I stopped smoking. A habit that I mastered for over twelve years and yet it's as if it never happened. I don't crave. I don't think about it. I have just erased it from my daily life.
Of course it took a great scare to force this to happen, but I am grateful it did.
It's one of those things you keep procrastinating: I'll give up smoking one day, but just not yet, I'll have children one day but not right now, I'll sleep when I am dead etc.
I went to the gynecologist the other day to find out whether it's just my breasts or perhaps there is something really wrong with my uterus as well.
She wanted to know if I was pregnant. I laughed. She also asked if I was trying for children. I laughed again. I guess that she sees more pregnant women that women in their thirties with no real gynecological issue, but the hypochondria in their head. She did ask to see if I wasn't pregnant and I found myself looking at the sample of urine wondering what if I was pregnant... I also noticed a slight disappointment when the confirmation came. No, I wasn't pregnant...
I still don't have the official confirmation of what's wrong with me, but it seems that my lumps are of hormonal origin and the result of me not having had children yet. I guess that there is something really wrong with the world today... Socially, it is becoming more and more of a normality to see single childless women in their 30's and even 40's, however biologically, we are being told off...
Yes, I do find myself looking at children on the street and yes, maybe I did give up smoking thinking about the child I don't have yet...Apparently I have a nice womb...
Sunday, 31 October 2010
Sunday, 24 October 2010
Carpe Diem
Fear... Fear is the worst enemy of humanity. Of my humanity...
Fear eats me alive and makes me sick to the point of throwing up... I contemplate death and the idea of my non-being scares me to madness. As a human being, I realize how irrational I can be.
A couple of days ago, I decided to go and get the doctor to check some strange pain I felt in my breasts for a couple of weeks. I was sure he would just tell me there was nothing to worry about and just send me home with some paracetamol. He looked at me blankly and said I had lumps on both sides and that I should get them checked. Although that was probably the most reasonable thing to say in the world, I felt as if he was signing my death sentence... I went out of the clinic's door and couldn't shake off the idea I was going to die...I went to work and everything felt surreal. I wasn't there... It was Friday and all I thought about was how was I going to live until I get checked... To try and calm myself down I went to the yoga class at my gym but everything went from bad to worse.
I went to the gym, took off my clothes and started to fold them nicely as in a very important ritual. I suddenly had an image about my uncle's pijamas when he was in the hospital, before he died and I remember thinking that soon the pijama will lie untouched as he will no longer be around... A fear overtook me and I started to cry in the middle of the changing room. I looked at my clothes and a sinister idea took shape. I tried to ignore it and went into the studio. As I was performing down facing dogs and warrior ones, I looked at my body and felt an incredible love for it. I contemplated my hands moving in the air as if they weren't mine and wanted to squeeze them tight, kiss them and hold on to them for as long as possible, as if I had to say good bye to them...
On my way home, I saw a woman with a baby in a buggie. I felt I ran out of air and dashed out of the tube hyperventilating and crying at the same time. I felt I was going to die right then and there... I cried thinking that I was going to die and I was going to die alone... It wasn't until later on that night when I managed to recover a bit of my rationality.
I was told that I was probably still dealing with the sudden loss of my uncle. I remember that I had bought some parsley while he was in the hospital and kept it in water. When he died, the parsely was still in the glass of water. I remember thinking that even the parsley lived longer than him...
I guess I am dealing with a very strong irrational fear. I strongly love life and I would do anything to hold on to it. But then again, who wouldn't?... We would all give anything to live, we would all realize we would have wished to live our lives better, more intensley, more importantly... Carpe Diem has become almost a cliche and we all live away telling each other over a glass of wine "Life is short!" but how many of us really believe it? We all bloody think we're going to live forever...
How do I deal with my fear? I do what I can... I pray... I go out and see my friends... I go to the Opera. I go climbing and I make sure I reach the top even though I am scared of heights. I try and be brave and tell myself I will be all right against all my irrational instincts that almost make me faint of worry... I tell myself that if I am given the chance to life, I will make sure I will waste no time and love every minute of it.
I have never really liked my breasts. Too big, to heavy, not perky enough. But you know what, I love them more than anything right now and I pray for them. I promise to never think a bad thought about them ever again!
Oh, and one more thing: fear made me stop smoking!! So maybe there is something good out of this after all...
Fear eats me alive and makes me sick to the point of throwing up... I contemplate death and the idea of my non-being scares me to madness. As a human being, I realize how irrational I can be.
A couple of days ago, I decided to go and get the doctor to check some strange pain I felt in my breasts for a couple of weeks. I was sure he would just tell me there was nothing to worry about and just send me home with some paracetamol. He looked at me blankly and said I had lumps on both sides and that I should get them checked. Although that was probably the most reasonable thing to say in the world, I felt as if he was signing my death sentence... I went out of the clinic's door and couldn't shake off the idea I was going to die...I went to work and everything felt surreal. I wasn't there... It was Friday and all I thought about was how was I going to live until I get checked... To try and calm myself down I went to the yoga class at my gym but everything went from bad to worse.
I went to the gym, took off my clothes and started to fold them nicely as in a very important ritual. I suddenly had an image about my uncle's pijamas when he was in the hospital, before he died and I remember thinking that soon the pijama will lie untouched as he will no longer be around... A fear overtook me and I started to cry in the middle of the changing room. I looked at my clothes and a sinister idea took shape. I tried to ignore it and went into the studio. As I was performing down facing dogs and warrior ones, I looked at my body and felt an incredible love for it. I contemplated my hands moving in the air as if they weren't mine and wanted to squeeze them tight, kiss them and hold on to them for as long as possible, as if I had to say good bye to them...
On my way home, I saw a woman with a baby in a buggie. I felt I ran out of air and dashed out of the tube hyperventilating and crying at the same time. I felt I was going to die right then and there... I cried thinking that I was going to die and I was going to die alone... It wasn't until later on that night when I managed to recover a bit of my rationality.
I was told that I was probably still dealing with the sudden loss of my uncle. I remember that I had bought some parsley while he was in the hospital and kept it in water. When he died, the parsely was still in the glass of water. I remember thinking that even the parsley lived longer than him...
I guess I am dealing with a very strong irrational fear. I strongly love life and I would do anything to hold on to it. But then again, who wouldn't?... We would all give anything to live, we would all realize we would have wished to live our lives better, more intensley, more importantly... Carpe Diem has become almost a cliche and we all live away telling each other over a glass of wine "Life is short!" but how many of us really believe it? We all bloody think we're going to live forever...
How do I deal with my fear? I do what I can... I pray... I go out and see my friends... I go to the Opera. I go climbing and I make sure I reach the top even though I am scared of heights. I try and be brave and tell myself I will be all right against all my irrational instincts that almost make me faint of worry... I tell myself that if I am given the chance to life, I will make sure I will waste no time and love every minute of it.
I have never really liked my breasts. Too big, to heavy, not perky enough. But you know what, I love them more than anything right now and I pray for them. I promise to never think a bad thought about them ever again!
Oh, and one more thing: fear made me stop smoking!! So maybe there is something good out of this after all...
Sunday, 17 October 2010
Being single
I have been single almost all my life. With the exception of a 4 years long relationship, which ended almost 3 years ago. But that's probably the exception that proves the rule, as they say.
In high school, I never had a boyfriend. I told myself I was a bit of a misfit and preferred to spend my week-ends reading literature than going out to the local disco (which, truth be told, was a real dump). I didn't lose my virginity in high school, which is probably a good thing. Not that it changed much - I was a bit of a naive late bloomer by the time I was in my twenties. Perhaps it would have been better if I started the dating game earlier. I would have been more equipped and probably looking back I would have been easier on myself, cutting myself some slack on the account of having been really young and immature.
But in reality things went a bit in a different way. I found myself in my twenties, knowing next to nothing when it came to boys. All I knew about them was that I liked them. Thank God, I was no lesbian! Everything else, was really wrong! I couldn't see bad news coming my way, even if they had it tattooed on their forehead. I was so blissfully unaware of the fact that things didn't happen like in fairy tales and that there were dating rules to follow and a commonly agreed coding system, that I truly believed that if a guy liked me, then he probably had the noblest intentions. And I suffered! I suffered profusely every time I got hurt. And I kept asking myself what was going wrong, without the faintest clue...I had such a bad impression of myself that I was terribly grateful to anyone that found me attractive. I didn't recognized my own power, even if it hit me in the face with a hammer.
So I remained single for most of my early twenties, until somebody decided I was girlfriend material. I didn't quite have a say in that, I just accepted it. For some reason, I used to think that things should just happen to me and I should just take them. Not for one second, did it crossed my mind that I could have a say in my love life.
After a few years, I realized that I wasn't quite happy and decided to take a risk and be single again. After all, I was in my late twenties and I should have known better by then. A couple of years later and I found myself making the same mistakes I used to make when I barely knew how to kiss. So it turned out that many years later, I was still as disabled as I was in my teens. Staggered by a string of disappointments, I kept crying myself to sleep and becoming less and less hopeful. I thought I would end up alone...
Strangely enough, I have spent such a long time being single, without learning how to be single and enjoy it. Having a conversation and a mouthful of chocolate with one of my closest friends the other day, I had a revelation. Actually two: 1) that too much chocolate can make you sick and 2) that I have only really been single for a year. Yes, that's right. He suggested that I have been single for two (not too mention all the other years before that) and that only in the last year I started to want to have a relationship (so beacause I wasn't supposedly looking for a relationship before, it doesn't count as being single!?), when in reality, ever since I have known myself, I wanted to be with someone. It was the idea of being in a relationship (some kind of childhood trauma, I am sure) that excited me, rather than being with someone because of who that someone was... Does it make sense? I was chasing a dream, a chimera, a notion. I wanted it so badly and at the same time, I wanted it to come my way, nice and easy. And all this time, I have forced myself to get something that was virtually impossible.
In fact, for about a year now, I have really started being single. I have given myself time, thought, care, I spent time with myself, I thought a lot, I got to know myself, I did things I enjoyed, I spent time with friends that are dear to me, I have improved the quality of my time, prioritized, went up in my career, travelled, exercised, ate goo food, went to see good movies, laughed a lot, flirted, enjoyed. Anything that came my way. And only since then, I realized I was ready to share all that with a special someone. And I have also realized that I am in no hurry. I want to find that person that will take me as a whole and live life with me, without pressure, with fun and excitement and peace. And I am giving myself time. Time to be single.
In high school, I never had a boyfriend. I told myself I was a bit of a misfit and preferred to spend my week-ends reading literature than going out to the local disco (which, truth be told, was a real dump). I didn't lose my virginity in high school, which is probably a good thing. Not that it changed much - I was a bit of a naive late bloomer by the time I was in my twenties. Perhaps it would have been better if I started the dating game earlier. I would have been more equipped and probably looking back I would have been easier on myself, cutting myself some slack on the account of having been really young and immature.
But in reality things went a bit in a different way. I found myself in my twenties, knowing next to nothing when it came to boys. All I knew about them was that I liked them. Thank God, I was no lesbian! Everything else, was really wrong! I couldn't see bad news coming my way, even if they had it tattooed on their forehead. I was so blissfully unaware of the fact that things didn't happen like in fairy tales and that there were dating rules to follow and a commonly agreed coding system, that I truly believed that if a guy liked me, then he probably had the noblest intentions. And I suffered! I suffered profusely every time I got hurt. And I kept asking myself what was going wrong, without the faintest clue...I had such a bad impression of myself that I was terribly grateful to anyone that found me attractive. I didn't recognized my own power, even if it hit me in the face with a hammer.
So I remained single for most of my early twenties, until somebody decided I was girlfriend material. I didn't quite have a say in that, I just accepted it. For some reason, I used to think that things should just happen to me and I should just take them. Not for one second, did it crossed my mind that I could have a say in my love life.
After a few years, I realized that I wasn't quite happy and decided to take a risk and be single again. After all, I was in my late twenties and I should have known better by then. A couple of years later and I found myself making the same mistakes I used to make when I barely knew how to kiss. So it turned out that many years later, I was still as disabled as I was in my teens. Staggered by a string of disappointments, I kept crying myself to sleep and becoming less and less hopeful. I thought I would end up alone...
Strangely enough, I have spent such a long time being single, without learning how to be single and enjoy it. Having a conversation and a mouthful of chocolate with one of my closest friends the other day, I had a revelation. Actually two: 1) that too much chocolate can make you sick and 2) that I have only really been single for a year. Yes, that's right. He suggested that I have been single for two (not too mention all the other years before that) and that only in the last year I started to want to have a relationship (so beacause I wasn't supposedly looking for a relationship before, it doesn't count as being single!?), when in reality, ever since I have known myself, I wanted to be with someone. It was the idea of being in a relationship (some kind of childhood trauma, I am sure) that excited me, rather than being with someone because of who that someone was... Does it make sense? I was chasing a dream, a chimera, a notion. I wanted it so badly and at the same time, I wanted it to come my way, nice and easy. And all this time, I have forced myself to get something that was virtually impossible.
In fact, for about a year now, I have really started being single. I have given myself time, thought, care, I spent time with myself, I thought a lot, I got to know myself, I did things I enjoyed, I spent time with friends that are dear to me, I have improved the quality of my time, prioritized, went up in my career, travelled, exercised, ate goo food, went to see good movies, laughed a lot, flirted, enjoyed. Anything that came my way. And only since then, I realized I was ready to share all that with a special someone. And I have also realized that I am in no hurry. I want to find that person that will take me as a whole and live life with me, without pressure, with fun and excitement and peace. And I am giving myself time. Time to be single.
Thursday, 14 October 2010
I'll take the Nice Guy!
It's only when really important things happen in your life - like re-watching an old episode from Grey's Anatomy - when you realize how much you've changed.
I was deeply involved with watching an episode when Meredith has to choose between McDreamy who broke her heart and Finn, the vet that made her feel special, and she ends up choosing McDreamy. "Why, Oh, Why", I cry nearly choking on my thai curry. "Choose the Nice Guy!", I shout, still fully aware that not only I am watching a TV show (not real! d'oh), but I am watching an old episode and everything has already happened. I also remember that the first time I saw this particular episode, I was happy she chose Dr. McDreamy Shepherd. Because at the time, I believed in passionate love and butterflies in your tummy and some other pain inducing self-delusional crap.
And for those of you who also know a thing or two about Sex and The City, the same happened when Carrie had to choose between Aidan and Big. I cheered for Big all the way in the past, but now if I had to give Carrie a personal, honest and life changing advice, I'd say: "Go for the Nice Guy! Go for the guy that keeps you warm at night and makes you feel like you are the most important woman in the world and hurting you for whatever reason is absolutely inconceivable..."
But out of the TV drama and back to reality. Truth be told, it's probably the first time when I notice this shift in my attitude. I used to find nice guys boring and unsatisfactory. Because I used to dream about totally unrealistic and romantic stuff like: stargazing with my lover and talking about the meaning of life, reading poetry to each other naked, riding into the sunset on a motorbike, falling sleep under the stars, making love on the beach and all sorts of other semi-cliches, half nonsense projections. None of this idiotic daydreams ever happened, however plenty of unmet expectations and disappointment have come my way. And only because I was looking for the Bad Guy, the guy that was making my inside flutter and made me feel really special... for a day or two.
It's been a while though (thank God) since this type of characters have made an impression on me. I am pretty knowledgeable these days (nothing can beat experience, ey!) to be able to avoid them as much as I can. And as much as I am avoiding the "Look at me, I am so cool" type of character, I get more and more drawn towards the guy in the corner, that says nothing but means a lot!
And yes, you do get sometimes a combination of the two (or maybe a fake Nice Guy?...) and, yes, you do make a mistake thinking he was for real, because dating the Nice Guy isn't supposed to make you feel insecure and bad about yourself... And yes, there is nothing wrong with that since once again you are convinced that only the Nice Guy is the real thing... Because the Nice Guy will only take out the best in you and love you (as Darcy nicely puts it in front of Bridget - yes, another film!) just the way you are...
I was deeply involved with watching an episode when Meredith has to choose between McDreamy who broke her heart and Finn, the vet that made her feel special, and she ends up choosing McDreamy. "Why, Oh, Why", I cry nearly choking on my thai curry. "Choose the Nice Guy!", I shout, still fully aware that not only I am watching a TV show (not real! d'oh), but I am watching an old episode and everything has already happened. I also remember that the first time I saw this particular episode, I was happy she chose Dr. McDreamy Shepherd. Because at the time, I believed in passionate love and butterflies in your tummy and some other pain inducing self-delusional crap.
And for those of you who also know a thing or two about Sex and The City, the same happened when Carrie had to choose between Aidan and Big. I cheered for Big all the way in the past, but now if I had to give Carrie a personal, honest and life changing advice, I'd say: "Go for the Nice Guy! Go for the guy that keeps you warm at night and makes you feel like you are the most important woman in the world and hurting you for whatever reason is absolutely inconceivable..."
But out of the TV drama and back to reality. Truth be told, it's probably the first time when I notice this shift in my attitude. I used to find nice guys boring and unsatisfactory. Because I used to dream about totally unrealistic and romantic stuff like: stargazing with my lover and talking about the meaning of life, reading poetry to each other naked, riding into the sunset on a motorbike, falling sleep under the stars, making love on the beach and all sorts of other semi-cliches, half nonsense projections. None of this idiotic daydreams ever happened, however plenty of unmet expectations and disappointment have come my way. And only because I was looking for the Bad Guy, the guy that was making my inside flutter and made me feel really special... for a day or two.
It's been a while though (thank God) since this type of characters have made an impression on me. I am pretty knowledgeable these days (nothing can beat experience, ey!) to be able to avoid them as much as I can. And as much as I am avoiding the "Look at me, I am so cool" type of character, I get more and more drawn towards the guy in the corner, that says nothing but means a lot!
And yes, you do get sometimes a combination of the two (or maybe a fake Nice Guy?...) and, yes, you do make a mistake thinking he was for real, because dating the Nice Guy isn't supposed to make you feel insecure and bad about yourself... And yes, there is nothing wrong with that since once again you are convinced that only the Nice Guy is the real thing... Because the Nice Guy will only take out the best in you and love you (as Darcy nicely puts it in front of Bridget - yes, another film!) just the way you are...
Sunday, 3 October 2010
Breathe away
I light another cigarette and breathe the smoke deep into my lungs. I know it's not good for me. I also know I badly want it. As if I try to punish myself for something. Or as if I am trying to reproduce a cliche, maybe a scene from a movie. It all feels wrong but, hey, there are so many wrongs in my life that a lousy cigarette won't make a difference.
Guilt creeps in instantly because I remember the pleasure of breathing. I remember how I tried to concentrate on my breathing the night before and joy filled me together with the air coming in and out of my lungs. And then a sense of peace overcame me and for a few minutes I forgot my silly worries. I remembered that I was alive and that a whole future was still laid in front of me, unwritten and inviting. I remembered that no matter what, I am part of a plan that will take shape with or without me worrying about it...
However, now I am drinking a Mojito and really craving that cigarette. While I am puffing away, all the wondering came back and became stronger and stronger. What if, what if...
I throw the cigarette butt away, wanting to do the same with these stupid thoughts. I start wondering what colour my lungs would be by now... Then I think about "what if" again. Then I decide to think about something really trivial to take my mind off things and realize it isn't working.
I start breathing consciously and my lungs, my heart and myself really become one... I really wish I took more care of this precious body I was given. It really isn't mine to trash... I tell myself, yet again, that I won't be touching any more cigarettes from tomorrow!
Guilt creeps in instantly because I remember the pleasure of breathing. I remember how I tried to concentrate on my breathing the night before and joy filled me together with the air coming in and out of my lungs. And then a sense of peace overcame me and for a few minutes I forgot my silly worries. I remembered that I was alive and that a whole future was still laid in front of me, unwritten and inviting. I remembered that no matter what, I am part of a plan that will take shape with or without me worrying about it...
However, now I am drinking a Mojito and really craving that cigarette. While I am puffing away, all the wondering came back and became stronger and stronger. What if, what if...
I throw the cigarette butt away, wanting to do the same with these stupid thoughts. I start wondering what colour my lungs would be by now... Then I think about "what if" again. Then I decide to think about something really trivial to take my mind off things and realize it isn't working.
I start breathing consciously and my lungs, my heart and myself really become one... I really wish I took more care of this precious body I was given. It really isn't mine to trash... I tell myself, yet again, that I won't be touching any more cigarettes from tomorrow!
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Why would you get a cat if you really want a dog?
I came across a very old post the other day about dogs. It was a funny post about me always seeing myself as an Eglish Bulldog kind of person and my annoyance at the fact that a dog compatibility website recommended me cocker spaniels and papillons (which I found at the time to be very ugly).
I have always loved dogs, I have loved them almost as frenetically as they love people. With dogs there are no hidden meanings, no ulterior motives, no reasoning, no arguing, just pure love. The kind of love that needs no justification and validation.
At this point though, I feel the need to explain a bit the term "love" and why I chose to use it in certain context. Some people might argue that Love is an absolute notion and it is what it is. Such as the love that a dog is feeling. It just is. Based on the fact that humans have a twisted way of "loving", I have decided to use the same word (and I apologise, as it is not entirely correct) - "love" - to describe a relationship between individuals (usually of the opposite sex, but not limited to) that have feelings of "love" (and now I am talking about the absolute notion) towards each other, but different other emotions associated with, such as fear, jealousy, too low or too high self-esteem, cruelty, distrust, desperation etc.
I have always wanted a dog because I am attracted by how dogs love. Their love is unconditional, pure, wholesome. I looked back at my old post feel amused by my superficiality towards Papillons. A dog is a dog...
Quite often I see myself trying to transfer my "dog love" into the human world and being remarkably unsuccessful into attaining what I am looking for. Is is perhaps because, as Miguel Ruiz was metaphorically wondering in "The Mastery of Love", if someone really wants a dog, why would they get a cat?...
I know it to be true (and more often than not I am completely blind to the obvious), but I would end up wanting someone who is not the person I imagine him to be and that will never change. I am just obstinately trying to train that person to be the dog I want him to be and getting really frustrated when that wouldn't happen. I would blame everything and everyone (but especially myself) for having failed, when in reality all I was trying to do was to change a cat into a dog...
I have always loved dogs, I have loved them almost as frenetically as they love people. With dogs there are no hidden meanings, no ulterior motives, no reasoning, no arguing, just pure love. The kind of love that needs no justification and validation.
At this point though, I feel the need to explain a bit the term "love" and why I chose to use it in certain context. Some people might argue that Love is an absolute notion and it is what it is. Such as the love that a dog is feeling. It just is. Based on the fact that humans have a twisted way of "loving", I have decided to use the same word (and I apologise, as it is not entirely correct) - "love" - to describe a relationship between individuals (usually of the opposite sex, but not limited to) that have feelings of "love" (and now I am talking about the absolute notion) towards each other, but different other emotions associated with, such as fear, jealousy, too low or too high self-esteem, cruelty, distrust, desperation etc.
I have always wanted a dog because I am attracted by how dogs love. Their love is unconditional, pure, wholesome. I looked back at my old post feel amused by my superficiality towards Papillons. A dog is a dog...
Quite often I see myself trying to transfer my "dog love" into the human world and being remarkably unsuccessful into attaining what I am looking for. Is is perhaps because, as Miguel Ruiz was metaphorically wondering in "The Mastery of Love", if someone really wants a dog, why would they get a cat?...
I know it to be true (and more often than not I am completely blind to the obvious), but I would end up wanting someone who is not the person I imagine him to be and that will never change. I am just obstinately trying to train that person to be the dog I want him to be and getting really frustrated when that wouldn't happen. I would blame everything and everyone (but especially myself) for having failed, when in reality all I was trying to do was to change a cat into a dog...
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