Posts tagged ‘Nostalgia’

October 19, 2011

Returning To The Place Where It All Began

by bye2mrwrong

I had 8 days to spend back there, in the place where it all began and the place where it all ended. The place that built me and broke me. The place where I turned from a girl into a woman, from a woman to a wife, and from a wife to a divorcee’.

I had 8 days to pass there, and where once 8 days would have seemed like a flash; in a moment of fear and dread, 8 days seemed like forever.  Wanting to return before I even got there, missing my family, my friends, my room, and my home before I event left; the tension and the fear made me suddenly realize how fast I have adjusted to my new life, to my new surroundings. How quickly I already felt at home in this new place.

Funny how so many things in life are taken for granted. How I didn’t even realize how quickly I fit straight back in. Knowing the circumstances of my return, and that it was not me who wanted to leave in the first place, I never thought I would enjoy myself as much as I do in my new life. I never thought I would fit quite so easily without skipping a beat. I never imagined myself falling straight on my feet, ready to run again.

But apparently all I needed was to go back to the place where it all began in order to realize I am in a much better place now. I am much more content. Much happier and relaxed.  They say that “one way to appreciate what you have is to imagine yourself without it.” I guess as much as I took being back home for granted, imagined it would never suit me, or satisfy me… I now realize I love being back. It doesn’t mean I am never nostalgic, or sad, regretful, or reminiscent of my past; but it means I am also coming to terms with the new place I am in, my new life, my new beginning.

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May 1, 2011

Trapped Inside My Mind

by bye2mrwrong

Emptiness, silence, fear, dread, and longing wash over me like a wave at sea. Instantly, I realize why it took me so long to make up my mind. Why I’ve been so persistent in holding on. Why I couldn’t just let go.

As I stare around this little apartment, the windows, and these walls that have confined me, caged me in, and filled my heart with darkness for so long, suddenly I feel like they are my only source of light. Despite the suffocating feeling that this house has caused me, when I felt the walls caving in, trapping me inside; a bizarre melancholy takes its place, now that I know that soon I’ll be gone. I find myself looking around the room, and a peculiar emptiness overcomes me.

I realize that I will miss everything in this house. The peachy colors that paint the walls, the way the rug feels under my feet, the large windows which in summer provided me with sunlight till the late evening hours, the cold breeze in the bedroom that gave me a breath of fresh air, the small bathtub which I bathed in millions of times, the little kitchen which I’ve spent hours in cooking, the pictures that cover the walls, the tiny balcony with its beautiful view of the city, this home that was mine.

Maybe it’s not the house that I’ll miss, but only the memories I  we made here, as girlfriend and boyfriend, as husband and wife. As I walk away from this house I am severing the ties with my EX-husband, with my old lover and friend, with this life. I am released from my cage, but I am still handcuffed. My soul is not yet free and I have not yet found the key to unlock the door and break down the barriers, the frustration, the memories and the pain.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
“…A bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage…
A caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.”

Maya Angelou

April 5, 2011

The Idea of Love

by bye2mrwrong

It was on an unexpected day that I fell back in love. It came in the form of a handsome young man (a few years younger than me), with blond hair, full luscious lips, and the most beautiful and intense blue eyes. He made me feel alive once more. I don’t know if it was because he made me smile again, or because he paid me a few compliments and made me feel desirable, or just because he called and was intent on taking me out. But the moment his lips kissed mine I could not help but fall deeply in love. I felt those butterflies in my stomach again. The ones I have so longed for. I suddenly felt a flame within my soul lighting up again, a desire within my body to live, to love.

I know now that it wasn’t him who I fell in love with. We were never meant to be together (at least not for long). It was the idea of love that consumed me; the thought of not being alone anymore, of having someone to hold who would hold me back, of having someone to go out with, to laugh with, to talk to.

But sometimes an idea is bound to stay just that. And as fast as the idea came, it disappeared. And I was left once again with a distant memory of love. But after everything I’ve gone through, I have no regrets of this quick love that has come and gone. I am happy that I was I mean I am able to fall in love again. Maybe it wasn’t even love. Maybe it was lust. Or as everyone has termed it “the rebound”. But whatever it was it was good while it lasted. It made me feel alive and happy.  And it made me realize that I can trust again. I can be vulnerable, I can take risks and above all I can still feel.

March 16, 2011

My Perfect Ring of Scars

by bye2mrwrong

I’ve been asked many times why I still wear my wedding band. My husband took his off a few months ago. Till this day I wonder if he did it because he met someone else, was told it was inappropriate, or maybe just because he didn’t want to be reminded of me every time he looked down at his finger.

I’ve talked to people who told me they took theirs off as soon as they realized that the marriage was falling apart, that it wasn’t worth anything. Me, I don’t want to take mine off. And if I don’t want to I shouldn’t have to, right?!

First of all, it was an expensive ring, and it’s stunningly beautiful. It took me and my husband months to find the perfect matching rings. We searched for it high and low, in 3 different countries, until we laid eyes on the just the right one.

Second, sometimes when I’m going out and I get hit on by ridiculously drunk, or just horrendously ugly, stupid or just not my type men; I lift my hand up and explain that I’m married. I know, I know it’s a little bit of a white lie since OK officially I am still married, but in reality I’m actually practically divorced. But it gets me out of difficult situation easily without breaking any hearts.

But it’s not the beauty of it, or even its practical use that keeps me wearing it. It’s also not because I’m still partly taken. Definitely not. It’s just that this ring is a reminder of who I used to be, of my life before. Of the man I chose and loved. Of the dreams I hoped for with him. It’s a reminder of the extremely young, innocent and naïve person I used to be, and the broken image of that person that is left now.

I’m not saying I will never take it off. Maybe one day I won’t have the need any more to be reminded. Or maybe I will be OK with moving forward, without looking back. And of-course if another man comes along and replaces this ring with another, then I guess I won’t mind.

But for now it is my perfect ring of scars.

March 10, 2011

My Favorite Mistake

by bye2mrwrong

Every story has an ending. We grow up hearing about the fairy tales. Those are the stories with the good endings, the happily ever after. But life is not a fairy tale.

Although no one has ever escaped the inevitability of a heartbreak, and many loves end, for a long time I felt that this ending was cursed. This love as long as it was… felt too short.  Now as we look into each others eyes, there is no love. There are only two strangers, and the fire that burned between us has died.

There was a time though that I walked down the streets searching for your familiar face within the crowds. A twist of longing burning at my side left me with an old craving that wouldn’t leave me in peace. It destroyed my nights leaving me awake to ponder as a wave of wild fantasies flew through me and I lost reality for however brief a moment. As my head dropped on the pillow each night, I wondered what I was searching for, what I was chasing after. As I lay naked in our bed, I was reminded of how you invaded me, desecrated me. And as I closed my eyes I tried in vain to remember your face, the touch of your skin, and the softness of your lips. I imagined you holding me, loving me all over again.  All I wanted then was to touch you, just one last time. I wanted to feel you close to me.

But when the dawn finally came, an old memory arose and reminded me… debts cannot be paid with empty hands. You have been expelled from my sky, and words cannot cover the silence or sadness in my eyes. All that is left now are a few moments in my imagination to hold on to. And although I have not forgiven you, you will always be my favorite mistake, a scar branded into my soul. With pain in my heart and tears in my eyes I say goodbye to life I thought I had designed for me. I have accepted my new fate. Here our paths part.

February 27, 2011

Wishful Thinking

by bye2mrwrong

It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all

The human brain is a wonderful organ. It’s verbal, logical analytical, intuitive, creative and emotional. But sometimes an overactive mind can start playing tricks on us. We find ourselves caught in the shoulda, woulda, coulda thoughts about a past we no longer have control of, reliving moments and events we should have long ago left behind. At other times we find ourselves caught in the realm of “what if”, daydreaming, imagining and fantasizing of an alternative future we could have only hoped for.

I’ve been pondering over the “what if” question for some time now. My husband’s affair as well as our separation has taught me so much and I have grown from it. But it makes me wonder: if I’ve grown, learned and matured from this experience then he must have too, right?! So what if now a wiser man and wiser women would meet again? Could they be happy together? Would they now withstand the tests laid down before them? What if we stayed? What if we tried?

There is something strangely passive and even abusive about the “what if” question. All of these ‘what ifs’ usually amount to nothing. Yet the thoughts come uninvited and always seem to hold such force on us; haunting us, spinning in our minds, weighing on our hearts.

One of the saddest things in a break-up is the imaginary future that you’ll never have with the person who you have now left behind. This inability to accept incompatibility or just the fact that we had grown apart as individuals is emotionally draining. But I know now that it is not him that I miss or love but the concept, the picture I had in my mind. So I realize that while some people think that it’s holding on that makes one strong; sometimes being strong means letting go.

February 23, 2011

Nostalgic Moments

by bye2mrwrong

Don’t stress over people in your past, there’s a reason why they didn’t make it to your future.

I think a defining moment in one’s life comes the minute we are able to let go of the past, live in the present and look toward the future. When we are able to stop beating ourselves up over what might have been.

But sometimes the shoulda, woulda, coulda cannot escape our minds, and fills our thoughts with grief and remorse. Vulnerable and frail, I frequently wonder about what could have been. My thoughts are drawn to those picture-perfect memories which can never be forgotten, and I succumb to an aching feeling that what’s past is past forever, and nothing can turn back the hands of time. Unable to let go of the past and that false sense of nostalgia which haunts me, I am lost in a perfect state of delusional denial.

Doubt and fear swallow me whole and I find myself trying to find fault in me. Was I good enough? Did I do my best? Could I have tried harder? I realize how unhealthy dwelling on the past is, but rummaging through our past, with melancholy and regret is nothing but unnatural. The past has value, and should not be discarded entirely; but there comes a point when it is time to stop obsessively ruminating, time to stop holding on to a past we have no control over, time to learn the hard lessons we have been taught, and permit ourselves to move on.

As hindsight is 20-20, it’s easy to look back and see what we coulda, shoulda, woulda, done.  Anyone can look back and point out past imperfections. We could drive ourselves crazy by forever wondering how we could have prevented something from happening. But how far can these questions go? (i.e. What if he never would have cheated? What if I never would have met him? What if she would never have been born?). And where is that getting us? The shoulda woulda coulda song will never lead to anything, and should be banned from our minds. So today I am finally able to let go of regret, accept the present, and let the past rest in peace.

February 12, 2011

Silence

by bye2mrwrong

After writing about my monster in-laws, I guess it’s only logical that I write about my husband, my soon-to-be ex. But although many words float in my head, spinning round and round, I cannot seem to write them down. Words cannot describe how I feel.

I keep wondering about the kind of man my husband was, and the monster that he has become. I think about the kind of love he gave me; controlling, and blinding, never enough. It was an abusive love, bruising and harmful, bittersweet. Knowing now that “the one who loves the least controls the relationship” and seeing how he controlled the younger version of me, I have to wonder if maybe it was not love at all.

On my weak days I hate. I hate him for what he has done, and what he continues to do. For the blame and guilt he let me carry on my shoulders. For the affair and the behavior that came afterward. For not having fought for us. For manipulating others to believe that he tried.

I hate myself for the weakling I have become; without him, because of him. I hate that I let him control me and manipulate me. I hate how I let my relationship sabotage my confidence and my pride.  I hate feeling like a failure, ashamed that I was not good enough.

On my strong days I love. I love him for what he was for me and for the 9 years in which he made me happy. I love him for everything that I have learned from him. I love the blissful ignorance which protected me for so long. But above all I love me for the woman I have grown into because of him, without him.

While my thoughts of him still linger, we have long since parted in silence; but tears and pain have not taken away the longing memories and false sense of nostalgia I am left with in the silence of the cold and lonely nights.