embracing yourself, lessons, life, love, pep talk, thoughts, words

Self Pep Talk

Never be an afterthought
Not anyone’s fair weathered thing
Never falter in your own self worth
Not even if youre not standing

You yourself deserve your own love
More than anyone else you know
For in your own love there is commitment
In ways no one else will give you

You deserve to be the best thing
You deserve to be the only thing
You deserve to be the fighter
You derserve to be the winner

Never settle for anything
Not unless its what you want
Never accept anything less
Not until its what you demand

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lessons, life, love, ramblings, relationships, romance

Keeping the Love

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It is one thing to discover love, it is an entirely different thing to try and keep it. For most of my life I have walked around fantasizing over the whimsical kind of real love and what that might be like. To love someone so completely and unconditionally, to breathe and live another person. To surrender the only piece of floating wood big enough to carry a human body for the other person, no second thoughts, while you slowly die into numbness in freezing water, or less dramatically, maybe even be willing to movie cities, or quit a job, or break social norms and to fall utterly head-over heels in love with someone outside of your social status…..you know, all the novels and hollywoodesque cliches. The movies show you all the big picture stuff. The grand gestures, the key interactions, the important one liners that capture you and you cry when she cries because really if that’s not true love, what is? The reality of the matter is, and trust me I know, the grand gestures are the easy part. The making a big decision to be with someone come hell or high water is easy, because the one decision you make beforehand is whether you love this person that much or not. But it is the nitty-gritties of continuing to love the person, both of you with your every day flaws and the off-shoot decisions you have to make once he has decided to get on the roof of his car by your window with the boombox blaring a cheesy love song that will really get you. I have experienced love, like never before. The cant bear to be without you, the I would rather be lazy on a couch with you than attend the hottest party in town, the you are the most adorable person even when you take a piss kind of love. The kind that only seems to keep getting better with time.The kind I imagine is generally a unicorn in reality. It is the most wonderful thing to have happened to me. You begin to discover emotions within yourself you never imagined you were capable of. You discover all these facets of your own personality, its even better than the hour long session with Dr. Preuss. But then the thing that will get you will be the differences. After all you are two separate individuals. You have two different needs, wants, values, what you consider right and wrong, where that line blurs, and you will certainly have very different expectations of each other. While being in love with the most wonderful man, it has also been a time I have most struggled with my own values and expectations and aligning it with his so that the situation ends up being the most sensible and fair for both of us. We’ve both taken that route – the we are old enough to be wiser and more practical about this approach and it is exactly what is killing it. Certain approaches he has to the big questions in life I will never understand and certain values I think he needs to adopt he finds incomprehensible. We try to meet half way and I retreat because its too difficult. Because to be in love like this isn’t suppose to hurt this much. I go back to my whimsical notion of love, to have a man send me flowers just because it is Wednesday, or get up on stage and announce to the whole world how much he loves me in terrible singing. Because I dont imagine Richard Gere would have climbed up Julia Roberts fire escape only to tell her ‘okay now that you’re fine, I have to think of how best to hide your history before I can even present you to society’. Because the reality is, that would have continued to be an issue and had there been a sequel she would have had to deal with that and maybe they would have decided it was in fact easier to go their own separate ways. But the movie leaves it open ended because you and I know that love like that will overcome any and everything. Alas! that isnt true. Against my hoping and praying that it was, it isnt. Because while love like that can be discovered, its keeping the love that becomes the hardest thing to do.

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anecdotes, life, stories, words, writing

Nerves

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“I am sorry…I…I….sorry,” she stammered as she scrounged around in her sack of a handbag, digging around to find whatever it was she was going to present to me. One by one she started to take things out of her bag, a pen, two pen, few pencils, a really old motorola phone – I didnt even think these kinds existed anymore – a small opaque plastic bag, which I didnt have to peek inside to know the contents of. The wafting foul smell of beetle nut and lime told me it was doma*, a Bhutanese favorite snack. She paused when she put it out onto my desk, and looked at me for a second like she was going to offer me some, but decided against it to continue her search through the abyss of her magical bag – it was amazing how many things fit in it.

“Ahh….here it is,” she exclaimed and handed me a tiny tiny USB drive. “Can you please open it on your computer?” she mumbled. Some consultant I thought to myself. It was one thing to ask for a favor and help her with her work, it was an entirely different thing to actually carry out the work for her.

“You see, I am running out of time, I am running out of time,” she repeated. Her relatively young round eyes filled with anxiety. “Right,” I nodded back and inserted the USB into my sleek laptop’s USB port. Her mangled key chain of what appeared to be an extremely dirty teddy bear hanging off the USB in stark contrast to the shiny silver of my macbook pro. The file opened to my utter horror of chaotic pdf files, excel sheets, word documents, movies, books, jpegs, neither in order nor appropriately named. My OCD kicked into high gear and if I knew her better than just being introduced through a mutual friend some one hour back, I would have offered to organize her files on the USB. As she looked through her files to look for whatever it was that she was going to show me and ask for my help, I noticed all her paraphernalia still scattered across my desk. Her slightly large tego** sleeves skimming over my desk zen garden. I inhaled a sharp breath of air in panic worrying her lovely purple sleeves would leave an uninvited line across the sand perfectly styled in symmetric curlicues.

“Umm….,” she mumbled and rested her face on her hands and her elbows uncomfortably close to me. “Here,” I said and got out of my chair allowing her to move closer to my laptop so she could look at the screen better, but also for myself because the smell of unsolicited beetle nut and her chaotic hair and slightly running mascara was irritating me, but also garnering some deep level of sympathy because she was everything I tried not to be. I felt guilty I was judging her in that moment. She paused and looked up like she remembered something, picked up her bag and starting digging through it again. She pulled out a notebook, a compact – which has obviously not touched her skin in the least bit today- and then some breath mints. “Here, have some,” she said and offered the mints to me. “Umm, no thanks,” I said and asked if she found the file. “I think its not here,” she said and smiled at me. “Anyway, I will go home and find it and will come back when I have it, if its okay with you,” she half asked and half declared rhetorically. “Okay….?” I responded quizzed by the coolness and ease and chaos with which this woman went about.

She moved across my desk, swiped her entire arm across my desk and literally chucked all her things back into her gunny sack of a hangbag. I handed her the USB, as she got up. “Thank you,” she said. “I really dont have time and now I wasted the last hour getting nothing done,” she said laughing. “Okay, will come back soon, thank you for your help,” she said and walked out of my office. I plonked myself down on my chair, energy drained by that whirlwind of a personality. The speed and chaos with which our interaction ensued confusing the hell out of me.

I never heard back from this woman.

doma* – In Bhutan the areca nut is called doma. The raw areca nut, which is soft and moist is very potent and when chewed can cause palpitation and vasoconstricting. This form is eaten in the lower regions of Bhutan and in North Bengal, where the nut is cut into half and put into a local paan leaf with a generous amount of lime.The fermented doma has a putrid odour, which can be smelled from miles.
tego** – Toego or Tego is a long-sleeved, short jacket-like garment worn over their traditional kira by women in Bhutan.

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fiction, life, stories, woman, writing

Waiting

The sound of pounding from all rubber stamps the tellers used drowned out the excruciating pain in the depths of her stomach. The wafting smell of ink and freshly printed paper adding to her nausea. Blinking back tears and breathing deeply telling herself she was going to be okay. She closed her eyes and for a few seconds she was able to just be. To become fully aware of her own being. To realize that at the end of the day, all she ever had was only herself, and it mattered that she realized that and give herself a little more attention than what he may have given her. She rolled her eyes inside her head to try and relieve some of the pressure in her head. Slowly losing herself in her thoughts that mattered to her before he had happened, and before every familiar face became a calculative measure of how it might be to be that person with many to love her and none to hurt.

When she slowly came to, and opened her eyes, the bank was dark. She worried maybe her grief had driven her to blindness. An upsurge of fear and panic emerged from the depths of her very expecting core, until the person sitting next to her shrugged and said, ‘imagine what a power outage like this is costing the market right now.’ A gentle unbidden smile in return before she got up, gathered her papers, and ran out of the bank lobby. The fresh air –unladen with the smell of ink– rushing into her lungs in deep breaths. First breath, burning, second breath, burning, third breath, chilling, fourth breath, adjusted chilling, fifth breath, calming, sixth breath, calming, seventh breath, normal.

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contentment, embracing yourself, life, love, moments, thoughts, words

A Place of My Own

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There is this place I like to go to, it is my safe place; this place belongs only to me, it is where my heart beats; no stress, no pain, no words, no refrain; I can laugh, I can cry, I can think, I can sleep; this place it is mine and where my emotions keep. There is place I like to go, it is where I heal; this place belongs only to me, it is where I live; its warm, its loving, its honest, its giving; I inhale, I exhale, I love, I feel; this place it really is mine and where I shall forever breathe.

 

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embracing yourself, lessons, life, love, moments, woman

Happiness here I come!!!!!!!!!!!

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contentment, embracing yourself, existential crisis, lessons, life, love, ramblings, thoughts, woman, words, writing

Finding My Ways

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I am at once so many different versions of myself. Yesterday I loved the way my hips swayed and the way his fingers pressed into my sides in heat and passion and love. Today I scrub a little harder under the duress-ed pressure of the hot water gushing through the shower head lost in thoughts of reprimanding. I may sometimes question your judgement a little bit, but I promise to be the one sitting across you in my Swiss wool socks ready to consume and comprehend the words you will spill in hatred and anger, or those lighter ones said in joy and pure innocent glee because I will completely understand the need. I will some days willingly guide you through the web of life the best way I can, and some days I will ask that you find in yourself the solutions to your problems you have always known but refuse to accept. Some days I will be angry. Some days I may smile. Other days I will be at once the fiery orange in my curly brown hair, wind-blown and unkempt, and yet press feather light kisses on your cheeks and your forehead in my summer peach lips to let you know I am here, always. Today you may find me voraciously reading guides on how to get ahead in life because I say that the go-getter in me needs to be nourished, forget contentment. And tomorrow I will wake up to prayers in praises to spirituality, to learn and practice compassion, to be simple and want simple, accepting that less really is more. Because, I am at once so many different versions of myself. Tomorrow I will love you fiercely, that overwhelming kind of love that leaves you dizzy like you’ve have one too many mint juleps on a hot summer southern morning. Balmy, dazed and incomprehensible in pleasure. But maybe I will be the ice, the winter gush pushing you back because foolishly I will believe I am no good for anyone. Some days are clear days. Some days I am lost.

Everyone talks about being true to yourself. But we are never just one version of ourselves to be true to. There lies within you and me, many different us, so which one do we choose to be true to. We are all at once givers and takers, of responsibilities, of dreams, of hopes, of support, and of love. Some days we need more than we can give. Other times we are happy being the one giving all we can. Circumstances have over the years created many different versions of myself. Yesterday I promised myself I will try to keep the light burning for them, to be the flicker of hope of what could be because I know what is right, I know what is best. Yet today I find myself committed to yesterday’s goals but frantically searching for the hinge on which I might peg my own being so I do not find myself lost in the same darkness. Because, some days are clear days, and some days I am lost.

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