There is a question that remains unsolved. Why can't I remain totally free from the memories of this detestable character with whom I severed ties four years ago?
I try to cut him off, but even in dreams, his face would appear, along with scenes and symbols that do not indicate a restoration, not even of friendship, will ever take place.
Time and again I let go of the past, but in a way, the past does not seem to want to let go of me. If I must search for the root cause of all this by digging deep, then I must risk opening my wounds.
Showing posts with label moving forward. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving forward. Show all posts
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Simply Living
Early this year, I created a page on Facebook, "Simply Living", to share some of my own thoughts on making the most of the life I now live by focusing on the things that matter to me.
As I look back over the last few months, I can't help but feel grateful at how my life has moved forward in leaps and strides.
My contentment keeps growing every single day.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Story of "My Life"
Life begins at 40, people always say, and it is with this view that I evaluate my gains, successes, and yes, my failures in the hope that when the big four-oh begins I would have a better picture of what I'd like my life to be.
If my life were a TV series, this would be my review.
To give you the lowdown on the series called "My Life", my leading man of 12 years had already left the show for good. There were other unforgettable tearjerkers, such as the loss of the firstborn at the start of the marriage and years before that, the giving up on the hope of realizing my big dream in another country during my bachelorette days.
In the last two years, I've portrayed my dual-role as a single mother to a tweener and a full-time career woman in seemingly unremarkable episodes that were occasionally saved by cameo guest appearances. I am thankful that my co-stars never failed to remind me that the show must go on no matter what.
Things turned around when 2O11's brand new season saw incremental changes in the storyline, starting with an unexpected source of inspiration. And life was reborn, with the theme, "redemption".
My dear loyal supporters, the ones who have stayed around, were more than pleased. And with the show's new direction, people are expecting changes...will the now-liberated heroine throw a huge party for her friends to celebrate the milestone, blowing out candles on a cake that says “40 and a little bit naughty”?
In the meantime, I've embarked on a minor reinvention of my screen image, favoring an uneven messed-up shorter style and updated make-up. There is NO WAY I will follow in the footsteps of matrons with their distinctive vacuum-sealed expressions concealed by heavy makeup or uncoordinated outfits highlighting convex figures.
In a business where agelessness exacts a hefty price, I have to remember that a personal enhancement program or health maintenance routines can be justified. If do not consider the initiative worth my investment, then how could I expect to fulfill the things that I am interested in but I haven't tried?
If I were to take up pole dancing, climb another mountain, swim alongside a whale shark, publish my writings, start a business, go on a volunteer vacation, produce documentaries or assemble a desktop computer from scratch, I'd do whatever it takes to defy aging. I'd rather live the rest of my days trying, instead of being trapped in a mindset that would banish me and my dreams to some gloomy corner in a squeaky rocking chair.
I would even defy conventions and explore a new approach to my role as a cougar when a new love interest enters the scene. Should the ratings surge, maybe the season finale might feature a second-time blushing bride.
Well, maybe it's a tad too early for that idea to be finally written in the script. After all, I need to remind myself that I do not write it, and that I take my instructions from my Director. Since it is never His protocol to allow retakes, He never lets the cameras roll until He is certain that I am in character. I may be in the spotlight, but it is HIS SHOW, classified under inspirational drama that promotes human value.
On and on, my story will go, with the yin and yang, light and darkness, with lessons from the past as well as insights that will help me move it forward.
It’s never too late to become what I might have been. So life, just like the show, must go on.
If my life were a TV series, this would be my review.
To give you the lowdown on the series called "My Life", my leading man of 12 years had already left the show for good. There were other unforgettable tearjerkers, such as the loss of the firstborn at the start of the marriage and years before that, the giving up on the hope of realizing my big dream in another country during my bachelorette days.
In the last two years, I've portrayed my dual-role as a single mother to a tweener and a full-time career woman in seemingly unremarkable episodes that were occasionally saved by cameo guest appearances. I am thankful that my co-stars never failed to remind me that the show must go on no matter what.
Things turned around when 2O11's brand new season saw incremental changes in the storyline, starting with an unexpected source of inspiration. And life was reborn, with the theme, "redemption".
My dear loyal supporters, the ones who have stayed around, were more than pleased. And with the show's new direction, people are expecting changes...will the now-liberated heroine throw a huge party for her friends to celebrate the milestone, blowing out candles on a cake that says “40 and a little bit naughty”?
In the meantime, I've embarked on a minor reinvention of my screen image, favoring an uneven messed-up shorter style and updated make-up. There is NO WAY I will follow in the footsteps of matrons with their distinctive vacuum-sealed expressions concealed by heavy makeup or uncoordinated outfits highlighting convex figures.
In a business where agelessness exacts a hefty price, I have to remember that a personal enhancement program or health maintenance routines can be justified. If do not consider the initiative worth my investment, then how could I expect to fulfill the things that I am interested in but I haven't tried?
If I were to take up pole dancing, climb another mountain, swim alongside a whale shark, publish my writings, start a business, go on a volunteer vacation, produce documentaries or assemble a desktop computer from scratch, I'd do whatever it takes to defy aging. I'd rather live the rest of my days trying, instead of being trapped in a mindset that would banish me and my dreams to some gloomy corner in a squeaky rocking chair.
I would even defy conventions and explore a new approach to my role as a cougar when a new love interest enters the scene. Should the ratings surge, maybe the season finale might feature a second-time blushing bride.
Well, maybe it's a tad too early for that idea to be finally written in the script. After all, I need to remind myself that I do not write it, and that I take my instructions from my Director. Since it is never His protocol to allow retakes, He never lets the cameras roll until He is certain that I am in character. I may be in the spotlight, but it is HIS SHOW, classified under inspirational drama that promotes human value.
On and on, my story will go, with the yin and yang, light and darkness, with lessons from the past as well as insights that will help me move it forward.
It’s never too late to become what I might have been. So life, just like the show, must go on.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Moving On with 'Moving On'
Took a trip down memory lane once again,though this time it happened quite unplanned on a Friday night when a friend from a distant past invited me over for an intimate post-birthday get-together. She and I had already started catching up on FB, and then months ago met up at a reunion with schoolmates. Even on such short notice, I couldn't pass up the chance to reconnect with another friend whom I hadn't seen since our chance run-in back in college.
I had but spent two years studying at the same school with them; on the other hand, my two friends graduated from high school together and had been a part of each other's lives for a lot longer, hence more familair with each other's histories of ups and downs.
Over heaps of pasta and nibbles of chocolates at my host's cozy condo unit, we caught up with what was going on with our other friends, laughed when we couldn't uncork the bottle of Beaujolais, posed for group shots, remembering at the same time an old photo of us when we were in the third grade. There was that funny moment where no one could recall whose little brother posed with us in the picture. We filled in the gaps for each other whenever trivial details were left out or mixed up. In the end we decided to let forgetfulness carry us through a profusion of memories. This is the year where we were all turning forty and we had just begun reflecting on life, each of us in varying degrees of transition.
After I gave an account of my post-marriage life, my host asked if I had moved on, maybe more than once. I said 'yes', though for an instant I pondered whether my response held a genuine conviction and was not merely self-motivating talk.
To me, "moving on" is a journey. At the far end of the continuum was my grappling with the realization of the loss of shared dreams and commitments, my rage as a woman scorned --- which fury hell hath no (borrowing Jack Sparrow's line). With the passing of time I am spared with a sanity that remains intact and faith that continues to grow. Under the current circumstances I am pushed to balance personal ambition and the obligations of being a single parent and a career woman.
Occasionally, I get stuck with anger or blame along the way, or grow restless to fill the void left by an unfaithful soul mate. However, once I am in the company of other women who have gone through a similar experience, I regain my focus. As with my numerous reunions with female friends as of late, the bonding with these two caring women revived and nurtured.
And so I added, I am in the middle of getting my life back on track. In fact, I made a step past moving on and instead, moved FORWARD, as I talk about my growing fondness for a male friend who acted as my stormbreaker. No need to label the relationship at the moment, I told them, but it was enough that finally I am beginning to feel alive and hopeful that better things can still and WILL unfold wherever the journey goes.
Who knows? Perhaps next time, our dinner conversation will overflow with scoops a of a budding romance.
I had but spent two years studying at the same school with them; on the other hand, my two friends graduated from high school together and had been a part of each other's lives for a lot longer, hence more familair with each other's histories of ups and downs.
Over heaps of pasta and nibbles of chocolates at my host's cozy condo unit, we caught up with what was going on with our other friends, laughed when we couldn't uncork the bottle of Beaujolais, posed for group shots, remembering at the same time an old photo of us when we were in the third grade. There was that funny moment where no one could recall whose little brother posed with us in the picture. We filled in the gaps for each other whenever trivial details were left out or mixed up. In the end we decided to let forgetfulness carry us through a profusion of memories. This is the year where we were all turning forty and we had just begun reflecting on life, each of us in varying degrees of transition.
After I gave an account of my post-marriage life, my host asked if I had moved on, maybe more than once. I said 'yes', though for an instant I pondered whether my response held a genuine conviction and was not merely self-motivating talk.
To me, "moving on" is a journey. At the far end of the continuum was my grappling with the realization of the loss of shared dreams and commitments, my rage as a woman scorned --- which fury hell hath no (borrowing Jack Sparrow's line). With the passing of time I am spared with a sanity that remains intact and faith that continues to grow. Under the current circumstances I am pushed to balance personal ambition and the obligations of being a single parent and a career woman.
Occasionally, I get stuck with anger or blame along the way, or grow restless to fill the void left by an unfaithful soul mate. However, once I am in the company of other women who have gone through a similar experience, I regain my focus. As with my numerous reunions with female friends as of late, the bonding with these two caring women revived and nurtured.
And so I added, I am in the middle of getting my life back on track. In fact, I made a step past moving on and instead, moved FORWARD, as I talk about my growing fondness for a male friend who acted as my stormbreaker. No need to label the relationship at the moment, I told them, but it was enough that finally I am beginning to feel alive and hopeful that better things can still and WILL unfold wherever the journey goes.
Who knows? Perhaps next time, our dinner conversation will overflow with scoops a of a budding romance.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Connections With The Past
I became a member of a popular online social networking website just recently and I was surprised at how easily I was able to find old friends and acquaintances from my distant past. I have lost touch with these people long before the use of chatrooms and cellphones flourished.
Responding to "How are you?" leaves me feeling quite sure about where I should start. With the change of marital status and family roles, of home and email addresses, of jobs held, and of the personal circumstances of my life, I simply could not think of a few sentences to bridge the difference between how they knew me and how I am now. Too much history to catch up with.
Unpleasant memories have also sprung up the moment I locate a faintly familiar name. Then I'd mull over clicking "Add As Friend", because the petty misunderstandings, heartbreak, and eventually indifference, were what kept the distance between this person and me. I'd let a day or two pass, then move on to invite the recipient, deciding that I should not take offence if he or she refuses.
And finally, once I learn of how fortune has deemed others more deserving than me, that's when the sense of lack and inadequacy feeds my inner critic. Couldn't I have enjoyed a little more career success? Seen more of the world? Gain more noteworthy achievements?
Admittedly, these feelings do pass, but all together are just a twinge and disappear underneath the wave of nostalgia and the eagerness to hear happy tales.
I have lived in 7 cities in one country and 3 states in another. What goes with having changed so many addresses in a lifetime, along with packing and unpacking my possessions, is dealing with the flood of suppressed memories when the past starts to catch up with me.
Responding to "How are you?" leaves me feeling quite sure about where I should start. With the change of marital status and family roles, of home and email addresses, of jobs held, and of the personal circumstances of my life, I simply could not think of a few sentences to bridge the difference between how they knew me and how I am now. Too much history to catch up with.
Unpleasant memories have also sprung up the moment I locate a faintly familiar name. Then I'd mull over clicking "Add As Friend", because the petty misunderstandings, heartbreak, and eventually indifference, were what kept the distance between this person and me. I'd let a day or two pass, then move on to invite the recipient, deciding that I should not take offence if he or she refuses.
And finally, once I learn of how fortune has deemed others more deserving than me, that's when the sense of lack and inadequacy feeds my inner critic. Couldn't I have enjoyed a little more career success? Seen more of the world? Gain more noteworthy achievements?
Admittedly, these feelings do pass, but all together are just a twinge and disappear underneath the wave of nostalgia and the eagerness to hear happy tales.
I have lived in 7 cities in one country and 3 states in another. What goes with having changed so many addresses in a lifetime, along with packing and unpacking my possessions, is dealing with the flood of suppressed memories when the past starts to catch up with me.
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