092319

What's been going on:

= /still/ adjusting in a new job and setup, 

trying to outgrow the things used to

learning a different language of love

= routine's been the most structured one for the last decade

/still/ finding way around

discoveries, humbling discoveries

= never thought of what might be /until these days/

paths have never been an issue /until these days/

options, choices, decisions

= recovering from wounds and pains

reconciling realities about self and the lies that deformed it

searching for the lost innocence on world and humanity

The Woman That You Are

You will never be the woman you envy. 

As you read that line, her face comes to mind. Her expressive eyes, her lips when they curve into a smile. You remember the vigor she has or that gentleness in her when she walks. You remember her bright ideas. You remember her quietness. You remember her enthusiasm at life. You remember the way she is hopeful and light, or that reserved spirit that makes her a mystery. Why does she have to be this feminine? Why does she have to walk on the career path you want for yourself? All these features you remember with ache, all images quiet insults against your confidence. 

She could be anyone to you— the top student from gradeschool, that woman on a famous TV series, your best friend, your love’s past flame, or the woman he loves. She may be someone you know closely or someone who is unaware of you. 

But she’s always there. 

When you shop and look at yourself in the mirror, “do I get to look a little more like her?” or when you run downstairs in a hurry, making sure you project a completely different person, a person who could be more than her or could be from a completely different pole... she’s there. You do your best to take her out of your system, you try your best to find her in you.

But within you is you.

As you remember her, the soul within you hopes for the day you would recognize you. Oh, that you’d see that you have a sweet way in you, that you gasp when you see something you find lovely, or that you’d know that that gentle smile in your eyes is enough of an expression. The woman in you waits for you to express your unique artistry, or that you’d know that your dark eyes which are too deep or too small beholds a million stories. You like dancing but your feet won’t coordinate with the beat of the music, but still, you are your own fun person. Do you recall your best childhood memories running around hiding behind trees under the moonlight? 

You may try to be her, the woman you envy. But within you is an irreplaceable being only you can embody. And you are enough. That soul doesn’t limit you from admiring and crowning other women with words that they deserve, no, you don’t. Your soul even hopes that you could be inspired by her, but your soul hopes that as you recognize all these other women’s feats, you’d recognize yours as well. I hope you see that your cage locks you away from your own light. I hope you see that the woman in you is worth fighting for, worth believing, worth living up to. 

You are your own season. You are your own form. You are your own story. And you, you are enough to be free, to be celebrated, to be loved. 

Just as when you were created, He already knew your inward parts, knew your substance even when you were yet unformed (Psalm 139). You have been created with wisdom. You have been created with love. That makes you enough. 

So, no, you will not be her, but someone better for the life you own. You have always been designed to be you. 

052219

Lately,
= still trying to find reasons for what had been and seeing almost the same shadows cast 
= the darkness is still, but the time is almost dawn, it could be a cause of fear, but the time is ripening
= words and gestures marred the heart-- frustrating dreams that are still unbirthed to, but the resort will always be another step forward, and then, another one
= beauty is relative, but... yes, beauty is relative
= Loneliness is friendly and its subtle smiles keep on bothering me, I would have wanted out, but the conversations with it are quite engaging
= cut ties and deep wounds are drying up
= the skies still close its light and later on, break out as it should

Some Words Long Overdue

It's a Sunday. Early in the day today,  I found myself translating other people's reflections to my own, and I remembered much about writing and expressing, later on finding myself moving along my keys writing these words. I thought of getting my morning chores done before proceeding to talking about what's been going on with me, but I thought better of it. Lately, it's been quite rare to find the words and I realized that I should succumb to their calling whenever they want to be squeezed out.

It has been too much contemplation and reflection on life's ongoings and the lack of it. I have been residing in a sanctuary, waiting to be refueled to get back to life and proper living. 2018 has been my greatest landslide yet, containing some of the biggest decisions in my life, a sickness that did its best to drain me of all my beauty (except that hope was kind of too stubborn it left some remnants in here), and realizations on humans and relations that kind of changed the way my life goes.

To be honest, I'm quite panicky writing this after what feels like endless yesterdays of darkness and dullness, that I'm not even sure if I'm familiar with the dynamics pre-existent on this realm, but here we go.

These are the inscriptions some of the shards of my heart have.

I have been losing my appetite for books. I have been trying to recollect myself to focus on one thing and yet, while my eyes do their best to keep rooted on the pages, my brain wills itself to wander around. It has been a torment to my being to change courses in life on a matter as deep as this, but I'm still not giving up on this one. Not as long as I can identify words and be identified with them.

Anxiety and depression are the daily battles I win over! Drastic is not enough of a word to describe the turns of events that occurred within and around my being ever since A&D chose to surface. There were moments when I felt alienated to my own skin and when I found myself treading upon roads of thorns and thistles... and yet, I am still here, trying not to make this thing the main thing about me.

I am dreaming... again. Finding myself rerouting or seeing new perspectives and it has been quite refreshing-- an oasis to my season. I am so thankful that the sun chooses to shine even when storms and winds come and go as casually as a neighbor bringing some tidings. There are so many things yet to happen and though there had been testimonies of people who gave in to their fears and that these surface my own fears, I try to block that noise out and focus on the beauty within.

Self-discovery is my current game. It gets surprising how effortless this has been, the way I'd go to my heart and perceive how it runs and processes information over, how it just chooses to let go or repress a feeling so strong yet so strange, or the way I look at myself when I let words go in rage or by impulse. I may have profiled too many people in the past and yet, the most confusing soul to comprehend is that one within my skin.

God has loved me with an everlasting love. It's not even a question of whether I'd survive apart from this knowledge. I am completely amazed at how I have been saved from those moments when giving up was a plan and when puzzles chose to be incomplete.


How do I find reasons to still be and to still do? It's impossible to even answer this at all. I would have wanted to be intelligent about it, but I remember those days I spent rolling on the bed, wishing that I'd be home to my heavenly dwelling, and thinking that the only success criterion of my days would be when I could take a bath and change my clothes... when my thoughts lacked reason and my heart lost chances. But this is one thing I'd say, I found my feet still walking even after it has raced on miles of wounds. I am alive and each day requires me to just report and go through the day in whatever form I could present myself with, may it be with my unkempt form or my calculated appearance. And each day that goes by, I find myself in a metamorphic process of becoming, in that, the way I drained of hope yesterday isn't the way I look at things today. There are reasons to thrive and be. Each pain that scratches me off my past reveals to me a new purpose at existence, and for now, I let these little reasons be big enough for me.