Faithful Companion

My life's decisions have had many motivators, fear was always the most pressing, gnawing, and powerful. It always lingered in the back of my mind like a slow hum that would turn into a growl whenever I allowed myself to look away from it for too long. It would glare at me with its red eyes and ask: "Do you dare act against my will?" And I would comply with it... because I was a coward. 

 Saying I was a coward is a cop-out. I still am a coward. Fear remains my strongest driving force because hope is something I never afforded. I never knew what it's like to choose something without duress; without looking back and seeing how frightening the alternative is and sighing in relief that I escaped by the skin of my teeth. 

 I knew what courage looked like for a few moments in my life. I stood in the face of adversity and defended my choices and felt quite good about it, too. The funny thing is, every single one of those decisions, especially when I bet against the odds and had such conviction while doing so, ended up in disappointment. 

 These instances taught me that desire isn't in the cards for someone like me. That caution, however suffocating and isolating and sad, is the only way I can survive with the least damage possible to the people I care about. I learned to quiet the parts of me that yearned for more, for better, for deeper. I repeated my fear to myself as a daily mantra because I still am scared if I abandon it I'll get hurt. I learned to tell myself: "This is as good as it's going to get." Over and over. 

 The cynical part of me wants to interject here and point out how obviously misguided the delusional part of me is. Because if I'd learned anything in my 30 years of life, it's that every time I listen to desire, to hope, to more, I get struck down. 

 People have a tendency to be fickle and uncertain, even when they tell you you're the answer to their prayers...their prayers change and you miss the mark once again. It's not their fault they're human. It's not a moral shortcoming to change. But it's starting to feel like change evades me, because no matter how much I wish for fear to leave me alone, it remains my most faithful companion.

Hello Old Friend,

 This blog is 10 years old.

I started it in my senior year of high school, back when I was still young, confused, and brimming with potential. Torn between pursuing my passion of becoming a writer, or following the traditional path of getting a degree in the medical field.

Well, the degree happened. I never used it, but I did get it.

I wonder what 18 year-old me would have thought if she knew that 28 year-old me would still be writing here, but also working as a full-time writer.

I'm nothing special, though. There are like 50 more of me at my workplace and some of them are unbelievably good at what they do. But I'm okay with it. I'm okay with not being the best.

Yeah. After years of struggling with what I want to be versus what everyone else expected of me. Years of fighting with all my power just to stay afloat and keep my head above water. Years of hopes and fears and disappointments. Years of gathering all my strength to prevent myself from becoming another cog in this magnificent, grinding machine.

I just let it happen. I stopped grasping at straws and let myself be what I was always meant to be; just another person.

It's crazy but it also isn't. To think how the decisions that 18-year-old made are what brought me to this point of my life where I'm so at peace with being mediocre and seeing it as a positive thing. 

I stopped trying to stand out when swimming against the current for so long absolutely damaged me. Instead, ways to fit in became everything I hoped and dreamed to find. 

It wasn't that hard, either. In fact, it was one of the most liberating things to have ever happened to me, precisely because it happened to me, I had no incentive or hand in doing it.

How funny is it that I'm writing about this without bursting into tears, though? The worst thing I could have imagined happening to me ten years ago is exactly why I'm so at peace today.

Hope that's how I'll be looking at things in 10 years, though.

Left Behind

 Lately I've been contemplating the feeling of being at a stand still, considering the fact that before last year, all I ever did was move within channels that were cut out for me ever since I was born. I was always doing something, fulfilling an expectation or chasing achievement without really looking twice to check whether I want to be doing whatever it is I was doing or not. I finished school, graduated from university, worked an internship for a year, during which I wound up finding my life partner. We got engaged then married, faced (and are still facing) a global pandemic together, while trying to figure out what to do in these rapidly changing times that aren't really kind to us. 

It's funny that during all of this I'm moving so fast, ageing, growing, making plans and remaking them after life has plans of its own, yet the one feeling I've been consistently having is being stationary. I mean, sure, the fact that I'm currently -barely- working from home is a big part of it, but I made a conscious choice to leave my field of work for the time being because it poses an immense threat to the health and safety of my loved ones before it does me. And in all honesty, I wasn't really eager to work as a dentist even before the dangerously perilous Covid-19. But something about being home at all times is making me feel almost...not there? Like I only exist to the people I interact with daily, and this circle is tightening by the day. 

I was never really a social butterfly, and when the stakes are that high, I wouldn't risk being social over this odd feeling of slowly vanishing. But for someone who's always had a loud, anxious inner voice dictate what they can and can't do, sitting still away from the loudness of everyday life brings about a whole slew of other, equally unpleasant feelings. Hah, it's funny that unpleasant feelings is all I seem to talk about on here.

I still struggle with my mental health though it seems to be less vicious nowadays, for which I'm very thankful. I just hope I can think my way out of feeling redundant, stagnant, left behind.

Abandonment

From innocent confessions in normal conversation that tell you exactly how little you matter to the other party, to long speeches of "it's not you, it's me" uttered to clear an unstable conscience before extinguishing any glimmer of hope that might exist of them staying. By now, I've learned that abandonment comes both when you least expect it and when you've been expecting it from the get go.

Some might call it a self-fulfilling prophecy, or acting to reflect your low standards, thus allowing people who step on your pride to leave and welcoming them back whenever they please. Well, I never thought of myself as privileged enough to act "heavy" or "hard to get"...I always thought this will add to the perception of me being a cutthroat bitch that I've been trying to shake for some time. I ask for a fraction of what I'm willing to give, and it always seems a little too much anyway.

There will always be unfavorable circumstances that get in the way of every meaningful human interaction, and when it comes to either fighting them or leaving, the easier option is always to leave. And I understand. I can't not understand. But I want to know what it feels like to be someone who's worth fighting for. It's desperate and pathetic and a little disgusting to blurt out, begging not to be taken for granted. I'm just a bit tired of being a form of excess, it wears down the soul to the point where it becomes a belief about oneself. And I don't want to believe that.

Purpose (23rd birthday post)

Sometimes I wonder what the use for a sense of purpose is, whether our primitive brains have way too much time on their metaphorical and literal hands after our ancestors helped us escape the woes of a feral life and tribal wars, and now we're left wondering about things that are partially comprehensible and entirely optional to our survival.

I wonder because I'm perpetually dissatisfied with my life, nothing comes naturally to me like fidgeting for ways to have more of what I crave; purpose, love, and achievement. I'm always anxious about not being enough, about not striving enough to have more security that will ideally put my mind at ease. The people around me are true champions for putting up with that!

 This got me thinking and theorizing, the less a mind is preoccupied by the basic aspects of survival, the more it has time to wallow in questions of purpose and identity. The fewer distractions it entertains, the longer and harder its days pass. The more a mind questions its purpose, the less clear it becomes. It's not a groundbreaking revelation to many, but it's a relevant one to me at this point in time.

 Perhaps the only good-enough distraction to me is falling and being in love. It's the closest thing to magic spells for all the chemistry that goes into making it materialize. I remember the dark days I went through as a teenager deeply and hopelessly in love, but also how I pushed through milestone after milestone with ease when I had a full heart. I achieved so much, felt like I had a reason to wake up every morning and be someone, felt like my existence was justified because it was so entrenched in someone else's...this is something I can't say I have right now.

 Stepping into my 24th year of life, I can't help but wonder for how long I can run on an empty heart and an over-worked mind.

Young and Beautiful

The thought of growing old scares me. And in that, I join the billions of people who are naturally anxious of advancing in age with all the potential health risks and the loss of loved ones and so on.

I just think it's more than that for me. For example, I'm terrified of the inevitable loneliness I'll experience more with the passing of years. And I'm not talking about not having people around, I mean the entrapment in my own psyche that will increase the older I get. How I'll stop being flexible and accepting of new ideas, How difficult it will be changing and adapting to harsh situations that my idealistic self simply wishes away. How simple it will be to hide my fears and hopes to escape ridicule or avoid conflict.

I'm also not really excited about my body aging. I can see how a year can make a difference now that I can see the pounds piling up, or how a cold doesn't go away as fast as it did before, or even the fine lines that are making a statement on my forehead to remind me I'll enjoy wrinkles for the upcoming three fourths of my life.

I'm scared of becoming less desirable...not just as a woman, but also as a person. I can see the way teenagers of 15 look at me now like I'm an old lady when I try to joke with them. It's funny sometimes, but leaves a bitter aftertaste. I'm especially reminded of it when I think a guy is cute just to find out he's a couple (or more) years younger than me, then look myself in the mirror to realize I look even older than my own age. Such a treat finding out people guess my age at 25 when I'm not yet 22.

I could rant about how youth and beauty are overrated, but they're really not. Just ask people who go under the knife to have their sagging skin tightened, or those who get into relationships with others as young as their own children. I feel like I'm spending the prime of my life laden with such thoughts, that I'll look back on it and regret not enjoying youth and beauty while I had them. But what am I to do when I feel like I have them not, even now?

The 2016 Post

Happy New Year everyone!

Typically in posts like these, people write the things they learned in the past year, or list the things they resolve to achieve in the New Year. I’d like to pretend I’m super original and mix both in this following post.

The past two years held a lot of painful memories for me. They showed me that a “normal” healthy person could descend to the depths of hell in what looks like no time at all. I’ve known loss and loneliness all too well, and my emotions got so in control that my brain lost all its power to fight against this darkness. I felt trapped and angered by my entrapment, I felt like I couldn’t fight it for the life of me. The problem is that I isolated myself in the process, making myself all the more vulnerable to that vicious cycle of doom. It made sense in my faulty psyche that pretending I’m doing fine will ward off unwanted offers of help, or even discourage the advances of well-meaning people who would like to be part of my life. I wholeheartedly admit I was wrong. I was wrong and that adamancy delayed my recovery for what felt like ages.

I’m not a hundred percent whole now. I haven’t returned to my old self, whoever that was. But I can say I’m on the path of becoming a more self-aware person, without the deceptions that my anxious brain and shaken emotions fed me. It was a painful process; knowing so much about my own self that made me question everything I knew. My eyes were opened to the whole lot that can go wrong with one’s mind if they surrender to the chaos of it all. I got scared and I continue to get scared by the ugliness that surrounds me, but now I have the conviction that I can undo some of its damage done unto me and unto others.

I can’t say I’m completely past the vulnerability, but I believe with the help of people who truly and altruistically care about me, I’m moving forward. It’s one of those old, worn clichés, but it’s never shameful to ask for help. We’ve all stepped in those same old shoes, and it’s well-established wisdom now that nobody can make it on their own without severely damaging a side or another of their personality. (Please, know how valuable you are to ask for help from even the one person who shows you they care. You’re worth it.)

I think right now the best thing I can vow to myself is to try and care for myself well. I know anxiety and depression can kick in, and I know that some lies I have told myself might not dissipate that easily, but I also know that even the little faith I have in goodness from God and from others is worth something. I know that the worried tone in my mom’s voice, the warm hug from my dog, the annoying jokes my sister tells and the laugh of my dad when I say something funny can make me feel safe and loved. I know that my best friend and only trustworthy gossip-partner is the only reason I smile some days, and the two-hour long meet ups with my second closest friend give me revelations not even ten books provide. I also know that every time a friend cares enough to email me or text me is a reminder that that person cares enough to re-invite me into their life. I now know that we are each other’s anchors in the midst of all the madness.

I pray we all have a happier year, one with bigger and better chances to grow and become a little more helpful to ourselves and to others.

In the Middle

I'm not even sure whether it's me who's in the way of life, or life is in the way of me.
Periods like the one I'm going through are easily dismissed as "transitional;" something that won't last and probably is leading up to something better. But I have to wonder:
Is it real what we, human people, tell ourselves whenever things get too much to handle or life spurs out of control, that "everything will be alright eventually?" Is it not some random things happening to each of us, the bad and the good? If we tally the good and the bad in each of our lives, are they supposed to magically level off?

Self-pity is pathetic, but it's kind of comforting to know that you sympathize with your own self. I mean, right now as I'm feeling in the way of so many lives, so many happinesses, so much going right for people I care about (including my own self), I kind of like the fact that I'm not hating myself for it.
The way I see it, life also is getting in the way of me being a normally functioning human being. I was not made for waking up at 6:15, toiling my way through life without relishing in the sweet taste of meaningful connection with other human beings. The fakery of smiles and giggles to strangers you work or study with, who think they know you because they know your first name is draining. The weeks spent without good company, with no rush or excitement at the prospect of doing something or seeing someone you love is painful.
Monotony is painful. Loss of passion and purpose is painful. Boredom is deadly.

So I ask for help, and what I get is a concoction of tried and tested formulas of how to be a normal person. How to get your rough ends rounded enough to fit in the nice cookie cutter shape of the ambiguous yet weirdly specific good person. A good student, a good daughter, a good God-follower, a good friend, a good whatever-you-fill-in-the-space. The approach that everyone's going for is: "Well, looks like your life is pretty much a cleared piece of land, so why not build it up the way everyone around you wants you to?!" Sure thang! That's a pretty damn awesome plan, collective mind of the peoples!

I had mentioned in a previous post that my attempts to not get in the way previously prevented me from ever breaking rules or rebelling against authority even in my oh-so-vulnerable teenage years. But goodness gracious! It looks like now, at 21, I'm starting to think to hell with everyone!

Okay, okay. Not that drastically. But I'm getting more and more convinced that as long as I'm not actively trying to hurt someone else, I shouldn't worry too much about what people will make out of my life's decisions. Sure, I may do things I regret later, but it's those things that I might remember when I'm old and gray and think: "Man, I used my stupid young person privilege well!"

One of these stupid things is staying up writing till 3:15 on a school night. Oh well.

Finding my voice

It's quite painful to feel like you've lost your voice. Amidst daily struggles, suffocating routines, and the busyness of people who comprise your support system. It's almost like screaming in a crowded place where no-one can hear anything but their own voice, until they realize just how fruitless it is, and resort to mumbling to themselves instead.

I used to be able to "express" so easily. Thoughts I've had pop in my head at 3 am used to flow in words as if they were being recited to me. I took it for granted for so long until I realized that there is a time when I'll be desperate to articulate my thoughts and fail to do so miserably. Or even worse, to think to myself that what I have to say isn't worthwhile, that my experience as a human doesn't matter and I should just shut the hell up to avoid annoying people about my useless life while they go on with theirs.

I don't know how long it will take for my brain to unwind the damage this warped thought process brought upon me. I'm just sharing this to say I know it won't last, I won't let it.

Answers

"The old believe everything, the middle-aged suspect everything, the young know everything."

-Oscar Wilde

I knew everything.

I had all the answers to every question that could cross my mind as a 17-year-old, as an 18-year-old I could profess a faith in innumerable things that I just knew to be true. I was not shaken, weak or unsure. Everything aligned perfectly with my worldview.

But then I grew up.

The questions got harder and kept piling up. The pressures arose and I tried to fumble for my faith that was only as big as the questions I once had as a 17-year-old. Nothing worked like it was supposed to. I was left confused, unsure of whom to believe. The way my faith was built on people's perceptions of things failed me miserably, because people. They change, they fall, they get their own difficult questions that they fail to answer.

I became infuriated, filled with rage and scorn over the loss of my precious peace of mind. Nothing and no-one could sedate me. I needed my answers. I needed my peace. I just lacked the patience and perseverance to look around for some.

Now I'm numb. I'm waiting for something to happen to change the way I live. I miss my answers and my peace of mind, but I don't have much of a fight left in me...

The Ella Enchanted Syndrome

For my whole life, I've been the goody-two-shoes who follows laws, rules, and regulations with blind obedience. I was told it was best for everyone. I was told it keeps everyone safe, happy, and productive. I was told when things are in order, little could go wrong.

Throughout my almost twenty one years of life, I saw laws being broken, regulations ignored, and people doing whatever the hell they wanted to do, to little or no consequences on the greater good of the society. Sure, many of those instances lead to injustices that affected me directly and personally, but no one else cared and I knew it was best for everyone if I just kept my mouth shut. I realized I bend under pressure and cave in under the unjust rule of tyrannous figures who only cared about that elusive, mysterious "greater good."
And for the very few times I tried to play rebellious and pay no heed to their warnings, all hell broke loose.

This is not to say I got in much trouble, because the last "serious" trouble I ever got into was back in kindergarten when I publicly defied a teacher who didn't like that I talked too much. The situation worked out in my favor after my mother meddled, but ever since I've always thought twice and thrice and a million times before defying authority. Be that the security guard in front of a building who insists on making my life harder because he can, to the teachers, professors, religious leaders, team leaders and so on of the people who have a say on what goes and what doesn't in my life.

I just don't like using uncivil manners, which might seem contradictory to my feisty personality and quick temper. But screaming and using foul language always comes with more internal repercussions than external for me. I have terrible guilt that breaks me down every time I lash out at someone, whether they deserve it or not. Added to the perfectly convenient (hah!) unlikable aura that surrounds me wherever I go, it just makes life pretty hard for me to not be a complete and utter angel. I can't -of course- because I'm human, but my failure to conceal contempt or disgust or any negative feeling there is always makes me dissatisfied with my performance in the system I am currently living in; the system that both repels me and repulses me.

But I'm tired of that. I'm tired of feeling scared all the time lest I step on someone's toes accidentally while I go on living my life. I want, for a change, to not care whether my existence is causing someone trouble or inconvenience. I want to stop caring about everyone's needs and desires, likes and dislikes before my own. I want to stop regarding the laws and rules and unspoken conventions (which failed to protect my rights uncountable times) as sacred laws to be regarded above my personal comfort. I'm tired of being a coward and fearing the consequences of every action I take no matter how trivial and insignificant it is. And I'm tired of being scared to stand up for what I think is best for me, regardless of what people say and rules dictate.

I want to embrace this phase of rebelliousness now that I can, for one day I'll wake up unable to defend my rights that I let go of, when I possessed the voice and energy to stand up for them and receded. 

The Chosen and The Damned

I'd be lying if I said I never wondered on what basis God judges a person as good or bad. I've had these thoughts since I was a kid when I was told that being certain things was good, while doing things or associating with certain people was bad. I tried to maintain those guidelines while growing up, looking at things purely from black and white vision goggles. It was easy, relatively. I just had to hold to some criteria that I thought were objective and fair, but that was as far as my child brain could take me.

But growing up, to me, was discovering that life has a wide array of grey-scale shades. And these shades often get tinted by a certain color representing where you stand on the spectrum. I learned that my idea of right and wrong is different from my sister's, and we grew up in the same house raised by the same parents! I'd be lying to say that it was easy, because I remember at a point in my life I was being constantly shocked by what other people viewed as true, right, good and fair. Let's just say it was a bumpy road...

Part of the teachings children receive, especially in religious backgrounds, is knowing which people belong where when it comes to the afterlife. We're taught that certain people who do a,b and c belong to heaven, while some others who don't, and maybe have 1,2 and 3 as their set values, they belong to hell. The first pile, The Chosen, often include people like ourselves and our parents. They're the familiar, the similar, the congruent to our codes of morality. While the "other," they're The Damned. Those classifications are often termed "moral tribes."

Setting apart moral tribes starts to take place by associating with only the people who fit our definitions of good. But like any other tribal behaviors, it ends by eliminating and alienating those who don't. A bit further down the road, the tribe starts having a more specific list of "admission prerequisites,"  which means that its circle shrinks and starts to exclude more people. And to ensure the survival and propagation of its values and morals, it starts to fight other tribes.

This means that fighting only happens when a tribe feels threatened by the presence of another option, or by the lack of enough followers. It happens when the "other" is viewed as the enemy who could possibly destroy our own tribal values, or at least when vanquishing the "other" is seen as a sign of strength that could attract a bigger number to join the victor tribe.

It's obviously primal thinking, using primal strategies. To fail at belonging to a community, having certain values and beliefs, while simultaneously being able to view the "other" as a human being with as much value on their life, as many rights as you possess, and as big of a possibility to be a good human being. This is all childish clinging to the black and white vision goggles.

But you know, sometimes those goggles don't work.

10 Things I Learned As A Short-haired Girl

I have really curly hair (3b on the curl chart), but for my entire adolescent life, I did everything I could to mask it. I never went outside unless my hair was perfectly straightened or waved, and my poor hair was so co-operative that nobody would believe it when I told them my hair is actually very very curly. I recently got it cut, it's now 12-16 inches shorter in different places, and the plan is to almost never heat treat it; i.e. to go natural.

 Here is some of my newly acquired wisdom regarding hair length (and texture!) on girls...and why it's nobody's business but theirs. 

               

1. My hair before the cut was really really long. Longer than I thought it was due to damage and split ends.

2. All guys love long hair on girls.

3. Most girls wish they could chop all their hair off. They don't because of the former reason.

4. People stare at curly hair as if it were an anomaly, which truly is paradoxical since I live in an African, Middle Eastern country. Tells you a lot about beauty standards.

5. I really really like it. More than I thought I would.

6. Change is really easy for me to adapt to; I feel like I've had my hair this short since forever.

7. People who are really close to you won't filter out their opinions of your appearance. Which means getting a lot of "you're insane" and "you look 40."

8. I spend much less time worrying about how I look, whether I have stray locks or frizz. I know I do, I just don't really care about it anymore.

9. "Going natural" made me realize I can feel beautiful with no maintainance whatseoever. But it also made me appreciate how much effort women put into their looks. It's no easy task for a girl, you know.

10. Personal choices are easy to make if you don't think much about what people would say. If I had thought of every time people would look at my short hair with pity, I probably would have had second thoughts about it.

People still drop sour comments about it and some of them kind of sting, but at the end of the day, I look myself in the mirror feeling beautiful and feeling like myself. I wouldn't trade that for all the "good hair days" in the world if they don't give me that. smile emoticon

Thoughts in the early (morning)

I'm lying on a couch at 5:43 am. I've only been awake since 8 pm last night, which felt like the early morning of my warped day.

I'm unhappy. The most unhappy I remember myself being in a long time. While I know the definite reasons for this unhappiness, I know how they came about and how my recklessness was a major part of that, I keep reminding myself that life's lows are life's lessons.

I can't write very well when I'm happy. I can write fairly well when I'm stable and indifferent, but not when I'm too excited or elated. I write quite well when I'm unhappy or lonely or even depressed and frustrated, and though it's been a while since I posted anything on here, I have been very active on other, more private platforms.Those keep safe the sides of my life that I wish to remain hidden, and also provide the venting I get from writing here.

Having a good memory and a knack for keeping "mementos" from each part of my journey through life had been two of the major things that feed my nostalgia. I would love to travel to the past if possible, but for now small trips down memory lanes suffice. But as of late, they also started to feed a sense of regret for all the times I know I should have acted differently, that could have most likely spared me my current "low." I know I just said right above that lows are lessons, but some lessons are best learned by observation, not trial. I know mending one's broken heart is hard to learn by just observing, but in the midst of all the pain, a few regrets make the red carpet appearance.

Being objective and telling myself I acted in a wrong way when I really should has not always been a merit of mine. I tend to either shake my mistakes off after correcting the done damage, or lie in this endless hole of shame and misery and absolute mortification, blaming my mistakes on my nature rather than my conscious (or unconscious) actions. I don't do self-accountability exactly right, which is a shame because I really need to learn how to.

I don't have a very healthy self-image. I work on that when I'm in a good place mentally and emotionally, but every once in a while a blow to my self-esteem causes me to try to rebuild what was shattered and broken down from the foundation rather than build on it. It gets disheartening at times, but I know it's worth the effort every time I look in the mirror and feel grateful for what I see.

I'm still rather emotionally inclined while making decisions. I appreciate it because it helped me maintain most of my current healthy relationships. It led me to some paths I wish to never tread again, but I'll count it as a blessing in today's solid, rational, materialistic world.

It's quite different for me writing this post, because contrary to my others on this blog, it doesn't revolve around an idea. It's just a bunch of stuff I wanted written down to remind me of my thought process during this time of my life. I'll try to be more frequent in writing on here, because frankly I need it more than anything right now. Although my other platforms which have been either private or anonymous offered some relief at time of need, I think it's about time I got back to being myself.

If you reached the end of this kind of irrelevant post, I truly thank you. Till next time!

Rantings with tears in my eyes

Why do we do this? why do we pick out differences and search for things that cause us to fight and argue and have battles and kill each other?
Why does the whole human race indulge in violence, oppression, murder, destruction of everything pure and beautiful?
Did God intend for things to be this way?
Did he command people to kill whoever doesn't agree with them?
Did he want to see all the bloodshed and the struggle to spread dominion over worthless pieces of land, or assertion of nationalities or religions?
Did he want everyone to be the same?
So why don't genocides work?
Why don't we all look the same, think the same, act the same?
Is there something wrong with being different from your friends, your coworkers, the person you love?
Is there some kind of curse of eternal damnation that befalls whoever thinks of ignoring differences and focusing on the commonalities?
Does God want that?
Then what does He want?

The Lie of Growing up

Yep. It's a lie.
People grow tired, grow apart, grow indifferent, but never grow "up".
It was a term coined for growing old, but getting old does not necessitate "up"-grading your status as a human being. In fact, most people get older without changing much of their personality, most likely acquired throughout their childhood and teenage years. They "grow" one of the aforementioned things, but never "up."

I know I sound stupid/too philosophical, but try and hear me out for a second. How many of us are living a life now that is basically an incarnation of our parents' hopes for us when they were kids?
Alright, these are the unlucky bunch.
Now, how many of us are living "their dream"? Lucky people, eh?
Well, looks like both are trapped now in the expectations that held them as little kids, whether their parents' or theirs. Which is unfortunate, I mean, it only proves that none of us has really grown up, and that who we are now is a larger, less excited, less intuitive version of ourselves as kids. One that's more prone to illness and mental instability. One that has loved and lost, experienced innumerable disappointments, inflicted pain and was afflicted by it; a shattered version of our true selves.

If that's what growing up means, it should have been called "growing anything-else-but-up".

Innocence

Why do I always wish I could get younger?
I find a million reasons crammed inside my tiny head, ranging from things as superficial as the fine lines on my forehead I've been getting since I turned 16, to the depths of wanting to do over whole experiences that stole parts of my faith in the world and in myself...
A big reason comes to mind, though. It's the innocence we all lose as part of growing up.
Some people define innocence as not having committed any faults; being blameless. Others define it as not knowing evils of the world; being pure-hearted and maybe a little naive. Although I find myself gravitating towards the second definition, I sure know where the first argument is coming from. But having been indoctrinated since I was a little child that shutting out evil is the best way to avoid committing it, it's still hard for me to accept that evil thoughts are not a sin if they were aborted and not turned into sinful acts.

Innocence is an elusive value. Everyone has found out in their own way that once it's lost it can never be found again. Some still try to get it back, hopelessly so, even when all their desperate attempts fail miserably. While some still go out of their way to get rid of it, as if it was some kind of rookie marking that shows they weren't "experienced" enough.

I know whoever seeks innocence does so as a last refuge from guilt. I know guilt is a destructive feeling as I've seen its effect on so many people including myself. It eats away the heart and mind of the person experiencing it, leaving the remnant torn and in a helpless state. I know how a soul longs for liberation from the control of despair, and how the slightest glimpse of hope and acceptance shines so brightly like the light at the end of the tunnel. I know all that because I've seen it.
But I also know that look in the eyes of the old and wise, who know that all still tumble and get their innocence robes filthy. They know it's the course of all humanity, it's inevitable. They chuckle at the sight of a person still trying to save their image of the world and of their self unharmed, fighting the scarring and disturbing experiences they go through.
It's disheartening...

I have one last question: If losing innocence is the final destination, why take the long, hard way there?

December 28th, 2013

So long 2013, you've been a good  year!

Not saying this in terms of the number of events which left me triumphant or downright happy. You've been a good year for learning, growing up and seeing things more realistically.

Since the very beginning I've known you'd be special. I had this intuition that I won't be the same person or have the same experiences after you've passed. I mean, graduating high school is no small matter. But let's face it, you had much more in store for me than that!

You broke me…several times and through small intervals of time. Did it hurt? Heck yeah. Do I regret anything that lead to this breakage? Not even a bit.

And even though I don't like feeling "schooled", I love learning new life lessons. And you, 2013, offered more than I could ever ask for.  You taught me that, in various ways, I'm still a kid and should seek the guidance and advice of the more experienced. You taught me that I ought not to believe every word of praise I receive, and listen carefully for criticism coming from trusted sources. You showed me that even if I drift apart from people there's always a chance for reconciliation, and that the closest of friends could turn to perfect strangers and vice versa in no time.

You taught me that I shouldn't expect much from people; they were not created to please me and make my every wish come true. You taught me to be patient and not to rush change or improvement, like a fine wine needs aging, everything takes time to get better. You also taught me not to wait for what I want to magically find its way to me, but to go out there and actively pursue it hoping for the best. You showed me in so many ways that there's always something new to learn, and that I should never rely on my knowledge as "enough".

Last but not least, you proved to me that God is always gracious, loving, just, able and good to me. That I should trust Him with my life, my heart, my mind, and more importantly my soul. He still wants me to be close to Him even if I try to pull myself away. And for this, I'm more thankful than for anything else.

The Gold-coated rule?!

My Facebook news feed is the worst place to be right now. Seriously, yours might be just as bad and you don't know it!
You see, all I see is lots of people my age and younger complaining about how terrible people are, how they're done with trying to find friends, and how having active relationships with other people is just not worth it anymore.
It got me thinking; why the hell would someone so young lose hope in dealing with people, while they practically lived only a quarter of their normal life expectancy period?!
Are people really this terrible to each other?
Have we become so frightened that we'd get under-appreciated and maltreated by people that we started to treat them this horribly?
What would happen if we started living a simpler life, one void of all the over-thinking, psychoanalyzing and misinterpretations?
What would happen if we just followed the Golden Rule? Is it really hard to treat people the way we want to be treated?!

But it's not like that, right?!
Well, the Golden Rule is -philosophically- a nice way to live by. You do unto people as you would have them do unto you, and you expect things to work in your favor just because you did the right thing. Right?
Na-uh!
Unless you're the 12-year-old part of the chart, you already know people can be monstrous creatures whose only viability comes from preying on other people. It might be an over-statement, but I've seen people enjoying others' failings, applauding their mistakes, or waiting to see the next wrong thing they'll do just to feel better about themselves.
Horrible, isn't it?
But come on, you'd be lying to your own face if you think you hadn't been this horrible of a person to someone before. Even if you haven't hurt anyone with a word or a look of dismay, I'm pretty sure that somewhere along the path of your life you judged someone, or felt superior to them because of a failing they had.
I can't say I never did this, because I did. And now I know why I shouldn't have.
I'd like people to be nice to me, actually, I'd love it if everyone liked me. I already know it's an impossibility, but wouldn't it be nice to know that there's no one out there hating your guts and loathing the very fact that you're breathing? I'd love if that were true!
However, and I'm sorrowfully speaking here, I know I'm not like that to everyone. I'm called not to accept, tolerate or co-exist with others who are different from me...I'm called to LOVE them!
Now I know it's a tough commandment to follow, and I feel like acting it's not there most of the time. But frankly, I know my life would be much easier if I did.
Carrying the burden of other people's faults is actually very consuming if not destructive. You either lose hope in finding "the right people" to be around, or feel much better about yourself because you sin differently from them. Both ways won't lead you to be at peace with yourself and others, or reach heaven eventually.
So, I say don't live by the "Gold-coated Rule", that is, convincing yourself everything is fine and that you're treating people "nice enough" and it's the way you want to be treated. You'll come back complaining later because you never want to feel "accepted in spite of" you want to feel "loved because". If you have a problem with someone, face yourself with it and forgive them from the bottom of your heart. Love them wholeheartedly because of the many great things they are. And know that God loves you in spite of your failings, He can expose to everyone how messed up you are, but He covers you up. You -in turn, the mere human- don't really own the right to judge your brother.
You know, you shouldn't expect to find favor in people's eyes if you don't offer them grace first.

Nineteen

It feels so weird, too old for the age I long felt stuck in...I always picture myself 16.
I'm not even sure if it's too soon or should have been sooner.
I mean, I take a look at my life now and wonder "When the heck did I grow so old?" Then I look back on every single event, detail, blessing and disaster that took my life and completely altered it over the course of the past 19 years, and I realize that it's 30 years worth of life events I've lived so far!
I don't know whether I should be happy or upset about it.
I do know I'm happy with the over-whelming love I received from almost everyone I know. I feel so blessed by how so many people who are not even this close to me are being nice enough to say such sweet things! But I also know that my birthday is not everyday, and growing up will eventually show its crappy side sooner rather than later. Sigh...
I'm confused about so many things right now, trying to set priorities for my life has never looked to difficult!
I'll just keep praying and talking to God about the mess I call my life for now. It felt much better not having to carry around the weight of my life and trusting Him, before I started taking matters into my own hands.
#GloomiestBirthdayBlogPostEver :/