself, I feel comforted with the thought that I have to carry my own weight this time around. At least, I won’t have to wait and depend on you like I did for so long, because now I can feel like I’m finally moving forward making my own decisions.

We still live in the house together, but we live like ghosts. It feels like we are living in parallel universes, that’s how hard we try to avoid each other. Just like you avoid the food I made. The mail betrayed you and told me you never came home from Friday to Sunday. You hardly sleep at home at night and I don’t see you except for the traces you leave when you did get home while I was at work.

You have set me free when you took your ring off, when you thought you were gonna hurt me instead. It doesn’t hurt me anymore, because we tried and it didn’t work out. I think we both just couldn’t give that anymore, that x-factor to bring back the relationship from the land of the undead.

Because we used to know each other for who we were. We used to know each other’s thoughts, each other’s directions in life.
I used to think you appreciated my input.
I used to know you as a man I admire.
I used to love you so, so hard.
I used to.

Believe.

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one side of the bed

A painful reminder of the way we are disconnected: my side of the bed unmade compared to your made side of the bed. A bitter laugh is what I give it as I lay down, not knowing the last time you came home.

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remembering

Reading my diaries from years ago, it was apparent we went into bad times head on together. Barely two years after we met, we faced financial crisis and that’s where it all began. I believed in you, your ideas, your promises. I believed everything would be ok, as long as I could hide in your locked arms – just me and you. Maybe I was in denial, maybe I wished for you to be different, maybe it was easier to go along.

I did some awful lying, fraudulous acts and it got us both into a horrible mess. A mess we were determined to clean up together, one way or another. As most relationships evolve, we were ready to take it to the next level and we got married and we got pregnant. I think it was too soon, too messy, too much. The wedding itself was nice, but disorganised and in the end an embarrassment towards the people that helped make it happen. It’s still hard to face them to this day.

I’ve let myself get astranged from my family, I’ve let myself hang on to someone who kept poisoning me with words and tie me down with guilt. Perhaps I did exactly the same back, because it was all I knew.

From marriage on, we went into the wonderful times of pregnancy. It was wonderful because of the whole process and knowing that our son was soon going to join us. I was fortunate not to have any complaints or difficulties during pregnancy, except for the first 3 nauseous months. I was fortunate, because there were actually times that we didn’t have anything to eat and had to scrape up a handful of cents and get the cheapest thing out of the supermarket and still split that 3-ways, for us and the baby.

People will only see what other people want them to see. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and look at others and how you think they are thriving. We pretended to be fine, we pretended to be who we are not, we pretended too much. It killed me from the inside, sliding me further down in the pit til I hit rock bottom.

I discovered that love is great, it’s wonderful and amazing. I know I’m a hopeless romantic, but I’ve also come to learn that if you really want unconditional love from your partner, you can’t. No matter how hard you try, how bad you want it, the only one who can give you unconditional love without pretends – is the One, God, the Almighty. People will only dissapoint you, even in love, intentionally or unintentionally.

But you know what’s still so amazing about love, even at its end? We can’t get enough of it, we need it to feel alive and there’s always hope that the next love is right there, waiting on you to come around.

Love hard, fall hard, cry about it. Then pick yourself up and love even harder.

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love waits

It’s exactly 1.59 AM when I start writing this post. I’d like to believe that am really just a night owl, like I’ve spent many nightly hours before I moved out of the house, spent behind the computer, inspired and creatively active. Maybe it’s just the coffee.

I was hoping to see a glimpse of him tonight, but the time difference sucks. I know he’s busy, pushing long hours on long days, he might be out, I don’t really know. I was just hoping, waiting.

Guilt free? I think not. But the longing, my oh my, the longing. Sometimes I wish I could just get a grip on myself. Stop the longing, start the waiting, let him long for me. But I know he is, that’s why I feel it. It’s the connection we have, that no one understands. Inexplicable, yes. Unbelievable? Yeah, that too.

My yawning gives away that I’m tired after all, guess it’s not the coffee. I know that as soon as I lay my head down, I’ll fall asleep. I hope it’ll whisk me away to our island, the place we meet where no one else can arrive, for us to be together and alone. I wonder though, how long we’ll keep this up. I wonder… how long love waits.

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day by day

Christmas went by fast this year, just as I had hoped for. We didn’t bother to indulge in dinners, late nights together or spending much time with family and friends. At least, not together. Growing up, I always knew I was different. Meeting him, I knew he was different. Put us together and we’re awkward, like a reggae beat in a catholic church.

We are, however, taking it day by day again. Just taking each situation as it is. Trying to see where exactly we used to fit in together, make our differences work together. There are ups but also downs, miscommunications and inside jokes.

Unfortunately, I can’t seem to help to keep wandering off in my mind. At times, I feel guilty for still communicating to him, knowing fully well it’ll jeopardise everything we’re trying to fix.

I find myself pathetic for not knowing what the hell I want, or not wanting to realise what I want. I find myself pathetic for letting myself linger between two worlds of the mind, not wanting to make a decision for myself, afraid of the pain and aftermath that’ll come either way. It’s sickening at times, how I even live with myself every single day, torturing myself, numbing me out from the reality, pretending. When really, one of the things I really hate is pretending.

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remember our love

Someone once told me, on their 10 years wedding anniversary, to remember what made me fall in love with him to encourage me in return to appreciate what we have together.

That’s easier said than done, I tell ya.

What if there were less common grounds in our differences? More arguments about nothing? Because we hold back on what we really want to say? Because we can’t seem to share our inner most deepest thoughts to one another? What’s a partner to do when you’re being deceived in the relationship with secrets untold?

How am I supposed to remember our love when I’ve slowly started to find out you told me little lies from the very beginning?

Trust. Honesty. Communication. A lack of these vital elements in a relationship have diminished our love.

Can it be fixed? I think so.
Will it be easy? I think not.
Are we both determined to make it right? That, I doubt.

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