People, please.

 

I remember him exclaiming  with conviction: I have loved you more than my ex! He exclaimed it in a way he was yearning for me to thank him for it.

But no. When he said those words, immediately, the first thought that I came across with was going through emails containing an exchange of the words I love you. I went through these emails one night as I was breastfeeding Panday to sleep. These emails, dated as we were on a trip to my happy place in Zambales, which of course, I paid for.

I came across this video where the woman explains that there is this type of love that is defined as the amount of love you can give to the person, a type of love that continuously ‘loves’ you if they continue to get from you, leach on your energy, on everything that you can give. And when you exhaust yourself for all the years of being on a fight or flight mode to the point of breaking, you break - and as you ask help to pick up your broken pieces, they ask for the version of you before the break and hate you that you changed. They will hate you that you weren’t able to regenerate the love that they can’t pour back to you in the beginning.  

Givers have to learn to set limits because takers don’t have any – I learned the truth in that quote the hard way, multiple times. We aren’t just gonna talk about my ex here. This also applies to friends, strangers, and definitely family – because where else will you learn people pleasing if not from there?

I recently was gifted a 2 feet Buddha by a friend who was letting go of it, a few days after I manifested one. Since I was trying to heal my relationship to my mother, because maybe I just need to be more available for her, I sent her a message about receiving a buddha and the luck it brings and what she replied surprised me. She told me to give it to her so she can leave me an inheritance. When I told her I don’t think it will still have a space in her fully loaded apartment, she no longer responded.

I grew up in a household where my talents weren’t worthy to be shown to visitors. Who would want a declamation piece for a house talent show? Definitely not ours. My brother would dance and sing, and when asked about me, my mother would reply: Ay ang galing maglinis niyan. Pag pinaglinis mo, kukuha ng libro, kunyari mag-aaral. My mother said this as if I shouldn’t be holding books, instead, I should be helping her with the household chores. I was never encouraged to express my body freely through dance as my mom would say: ang tigas ng katawan mo, in a way that degrades you to your bones and crushes your soul. My singing voice wasn’t at par with my older brother, too. Without a talent and all the limiting beliefs bestowed upon me, I yearned for my parents’ validation to a point a didn’t grow up with a personality, and as my brother told my parents: a loser.

I remember doing everything for everyone, as far as I can remember. I did all my older brother’s projects while I was also doing mine when he got his heart broken at the tender age of 16. I was really doing it for the yearbook because I had a lot of crushes from his batch but I also saw the few weeks left before the school ends – can he just wait until then?

He still had to repeat the year. We graduated together, we were also classmates, so it was easier to take care of him. When my little brother was born twelve years after me, I felt it was my responsibility to take care of him, I walked from school to home so I could save my allowance, I did projects, research, did a part time job (that I didn’t get paid for), applied for varsity so I could come up with enough money by the end of the week so I can buy my little brother his milk, or a surprise toy with a hamburger. I started working four days after my highschool graduation so I show my parents that I am a good girl.

Now, I can go ahead and blame them all for robbing me of my childhood but do you know how tiring it is to play the story of the victim? The pain that lingers to your body being the one who got played is just so freaking heavy. Do you really want to carry that load? The story that ended you can also be the beginning of something new. A greater one.

There are no mistakes, only lessons. And people can only love you to the level of love that they received themselves.

Those sentences are just two examples of the many lessons I got from these life experiences. I don’t want to change anything in my past as that is impossible. Instead, I decided to face my where the bleeding started, identified my wounds, so I can finally heal them. Instead of finding love in hopeless places, instead of giving wounded people the love I wish to receive, I decided to give it to myself.  I decided to be selfish. I decided to be ok to be the villain in the stories of people who have not got out of the victim mindset. I decided to save my fucks for better things ahead of me.

You will always be one decision away from changing the chapter of your life story. Are you going to be stuck in the old one that should've been done a long time ago?

And when you reach that level of knowing yourself, your icks and your wants outside anyone’s eye, there’s no going back to the past version of you that needs to please others, the past version of you that seeks validation from external sources. I would still slip from time to time trying to fix others, but I can now identify when the pattern resurfaces and claim the distinction between what feels good for my soul and which one warrants my powerful NO.

Recently, a guy was trauma dumping on me about his experience with the love of his life and I was giving him things to ponder on, a medicine as I call it – he started messaging the next day complaining how he wasn’t able to get a good sleep yet again.

Now, there was a version of me who wanted to console this person and tell him feel good stuff, but I didn’t. Instead I told him that I cannot nurture him and his fucked up decisions.  

I don’t mind giving a medicine but I am not expected to be the one to make you take it and take care of you until you heal. 

It was uncomfortable. But it was a practice. By saying no to things that doesn't excite me, the universe brings me more things I can say yes to. By letting go of stories that no longer serves me, I allow growth to take over. I give myself a blank space to fill in. 

And boy it feels good to replace all that hate with love.