Three Months

The three-month rule says you have to wait for three months after you broke up before you start dating again. And today, that’s exactly how long it has been. Three whole months.

So there I was at a bar one Monday night, armed with every intention to get drunk with my two male buddies while waiting for the slightest indication that he still wanted to work things out. The week before that was like my journey to and through hell - rejected calls, alibis and sometimes, nothing from him. I gave him an ultimatum - if I didn’t get any call from him that night, it would all be over. Come 12 midnight, I received my goodbye and thank you text message. Just like that.

First month. Cry a river.
I used to think that our break-up would kill me. It was a two-year relationship with my first love and best friend for over ten years. But to my surprise, I was actually fine. The people around me told me I was actually blooming. It was inexplicably strange.

But it wasn’t a walk in the park. Yes, I cried, although my reaction was a bit delayed. A picture of me weeks after the break-up would have shown a thoroughly depressed young lady crying herself to sleep and having only a pillow to console her. Yes, I got bitter. I bashed him with hatred-filled messages for so many times. Yes, I was angry. I called him up crying and asking if this is the happiness he imagined for me. And yes, I cried more when we finally met again after two months; that time, we were no longer lovers and not even friends. And that status hasn’t changed at all.

When we were still together, we had a deal: breaking up will never be an option. But then, I realized how the differences just crawl in, and no matter how much you love each other, you just can’t make each other happy anymore. I thought it was something like our previous break-ups, that we’d eventually be in each other’s arms. At one point, I even told him that I’d rather be miserable with him than be peaceful without him. Crazy, I know.

Second month. Build a bridge. 
I think this was the point when I realized that our relationship was on a dead end. Though I no longer grieved, it still felt like I lost a part of me somewhere and I can’t seem to get it back. But then, I started to shift my perspective on other things. I started working as an interviewer and I feel really useful, relaxed and content with that job. It doesn’t even feel like work.

During the course of my relationship with The Boy, I was only able to go out with my friends for a few times. It even came to a point that I didn’t have updates from them at all. But during the second month post break-up, I really made it a point to be with them every single week. I’m glad they were still as wonderful as they were two years ago. Immediately after the break-up, they rushed to my side and never left since then. They knew I needed them more than ever and I’m so grateful. They helped me build the bridge I’m treading on.

But I had to admit, a part of me was trying to rebel. I was out two nights a week, either drinking with friends, staying out til the wee hours of the morning. I even had another cartilage piercing. I was a mess but I was happy. I never felt that loose, or maybe even that free, for the past couple of years.

Third month. Get over it.
A part of me was still affected during the first few weeks. I hated everything that reminded me of him and us. I hated buildings and volkswagens. I hated happy couples. I remembered every single line I wrote for him; I get pissed when I hear the songs he used to sing for me. I was still bitter and depressed.

This was the month when he finally came home. We talked til the wee hours of the morning. Before we even met, my mind was made up - I want to move on.

I thought I’d freeze when he picked me up at home but I was actually fine. We talked, we laughed, he told me stories. And before the night ended, he asked me back. I cried and ranted my heart out. He let me go too easily, I went to and through hell and back just to get myself together, and now he wanted me back. Crap. I finally learned to say no.

From that point onwards, things went on a blur. This is the point where I would share how we both are right now. I could lie and say that we’re civil. But we’re actually less than that. From the night we met, a few events transpired. Unexpectedly, he just gave me more pain to deal with and that made me stand by my decision all the more. It’s all over, I’m moving on.

If there’s one thing I’m actually sad about right now, it’s the fact that we were once wonderful friends and great lovers together and now we can’t stand each other, even just for fifteen minutes. It’s just sad how two people who used to share their lives together aren’t even talking. But I guess it takes time. A lot of time.

So all this brings us to where we are today. The end of the three months rule. I am commemorating this day not because finally, I can date. I honor this day as a form of appreciation for myself. I was strong, I am strong, and being strong was the only option I had. I’m alive, I’m free and I am surrounded with loving friends and family who are all willing to put a smile on my face at any given moment. I love them and I promise to be beside them when it’s their turn to go through hell and back. And I truly appreciate my male buddies. They might be crass and rude on ordinary days but for me, they were the most protective, most supportive and most entertaining all throughout. I am so lucky to have male friends who keep me objective and strong-willed. They are like brothers to me.

And thank you God, for making this process awfully wonderful for me. You gave me a lot of detours, a lot of events that made me wiser yet happier, and a lot of people to recognize in my life. I am still a work in progress and You are incredibly patient with me. I love you.

I can certainly say I know myself better these days. I am not in a hurry to jump into another relationship. I’m taking my time, enjoying the colorful friendships I’ve rekindled. I am stronger, wiser, better. I am moving on.
Cheers! :)

Thursday

I’ve been reading Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Now I want to do a lot of things: travel, be with myself, meet new people, try different cuisines, enjoy the beauty of this world. I can relate a lot with how the author felt. I realized that, with the length of time I spent with The Boy, I actually feel like I’m going through a bad divorce without the papers and rights to stuff.

She conquered depression and loneliness through travelling, learning a new language, a new faith, and different cultures. I wonder how I could conquer mine. And as I say that, I’m not even discouraged or anxious. I am excited. :)

***

Dad handled a whole day workshop today with people from the church. And because they’re people from church, he can’t simply light a cigarette and smoke when he wants to. He might get kicked out of his own racket. A few minutes ago, he pulled up on the driveway after the grueling day. He took his things inside the house, went to the garden, pulled out his red pack of cigarettes and smoked. I could hear him say “Aaaahh!”

***

Today I accompanied Mom to her physical therapy session. I initially planned on just sitting there and using free Wifi the entire time or reading a book. But when I got there, I wasn’t able to do any of these.

As soon as Mom settled in her cubicle, I took my seat in the middle of the room where the chairs were. I was surrounded by rehab equipment, therapists and disabled people. I couldn’t describe the feeling I had as I looked around the room. These were people with disabilities - unable to walk, speak, write, and even comprehend - and here they were, working their asses off and paying tons of money just to be fully functional again. I believe it was hard for them and yet there they were, pushing on pedals, lifting weights, tinkering with gadgets. To my surprise, they even had smiles on their faces.

At that moment, I thought to myself. Look at you. Look at them. Who has the world on their shoulders? What a shame. I’ve been having this pity party for myself for months now. What illness do I have? A broken heart? Sheesh. It hurts but somebody else is feeling more hurt than I am. I am blessed, I am happy. From now on, I wil smile at the world with the hopes that it will smile back at me.

On another note, I miss helping strangers.

***

And I want to say something. A part of me is truly and irrevocably happy. :)

Wensday.

• I reblogged a million posts on Tumblr for safekeeping. Sorry.
• I’m in a major emotional overhaul. I need a detox. Will visit my friends who are three hours away tomorrow. Or probably head somewhere nobody knows me and stay there for a day.
• Been to the beach today though. For the first time, I didn’t get a sunburn! I was with my bosses, that’s why.
• I don’t trust myself lately. I don’t trust my instincts and the way I feel. Too vulnerable, too impulsive, too harsh. Staying away from trouble. Can’t fight fire with fire. And so if I say I miss someone, I can’t be so sure. But maybe I do.
• Coke is my drug. Bought one litre, poured some on a tall glass, threw in some ice, bottoms up. Now I’m gonna sleep.

Goodnight kids.

Self Portraits

Once upon a time, I hated taking photos of myself. And though I had this big camera that took wonderful photos of other things, I rarely directed the camera to myself. Not until someone told me, "If I had your camera, I would have taken a hundred photos of myself in a day."

I didn't do as she told me but I realized, I didn't have pictures of myself for most of the events in my life.

So I turned the lens the other way around and took shots of myself. This is to remind me of who I was in transition. One day, I might look back at this post and realize all the more how much of a dope I am. Haha.

 Some of the photos here were taken by my sister. She enjoys photography and she's getting the hang of it. Looking at the spread I made now, I cringe at the sight of my own face. Hahaha.

Still, I have several dream portraits in mind.
1. Bokeh night shot of me and someone special sharing a kiss
2. Semi-nude photo with my long, thick and curly hair covering my chest, for as long as it doesn't look porn-ish
3. A random jeepney moment shot
4. Paparazzi photo of me walking in the street
5. More silhouette shots
6. Of course, me in a wedding dress. Not for a shoot but for the real thing.
7. Underwater photo of me wearing a long flowing black dress
8. A transvestite shot. Me transformed into a man. Goatee, mustache, polo shirt, the works.
9. Inside tunnels piled one on top of the other.
10. Me dancing in the rain.

Wish I could achieve 'em all. Narci much? Not really. Just loving photography. :)

Dead End, Alaala, atbp.

Hindi ako lasing. Ang daming pumapasok sa isip ko.

So dead end na. Okay na ako dun, chox na yun. Pero andami naming nadaanan na hindi ko makalimutan.

Lugar, tao, kanta, pati mga building - lahat parang bookmark sa mga pahina ng aming nakaraan na dapat ay nakasarado sunog na.

Masakit isipin na ang laki-laki ng investment ko, pinag-hirapan kong lumago at bumunga ang lahat. Isa ito sa mga bagay na alam kong pinaghirapan ko. Ang dami ng ginawa ko para sa amin. Pero nauwi sa wala. Bankrupt. Siguro minsan, it's a matter of luck.


So yun. Andaming nangyayari tuwing may naalala ako. Parang dinukot ang puso ko mula sa aking dibdib, winasak, dinuraan, inapak-apakan at iniwan sa daan para kainin ng mga daga. Parang may bombang isinuksok sa aking ribcage. Saka ko pa nalaman na andun iyon nung sumabog na. Parang nababawasan ang katinuan ko sa bawat alaala na sumasagi sa aking utak.

Sa ngayon, hindi ko kaaway ang taong yun. Kaaway ko ang alaala. Ilang beses mo ba dapat maalala ang isang bagay bago ito tuluyang mabura? O di kaya, gaano katagal mo bang hindi dapat isipin ang isang bagay para hindi na ito sumagi sa iyong isip?

Pero napakapositibo kong tao. Ayaw kong kalabanin ang aking alaala. Gusto kong kaibiganin ito, maging bihasa dito hanggang sa punto na ang alaala ko ay magsisilbing alipin ko at hindi ang kabaliktaran.

Dalawang taong relasyon, isang dekada ng alaala. Kung ako ikaw, sige nga.

Of Detours

It was midnight last night. I was taking a walk in front of my college campus with my friend. He asked me if I was headed home or if I was going to take a detour.

Detour. Oh how much this word means to me. My life is full of it.

June 1999. I thought I would continue studying at my elementary alma mater when, due to a miscommunication, I had to transfer to a new school.

March 2003. My heart was set on pursuing Biology as a pre-med course when my parents enrolled me beforehand and led me to choose BS Nursing instead.

March 2009. I was pursuing my career as a nurse when my mom got very sick. My career took a detour - I became my Mom’s private nurse for a year.

February 2010. When I finally decided to pass my resumes around, my Grndma got severely ill, giving her barely weeks to live. Another detour - I cared for her til her last breath.

April 2010. My relationship with the only love I knew fell apart. Just when I was trying to put the pieces back together, I encountered something that opened my eyes. Plus, I received a generous job offer.

If I look at what had happened to my life so far, I would think that fate has been screwing me up and pissing me off the whole time. I plan one thing only to be led to an entirely different path. I would probably ditch my life plans and just surrender myself to the wind.

But when I come to think of it, I should actually be thankful. Had I not been a nurse, I would not have known how to care for my loved ones. If I left for another country two years after I graduated, like I planned to, I wouldn’t have been there for my mom and my family during the most difficult times. If I made an absolutely impulsive decision two months ago, I would not have been home to take the call that led me to my current job. Makes sense? Yes, so much.

Detours. They lead us to a different road, one that is away from what we planned to take. At times we think a detour causes delay; at times, it’s actually the shorter route. But more often than not, and no matter how long or how crazy the path is, a detour definitely takes us to where we ought to be.

So last night, I told my friend I was headed home. I got a cab, asked the driver to take me home. Half way there, I realized I should be somewhere else.

Yes, detours exist. But perhaps, we have the choice to take them, make them or go all the way back.