One of the best ways of recovering from anything is through friendship.
Time had passed like a blink of an eye, and yet the very moment I reconnected with one of my best friends it was as if no time at all had passed. And the funny thing is that both of us voiced that very thought, as the penultimate and long-overdue reunion finally happened.
We regressed to those same younger selves that we once were, and yet I reflected on the many ways we had transformed. We returned to the same hallowed halls where we once spent hours and days, and blanketed with memories and time and experience shared everything that has passed since we had went our own ways.
It is fascinating to realize how we were just children at that time we thought we were conquering the world. Perhaps in another ten years again, this realization will happen, looking at ourselves as we are today.
All the "remember when"s of nostalgia, of recounting old escapades as if it were just yesterday, of opening up about failed relationships and worries for the future — and realizing how much we have changed. Him more gentle, me more poised. If anything, I realized we had both survived a long weary journey, and were more laidback, calmer, and steadier from the experience.
I pointed out the full moon as we walked our last moments. "It's giving us its blessing," I joked.
Maybe blessings don't need to really have a point or outcome, maybe they are just appreciating the moments when you have them.
Saturday, October 15, 2016
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
The Giving of Thanks
This Thanksgiving, I had a lesson in giving thanks and a lesson in giving. Above all, I remembered the most important lesson: kindness.
In the past few weeks, I'd aligned myself with an individual who I felt I could identify with, as happens with new-budding friendships. Over time, however, I began to realize at the oddest moments that there was something subliminally toxic about the relationship, or rather about the person itself.
It is an all too common trap amongst us, to bond and enter relationships with an affinity that binds you together — so much that you band together. Against others who are not in your inner circle. For silly reasons, for legitimate reasons, sometimes for no good reason altogether.
Despite my wisdom, I let myself get carried away with the tendency to rant and rave, to mock and laugh. But soon I realized that I was falling into an unhealthy mindset.
Kindness was not smiling benevolently at someone, all the while running a multitude of invectives through one's mind at the same person. Kindness was not running one's eyes over a person's outfit and smirking because you made some judgement based on what you saw on the outset. Kindness was not wishing destruction on the same person you wrapped your arms around, pretending affection.
No.
Too soon I realized that I was positioning myself too close to someone who was full of negative thoughts against almost everyone else. This was someone who took against another person, violently and unfathomably, based on some internal set of twisted contraindications.
I could not understand so many things, yet I kept giving, hoping that something would soften, that some understanding of the basic rudimentary idea of a greater kindness would set in place. It took me waking up in the hospital to be faced with someone's utter self-centredness to come to this realization. Sometimes you need to remove these impurities to be able to breathe freely.
In the past few weeks, I'd aligned myself with an individual who I felt I could identify with, as happens with new-budding friendships. Over time, however, I began to realize at the oddest moments that there was something subliminally toxic about the relationship, or rather about the person itself.
It is an all too common trap amongst us, to bond and enter relationships with an affinity that binds you together — so much that you band together. Against others who are not in your inner circle. For silly reasons, for legitimate reasons, sometimes for no good reason altogether.
Despite my wisdom, I let myself get carried away with the tendency to rant and rave, to mock and laugh. But soon I realized that I was falling into an unhealthy mindset.
Kindness was not smiling benevolently at someone, all the while running a multitude of invectives through one's mind at the same person. Kindness was not running one's eyes over a person's outfit and smirking because you made some judgement based on what you saw on the outset. Kindness was not wishing destruction on the same person you wrapped your arms around, pretending affection.
No.
Too soon I realized that I was positioning myself too close to someone who was full of negative thoughts against almost everyone else. This was someone who took against another person, violently and unfathomably, based on some internal set of twisted contraindications.
I could not understand so many things, yet I kept giving, hoping that something would soften, that some understanding of the basic rudimentary idea of a greater kindness would set in place. It took me waking up in the hospital to be faced with someone's utter self-centredness to come to this realization. Sometimes you need to remove these impurities to be able to breathe freely.
POSTED BY
Saturday, October 08, 2016
The Primacy of Survival
One of the worst things growing up was having the one person who was meant to inspire you to be the best person you can be tell you that you're nothing.
Growing up with an abusive single parent was, as an understatement, unhealthy. I grew up through years of being screamed at, insulted, and demeaned. I was frequently told that I was good for nothing and would always be a failure.
It took a lot of time for me to climb out of that dark abyss. I kept putting on a bright smile on the outside, and when people found out that it was often masking something else, they were frequently shocked. People, I found, were often very good at judging.
Through years of depression, tenuous health, and teetering over that frightening dark place where one often lost the will to live, I still somehow clung on. And to this end, I had to tell myself that I knew that I was doing my best, that no matter what anyone else told me, I was being the best person I could be.
Being the best wasn't a thing of pride. It was of survival. It was a mantra that spurred me on from one slippery stepping stone to the next. Finding what I loved to do and doing it well made me strive to be better. I knew that despite the many people who kept trying to throw negativity at my fight for survival, underneath I was being the best person I can be.
Being the best wasn't a figure of relativity, it was not a ruler to outcompete or compare. It was a basic fundamental of being a good person, of being the 'goodest' but grammatically meant the best.
So whenever I find myself holding up the broken pieces that constitute my life, I remember that even pieced together with visible cracks, I will always strive to be the best; I am the best.
Growing up with an abusive single parent was, as an understatement, unhealthy. I grew up through years of being screamed at, insulted, and demeaned. I was frequently told that I was good for nothing and would always be a failure.
It took a lot of time for me to climb out of that dark abyss. I kept putting on a bright smile on the outside, and when people found out that it was often masking something else, they were frequently shocked. People, I found, were often very good at judging.
Through years of depression, tenuous health, and teetering over that frightening dark place where one often lost the will to live, I still somehow clung on. And to this end, I had to tell myself that I knew that I was doing my best, that no matter what anyone else told me, I was being the best person I could be.
Being the best wasn't a thing of pride. It was of survival. It was a mantra that spurred me on from one slippery stepping stone to the next. Finding what I loved to do and doing it well made me strive to be better. I knew that despite the many people who kept trying to throw negativity at my fight for survival, underneath I was being the best person I can be.
Being the best wasn't a figure of relativity, it was not a ruler to outcompete or compare. It was a basic fundamental of being a good person, of being the 'goodest' but grammatically meant the best.
So whenever I find myself holding up the broken pieces that constitute my life, I remember that even pieced together with visible cracks, I will always strive to be the best; I am the best.
POSTED BY
