A significant person to me once told me that their favourite Christmas memory - one of their happiest memories in life in fact - was receiving a particularly unexpected, unpretentious gift from their parents. They received a basketball hoop. The hoop itself is now weathered and sits unsuspectingly in the backyard of their house... but it was the joy of the day itself that renders the hoop so significant. It was an object of togetherness; the simple gleeful recollection of being so wholly, playfully together with all of the people they perceived as home.
For this person - like some of us - the hoop ushers a memory; it brings up an idealised fragment in time whereby family was all that mattered and the complexities and agonies of this ridiculous thing we call life are seemingly absent. This is why, I think, some of us either thrive (mostly with an element of purpose) at Christmas - or feel kinda, well... empty.
This year, without discrediting my fabulous family, I felt the latter. Admittedly, it wasn't a sorrowful Christmas - and to those who are experiencing severe loss right now, I hope you know I wouldn't know how to - or wish to - encapsulate the longing that you must suffer. I do, however, want to establish my own thoughts on why Christmas gradually fails to be the all-happy-all-celebrating fiasco our hearts so deeply crave for it to be.
As we grow up, we unintentionally convince ourselves that things outside our family take precedence. We do this without realising, yet with proper reasons. To be honest, it's necessary for growing up. Many of us have moved out of home, gained (and/or lost) life partners, consistently wish to be halfway across the world (or literally are halfway across the world) and most of us want nothing more than to be successful in the new year. We unknowingly struggle with the fact that we are not yet old - or stable - enough to be busy "creating" the Christmas fantasy for the next generation but are lost somewhere in between with no tangible grasp of it.
I personally think we hope as though the sheer presence of family (and/or comfortable people from our past) can make these adult-struggles fade away. They don't. We might try to convince ourselves they are somewhat blunted by the all-consuming hectic pace of the holidays (travel/presents/niceties with strange second cousins)... but these distractions are not truly all-consuming, nor gratifying. Often, our family members have changed and our old homes are curiously different. Essentially, we are different (wait, duh??).
Sounds pretty straightforward doesn't it? But getting my head around this simple fact has really enabled me to make peace with this festival-of-emptiness I currently call Christmas.
We just have to come to terms with the fact that we've changed in really complicated and profound ways. Our perspective of how completely heartwarming the gift of a simple basketball hoop is unequivocally lessened, regardless of how much we wish to recapture that naivety. Maybe the basketball hoop can have the same significance one day, but now - this first stage of adulthood is far too confusing and incongruous for us to figure that out.
Regardless, I hope you're all in your own way enjoying the sheer inescapable joy of the holidays.
Much love to you all,
Mielz
Saturday 24 December 2016
Monday 19 December 2016
One day, I might write some kind of book (you shattering me helped me realise that)
I want to write more things like my relationship post. I want to make people feel like they can relate their lives to mine. I want my understanding of emotion to shine out. So right now, I'm going to write about my current understanding of grief.
Admittedly, I still have a lot to learn when it comes to perfecting this style of writing. I think that will come with practice, patience and sheer acceptance that I'm not going to be the best at this - I can just try my best and hope it eventually means something to someone (whoa.)
There are no finite number of stages/repetitions-of-stages in this phenomenon we as english-speakers call grief. There are, however, quite obvious signs that you're effectively going through grief and you shouldn't be down on yourself for not quite functioning the way you hoped you would
(nb: none are relevant to self harm though, if this affects you, genuinely - talk to someone, please).
But - Endless reminiscing? This is ok! (you my grieving friend read on)
You're going to think sometimes that you're perfectly ok
You woke up fine. You had an appetite for breakfast. You have great things to look forward to today. Excellent. Too exellent? Anyway, not enough time to think of that. You get texts from good friends. You visualise your future. This is ok, you think. This is fine.
Four or fourty days in a row this 'ok' feeling makes an exceptionally volatile plummet
The first few times you swing into the depths, you think "oh this is expected, I need to cry at some point". The 3rd time you start to feel frustratingly exhausted at the process of being sad. You listen to happy songs; or is it sad songs? You can't tell which you like better. You list the things and activities you were doing back when you were perfectly ok. "They're not different????", you think to yourself. You realise the homesickness will stay whether you are distracting yourself or not. You wait it out.
You picture the past without any criticism
While you wait, you see the world you lived in before in colour. You place history on a pedestal. You discredit the potential for the future to bring you more. You visit old places, play old songs, think old funny thoughts. You wrap yourself around memories and convince yourself that letting go will hurt you in some way. (It won't)
You resent people who have what you don't
You think differently of them, and though you understand it's unwarranted, you can't help it. You wish they would understand what you're going through somehow. It's harsh. You know.
You think it's weird that somehow you're perfectly ok again
'What makes these days different?' you think this to yourself. You truly hope for the best on these days. You hope for the tunnel to open up into a bright bay straight onto a sunny, light-filled setting. During these particular instances, you also think this outcome could come true.
At some points throughout, shorter plummets happen infrequently, but are staggeringly severe
You're walking somewhere unfamiliar. You see something they would love. You pretend that noticing the particular thing is habitual; insignificant. You walk a few paces... No it wasn't. It was significant. You realise it's inconsequential now that you have noticed this thing. This hurts. You falter. You are not ok. You are pretty much debilitated, but only for a little while.
You feel like you need to change your life in some significant way to completely rid yourself of the longing.
This is the shedding of the past; the cliched drastic haircut. This is you convincing yourself that whatever lies behind you is too strong for you to resist falling back into. This conviction is wrong. You - in your own time - realise that stopping a particular habit/changing a specific room/chopping your hair does not erase the past. You, however, will realise that you are strong enough to resist falling backward regardless of the change.
There are quite a few more stages of varying degrees, and I'm by zero means an expert on pain (I have experienced very little compared to others). Sometimes I can't describe them at all (actually this is often) and also why my list is not as long as I wanted it to be. I hope you - whoever you are out there - feel less alone reading it though.
Relate as much as you need to/want to. I'm just glad I can share what I'm thinking.
Stay inspired, lovers.
Admittedly, I still have a lot to learn when it comes to perfecting this style of writing. I think that will come with practice, patience and sheer acceptance that I'm not going to be the best at this - I can just try my best and hope it eventually means something to someone (whoa.)
There are no finite number of stages/repetitions-of-stages in this phenomenon we as english-speakers call grief. There are, however, quite obvious signs that you're effectively going through grief and you shouldn't be down on yourself for not quite functioning the way you hoped you would
(nb: none are relevant to self harm though, if this affects you, genuinely - talk to someone, please).
But - Endless reminiscing? This is ok! (you my grieving friend read on)
The fluctuating stages of grieving from loss
You woke up fine. You had an appetite for breakfast. You have great things to look forward to today. Excellent. Too exellent? Anyway, not enough time to think of that. You get texts from good friends. You visualise your future. This is ok, you think. This is fine.
Four or fourty days in a row this 'ok' feeling makes an exceptionally volatile plummet
The first few times you swing into the depths, you think "oh this is expected, I need to cry at some point". The 3rd time you start to feel frustratingly exhausted at the process of being sad. You listen to happy songs; or is it sad songs? You can't tell which you like better. You list the things and activities you were doing back when you were perfectly ok. "They're not different????", you think to yourself. You realise the homesickness will stay whether you are distracting yourself or not. You wait it out.
You picture the past without any criticism
While you wait, you see the world you lived in before in colour. You place history on a pedestal. You discredit the potential for the future to bring you more. You visit old places, play old songs, think old funny thoughts. You wrap yourself around memories and convince yourself that letting go will hurt you in some way. (It won't)
You resent people who have what you don't
You think differently of them, and though you understand it's unwarranted, you can't help it. You wish they would understand what you're going through somehow. It's harsh. You know.
You think it's weird that somehow you're perfectly ok again
'What makes these days different?' you think this to yourself. You truly hope for the best on these days. You hope for the tunnel to open up into a bright bay straight onto a sunny, light-filled setting. During these particular instances, you also think this outcome could come true.
At some points throughout, shorter plummets happen infrequently, but are staggeringly severe
You're walking somewhere unfamiliar. You see something they would love. You pretend that noticing the particular thing is habitual; insignificant. You walk a few paces... No it wasn't. It was significant. You realise it's inconsequential now that you have noticed this thing. This hurts. You falter. You are not ok. You are pretty much debilitated, but only for a little while.
You feel like you need to change your life in some significant way to completely rid yourself of the longing.
This is the shedding of the past; the cliched drastic haircut. This is you convincing yourself that whatever lies behind you is too strong for you to resist falling back into. This conviction is wrong. You - in your own time - realise that stopping a particular habit/changing a specific room/chopping your hair does not erase the past. You, however, will realise that you are strong enough to resist falling backward regardless of the change.
There are quite a few more stages of varying degrees, and I'm by zero means an expert on pain (I have experienced very little compared to others). Sometimes I can't describe them at all (actually this is often) and also why my list is not as long as I wanted it to be. I hope you - whoever you are out there - feel less alone reading it though.
Relate as much as you need to/want to. I'm just glad I can share what I'm thinking.
Stay inspired, lovers.
Monday 12 December 2016
Why my heartbreak will not consume me (even though I swear to God it will)
As predicted, I'm here with a sad heart. I'm writing a blog for all those like me who ever thought they were with someone that was "the one", but that person fell out of love with them. Yep, I've heard that's the worst kind of heartbreak, and after being cheated on twice and at the termination of my 3rd substantial young relationship... I'm fairly certain it's true.
Not that being cheated on isn't completely shitty. It is, and I wouldn't discount that as an awful experience to go through because trust me, if you asked 19-year-old me to rate its severity out of 10, she'd give you a solid 100. But, 19 year old me hadn't had to learn how to un-love that boy. She didn't have to wish she hated him... she just did. She was able to forge a sufficient story in her mind to banish thought of him. She immediately listed the cons of that relationship and thrived in the fact that she could do better.
This thing that I feel right now, however. This is totally different.
This is realising that we weren't right for each other, no matter how 'perfect' it felt. This is acknowledging that love is hard work, and if that person does not wish to put in that work anymore than that is a sure sign that the love is not there and you should move on. That's far more easily said than done when you're quick to remember staring into each others eyes for hours and love letters claiming you each would go 'to the end of the earth' for each other. But - maybe this termination is the end of your earth - your combined earth - and whilst you did as much as you could, you travelled to the edge and there was nowhere forward. At least, not for now*.
*On that point, it's hard for the "love-loss-victim" (the one that is still moreso in love i.e. me) to not postulate whether it could work out in the future. I felt so damn pathetic all of yesterday because I couldn't help but visualise scenarios in our late 20's when we'd 'bump' (lol) into each other all happy-and-fulfilled-and-shit and somehow we'd fall in love all over again. That's a coping mechanism though, and it won't help me feel better. I need to know it's over. Today, I'm starting to feel like it is.
I will likely marry someone who is not him. I will love that person more than him (this still hurts to write).
This is exacerbated by my mental state, and I know most of you have some understanding of the exact thought process looping through my mind right now. Yet, these thoughts are zooming through my brain frighteningly fast and painfully often. Could I have been better? What could I have done differently? Should I have paid more attention? Where did I go wrong? Am I not enough? Is there something inherently wrong with me, so that I am unable to be loved?
Yes, it got pretty heavy there at the end, but it wouldn't be honest if I didn't write how I really felt. But, alas, I have thought about it A LOT and in a more optimistic swing of brain activity I have come up with a short little list for "love-loss-victims" to rebuild their outlook and remember that whilst it's a cliche that their ex-partner reinforced... 'it's not you... it's me'....
well, it really is the case
1. If compromise didn't work, then what will?
You can't force someone to love you. Just like you can't force it from the start with people who 'just aren't right for you' after the first date. As hard as it is to come to terms with, your ex-partner may have been right - fleetingly right - but not completely right in a lasting way. Think about the concessions you gave them throughout the relationship, all of the compromises you made in vast aspects of your life to accomodate them. Yes, compromise is a sign of love and you'll have to make compromises for the person you end up spending your life with. But (and here's the kicker) - the compromises you made for this most recent love weren't enough for them. They decided their lives could somehow go on for the better without you. And yes, this is fucking hard to hear, but forever love means that someone exists that wouldn't make that decision. The person who will choose you forever will never decide to tell you that their life has the chance of being better without you.
2. Age isn't just a number when it comes to young love
Being in love in your early 20's is hard, especially when the outcome of love is either marriage or separation. Self-perception and ambition play a huge role in this as well, and I've learnt from experience that a person's self-perception in their 20's is a super vulnerable and volatile force when it comes to maintaining a relationship. This is not the old days when it was normal to get married at 24 and start a family. Committing to someone at 20 is committing to someone for 10 years before all that family stuff (I'm coming from the perspective of someone who actually wants that). Some people can do it. Those people (I imagine) have simultaneously strong levels of self-perception and decisively agreeable ambition. Meaning - both of them are comfortable with the restraints a relationship puts on them (exclusivity, time constraints, geographical constraints etc.) and know their ambition works within that scaffold. This, so it seems, is often discussed in the relationship conversation as maturity. So, let's be real, if you and your 20-something partner didn't have a similar level of maturity to begin with... you were always going to be in for a difficult ride.
3. There is no time-limit to finding the one
Also difficult to hear in a time of unprecedented loneliness, but hey, it's a reality.
4. Your ex's life will not improve because they attain something better than you
Their lives might improve, and sure, I know that as much as I'm hurting right now I want nothing but happiness for him. But, his life will improve because he will attain something different to me, not better than me. I was enough. I was a mango smoothie when he regrettably wanted green tea (both delicious options).
5. There is no such thing as a limited pool of people with 'relationship material'
You loved that person because in your mind they ticked all the big boxes - for me it was ambition, thoughtfulness, humour and attraction. These boxes are not finite. They are complicated and unexplainable and exist in beautiful bouquets in thousands of other people. People also hold these traits at different levels throughout their life. Unfortunately that means that one day your lost-love might develop the maturity you wish they had at 21 when they are 29 and is likely to be a completely different person by this point. But, fortunately, that means someone else out there is on an entirely different trajectory, unknowingly waiting for someone like you to wholeheartedly sync with them.
There has been a lot of analysis that has gone into writing this and I know for sure now that my brain is just as strained as my heart is. I just needed to re-affirm myself. I needed to signify I'm okay in some other form than chanting "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay" in my head. This is a testament to my idealism and my love for love, and I'm publishing it because I'm not ashamed of it.
One day I want to grow old with someone that chooses me over all worldly possessions.
It's a big dream, but I'm okay with that.
Not that being cheated on isn't completely shitty. It is, and I wouldn't discount that as an awful experience to go through because trust me, if you asked 19-year-old me to rate its severity out of 10, she'd give you a solid 100. But, 19 year old me hadn't had to learn how to un-love that boy. She didn't have to wish she hated him... she just did. She was able to forge a sufficient story in her mind to banish thought of him. She immediately listed the cons of that relationship and thrived in the fact that she could do better.
This thing that I feel right now, however. This is totally different.
This is realising that we weren't right for each other, no matter how 'perfect' it felt. This is acknowledging that love is hard work, and if that person does not wish to put in that work anymore than that is a sure sign that the love is not there and you should move on. That's far more easily said than done when you're quick to remember staring into each others eyes for hours and love letters claiming you each would go 'to the end of the earth' for each other. But - maybe this termination is the end of your earth - your combined earth - and whilst you did as much as you could, you travelled to the edge and there was nowhere forward. At least, not for now*.
*On that point, it's hard for the "love-loss-victim" (the one that is still moreso in love i.e. me) to not postulate whether it could work out in the future. I felt so damn pathetic all of yesterday because I couldn't help but visualise scenarios in our late 20's when we'd 'bump' (lol) into each other all happy-and-fulfilled-and-shit and somehow we'd fall in love all over again. That's a coping mechanism though, and it won't help me feel better. I need to know it's over. Today, I'm starting to feel like it is.
I will likely marry someone who is not him. I will love that person more than him (this still hurts to write).
This is exacerbated by my mental state, and I know most of you have some understanding of the exact thought process looping through my mind right now. Yet, these thoughts are zooming through my brain frighteningly fast and painfully often. Could I have been better? What could I have done differently? Should I have paid more attention? Where did I go wrong? Am I not enough? Is there something inherently wrong with me, so that I am unable to be loved?
Yes, it got pretty heavy there at the end, but it wouldn't be honest if I didn't write how I really felt. But, alas, I have thought about it A LOT and in a more optimistic swing of brain activity I have come up with a short little list for "love-loss-victims" to rebuild their outlook and remember that whilst it's a cliche that their ex-partner reinforced... 'it's not you... it's me'....
well, it really is the case
1. If compromise didn't work, then what will?
You can't force someone to love you. Just like you can't force it from the start with people who 'just aren't right for you' after the first date. As hard as it is to come to terms with, your ex-partner may have been right - fleetingly right - but not completely right in a lasting way. Think about the concessions you gave them throughout the relationship, all of the compromises you made in vast aspects of your life to accomodate them. Yes, compromise is a sign of love and you'll have to make compromises for the person you end up spending your life with. But (and here's the kicker) - the compromises you made for this most recent love weren't enough for them. They decided their lives could somehow go on for the better without you. And yes, this is fucking hard to hear, but forever love means that someone exists that wouldn't make that decision. The person who will choose you forever will never decide to tell you that their life has the chance of being better without you.
2. Age isn't just a number when it comes to young love
Being in love in your early 20's is hard, especially when the outcome of love is either marriage or separation. Self-perception and ambition play a huge role in this as well, and I've learnt from experience that a person's self-perception in their 20's is a super vulnerable and volatile force when it comes to maintaining a relationship. This is not the old days when it was normal to get married at 24 and start a family. Committing to someone at 20 is committing to someone for 10 years before all that family stuff (I'm coming from the perspective of someone who actually wants that). Some people can do it. Those people (I imagine) have simultaneously strong levels of self-perception and decisively agreeable ambition. Meaning - both of them are comfortable with the restraints a relationship puts on them (exclusivity, time constraints, geographical constraints etc.) and know their ambition works within that scaffold. This, so it seems, is often discussed in the relationship conversation as maturity. So, let's be real, if you and your 20-something partner didn't have a similar level of maturity to begin with... you were always going to be in for a difficult ride.
3. There is no time-limit to finding the one
Also difficult to hear in a time of unprecedented loneliness, but hey, it's a reality.
4. Your ex's life will not improve because they attain something better than you
Their lives might improve, and sure, I know that as much as I'm hurting right now I want nothing but happiness for him. But, his life will improve because he will attain something different to me, not better than me. I was enough. I was a mango smoothie when he regrettably wanted green tea (both delicious options).
5. There is no such thing as a limited pool of people with 'relationship material'
You loved that person because in your mind they ticked all the big boxes - for me it was ambition, thoughtfulness, humour and attraction. These boxes are not finite. They are complicated and unexplainable and exist in beautiful bouquets in thousands of other people. People also hold these traits at different levels throughout their life. Unfortunately that means that one day your lost-love might develop the maturity you wish they had at 21 when they are 29 and is likely to be a completely different person by this point. But, fortunately, that means someone else out there is on an entirely different trajectory, unknowingly waiting for someone like you to wholeheartedly sync with them.
There has been a lot of analysis that has gone into writing this and I know for sure now that my brain is just as strained as my heart is. I just needed to re-affirm myself. I needed to signify I'm okay in some other form than chanting "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay" in my head. This is a testament to my idealism and my love for love, and I'm publishing it because I'm not ashamed of it.
One day I want to grow old with someone that chooses me over all worldly possessions.
It's a big dream, but I'm okay with that.
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