I am my own darkness

I heard this dialogue about how we should own up to our darknesses. But then I got to thinking... are we not our own darkness and our own light? I do want to own up to these facets of me. I cannot begrudge me having my highs if I cannot accept my lows.

I had a coworker tell me that she always knows when I'm in the office because I'm full of life and character. My desk is the one with postcards and bookmarks, papers and notes, books and magnets from my friends. It's messy, chaotic and full of the remains of a life being lived at its fullest.

But there are moments it all falls apart and the only light I see is through the cracks. These times are getting fewer because growing older seems to be bringing with it a sense of calmness. It also helps that I'm slowly achieving some of my life goals.

Travelling and writing both bring with it a sense of I'll-be-fineness that I've never had before. The more places I see make me realise how much more I want to see. When I'm travelling, I'm more ambitious and adventurous and push myself harder to get the most of my time there.

I have to see everything, experience everything because regrets would be an easy way for my depression to get in. And I cannot be the reason that the blackness gets to me again. I have owned up to my darkness but I know that my light will always be around too.

Adieu mon amie, je t'aimais bien

Its not something anyone wants to do, but saying goodbyes is undeniable & inevitable.

Some goodbyes are final and come with varying kinds of grief (or relief), while some goodbyes are temporary with a chance (however fleeting) of turning into a hello somewhere, someday.
But what about the goodbyes that we stretch out, like goodbyes that signal end of relationships.

So many of us hang on to some slim hope that what we shared with someone else will survive. We hang on desperately in the hopes of recreating past highs together, while the ghosts of lows haunt us from the edge of memory.

We are addicts who are at the wrong end of the addiction - not riding high on a new buzz but trying every trick to get the buzz back.Love is an addiction at the best of times. This is true for the feeling itself or the idea of it & sometimes, the hope of the feeling is the high itself.

We have millions of songs, books and poems about the grief, loss and sometimes joy & freedom that goodbyes are often accompanied by. There is a bittersweet release in the act of letting go; whether welcome or otherwise. This is an universal phenomenon, wholly complete in its humanity.

But I am letting go of myself, the versions of myself that lived in the past. The girl who couldn't grow up fast enough, the girl who was bullied and abused. That is not to say I didn't have a happy childhood, my parents loved me as best they could, my sister gave me everything she could. But I was just not capable of being the person I wanted to be -- like many tweens and teens both before & after me. I have been many versions of that person, many I didn't like, many I am ashamed of. I guess they are right when they say that childhood is wasted on the young.

It is today as I look back on my mistakes, I am trying to let go of the person I used to be in order to really be what I can be. I am saying goodbye to the small infinities that made up my past and looking forward to the infinite infinities ahead.

I am doing it in part with the help of my job that I love, understanding how I feel about how I look & surrounding myself with people who accept me without judgement. I am also trying to feel less like an impostor who is waiting to get caught. I am learning to like myself and accept my drawbacks and grow on my strengths. Love is still elusive but I am hopeful that if I am lucky to find it, I will be ready for it.

So this is both a goodbye & a hello, a goodbye to the neurosis of the past and a hello to the insanity of the future. 

Emotional scratching posts

Do we all have these? Emotional scratching posts - moments in time you go back to remind you of your biggest smile, or to an epiphany that made your world clearer. In my case, these are the lifelines that stave off attacks of depression or pull me through my lowest points of self doubt. Also in my case, some of these might involve situations that were miserable for others. Yes I do delight in the misery of others; especially if those people have at some time contributed to my misery.

I like the idea of holding on to these high points instead of holding on to grudges. Getting an emotionally uplifting scratch is so much more satisfying than a vengeful stirring of all that has gone wrong.

There are these moments where you need to pause, get off the roller coaster that our lives become. Moments where the world gets too much with us, so much so that all we see of life is a blur where we only see what we want to see. These emotional scratching posts are also great for moments of self-discovery.

Unless you know what truly makes you happy, can you know what kind of person you are? Do you exult at the small moments or the moments you fulfilled a long-held dream? The times where you saw Karma in action or when someone got what they deserved (good or bad)? Or is your ultimate high that minute you heard your little niece's cry for the very first time as she was born?

Then there are the times where I self medicate and look for emotional scratching posts through travelling, shopping and/or sleep. Sometimes looking outward is what the inside needs. To turn towards something unfamiliar can be the diversion our brain needs so that they can go on timeout. Coming back to the familiarity of the real world can feel so much better after a meandering through the unknown.

Enough is a Feast

A conversation I had recently got me thinking of excess and how very intrinsic that idea is to Dubai. But what if 'enough is a feast'? What if this constant search for more is the reason why the world is so much lesser happier nowadays? Was it a simpler time because we accepted the spouses we were arranged to marry weren't going to be perfect and that compromises would be necessary? Or because we used to accept that love wasn't going to be all doves and unicorns and rainbows.

Its easier to lose yourself in the quest of wanting more. The rat races, the dog fights, the constant up-manship, the games of control just seem to come so easily to so many of us. And isn't that how love stories work today?

"Never meaning what they say, yeah never saying what they mean."

Everybody is always trying to get the upper hand in a relationship; as if emotion can ever be played around with. Everyone is so scared of getting hurt and losing everything that the only currency they can deal in is fear.

We're all on this huge Monopoly board but we're playing the game blind. We're hoping against hope to land on Mayfair or Park Lane before someone else does but knowing in our hearts that we'll probably get Old Kent Road instead. Or, as in my case, get stuck in Jail. We see others buy up the properties we want, but we keep playing, wanting to see how much we can win... or if we can win at all.

But can enough ever be a feast? At what point does a person feel content? Or is contentment just a myth like other myths perpetuated by the fairy tale industry? I come close to that feeling very often but then a small glimpse of love between parents, children and lovers can push me back into the abyss of wanting more. That I suppose is more a glimpse of my humanity than my faults.

I have a lot to be thankful for, but I think it is time I wake up to my reality, the reality that I will always be the person who will keep looking and hoping for more. I will always be glancing around the corner and expecting love to just show up someday. And I've heard hope floats... which is good because I can't swim.

Plus size or plus one

I think I'm a good catch. I'm intelligent, well-read, interesting with a good job and am even mildly well-adjusted. And I know the answer to the most inane and arcane trivia. I mean I would be the friend everyone calls during the phone-a-friend hint of who wants to be a millionaire. But what I'm not is happy with the way I look. I say that with an air of not caring when I distinctly do care.

What am I doing about it? Nothing. And as I continue doing nothing, I also continue to feel that my real life (as it could be) may be passing me by. But reality seems to be just out of reach. I feel like I'm a toxic and potent combination of pickiness, high standards & low will power. I also have a lot of second hand experience with relationships all around me that go nowhere really fast.

Everyone around me is having babies or getting married or crying about how horrible it is to be single or going out with just anyone because they really don't want to be alone. This is my every day. I see the death of hope and the rise of cynicism all around me. But there is always a kernel of hope that stays alive somewhere in the depths of every heart. I know there is one in mine.

I see the world move around me as I stand still like in a video montage. Going out and actually being a part of life feels insurmountable and sometimes it doesn't even feel like its worth the trouble. I see the drama, the misery, the constant pull and tug of people who want more but won't give enough; the hurt of broken expectations and the despair of not being able to let go.

But then there is the rare occasion where I see the magic that sparks into life when you see two people who are everything that people write songs and poetry about. Everything that people look for in the eyes of their casual date or - in my case - in the eyes of anyone interesting who can hold up a sustained and intelligent conversation. Yes, that's how low (or high) my bar is; but as I grow up I notice that intelligent men are a very rare species. Also, men get intimidated by super women or slightly intelligent women and the ones who don't, get snapped up immediately by women who (wisely) refuse to let go.

Is love worth all this trouble & strife? But is that really a question at all considering I am writing about it at 3.49 am?

No one I know

Celebrities are not really important right? We're considered spaced out TV idiots or sorority chicks if we indulge in checking out celebrity magazines. But many more of us do it than we'd admit. Having said that, I'm not one of the crazy fans that idolizes people but I do like following up on what they do.

I also love TV shows; they're the only thing that keep me company on nights when I can't fall asleep, or when the dark clouds come a-calling. One of the shows that always cheered me up was Glee. Maybe I wasn't a complete G(l)eek but I did love the music, the characters, the storylines & the actors.

All of this has been changed forever though with the death of Glee's biggest star, Cory Monteith. He was just a month older than me with a great & amazing life ahead of him (or so it seemed.) His life story just seems so sad & frayed because of his addictions & stints in rehab. He's been through so much & seemed so brave about it, but its all over now.

Now the fan videos & the remembrance videos & the tweets & slideshows just serve as a reminder of what a beautiful life he had & will never be a part of it anymore. His relationships with his girlfriend & friends seem real & bittersweet in hind sight. Its all gone, just like that.

But things like this don't really happen to anyone we know, right? How many of us are struggling with life everyday? Aren't we all at some point faced with a turn in our life where just a simple "The End" tagline is all we need? I know I have been, more times than I'd like to remember; thankfully having my friends & family around has always shamed me into trying to fight away the darkness.

What of those of us who don't have that? There are too many of us just holding on to the hope of tomorrow; as if that magical word will make it all better; when all it could have are darker storms. We keep turning away from the demons we see around us, pretending that we aren't affected, much like ostriches with their heads in the (Dubai?) sand.

It's easier to pretend all is ok; that all is good. It's always nicer to think that true love is just around the corner & that hope is all we need. All of us want that, don't we? An easy road to happiness, of any kind. But what we actually get is a headful of sand & the ability to just do the best we can & leave the rest up to chance.

I keep feeling that's all life is; a game of luck where true gifts are given to (sometimes) least deserving & all we can do is watch in envy as someone else lives our life. And sometimes, all we can do is stare in shock as someone truly good & noble is the one whose life is being played with.

There has to be some pattern to this madness; or is wishing for that to be true, pure madness too?