I carry my heart in my hands tonight, and I am holding it as if it were a pet or a baby. On nights like these, I force myself to re-learn how loving myself feels like. It's painful, but I have to do it.
Over these few months, adjusting my attitude and making the choice to be thankful for the little things has helped to stabilize both my emotional and mental states tremendously. When D told me I was strong, I didn't understand what that meant. Now I do. Georgie and Abi both told me the same thing, that I'm one of the strongest people they have ever met. I was shocked, then a quiet confidence crept in and told me, "Yes, you can."
I remember how much I'd cry as we lay curled up in each other in bed. Bare skin, raw emotion. I hope he knows I still love him even though we are both far away from each other. Somehow, I feel closer to him than ever. It's now that I love him the most; it's now that I am loving him at my hardest.
Tonight is the last night in this house, and he was a big part of the time I've spent here at 41 Elmbank. The other night, I thought I saw him standing at my door, waiting. There was no one. My heart sank so far down - it was so heavy that I couldn't even cry. So my legs eventually made it up the steps and put me straight to bed. I remember him walking into my room and sitting on my bed, watching film after film on his laptop. I don't think he knows how beautiful he looks when he's content like that. This was the person I fell in love with - someone who is in love with the world, with intelligent narratives, with beautiful images and beautiful people. I'm happy he found me beautiful, and I want him to know that I feel the same way about him too.
I asked Abi this tonight: Can you believe that hearts and relationships are breaking right now? At this exact point in time? Someone broke up today. Someone lost their greatest love today. And that brings me a slight bit of comfort to know that everyone around the world has/is experiencing heartbreak no matter where they are. This phenomenon tells me I'm not alone.
It might be the separation anxiety kicking in. Now that we're moving out of this house tomorrow, my brain is trying to hang onto what seemed like a good thing. It was, but it's gone now. The intensity of my memories with D are almost equivalent to the memories I've had with my girls - both experiences have been dream-like. Only that one ended with a lot of pain, and the other is a living celebration of God's unending favour and love. I can never fully grasp them again, I know, and that's why I have my heart in my hands tonight.
I can't guarantee that he's the first thought I have every morning, but he is definitely the last thing on my mind every single night before I go to sleep. It's either that, or what I should make for breakfast, really.
Thursday, June 9, 2016
Friday, April 1, 2016
It’s getting better.
Some nights I still wish you were here with me, just lying in bed listening to HONNE, the very first band whose music I recommended you. You said they were nice.
We never sent each other the mixtapes we probably ought to have done -just like we never gave each other birthday cards- but somehow, my memory has subconsciously recorded the songs we’ve listened to together. I didn’t think the music you liked was awful. I didn’t think that at all. I found it boyish and charming, which are traits that drew me to you in the first place.
I still can’t listen to JP Cooper’s Colour Me In Gold without having tears fill my eyes, because it holds a genuine moment that we both shared. It felt like a dream, and it penetrates right through my heart, and makes it sore all over again.
I don’t switch the fairy lights on anymore. I can’t enjoy the atmosphere of the room without imagining you walking around in your tracksuit bottoms, laughing with/at me. You still walk around this space in my head, and it smells like blackberry & cassis, lavender and peppermint.
You must know I never meant to mock. I still hate myself for writing that poem.
I will never take the tube to Tottenham Court Road station ever again. You crossed the road without waiting for me, and I remember standing there, across from where you were, wondering what had happened for it to have gotten this bad. That you’d say it was over even before I decided it was. That you wouldn’t let me stay that day, that I had to be punished for making a decision I strongly decided not to follow through with in the morning.
I slept early that night, the earliest I had ever done since I got to university. My head was burning, and I could not shed a tear no matter how much I tried. It was pure emotional fatigue taking its toll on my body, and I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up in the morning. I told you how much I loved you on the day itself but when you replied, you told me your Japanese takeout had taken two hours to arrive. So I fucked off.
I watched the Kurt Cobain documentary the other night and thought of you. I left Abi's room bawling, thinking of how beautiful you are but it wasn't right, because you couldn't share the most vulnerable parts of yourself with me. I was ready to work through the trauma you've experienced in the past with you. I was ready to stick it out.
No, I will never go to that station again because I didn’t even get to look you in the eyes one last time - you kissed me twice, then turned around and left. It was one of the most painful days of my life, and as I watched you walk away, I lost all hope in reconciliation.
I don’t ask ‘Why me’ anymore. I have done the deed by leaving. I’ve been crying, and letting myself feel everything.
It’s getting better slowly, but surely.
Some nights I still wish you were here with me, just lying in bed listening to HONNE, the very first band whose music I recommended you. You said they were nice.
We never sent each other the mixtapes we probably ought to have done -just like we never gave each other birthday cards- but somehow, my memory has subconsciously recorded the songs we’ve listened to together. I didn’t think the music you liked was awful. I didn’t think that at all. I found it boyish and charming, which are traits that drew me to you in the first place.
I still can’t listen to JP Cooper’s Colour Me In Gold without having tears fill my eyes, because it holds a genuine moment that we both shared. It felt like a dream, and it penetrates right through my heart, and makes it sore all over again.
I don’t switch the fairy lights on anymore. I can’t enjoy the atmosphere of the room without imagining you walking around in your tracksuit bottoms, laughing with/at me. You still walk around this space in my head, and it smells like blackberry & cassis, lavender and peppermint.
You must know I never meant to mock. I still hate myself for writing that poem.
I will never take the tube to Tottenham Court Road station ever again. You crossed the road without waiting for me, and I remember standing there, across from where you were, wondering what had happened for it to have gotten this bad. That you’d say it was over even before I decided it was. That you wouldn’t let me stay that day, that I had to be punished for making a decision I strongly decided not to follow through with in the morning.
I slept early that night, the earliest I had ever done since I got to university. My head was burning, and I could not shed a tear no matter how much I tried. It was pure emotional fatigue taking its toll on my body, and I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up in the morning. I told you how much I loved you on the day itself but when you replied, you told me your Japanese takeout had taken two hours to arrive. So I fucked off.
I watched the Kurt Cobain documentary the other night and thought of you. I left Abi's room bawling, thinking of how beautiful you are but it wasn't right, because you couldn't share the most vulnerable parts of yourself with me. I was ready to work through the trauma you've experienced in the past with you. I was ready to stick it out.
No, I will never go to that station again because I didn’t even get to look you in the eyes one last time - you kissed me twice, then turned around and left. It was one of the most painful days of my life, and as I watched you walk away, I lost all hope in reconciliation.
I don’t ask ‘Why me’ anymore. I have done the deed by leaving. I’ve been crying, and letting myself feel everything.
It’s getting better slowly, but surely.
Friday, February 19, 2016
How God has given me poetry to deal with heartbreak
It is Day #3.
In writing, I am able to lift up gathered and ungathered thoughts alike, mapping out order and chaos; structure and splats. In His presence, I can be both. In fact, I can be singular, plural, multiple and infinite. (This could also be because I find the need to assume different egos, and have a crippling inability to laugh at myself.) Yet, whatever thoughts I submit to Him, I know that they will always be 'enough' or 'more'— no less.
But something has been taken away from me. I am now left with less. And that is the difference between God and I. He can take away, and it hurts. But even in my 'lessness' or lack, He tells me I can choose to give/receive MORE, and it will always be enough for Him. My 'lessness' is restored when He reveals to me an understanding of WHY I have less in this season of life. And with that restoration comes peace, which transcends all understanding. Tonight, I realised that I have less because God wants me to give you more. In the leaving, I was loving you the hardest I have ever done. My lack is not closed off— it shows me that in order for my once-stagnant state of mind to grow, I must remain open.
To remain open means choosing to be honest, embracing curveballs that He throws my way, and learning how to deal with them. It means no longer worrying how a perfectly good relationship "turned this bad". Instead of focusing on the erosion and why or how it happened in the first place, I must keep my heart open so that healing can rush in. In the words of David Whyte, this is so I can "assume a larger identity than the person who was first hurt". Hello, Forgiveness.
With poetry, God trains me to pay attention to the details. But He also reminds me to look at the big picture. Without engaging with the two, openness and closeness cannot co-exist, and the poem would not be whole. By the way, I am thankful for you telling me when I lacked tact, even if agonizing over my choice of words has not solved anything.
Closeness, in this case, is 'open selfishness'. It means learning how to establish strong personal boundaries, realising that there is power in proximity. Establishing boundaries, particularly emotional boundaries, is something I have always struggled with. I fall in and out of 'love' easily because I ALLOW myself to trust too quickly. I ALLOW someone else (either a romantic interest or a friend) to trample all over my emotional boundaries, thinking that my warped perception of "loving well = being able to endure and tolerate bad behaviour" can save me. This happens frequently, and you'd think I would have been used to it by now. But no, it still shocks me.
And so it does not mean I need to play a 'role', because I am both weak and strong, and I need a partner who can accept both sides instead of entering a relationship with the lingering need to correct a power imbalance. When I can establish boundaries and learn to be 'openly selfish', I believe I will be able to remain WHOLE even as I am with the OTHER. Only then can both parties stop rearing their power-hungry heads to tear each other down.
Not being able to master the craft of establishing boundaries before I said 'yes' to you has also led to me adopting a fleeting mindset, whereby I subconsciously abuse my own feelings. I do not wish to blame or focus on you as the external factor, who has influenced me in such a way where I second guess my decisions and intentions every single day. There is no point, and I will be over-explaining myself all over again, which you hate. Then again, this piece isn't addressed to you and you alone, it's for anyone who still thinks I'm interesting enough. Instead, I'm going to focus on my internal thought process, which I need to hold to account should I want zero drama upon entering a new relationship in the future. Now back to the mindset.
This mindset I have adopted TRIVIALIZES my emotions felt at the time of hurt, no matter how intense, or how much it made me cry. Yes, trivializing one's feelings leads to a surefire way of forgetting, but it is NOT PROCESSING or DEALING WITH EMOTIONS properly. I forget how I felt almost immediately, and once again, I allow myself to accept unacceptable behaviour, which puts my happiness at stake. This mindset can also be closely linked to cyclical sin: "Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like." (James 1:23-24)
God wants to cultivate an awareness in us, which we owe to Him, ourselves and others. And it follows in the order of this hierarchy: when we are aware and are ready to receive the love God has for us, we are able to love ourselves. In loving ourselves, we are equipped with the power to love others. In this case, I owe it to myself to do everything in my power to never find myself in a situation where I allow someone to step all over my emotional boundaries ever again. Emotional abuse is most often inflicted by an external party, but that doesn't mean I should choose to blame that person continually. But there is still a difference between intentional and non-intentional abuse.
With all this said, besides turning to prayer, friends and family in this time, writing poetry gives me great consolation. Poetry requires one to be accurate so that one may write in a relatable manner, encouraging intimacy with readers, writers and humans alike. This is me processing my feelings on a page. In doing so, it has given me the confidence to FEEL WHAT I FEEL. And this confidence is crucial, because when you stop engaging with your emotions, others can easily manipulate them, causing you to question if the decision you made was right or not. In writing my heartbreak, I aim to dedicate time to refining the lines emotional abuse has blurred.
But for now, I'm going to end my essay with this:
I love you, purely, and simply because I do.
In writing, I am able to lift up gathered and ungathered thoughts alike, mapping out order and chaos; structure and splats. In His presence, I can be both. In fact, I can be singular, plural, multiple and infinite. (This could also be because I find the need to assume different egos, and have a crippling inability to laugh at myself.) Yet, whatever thoughts I submit to Him, I know that they will always be 'enough' or 'more'— no less.
But something has been taken away from me. I am now left with less. And that is the difference between God and I. He can take away, and it hurts. But even in my 'lessness' or lack, He tells me I can choose to give/receive MORE, and it will always be enough for Him. My 'lessness' is restored when He reveals to me an understanding of WHY I have less in this season of life. And with that restoration comes peace, which transcends all understanding. Tonight, I realised that I have less because God wants me to give you more. In the leaving, I was loving you the hardest I have ever done. My lack is not closed off— it shows me that in order for my once-stagnant state of mind to grow, I must remain open.
To remain open means choosing to be honest, embracing curveballs that He throws my way, and learning how to deal with them. It means no longer worrying how a perfectly good relationship "turned this bad". Instead of focusing on the erosion and why or how it happened in the first place, I must keep my heart open so that healing can rush in. In the words of David Whyte, this is so I can "assume a larger identity than the person who was first hurt". Hello, Forgiveness.
With poetry, God trains me to pay attention to the details. But He also reminds me to look at the big picture. Without engaging with the two, openness and closeness cannot co-exist, and the poem would not be whole. By the way, I am thankful for you telling me when I lacked tact, even if agonizing over my choice of words has not solved anything.
Closeness, in this case, is 'open selfishness'. It means learning how to establish strong personal boundaries, realising that there is power in proximity. Establishing boundaries, particularly emotional boundaries, is something I have always struggled with. I fall in and out of 'love' easily because I ALLOW myself to trust too quickly. I ALLOW someone else (either a romantic interest or a friend) to trample all over my emotional boundaries, thinking that my warped perception of "loving well = being able to endure and tolerate bad behaviour" can save me. This happens frequently, and you'd think I would have been used to it by now. But no, it still shocks me.
And so it does not mean I need to play a 'role', because I am both weak and strong, and I need a partner who can accept both sides instead of entering a relationship with the lingering need to correct a power imbalance. When I can establish boundaries and learn to be 'openly selfish', I believe I will be able to remain WHOLE even as I am with the OTHER. Only then can both parties stop rearing their power-hungry heads to tear each other down.
Not being able to master the craft of establishing boundaries before I said 'yes' to you has also led to me adopting a fleeting mindset, whereby I subconsciously abuse my own feelings. I do not wish to blame or focus on you as the external factor, who has influenced me in such a way where I second guess my decisions and intentions every single day. There is no point, and I will be over-explaining myself all over again, which you hate. Then again, this piece isn't addressed to you and you alone, it's for anyone who still thinks I'm interesting enough. Instead, I'm going to focus on my internal thought process, which I need to hold to account should I want zero drama upon entering a new relationship in the future. Now back to the mindset.
This mindset I have adopted TRIVIALIZES my emotions felt at the time of hurt, no matter how intense, or how much it made me cry. Yes, trivializing one's feelings leads to a surefire way of forgetting, but it is NOT PROCESSING or DEALING WITH EMOTIONS properly. I forget how I felt almost immediately, and once again, I allow myself to accept unacceptable behaviour, which puts my happiness at stake. This mindset can also be closely linked to cyclical sin: "Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like." (James 1:23-24)
God wants to cultivate an awareness in us, which we owe to Him, ourselves and others. And it follows in the order of this hierarchy: when we are aware and are ready to receive the love God has for us, we are able to love ourselves. In loving ourselves, we are equipped with the power to love others. In this case, I owe it to myself to do everything in my power to never find myself in a situation where I allow someone to step all over my emotional boundaries ever again. Emotional abuse is most often inflicted by an external party, but that doesn't mean I should choose to blame that person continually. But there is still a difference between intentional and non-intentional abuse.
With all this said, besides turning to prayer, friends and family in this time, writing poetry gives me great consolation. Poetry requires one to be accurate so that one may write in a relatable manner, encouraging intimacy with readers, writers and humans alike. This is me processing my feelings on a page. In doing so, it has given me the confidence to FEEL WHAT I FEEL. And this confidence is crucial, because when you stop engaging with your emotions, others can easily manipulate them, causing you to question if the decision you made was right or not. In writing my heartbreak, I aim to dedicate time to refining the lines emotional abuse has blurred.
But for now, I'm going to end my essay with this:
I love you, purely, and simply because I do.
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