I have lived in the South for the most part of my life. We moved there from the city and were one of the first houses in the subdivision. It took at least an hour from Makati on public transport but nothing beats what back then was fresh air and a full view of both the sunrise and sunset. A bonus was the great vista of Laguna Lake on a clear day.

The many empty lots and open spaces allowed me to have a childhood very few city kids had. I climbed the camachile tree in the next lot and ate aratilis as I picked them off the tree. The grass filled spaces was great for taking my father’s goats to pasture, which I took to mean feeding them branches of Ipil-ipil leaves that I broke off myself.

I had the time of my life playing street games. My friends and I used a tabo to wet the uncemented village streets for patintero lines. This was a game I loved both for the short distance running and the excitement of getting caught crossing between lines.

Then there were the afternoons running around yelling “Monkey!” and “Annabel!”, which was way more fun than taking the afternoon nap my mother kept hounding me to take.

But not all street games were for me, I could only watch the neighborhood kids dig up little holes in the ground and throw sticks around while shouting “Syatttttooo!“. I never wanted to use my slippers and go barefoot for Tumbang Preso. Both games were a bit too rough for me but then again I’m only useful until number 2 of Chinese garter, so it wasn’t like a gender thing. I was a klutz on both ends of the spectrum.

When I had no playmates I cut up leaves and cooked and plated them on my plate set. I minced and sliced and pretended to serve food to dolls which I had by the dozen.

But my favorite activity of all was catching dragonflies. I stealthily maneuvered through grass and weeds attempting to catch those beautiful colorful creatures. I marvelled at how their wings caught the light and burst into exciting colors, I fed them little leaves imagining I was their benefactor. When I couldn’t catch one, I’d take a break by sipping the sweet nectar off of the neighbor’s santan plants before setting off again to my quest. I loved those days.

While on a walk recently I caught sight of a dragonfly and was reminded of my childhood. Days that will never happen again, days that are just in my memory.

They say when a door closes, a window opens. Well, what if a door closes multiple times and you run out of windows to open? What happens then?

Do you fight to get to the door before it shuts completely? Do you open a sunroof? What if all hinges are rusty and won’t budge? Do you let go?

I’ve accepted that I won’t get what I want. I’ve accepted that I’m in for several months of lonely. I’ve prepared for the pain. But like love finding its way to me after so many years, it has shown me a way back.

As I write this I cringe at the thoughts that ran through my mind. I had prayed for hope, I had imagined a dream, I got what I want but it was a reality that I had been avoiding.

Now I think of songs about loss, of lost chances and of endings.

Love managed to track me down and break me. Now I have a chance but it’s not skewed in my favor. One can argue it’s better than nothing but the impending doom of loss is something quite difficult to even glance at.

It’s like discharging gunfire while you’re fatally wounded. You know you’ll die but you fight it ’til you can anyway.

I won but it was a hollow victory, a temporary reprieve like an ax waiting to fall and cut my head off.

I thought it was lack of strength filled in with persistence. I thought kindness had weeded out impatience. I was happy, I thought I had conquered but it’s just a respite from execution, a stay.

Beggars can’t be choosers but is it worth being happy at all? Should I just cry it out and be grateful, or should I fight for what is mine, what was promised, what was written?

What does one do when love’s victory is not enough? I’m hoping for resilience, that I will look back at this and see it hasn’t been bad. I look forward to forgetting. I look towards smiling at the memory. But I’m dreading the last kiss, the last touch, the last look. Maybe close my eyes and pretend it won’t end.

I learned that I do need someone. I learned that my someone should be strong. Strong enough to deal with my baggage as I learn to accept and deal with his. I learned that sometimes dealing is not the best course to take.

I learned that I can change for the one I love. I learned that change is not always the best option. Sometimes it’s okay to just be you.

I learned to give more, and also ask for what I deserve. I learned that what I deserve will not readily be given.

I learned that it’s okay to ask for help, but help is not always needed so it’s okay to just be there.

I learned that love is not always enough to get you through the rough patches. You either bulldoze your way through or make a decision that will not always guarantee happiness.

I learned that happiness is not forever but it’s okay. I must learn to navigate through certain days of my life without it. I learned that losing someone is not the end, it is also a beginning.

I learned that pain is inevitable and blinding pain is enlightening. I learned that in pain there is strength. I am stronger and can now see clearer. I learned that I need to be me, look out for me and seek what in the end will make me happy. And I learned that it may not be you.

I’ve been thinking about butterflies lately. Never really thought I had them. Sure, I rearranged many of my days to fit yours and would fly to you when asked but the flutters, the stomach flips, the breath- taking moments, I don’t really think I had them.

I remember coming home one day and running to you on the couch. I remember being giddy with love. I remember the joy of just lying in bed talking. I remember your arms around me even in sleep. I had safety, I had security , I was home. In most ways, that was better than butterflies.

I would drown in your eyes when we talked then you’d say something so unadulteratedly idiotic that would bring me back to reality. I would touch your face and stroke your hair and know with certainty that I belong there. I would always want our skins touching in sleep because I always want to be together.

Right now is one of my worse realities. Not having eyes to drown in, not having mindless chatter to listen to, not having you.

I had something better than butterflies but I would gladly settle for just one right now. Even half a flutter, even half a flip, even just to catch my breath.

Since I’ve lived a good number of years and so much shit has been going on in my life these days, I think it’s just apt that I count down the most WTF moments in my years of existence. These were chosen randomly, are by no means in order nor the worse that have happened. So please consider this a living and breathing piece. Related posts may be seen in the future.

1. April Fool’s Day 2016

“Ma, C is pregnant”. In the history of WTF moments there is no denying this is a chart buster. Imagine being told your spawn has spawned. I mean WTF?

2. Job interview 1997

I was condenscendingly asked by the interviewer if I thought my decision to be a single mother was right and if I did right by my baby. Seriously???

3. Thesis preparation, 1992

Before receiving money to conduct my undergraduate research, my mother deducts the money she paid to buy me shoes and dinner a few days before. This is something I  swore not to do to my kids. I would never expect payment for something that a parent should be providing anyway.

4. UPRHS 1982 – 1986

A school employee steals copies of exams from the school mimeographing machine and sells it to one particular student. I was accused of being the student because of proximity to the employee. I could hardly pass Geom and Trig without heavy tutoring from my brother, exam copies would’ve definitely helped.

5. Summer 1985

Then boyfriend had “fun” with a friend’s sister. Everyone felt guilty about knowing, no one knew I knew.

6. 1993

He said he loves me, wanted to introduce me to his family only to find out there was another girl in the picture that was being booted out to accommodate me. Wow!

7. 1998

I was his princess, was loved by his entire family and was introduced as the woman he wanted to marry. Trouble was, he had two other princesses.

8. 1999

I slept with someone I shouldn’t have slept with. Twice.

9. Also 1999

I had a crush. We made out. It was epic.

10. April 29, 2016

“Hi Rowie.” Destiny decided to smile, Fate blew kisses my way and the goddesses rained dewdrops of good fortune on me. What do I do? I swat the kisses, ignore the smile and wipe off the dewdrops. But I’m not done yet, not ready to throw in the towel. There is hope, Cupid’s arrow is still in my butt.

To say the situation has escalated is a major understatement. Consistency was attributed hastily and in the end was an inaccuracy.

I’ve always been private, never wanting to talk about things that bothered me, preferring to listen than to unload. Well, I should have stuck to that, I should have just lived out my truth. But in the desire to have a healthy relationship and because of months and months of prodding, I gave in and opened up. So here we are.

It is to my detriment that I changed my ways to welcome you in. It is on you though to make me believe that it was okay. I started talking in the belief that there will be an ear to listen. I wasn’t even expecting a hand to hold or arms to embrace me and tell me everything will be okay. I didn’t need that, have never.

When is talking/venting/airing it out involvement? Is it the sharing of information that was never a part of the bargain? Is it all about the goods and positives then? Why would you open a window yet close the door?

I’m a warrior and I go through battles. If you find it too much to stand by and watch, or it makes you weak-kneed just looking…then move along, don’t even stand by, there is no need for you to be here.

I have a life to live and I’m living it. It is not always rosy. It is not always happy. It is LIFE.

 

 

So I’ve wasted a few months of paid online real estate on a blog I hardly update. To be fair,  the intention has always been there, several times a week even…except when the dark days hit me.

When I came back from the whirlwind that was Peru, I was punch drunk with fatigue. The thirty hour flight told me to expect jetlag of the highest order. What I didn’t expect was being curled up in fetal position for days not having any desire to move, live nor even breathe. I was dead.

Not knowing what it was, I chalked it up to lack of sleep and laziness. I wasn’t feeling anything, I was dead.

I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t hurting, I wasn’t emotional…I was just dead.

When I finally mustered up the energy to get off bed, I found an email telling me about a “phenomena”. I was told to expect depression and a state of mourning after Peru. Now, WHAT THE FUCK???

Depression was someone I’ve never met. I’ve heard about him, read about him, even saw him once in a while with friends. I knew him from afar, we were never formally introduced and well, me being who I am, I never really thought we’d run in the same circles.

Not really being a very sociable person to begin with, I had no intention of being friends with D.

While the email explained a lot, it didn’t really help much. Still being dead at this point, I wasn’t panicking, I wasn’t confused, I wasn’t sad. I could still eat, put on make up, binge watch. But I wasn’t sleeping and I wasn’t working. Not wanting to explain myself to anyone, I lurked at multichats and didn’t talk to any of my friends, I didn’t tell the goofball I was dating that he was with a walking corpse, I didn’t tell A.

I withdrew and stopped functioning. And it cost me my job.

Then the tears came, and the panic, and the hysteria. I told my friends I lost my job. I wanted to break up with my boyfriend. I wasn’t angry but the warrior in me wanted validation. I needed a homerun.

Now the tears still come at random times of the day, I still prefer to be alone (always have). I have sought help. I get little bursts of energy and use it as wisely as I can. I received support from my manager, can think a bit more clearly now. Goodwill from friends have upped my spirits. Support from the goofball has been consistent.

So not today D, we won’t be friends. I do not accept you in my life. I will get better, in every way possible.

And, I am writing again.

I’m crying inside. The kind of tears that are not bittersweet but downright lonely as f*ck. The start of our story, where I  first saw you and heard your endless prattle, where destiny smiled and decided to throw us a bone…it’s gone.

It was the place where I first looked in your eyes and thought, I would like to keep looking. More than 12 months later, your hand is still the one I’d like holding me through this. 

I went there this morning because I was feeling down. Needing some pleasant solitude, I walk over. I could not believe my eyes when I saw the boarded up windows and locked doors, I had to look closer and convince myself. I couldn’t walk away. I needed you to see it with me.

Is it fate cutting us lose, telling us to go our own way? Together? The fact that neither of us saw it coming says something. And yet you joke.

Again with the gruelling flight!

Some smartass check in dude decided to put me in a window seat and I felt the last vestiges of human decency leave me whenever I needed to get up and dislodge two people from their uncomfortable airplane seats. Never mind, I needed to get home and nothing and no one can stand in my way…literally.

I have been so tired lately that I fell asleep waiting to board. I was the last one out of the plane from Lima and I paid for it dearly in TSA time! I was even asked for details in LAX because I couldn’t recognize my own luggage. Ah, the joys of travelling as a single Asian woman.

But I am home now, with a month long cough from Lima, more than a few aches and pains, half a pair of birthstone earrings (lost them at the airport) and fond, fond memories of the past month.

I got a bit used to being alone. I now look forward to solitude, peace, and space. I need to reconnect with myself and account for past (ir)responsibilities. I don’t feel the need to come back to the old me. I want new focus and direction. I need a new purpose. I need to find a new north. I need to find home.

I miss my freedom, I miss the feeling of starting the day with nothing specific, I miss being alone with my thoughts. I want to travel by myself like I used to. I miss making decisions without the need to consider someone else. I want to feel without being asked why and I want to do without being asked how. And I don’t like that the next statement should be an apology and “I hope you understand. ”

The last year has been great, but I’m now paying the price for all the things that got dropped in order to make it so.

 

 

I have often wondered how people can keep on talking, especially when silence is required (by me, mostly). I always feel bad for whoever sits beside me because they’re in for several hours of quiet.

I recently met a girl I really liked and we became instant friends. We sat beside each other during trips, while working and during meetings when open discussion and free speech was encouraged. There was always dead air. She has to physically poke me to bring out a few words, which almost always starts with a half irritated “What?”

My social awkwardness has never been more evident than now, being with 12 strangers for a good few weeks, meeting new people every single day, feeling the need to say a hearty Hola! to strangers on the street. And don’t even get me started on the kissing, he kisses, she kisses, we kiss, they kiss, the amount of cheek action I’m getting is obscene!

There was one meeting where I didn’t move from where I was but was attacked with an open armed “Rowieeeee”, puckered lips and all. I should be glad for the human interaction but inside me the devil has his pitchfork ready to skewer those unwanted lips.

Still, I appreciate the cordiality of people and the patience of friends. I may struggle at finding the right greeting for the time of day or get flustered at the thought of starting a conversation with someone but it becomes worth the effort when you get past the awkward stage and can start to show your real colors and just sit in stillness. You know we’re good friends when I could nap in your presence.

So before I head off to snooze-vill, I spread my arms, grab hold of your shoulders, get my best fish lips in order, and Ciao!