Archive for June, 2011

June 24, 2011

My Life in 20 Boxes

by bye2mrwrong

“Just when I  thought my life was coming together, I realized it was just starting to fall apart”

It’s funny how life sometimes takes you by surprise. You wait for something for so long, you know its coming, you want it to. You make plans, and pace around in anticipation. Your heart palpitates as you wait yet another second, another minute, another day. But when the moment is finally there you feel surprised, taken aback somehow. It suddenly hits you, and you feel like someone just pulled the floor beneath your feet. This is how I felt today.

Today the movers came to take my things. Tears streamed down my face as I watched them swiftly loading the boxes which have taken over my living room for the past couple of days. Within an hour everything was gone. My life disappeared right before my eyes.

I’ve been working very slowly and diligently over the past two weeks; procrastinating as I thoroughly packed the last 10 years of my life in 20 boxes, making detailed lists of what was tucked away in each one. Statistically that’s two boxes per year (yes I can do some math). And all it took was an hour to take it all away.

I don’t know how to look at it. From the empty half of the glass it feels like crap. In 10 years I have only accumulated 20 boxes. That’s not much. Does it show how little I actually spent on myself? Is this the reason why I may have never truly felt at home here in this house?

 From the full half of the glass I could say “Wow, that’s 19 boxes more than what I came here with”. After all I came here with only one luggage full of clothes. And I’m leaving with 19 boxes full of life experiences, and memories which have no doubt piled up.

While I may be on my way to a fresh new start; it’s sad to leave the place you called home for so long, the people you called your friends, the ones you thought were your family, and the life you built up. It is painstakingly hard to hand in the keys and say goodbye.

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June 19, 2011

Moment of Truth

by bye2mrwrong

I just had an enlightened moment. All this time I had this feeling that I had lowered my standards. That I had lost myself in this game of love. I lost the girl who had hopes. I lost the will to have dreams. I lost my self-confidence, forgot who I was and let myself be defined by the men in my life.

But suddenly it hit me. I don’t have to search for me at all, because I never lost me. I’ve always been here. The girl who always believed and the woman who makes her own choices in life.

Yes I came to this country for a man, for love.  But given the chance I’d do it again. Not because a man asked me to, but because I want to, for me. I didn’t do it because I was weak, I did it because it’s what I wanted. I chose to move, I chose to take a chance on love, on life. I chose the road that I walked on. I chose my fate, my destiny, my life. And while I was happy with my man, I was happy with my choice. So yes, some women will make fewer compromises than I. They will follow their career. They live to work. Me, I work to live. And instead of following a career, I followed my heart. A career I can make anywhere I choose. And I chose to make it next to the one I loved.

And now that this story has come to an end; I may be less naïve and trusting than before. And I may be more cynical. I may be more sheltered. And I may be more skeptical. But I am still willing to give up everything for love, as long as in the process I don’t give up the most important thing of all: ME.

I AM…
“I AM A DAUGHTER, A SISTER, A GRAND-DAUGHTER, A NIECE, A COUSIN, A FRIEND. I AM A PARTNER, A STUDENT, A YOUNG GIRL, AND A GROWN WOMAN. I AM CONFIDENT AND SCARED, TERRIFIED AND EXCITED. I AM LOVING AND CARING AND THOUGHTFUL AND HOPEFUL. I AM SICK AND TIRED. I AM SHY AND FRIENDLY, AND CAREFUL AND CARELESS. I AM BROKEN AND WHOLE. I AM MISUNDERSTOOD, MISGUIDED, AND MISLEAD. I AM HARD WORKING AND DETERMINED BUT A LITTLE SCARED ON THE INSIDE. I WISH ON STARS AND DREAM MY DREAMS. I PRAY TO GOD AND CRY MY TEARS. I SMILE ON THE OUTSIDE, WHILE I’M DYING ON THE INSIDE. I LISTEN TO OTHERS WHO WON’T LISTEN TO ME. I WALK ON EGGSHELLS AND I WALK ON FIRE. I BELIEVE IN PASSION BUT NOT TRUE LOVE. I LOVE YOU AND I PUSH YOU AWAY. I WANT YOU BUT NOT SO CLOSE. I AM EVERYTHING AND NOTHING ALL AT ONCE AND ALL I WANT IS FOR YOU TO LOVE ME.

June 17, 2011

The Love of a Father

by bye2mrwrong

The Love of a Father.

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June 15, 2011

Analyze My Blues

by bye2mrwrong

I’ve been thinking lately about my choices in MEN. I don’t really have a lot of experience, after all I have been off the market for 10 years. But from my recent dating expeditions and maybe looking back to the guys I chose when I was 20…it seems that I definitely have a type.

Without a doubt it is obvious to see that externally my men are fair-skinned and blond. Not that I haven’t dated a few dark-haired guys, but usually when I look around my head spins at the site of a blond. I love somewhat long hair on guys, baby face, full luscious lips that just make you wonder how kissable they are, and blue eyes that can make you melt. If it seems like I am describing Brad Pitt that might not be too far from the truth. Admittedly he is my type.

If I could choose a sign, I would no doubt be drawn to the Scorpio men’s intensity, loyalty, obsessive nature, sexually insatiability and passion.

But what I’ve been more fixated on lately is the characteristics of the men I choose: sarcastic, and ridiculously smart, funny, flirtatious, charming, good drinkers, and outgoing. Some were passionate others less. But all were callow and emotionally detached.

So why am I choosing the men that I choose? Why am I flabbergasted when at the end I feel hurt, and lost; crushed when my expectations weren’t met? And how do I know that next time I won’t repeat the pattern?

Those questions make me wonder if our past hinders us or helps us move forward. I mean, if I know what type of men I have been choosing and I know that those men are no good for me, do I now go for the opposite even if I’m not attracted to that, only to avoid repeating the same mistakes and the same men?

June 13, 2011

I Walk Alone on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

by bye2mrwrong

Sometimes when I’m alone, in the dead of the night, I can feel the pain creep in and remind me; physically hurting me, tormenting me, playing its cruel little game with my heart only to crucify me once more. But it seems that sometimes in order to learn we need to make mistakes, and repeat them; until we can truly learn to walk alone without faltering.

I do not want to pick up the broken pieces by myself. I do not want to continue on the road alone. But life doesn’t always give us a choice. Sometimes we are dealt a raw hand. And sometimes “God allows us to feel empty so that we hunger for a greater love”. Until that greater love comes I walk alone.

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don’t know where it goes
But it’s home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of broken dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I’m the only one and I walk alone

My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me
My shallow hearts the only thing that’s beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there would find me
‘Til then I walk alone.

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June 12, 2011

Self-Inflicted Pain

by bye2mrwrong

When we stick our fingers in the fire,why are we so surprised when we get burned?

People hurt themselves in many ways. Some starve their bodies to look beautiful; others cut themselves in order to feel a sense of control. Some get addicted to drugs in hopes of not having to deal with overwhelming feelings. Me, I just fall for the wrong men; and when I fall, I fall hard.

When I fall head over heels for someone I seem to always lose my sense of self. I give my self completely to love and let myself be consumed by its illusion. Insecurities drown me and I willingly allow myself to be bruised and battered. I need to know that someone is desperate to give me their love, that they consider me theirs, and that they will love me when I don’t love myself.

For each man I loved, I wept. At 20, however, I could pick myself up just as quickly as I had fallen. Love was momentary. Moments of lust were fleeting and so in a blink of an eye, like a butterfly I could fly away to my next destination; disappear without worries, without regret, without looking back. But letting go gets harder with age. Love becomes more intense and with it so does the heartache. It’s like that with everything, I think. As children were not afraid to fall and bruise ourselves. But as we grow up we realize the consequences of that fall, and we become afraid of the pain.

Breakups nowadays are different. They hurt more, they last longer. Wounds that never completely heal, scars that are always somewhat visible. Each break up feels more cruel than the last. Each pain feels so hurtful, so real, so intense. Each broke my heart, shattering it into a million pieces. They left me to wonder if I am a failure, undeserving of love; not good enough, or smart enough, pretty enough or sexy enough. They left me staring at myself in the mirror, looking at the fool looking back at me and wondering if their dying love was a reflection of my flaws.

I’m not sure who I’m really whining about: My soon to be ex-husband or Mr. Temptation. Or maybe I’m still just moaning about the idea of love; the idea that fell through just when I started to get my hopes up. As much as it was good to know that I could love again, to do so I had to become vulnerable and open up my heart. And so with love failing me again, it feels like a double break up, double pain, and double the trouble.

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June 9, 2011

Baby Brother

by bye2mrwrong

I interrupt my usual messages to introduce to you today my baby brother. Brown hair and brown eyes, gorgeous face with a dazzling smile, wide shouldered, and approx 6 “feet tall (no he’s not really a baby anymore, and girls this is not an advert although he is available). Today my brother turns 23 years old.  Happy Birthday Baby!

23! Despite that he will always be my baby brother (and in general the baby of the family) that’s basically a man. At that age I had already left home to the other side of the world, was in the middle of my bachelor studies and was in a serious committed relationship.

All grown up he has turned into a fine young lad; cute but modest, intelligent but apathetic, funny but recluse, sweet but cunning, sarcastic but polite. I wish I could say more about my brother. I wish I could tell you stories of the times we spent together, or of the moments that bonded us. Yes I do recall some special moments, some fights when we were kids, some moments of laughter and some moments of tears. Trips we went on, and beers we drank. But having spent the best years of his life OUT of his life I am afraid that I barely know him. I have missed out on those things that bond brothers and sisters together.

Let me go back a bit. When I came here 10 years ago I came as a young girl, barely 21, naive and positive I had a heart full of hope and a head full of dreams. Given the promise of love, courageous and excited I ran toward it leaving everything else behind. 10 years later I am to return with a broken heart and crushed dreams. Back to where I started, to the people and the life I have left behind; people who have not forgotten me, but with time have grown apart.

So do I get a chance to create new memories, to make a new stronger connection with my baby brother? I hope so. But I’m not sure; because as I move back in, he will shortly be moving out, starting down his own journey, just as I did at that age. Going off to study (although not in a foreign land) but in a different city. Maybe if I’m lucky he’ll have some time to spend with his big sister, in between studying, going out with friends and giving time to some special girl he may or may not have.

Whatever happens, I hope he knows I’ve always got his back (and to be honest since he’s so much bigger and taller than me, I actually hope he’s got mine). And more importantly I hope he knows that no matter the distance I’ll always love him, cause he’ll always be my baby brother.

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June 4, 2011

Painfully Committed

by bye2mrwrong

I’ll never be able to pinpoint the exact moment when my relationship with my husband started to become unhealthy. It could have been as early as the moment I met him. It could have been the first time he criticized my weight. Or when he started controlling how I did things in the house. It could have been the first time my tears had no effect on him. Or the very first time he said “get the F@%k out.” Really, at this point it all becomes a big blur. But having been committed to the relationship I accepted it all. I saw only the good, turned a blind eye to the little annoyances, I easily forgave, and I willingly compromised. I was accommodating to a fault. That is until he crossed my red line.

We all have a red line, the moment when blind love is no longer blind. When we open our eyes and say enough is enough. For some it doesn’t take far to get to that border. Others can endure a lot of crap before we give up; before we realize that we’ve past the point of no return; and that there is no other way out. No more fixing, repairing or mending.

It’s hard to say who’s stronger: the ones who stay and stick it out through the thick and thin? Or the ones who leave in the blink of an eye? Commitment after all (no matter the cause) is a good trait which should be valued. But one should never stay committed to a sunk cost when the decision to stay no longer outweighs the expected benefit.

I still wonder sometimes whether given half the chance I would go back to it all, go back to him. If I did I know that it would be just because I’m lonely. Because I need to feel loved. Because it’s easier to go back then to move forward and start from the beginning. And because I have given up hope that somewhere out there, there is a lid to my pot.

But those reasons are not good reasons to go back to something that was sightless and painful. I believe that even if I wanted to go back it would never be the same. Because in this past year I’ve grown and I’ve changed. I’ve learned about my true values. About what it is I want in a relationship and more importantly what I don’t want. I’ve learned what I’m willing to compromise on and where my red lines lie. I’ve learned that I don’t want my needs met only some of the time. I want them met all the time. And I don’t want to stick to the old just because I don’t have something new.

“ I understand with love comes pain, but why did I have to love so much?”

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