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.

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.

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.

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!

When we stop saying "No"...

This isn't about peer pressure as you might have guessed from the title. I'm writing about what happens when we stop saying no to our own selves.
So, we're creatures who seek comfort and convenience wherever those may be. I'd like to think that my laziness is a shared misery with everyone else out there, and I guess it is. We seek the shortest/easiest way to our destinations, we choose flats over high heels (unless it's more rewarding to wear heels ;)), and we like to avoid confusing situations where we feel uncomfortable. It's all normal to be for this and against that; it makes sense.

However, sometimes the most natural and normal way out of a situation is contradictory to a principle one is in full conviction with. Sometimes lying to a teacher or professor or boss is the only way that's won't get you into trouble in a sticky situation, or giving into the temptation to eat that last slice of pizza although you're already full and on a diet. Sometimes checking out that girl in an extra tight, low cut top seems like the only possible option, or hurting a person whether emotionally or physically in retaliation of something they did to you just feels right.

The examples I've cited are related to different forms of conviction, they're either beliefs, morals, or just plain old situations where self-control is needed. The only thing in common is that if you react "normally" you'd realize that it was not correct, but that doesn't stop you.

Okay, so it happened once. Now what?

People vary in reacting to their failure to keep up with the standards they put (or believe were put) for themselves. Some people realize they failed to keep up with the standard and feel a pinch of guilt that prevents them from repeating the shortcoming. Other people experience what is called Cognitive dissonance, defined as:

1. the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes, especially as relating to behavioral decisions and attitude change.

which, in simpler words, means that they start to have second thoughts about their "already there" beliefs and attitudes. They start questioning whether their worldview was right, and how -if so- it failed to keep them in line with their own expectations of themselves.

So what happens when a person doesn't stop and say "No" to their own head when it starts having this kind of thoughts? What happens when a person almost trips into failing to keep their standards, but doesn't say "No" to themselves?

It doesn't feel overly weird at first. It feels quite normal to just go through life like that without holding yourself accountable for every thought and action that comes out of you. But little by little you start noticing your own behavioral changes; a slight increase in selfishness, more disregard of other people's opinion -even the ones you see as close, even more questioning of those beliefs with a slight partiality to what you see as most compatible to your actions. You start surrounding yourself with people who are stuck in the same loop. And ultimately, you start forming new beliefs to replace the old, obsolete ones.

It feels quite different to pull yourself out from the first step than from the last. Some people realize there's no hope at all in regaining their lost standards and decide to stick to their new ones out of comfort and/or convenience.

A repetition of this cycle produces an unstable person, someone who doesn't know exactly where they stand, and more often a person with a shifting moral code and ergo, shifting personality.

Accessible

The feeling of loneliness, we've all experienced it at some point, and I can say dreaded it for the most part. It's the feeling that creeps up on you after you've been around so many people, laughing and being merry, but after a while the company starts to fade out of sight and you're just left with it. It's that feeling of helplessness associated with need; the need for attention and acceptance, and maybe some consolation in the form of a warm hug or a pat on the back. We all crave it and we all can't do without it.

So how to fulfill the need without sounding demanding or "needy"? You become accessible.
We as humans have this hypothesis engraved in our minds that when we offer something, we're more likely to have it reciprocated. It's true for the majority to see life as a series of trading transactions, we do something for something else in return. Be that thing a material payment, an appreciative gesture, or for the more self-righteous of us, the mere sense of satisfaction for having done good. It explains why we go through a lot of crap without a short-term profit; I mean, how many times were you convinced as a child to do something because it'll get you into heaven?
But that's not our point. The point here is we offer so much because we expect so much in return. So, for example, one offers 3-4 hours daily for socializing/checking up on friends because they somehow hope to find a friend checking up on them when they feel lonely...simple as that.

Of course with social media this has become a million times easier and more convenient. You now can interact with ten times the number of people you could interact with say 20 years ago, and reach an audience of numbers you could have only wished to reach as a dreamy, wide-eyed little kid. It's become so simple to show little bits and pieces of your personality to your acquaintances and friends so as to make yourself look as charming and inviting as possible. It all works out perfectly to ward off that lousy loneliness, right?

Wrong. Sometimes the idea of acceptance sounds amazing when uttered as a general notion, like how we all should embrace each other's differences and celebrate each other's presence. However, it can cause one to think of themselves in terms of their ambiguous traits, the silhouette of their personality rather than its core, or even worse for more self-conscious people, to feel like they're deceiving their grand audience into thinking they're something better and more appealing than their true selves, which is a very guilt-inducing, self-destructive thought. It could lead these people to making all kinds of stupid decisions to disrupt the image taken of them and disprove any theories of their wholeness.

Real loneliness needs real connection to chase it away. It needs open lines of communication and a willingness to share the innermost fears and desires with someone who understands and appreciates. It needs care that extends beyond lines of texts or minutes of phone calls with contrived emotions and cold, yellow images of pseudo-facial expressions. It needs intimacy, emotional and physical.

Life and Art

But then I'm bewildered, how on earth is life not like "the movies" when people who create movies are, well, alive?! From where would poets, authors or artists in general soak the vividness of their emotions? Don't they live on the same planet we live on? 

The quote presented above is from my blog, a post dated February 14th, 2013. I had just finished reading The Prisoner of Zenda for the first time in the original text, and I was quite surprised and deeply moved by how the author managed to describe the romance between the two characters; Rudolf Rassendyll and the Princess Flavia.

It was beautiful how he described how they wanted each other, missed each other's presence, and truly longed for a life together. However, they ended up apart...that was where I cried.

Here's an excerpt from the 21st chapter in that novel. It's dear to me because it truly made me see how my wish--quoted from my beloved Oscar Wilde--that "life would imitate art" have come true in a way I never suspected:

"I am mad!" I said sullenly.

"I love your madness, dear," she answered.

Her face was away from me, but I caught the sparkle of a tear on her cheek. 

"Is love the only thing?" she asked, in low, sweet tones that seemed to bring a calm even to my wrung heart. "If love were the only thing, I would follow you—in rags, if need be—to the world's end; for you hold my heart in the hollow of your hand! But is love the only thing?"

I made no answer. It gives me shame now to think that I would not help her.

"I know people write and talk as if it were. Perhaps, for some, Fate lets it be. Ah, if I were one of them!"

 As an answer to the questions in my blog quote, they soak that vividness from life. And yes, they do live on the same planet as us, and I was privileged enough to meet some of them, even more privileged to have the close friendship and affection of one.

An artist's heart is designed to clarify every single experience it goes through. It's made to reveal mysteries that lie in everyday encounters, show the tenderness behind crude behaviors, and give meaning to abstract emotions which are then universally related to and understood. Art is created to show us beauty even in presumed ugliness, it's a reminder that the human soul is far more complex and deep than materialistic needs or earthly aspirations. This art can touch you through a word well-placed when uttered, a note well-played, or a paintbrush that holds the right color and makes the right strokes. It's appreciated when it's placed before an eager eye or given to a hungry ear; the receptacles that are willing to deliver such exhilarating experience to another artist's soul...