The heart, the mind, and the soul

Time passes and I’m completely unsure now at this point what I want.

The head convinces me I haven’t matured,

Girls just want to have fun

The heart yearns for a meaningful companionship.

It’s time to open yourself up 

The war between the two is at a standstill however eventually one stronghold should have bent to the other.

But, whom is deemed victorious?

The head proclaims out of silence, “Patience child. The time will come and enlightenment will arrive.”

Then the heart steps forward and pleads, “Dearest one, understand prospects will show but what if he’s been here the whole time? Why not give it a chance? How many prospects will pass by before you realize you’re now bewildered by options that only confound what is actually right?”

Soul eventually breaks the dichotomy.

It says it’s piece and vanishes back in search.

What the fuck are you holding out for?

 

 

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Loving you is like opening a fridge door

I open the refrigerator door knowing there’s nothing good inside save for leftovers and uncooked groceries.

10 minutes go by and I find myself insatiable for something delicious. So I open the refrigerator door once more hoping there’s something worth eating yet knowing it’s the same as I left it the last time I opened it.

Being with you makes me feel like this damned fridge with nothing good inside. I’m hopeful that each time I open it, something will change, but nothing ever does. I can’t seem to learn and go back for more each time.

I tell myself it’s not worth it. I’ll just leave feeling frustrated and disappointed each time. But like an old habit, I’ll open that door again soon enough and see the emptiness of our relationship filled with rotten leftovers.

Destined to be the other woman

I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer.
At night I fell asleep with visions of myself, dancing and laughing and crying with them.
Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour, and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times.
I was a singer. Not a very popular one,
I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.
But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I’d been living, they asked me “Why?”, but there’s no use in talking to people who have home.
They have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you lay your head.
I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean…
And if I said I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying…
Because I was born to be the other woman.
Who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.
Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

Lana Del Rey.

Ride

What if I’m destined to be the other woman? It breaks me to even have to question this but for the longest time I’ve asked myself why. Why is it that I’m not with him? Picking up groceries holding hands, planning long lead vacations on a crisp Sunday morning, and even sitting down each night with the same person breaking bread? I don’t mean that I’m the other woman to a man who’s married or even in another relationship. I just mean that I’m not the woman he spends his life with. I’m the phase. I’m the adventure until he wants steady.

It’s like I’m fucking diseased with a big fat scarlet letter slapped across my forehead that I’m not perceived as someone good enough. Someone that’s priority. Someone that he sees valuable enough to dedicated a meaningful friendship. Aside from my name, does he even know how I like my coffee? Or which way I always turn to sleep?

I don’t belong to anyone which made me belong to everyone.

Drink after drink, mistake after mistake. I reflect on the patterns and see nothing’s ever right. Bad decisions follow me like the plague, and I ride each of those waves only for a momentary gratification. The high from an addiction, telling myself I’ll be good after this one last hit.

Morning comes and he’s still in my bed; sleeping away without a care in the universe. He wakes up, holds me for a minute and walks out the door with his things.

The text doesn’t come for a few weeks, but then one night when I think I’m back on my routine, my phone beeps and I’m back here again asking myself why.

The music’s gone, my love

The music’s gone but I still feel it all.

The fire’s out but the warmth I once felt still lingers.

These five years have been challenging. We’ve both grown apart in our own way. I fell into a two year relationship that sucked the life out of me, while you figured out what you truly wanted. Through the two years we were apart, you’ve learned to compromise in order to be happy and I’ve learned to let things be instead of beating a dead horse.

Seeing you again, being in your arms again feels so different now. I’m not in love with you the way I fooled myself into thinking I was. Now it feels safe and sacred. I feel protected by a friend who’s loved me once and made me feel secure. I’m proud that you’ve learned to be more of an honest man. You’re doing right by a much sharper moral compass and I’m doing right by chasing what sets me free.

Our song ended 2 years ago when timing redirected us into two separate wavelengths. I committed myself into a serious relationship while you finally got out of yours. Go figure. 

But I still feel it. The buzz and familiar tune of the rhythm while our bodies tango as you hold me now that we’re reunited. The electrifying touch from your fingers as you caress my arms and pull me into a tight squeeze. It still lingers and I still feel it pulsating through my skin. Like listening to an old favorite tune, each beat bringing me back to a moment from our chapter.

But we’re just friends now. My body remembers, but my heart has moved on.

Goodbye dear friend. Let this be our last dance as we venture into a new story with our lives.

My phone will still ring and I’ll still be excited to hear from you, but we both know, it’s time we let go. I think a part of me will always be in love with you because of our unwavering chemistry. Timing and life just always got in the way. So let’s hold each other one last time, listen to the hymns of my soul connecting with yours as we bid our farewell because if timing screws us more than twice, it’s just not meant to be.

Can you separate Success from Happiness?

How do you measure success?
By telling yourself whether or not you’re happy?

So then, how do you measure happiness?
By determining whether or not you are successful?

There is an infinite loop between happiness and success that keeps us in a constant state of doubtful mind second-guessing who we are, where we are, and what we are.

I vowed that 2018 was to going to be the year I give back to myself. The past 2.5 years was dedicated to a relationship that churned me into someone I didn’t recognize anymore. I can fully turn that around and discover the better version of who I am before I meet my next awesome human being.

So then I decided to always remember to stay focused on being happy. I question it every so often but now I can’t help but wonder, do I associate happiness too closely with success? Meaning happiness is contingent on whether or not I’m doing better than my cohorts or excelling in my career?

But it’s really not about that. Happiness shouldn’t be a competition or graded based on performance at work. Work eats up enough of our lives, why do we have to sacrifice our mental state to it as well?

Now, I’m striving to compartmentalize the two to evaluate just how happy I am with myself without attributing it to my work success. There’s so much more to it than that!

I got sick last November and gained over ten pounds, which to me has been more than I’ve gained my whole life in a matter of two weeks. So I got off my ass, kicked my workout routine in high gear and promised myself I was going to keep moving. This past week when I had to see my doctor, I finally felt good about myself when I was asked to strip down for an inspection. There was definition, there was a slimmer me, and a leaner me. Why? Because I didn’t give up on myself and that perpetuated my joy all day.

So happiness isn’t contingent on success. We can find little pockets of it everywhere. How we make our decisions, who we choose to interact with, and where we anticipate we’ll be going for the weekend.

As I draw my bath tonight, spending Valentines completely but sparingly single, I find true bliss in realizing I too, can be happy and it’s not from measuring success. It’s from being grateful for everything I have from my resilience to my peace to my unwavering ambitions.

Cheers.

 

You’re not ready if you’re comparing him to your ex

4 months post breakup, and I’ve found the secret to evaluating whether or not you are ready to date again.

*DISCLAIMER: Post exodus from my 2 and half year relationship, I second guessed if I’ll ever trust my brain to make a right decision again. The relationship wasn’t horrible, my ex wasn’t a piece of dirt, and the breakup rated rather high in the amicable category. Yet still, it was 2.5 years of my life and there were major phases when I was unhappy. Therefore, the looming question stands:  if I gravitate towards a certain type and this is what I am attracted to, doesn’t that just mean I’ll be dating the same person over and over again?

Many people think it’ll be hard to meet new people or even find someone you like. I made that mistake of semi starting to crush on someone without realizing until it was too late that his personality, though coupled with some differences, were all red flags I had for my ex.

I pondered some more and felt that if these were the issues I couldn’t fix with my previous significant other, what confidence would I have that this man would be any different?

Dating someone similar to your ex is like being given the forbidden apple. It looks tasty, new, crisp on the outside with a hint of familiarity as though you know exactly how sweet and delicious it will be. However, would you want to go down the same road and bite into an apple knowing it’s poisonous for you?

More and more I thought, I came to the conclusion I wasn’t ready to date quite yet. I saw my ex in him no matter what. Then I started fantasizing what ifs before anything even started. In my silly imaginations, I already fought with this new guy exactly how I fought with my ex. I grew cognizant that this unhealthy comparison meant I just wasn’t ready. I needed more time to heal, and not to jump on the first thing that filled a void I had.

So, doctor’s orders: stay away from the apple. You’re not quite ready if these new prospects are just fillers for your ex.

 

 

The kind of person you need to be with

I can be a carefree child.

A heartbroken, doe-eyed teenager.

A jaded successful professional.

With you I’m 6 and running wild with inappropriate jokes, giggling til my abs hurt and cheeks burn.

With you I’m 15 and crying about why boys don’t value my attention, listening to your wisdom til my eyes dry and frown wavers.

With you I’m 29 and distilling what it takes to break the glass ceiling, discussing goals for the future til we gulp down single malt misery that we’re losing time as it catches up faster and faster year over year.

With you I’m 6, 15, and 29.

With you I am every age of myself and every facade of who I am. You’ve peeled every layer, knocked down the sturdiest walls, and embraced every molecule that is my being.

With you is who I choose to turn 72 with. This is where I want to be, because only with you am I all these ages and more.

Loneliness in a Relationship

You made me feel like I lived a very lonely life. I felt alone most of the time- even surrounded by friends. When I was with you, there was a part of me that no longer wished to be with you. I questioned myself why at the time but didn’t understand it until now.

3 months post breakup and I’m finally getting to know myself. The person I should’ve been watching out for. In these 3 months I’ve filled it with so many great memories from traveling to the east coast to celebrate my birthday to going out more with people I rarely would ever dream of going out with.

I was itching to run, but at the time I felt so dependent on you. Maybe it wasn’t you who held me captive in the relationship but myself for not being strong enough to move on long after the ship had already sailed.

I was lonely IN our relationship because you didn’t care about me. You said you did, but your actions didn’t. All the times we were hanging out, it was on your terms. Your video games. Your VR set. Your friends because you didn’t like MY friends.

You liked to stay up late watching stupid adult cartoons, so I always went to bed alone. I woke up earlier in the day since I’m a morning person and had coffee while I read. We wouldn’t say hello until 3 hours after the fact. Then I’d be hungry for lunch but you’ve just started your day and wanted your “alone” time to smoke weed and go on reddit.

Reflecting back on the two and half years I spent with this routine, I’ve learned to never compromise my weekends again. Those four walls confined me for so long that I settled. I lost the will to go out and explore novel things. I got so used to the quiet and the same insane thing over and over again that I lost my voice to speak up because I simply just gave up.

Then I met someone. He doesn’t mean a single thing to me – I barely even know him. But we have fun. We talk about work, hobbies… interests…

….then he holds me to sleep at night.

Something you’ve never done. The excuse was always you’re not comfortable and that you wanted to sleep.

I wake up in his arms.

Something that’s never happened to us.

I wake up in his arms every time we sleep on the same bed.

How can someone so new

..already fit better than you?

 

 

The new love trend: Love Bombing

Back in my first couple years post college, I would literally not have anything to do at work and constantly end up falling back to Elite Daily. Now? Given my busy 11 hour work schedule, I get ED newsletter subscriptions curated to select the top articles for that week.

This week, in particular, a post really carved in my stomach and pulled out my gut.

Love Bombing– the new love trend. So first there was ghosting, then breadcrumbing (seriously WTF?) and now there’s LOVE BOMBING. So what the living hell is this?

Taken from Elite Daily: Love bombing is a form of romantic manipulation in which your partner showers you with love from the get-go, only to have things go south fast, according to the New York Post.

Psychiatrist Dale Archer explained in a Psychology Today post that this happens when someone tries to win your affection by showering you with “love, attention, presents and promises about the future.”

Why the sudden urge to punch myself in the throat?

Well, I never knew there was a term for the same cycle I fall into with well, almost every person I think I’m falling for.

They always over-promise, under deliver.

They always shower with so much attention you’re about to drown in their TLC, like it’s waterfall. (yes I went there)

Based on the extended article from Psychology Today, it seems the love bomber is an insecure manipulator that just wants to make themselves seem like a great catch.

First, wow. What a reality check for me.

Second, dear god. This is the REAL fuck boy!! Fuckboys get so much hate for barely texting back, flaking, cute man buns, grungy beards, and massive flirting but at least they don’t swear by a future with you 3 minutes after meeting you and tell you you’re the one.

Lesson learned. Stay the F away from Love Bombers and take things slower…

Shit, can’t tell which one is easier to work on between the two.

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