On a high

a whiff of the smell of untouched pages..

the sight of uncreased spines..

the feel of hundreds of crisp pages fluttering and rolling through my fingertips.

i have painfully missed the bookstore.

for months I have kept to myself, wallowed a few months, hibernated a few, then the last few months I worked hard to get myself back on my feet again.

Now I’m about to embark on some new challenges in my life. A completely new page in my novel… maybe even a whole new novel in itself.

I indulged my yearning to read a new book three days ago, and I surprised myself at how I was able to finish it too quickly!

Today, I purposefully went to my favorite bookstore and browsed and browsed until I had five books tugged around one arm and the other still browsing at more books!

Finally I had to put down one book and just bought the four but vowed to get more when I get my first paycheck (after six-months of unemployment!).

I’m excited to read. I didn’t even bother looking at reviews and recommendations for good books. I browsed and browsed titles and took whatever catched my fancy.

Now, any recommendations from you?

Saving it for Special Ocassions

My mother and grandmother were the number one advocates of “save it for special ocassions”… We have a huge china cabinet (why do they call it china cabinet by the way?) of unused Noritake dinnerwares, serving bowls, complete set wonderfully arranged for display. Never have I seen them used when my grandmother was still alive. Most of them were shattered to pieces during earthquakes. Especially the strong one way back in ’91, was it?

My mom followed suit. I was mostly baffled at why they would buy those fine china but never use them… when will they ever use it? when royalty comes to the house? 

Unfortunately, a part of it translated to me. I was always cautious about “saving for later” or “saving for special ocassions.”

In something as enjoyable as eating, I used to save the best part for last. When given a choice of books to read or movies to watch — I’d save the best for last. 

Lately, with how my life’s transpired, I realized how saving it for later or saving for special ocassions just wastes a lot of you energy and whatever it is you’ve been saving.

I remember having a nice blue cocktail dress that I bought because I loooved how it looked on me and how it made me look like a blue tinkerbell. I bought it and haven’t worn it. I was saving it for when my husband would take me out on a nice dinner or date after years of not going anywhere on a date…

It didn’t happen, and guess what? It’s not going to happen anymore. At least not with the husband I pictured that dress was going to be for.

My son had tons of crayons and art materials given to him over the years for birthdays and christmases and I’ve kept some of them – saving them for later. 

They’ve all been stacked and forgotten until I had to pack and move a few months ago. Now he’s using all of them and he’s enjoying it.

I was a sucker for “perfect timing”. I’d go out with my sisters or whoever and find myself craving for something, like ice cream and I’d tell myself, I’d wait for when everybody wants the same thing so then maybe we can all enjoy it.

Until of course, the moment has passed that when they want it all, I don’t want it anymore. Or the day will end and nobody actually wanted any ice cream so my craving won’t be satisfied after all.

I always postponed trip to fun places with Ziggy (and then husband) for special ocassions. birthdays, graduations, anniversaries. 

What’s the use now? we’re not the same “family” anymore. It’s me and my kid. Why wait for special ocassions? everyday is special for the two of us now. 

I find us going to different places and trying different things at a whim now (of course, considering finances too :p). I found out MV Doulos was docked at Manila until the next weekend so I already talked my sisters into coming with me next sunday. Ziggy will surely love being on an actual ship PLUS seeing those books too!

We also talked about going to the Science Discovery Center at MOA soon, all my sisters (plus one boyfriend) and my son. 🙂 — our usual ensemble, entourage the past few months now.

I’ve been enjoying so much time with my sisters that when I do get some extra money to treat them somewhere, I grab the chance. Why save it for later when everything’s right here, right now. 🙂

Bedtime Stories…

I’ve always read books for and with Ziggy. We used to read him the Mr. Men series (yes those quirky little miss and mr. shirts that have become so famous..they originated from a book and a british TV series.. tsk tsk)… 

sorry, back to topic.. we used to read him the Mr. Men series.. then Dr. Seuss’ beginner’s books (i.e. Green Eggs and Ham)…I wanted to create a routine for him. A bonding time for him and us then.. Then yes, the marital problem came that I forgot about me and him and our bonding moments I swore I would stick to…

Tonight, I was able to experience something I used to only see in the movies… reading a bedtime story/book to him as he slowly dozed to sleep… Me having to stop in the middle of the book the moment I noticed he’s asleep.

Classic moments you just cannot miss…

baby, you’ve hurt me…

When I get to Warwick Avenue
Meet me by the entrance of the tube
We can talk things over little time
But promise me you wont stand by the light

When I get to Warwick Avenue
Please draw the past and be true
Don’t say we’re okay
Just because I’m here
You hurt me bad but I wont shed a tear

I’m leaving you for the last time baby
You think you’re loving,
But you don’t love me
And I’ve been confused
Outta my mind lately
You think you’re loving,
But I want to be free, baby
You’ve hurt me.

When I get to Warwick Avenue
We’ll spend an hour but no more than two
Our only chance to speak once more
I showed you answers, now here’s the door

When I get to Warwick Avenue
I’ll tell baby there we’re through

Cause I’m leaving you for the last time baby
You think you’re loving,
But you don’t love me
And I’ve been confused
An outta my mind lately
You think you’re loving,
But you don’t love me
I want to be free, baby
You’ve hurt me.

All the days spent together
I wish for better,
And I didn’t want the train to come
Now it’s departed, I’m broken hearted
Seems like we never started
All those days spent together
When I wished for better
And I didn’t want the train to come.
No, no.

You think you’re loving
But you don’t love me
I want to be free, baby
You’ve hurt me
You don’t love me
I want to be free
Baby you’ve hurt me

-Warwick Avenue, Duffy-

My daughter

Since I was err a teenager, I’ve always had this perfect family picture in my head.

Me, my loving and wonderful husband, son for my firstborn then a daughter.

We lived in a small 3 bedroom house where we spend most family times in the living room, reading or telling stories or having snacks, maybe watching a movie (but I reckon, in my dreams, movies are done in the bedroom for a more comfy position).

When I got married, I had that loving and wonderful husband. He truly truly was.

Then I had my firstborn, true enough — a boy! I kid you not when I tell you that in my dreams, how my son looks like now pretty much is how my son in my dreams looked like!

We were on our way to purchasing that small house where we can spend our time reading, playing, telling stories and watching movies. It wasn’t coming really really soon, but it was in the works. We had a plan and a timeline already.

All that would be missing soon was a little girl. My husband’s little princess. Everybody’s princess actually.

Then my whole world turned upside down. My husband — gone. The house and everything we’ve planned and saved for it — poof!

My son now is all I have.

… and a dream that someday these dreams will come back to life…

I was looking up the name Zion online and what it means. My husband wanted that name for our son, taking it from the movie Matrix not knowing what it meant. I was looking at it and it had several meaning. One common denominator was that it was biblical. It meant God’s Promised or Spiritual Land or Heaven.

Garrett on the other hand meant a brave spearman.

Then I went on and on looking at names. I knew I wanted to name my daughter something starting with the letter Z again but there are a few girl names that start with Z.

I saw Zoraya — it means Dawn.

Pretty cute, nice and just graceful.

I also remembered I told myself months back, that I wanted a baby girl, but with my marital problems, I knew it’s almost impossible. But while I was praying I remember telling the Lord, if I am still going to be blessed with a girl, I want to give her a name that would give tribute to God and my faith and a representation of who she is after all of the things that has happened to me.

I looked up HOPE and other names that means Hope.

Asha.– hope.

Zoraya Asha — the DAWN of HOPE.

🙂 perfect tribute to the end of whatever this is I’m going through. I know that in the end of all of this pain, if God decides to give me a daughter, she will be the Dawn of my new Hope.

She will always be protected by the brave spearman of God’s Spiritual land — my Zion Garrett

beautiful. just beautiful.

I haven’t given up hope on that. I haven’t given up hope on my daughter. Soon she will give me, my husband(whoever this is/will be by then) and my son happiness and joy. I still pray for this daughter. I still dream about my family.

Betrayed… twice.

I have posted few entries back about my marital situation. For the past six months, I’ve been trying to help my husband get rid of some anger and rage he has inside of him. He’s been going to a psychiatrist. I’ve been supporting him and trying to be more understanding.

All this time I was doing all that because I thought that was the only thing keeping him from starting all over again and make this family work again.

WRONG! about 5 nights ago, I found out his affair never stopped. I found out I was betrayed a second time. This time, I found out worst things. how deeper their relationship has gotten and how many people they have betrayed too.

– his wife and son

– his mother and sister

– his bestfriends

– his bosses and colleagues

in short, people who have been trying to help him and support him all those months. People who believed he really wanted to get better. People who truly love him.

How do you get over the pain?

The pain of being betrayed by a friend — she was a college mate. She started with me on that same company 5 years ago and we’ve grown to be friends when  I was PREGNANT WITH MY SON whose father she (sorry for the word) f*cked. 

The pain of being lied to by your own husband — one too many times.

The pain of knowing your child’s father chose to stay with the woman and leave his family?

The pain. Oh, the pain.

 

How do you pick yourself up, stand up and move on?

how can you even stand up if you’ve been stomped on flat on the ground?

How do you move on knowing your son still has the need and right to see his father?

How? Lord, tell me how.

I know this woman has always had overlapping boyfriends, cheating on the current one with the next. I also know she was engaged when she started having an affair with my husband. I warned my husband about her. because i knew her that way. because her mother was also a mistress.

I can’t even come to understand how she could have done this to me. knowing we have so many close friends in the same company we’ve been working for, for the past five years. she had no conscience. she had no feelings. she had no care for this world but herself and her own desires.

I know she won’t stay long with my husband especially because he doesn’t have any money to even give her anything. all his money’s with us, he gave me his atms so everything goes straight to me. I know she’s not serious about this relationship and she’s just in it for the thrill. I know when the thrill is gone, she’ll be gone too. 

Now that it’s all blown up in the office and everywhere else. The thrill is gone. Now that I told her she can have him, but never my husband, the exciting feeling of taking something forbidden is gone.

My husband, we all believe now is going through soomething psychological. I can’t explain it and I won’t because it’s been tough. Make things short — Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Friends and family and me especially have seen it, read it even in emails he sent to himself… getting mad at the person he is now, coming from the person he was before. It’s scary when you read it but it’s something that tells us, he needs professional psychological help.

We all hate the woman because she took advantage of him and now, he’s gotten worse .. she could care less still.

I’ve been betrayed. twice. I’ve been in pain for nearly a year… and it’s not yet over. 

His family, our friends and I all agreed we’ll have to take him to a professional, willingly or not he will have to go. When he’s more sorted out, I know this whole drama will start again.

Will I still want him back? ask me now, and no. 

In months or even years’ time. I don’t know. 

I don’t know him anymore today. I don’t know if I will know him again in the future.

again… only God knows. His will be done. I know he will tell me the right answer when the time has come.

For now, we need prayers from everyone. I also would appreciate if anyone here knows of an experienced psychiatrist. we need one fast.

My year that was

Two thousand and eight ended quite sad. For the most part, 2008 was just full of heartaches, pains and unwanted & unexpected changes.

It was, worst of all, the year everything I knew or thought of went completely upside-down.

Pain I felt that past year was nothing compared to anything else I’ve ever felt. It weakened my core. Tore me to pieces and devoured me whole. The pain disabled me from anything and everything.

I saw the glass EMPTY, not just Half-Empty. Rock bottom became common place to me.  It became my place.  Pain, heartaches, humiliation, utter disregard and disrespect – they made sure I stayed at that bottom.

2008 however saw me closer to God. I found God at that rock-bottom place. Prayers became my refuge. They became the air that made me live, the air that saved me from suffocation.  I cried every bitter tear that I could, released every pain … or at least tried to.

Friends and Family became estranged. I drew myself away. Afraid of answering questions even I don’t have answers to. Afraid of further humiliation and embarassment. Afraid they might judge my husband for something we don’t even understand.

This new year,  I only have more prayers and hopes that life will be better. I want my life back on track. I want to start living again, be with my family and friends again.

Most of all, I want to stop the bitter heart… I want to love and be loved again.

There’s always a Choice

God chooses what we go through;

We choose how we go through it. 

– John C. Maxwell

 

For the past six months, I’ve been on a roller coaster ride. From finding out my husband’s drifting away, to learning about an affair he was starting to have; 

I had to quit the job I love in the company I was in since I graduated college. Then my husband left. My 4 year old son and I had to move to a tiny apartment and settle there for the next year. I was lucky to have another job, but it was one that I enjoyed and despised at the same time.

Then I had to quit again. The emotional roller coaster and unstable moods I’ve been going through because of my conversations with my estranged husband was too much to bear and was affecting my work.

I went from hating my husband, hating myself and hating my life, to finding God.

Then I went from having so much faith to hating God. 

I also went from blaming myself to blaming everybody else — my parents, my relatives, my husband and his family and their history of broken marriages.

I’ve talked to a few close friends, and then none. I went from talking to them about my situation almost on a daily basis, getting their insights, encouragement and support to shutting them all down at the same time.

Now I’m back to my faith. Believing in a God Almighty that has put me through all of this and still is putting me through this.

I stopped blaming but started accepting. Accepting the fact that yes, my husband has fallen astray, and may not come back anymore. Accepting the fact that maybe this Christmas is the first of the many Christmases my son and I will be spending alone — just the two of us. 

I am trying to reconnect with friends but am avoiding talking about my situation and start focusing on my life and the future my son and I should have.

One of my best friends told me last week — “Have faith. Keep praying. Be Patient. ”

Then I responded with sarcasm — “yeah, everybody’s been telling me about “God’s Time” when IS God’s Time??”

Candid and frank as she is, she responded — “Keep complaining, he’ll give you more challenges. Stop that and start trusting and believing — patience.”

And so it is. I was a bit taken aback when she said that because she usually has nothing much to say, but with the few words she says, they hit me right where it mattered.

So two days ago, I started believing. Stopped complaining. Stopped looking for my husband, stopped begging him to come back. Then I started accepting.

God chose for me to go through this… I chose how I will go through it… for the past six months, I didn’t make such a wise choice. Today, I’m hoping I’m making, at least, a better choice.

For the past six months, I’ve been on a roller coaster ride. I’m still on it… but I believe it’s about to stop.

I’m a Big Boy Mommy

Every night before we go to bed, my son and I would have a little chat, pray and say our Thank You’s for the day and kiss each other goodnight.

It’s a routine we’ve established since our Dada well… left. It’s a very calming and assuring routine for both of us as our prayers both have something for Dada.

He’d also say cute Thank You’s at the end of his prayers like:
“Thank you for eating, for playing, for sleeping, for going to school… thank you for loving mommy” — [I]aawww… :p[/I] It’s cute and sometimes amazing how he thinks of things he wants to be thankful for.

During our chats, I’d ask him how school went, what he did in his two and a half stay in his cute little blue classroom with all 10 of his classmates.

Oftentimes I hear the same things over and over like, we played, we washed our hands, we ate, we sang, etc etc.

Every now and then I’d hear a new activity like when they started their Animal Alphabet with A for Alligator, they had an Alligator path they followed all over the room, over and under and all around.

Then we also talk about what he did for the rest of the day. Often times he asks me… “Mommy, do big boys brush their teeth?” or “Mommy, do big boys get dressed all by themselves?”

Once I say, yes they do he’d have a big grin on his face and tell me “I’m a Big Boy now mommy!” Kids love learning that they’re big boys and girls already. They are in such a rush to be a “big boy or girl”. While we, adults, are dying to become kids again.

The other day while I was giving him his bath, he said.
“Mommy, don’t cry when Ziggy goes to school and Dada goes to the office. You’re a big girl.”

He’s seen me cry by myself one too many times when he’s Dada’s not home, especially when he left the house 2 weeks ago. He knows and somehow understands why I’m sad but he believes it’s nothing. It’s only because they leave mommy alone at home sometimes. He often makes me realize how tougher kids are because of innocence.

How I wish I had his innocence and strength to face this trial. He is indeed a big boy now. He’s a bigger boy than I thought he was.

When I’m In Over My Head

As I’ve endlessly blogged about in here and practically all of my other blogs, I’m in a roller coaster ride, dealing with issues with my husband and our marriage.

We’ve faught, we’ve made up, we’ve talked in whispers, in rage and in caring tones all within the past 4 months and yet we’re still here. Unsure of where this marriage is going and what we’re going to do.

Often times we start out fine. We start talking to figure out what we should be doing with our situation. Civil towards each other. I’m not mad at him, he’s not mad at me. Then within the conversation we start not making sense or one gets annoyed by the tiniest bit of things and before we know it we’re raising our voices or saying insults to each other.

For months I thought I could control myself. I can be mature enough to NOT take whatever he’s saying too personally because professional counsellors have explained that he’s a little lost and confused within his emotions and his head that sometimes he says things out of resentment and he can’t distinguish if he meant it. It’s a result of

Sure, most of the times I am able to stop myself and just take it in, even if it hurts. Sometimes I’m way in over my head thinking I can ALWAYS do this. Thinking I can always be patient and take these words and not take them personally. Then again, I’m only human. I have my own feelings that start to boil when I’m not in the right mind.

When I’m In Over my Head… I start to falter. I start to get paranoid. I start to break. I start to crumble. I lose sense of what’s right and wrong. What’s hurtful and what’s not. Then we start going through a literal roller coaster of spats and sorry’s and raised voices and silence.

When I’m In Over My head — I become the monster wife. 😦 I become a nagger 😦 I can’t seem to accept that I can’t control what’s going on and I have to let it go and take a course of its own.

I’m a mother and the eldest of four daughters. I have always had the tendency to “lead” and “take over”. I can’t take it when things don’t go my way. I can’t always accept that things aren’t exactly how I planned them to be.

Sometimes we just have to accept that they don’t go EXACTLY how we planned it, but we can still get to the same results… I know… but I’m having a difficult time accepting that. 😦