Until when?
I don’t know.
And I’m not actively searching, either.
I just thought I’d say this battle cry out loud. ‘Cause I’ve been telling myself this since I was a teenager, but I didn’t really know the responsibility these words entail. I thought it would just make for a good Friendster shoutout, you know, back in the glory days of emo.
But yeah. A battle cry nonetheless. Ever since I got over this sudden surge of infatuation, mistaken it as love, and have gotten so attached to this guy for four long years. Funny part is, we weren’t even together.
From when I was thirteen to seventeen, this guy was always at the back of my head. I always want to impress him, get him to notice/like/love me, I would always miss him and not feel complete everywhere I went.
So I untangled myself from him.
I went through all sorts of pathetic shit that a teenager usually goes through when madly in love. That would’ve been cute and excusable. Except mine lasted for years. And then I went to college, saw more cute guys, and that type of attachment just got transferred to someone else.
I’ve been about that life until I was 28.
But you see, I was never the serial monogamist type. Contrary to that, I actually had just one serious boyfriend so far, which lasted well over three years. I’ve never longed or actively searched for a partner. But in between all that, I would meet and really like someone that I got so hung up and attached to them.
Even after the breakup. Even if it was a toxic, one-sided relationship. Even when they actually ain’t shit.
I let myself get enveloped in this rapture of emotions. One that, most of the time, got me thinking that if only they were here with me, life would be better. Heart eyes, baby. Sparks flying into the sky. Hot, fiery passion all over.
I even convinced myself that I can love them better than the girls they’re currently dating. Yep. That kinda crazy.
So trust me when I say that this time, I really mean every sense of the word for this whole battle cry. This time, I’m not just being dramatic for a Friendster or Facebook post.
I’ve earned it. After so many years of always living my life in this toxic cycle, living my life in the enchantment or curse of wanting someone, I have finally learned to own my life and say this with conviction: Love will just have to wait.
Why it’s gotta wait
Nearing thirty, you’d think that I would’ve already figured it all out. But no. I feel like my life has just started. And that whole renaissance for me was when I took acid the first time.
Yes, you read that right. Acid. LSD. Lysergic Acid Diethylamide. That shit really cleans up your slate and lets you see through all the bullshit and dead-weight you carry.
But all the lessons were not instantaneous for me. Well, sure, it brought me to a high like I’ve never reached before, seeing all sorts of perspectives all at the same time. Like, I saw where my mom and brother were in that moment from a bird’s eye view (confirmed all this the next day and tried hard not to make it sound weird), recalled a favorite memory with my most recent ex and cleared things out with him — like I was really there living in that moment, and I was able to see three shots of me and my friends in the room: one was my close up — like I could see every expression my face was making, one bird’s eye-view, and the usual view from my own two eyes. (If you wanna know more details about all these, it’s on The Tryp Show’s first episode.)
Apart from that though, that night on my first trip, I cried. By the shore, in the dark, with my sober friend trying to listen and comfort me through my hiccups. That was a soul-cleansing cry, because I realized that I’ve been carrying all these attachments and toxic emotions for most of my adult life. I felt sorry for the person I was, pre-acid soul-cleansing cry, and I wondered how I survived that kind of emotionally heavy life.
I felt like a huge weight was literally lifted off my heart. Not my shoulders like the cliché line, but my heart. And I felt it instantaneously. Like I could breathe better. Like I had more space in here to love even more.
And that feeling of all my suffering peeling-off continued until the acid wore off. Not in a judge-y way but more of, in an I-understand-it-now perspective.
Why did I have to get so attached to my ex? He deserves whatever kind of life he chooses. That’s his path. I got my own life to live too. And why did I have to live my life in other people’s perspective anyway? Where did all this crazy attachment come from?
And that, my friends, was the start of my journey for growth.
There was more to that attachment, apparently. One reason I found was not being taught proper boundaries at home, mix that up with just the right amount of physical and verbal abuse growing up, which led me to be a serial people-pleaser, among other things. (Side note: There’s so much more I learned along the way, but it’d probably take me a whole book to write all that shit out. Don’t get me wrong though, I take full responsibility for my own life now and I wouldn’t have it any other way. For more of these discussions, there’s The Tryp Show Episode 1 for you.)
Layers upon layers of dead skin falling off. In the six months since I had that trip and actively sought growth, life also led me to the right people and experiences. Or so at least, now I’m more aware of what these people and experiences are for. No matter if it’s painful or embarrassing, I always try to push through the first layer of emotion/s and learn from it all.
And this is why I feel like life has just started for me.
And love, romantic love, will just have to wait. I have never been so full of genuine self-love before. I wanna relish in all this glory of just simply taking in every day of my life slowly, mindfully. All my mistakes, my inconsistencies, my confusion, my embarrassment, all my negative self-talks. All my strength, resilience, doubts, and fears come together when I come from a place of love. It’s fucking amazing to see it all unfold.
And then there’s also the deeper realization that I’m just this tiny speck of dust in this world, just trying to make sense of who she is. This, along with the line Memento Mori, keeps me not to drift too far off my worries and live in the moment.
But the people around me have been telling me to pursue love, before my ovaries start wilting in a few years. Like that’s all that really matters in life. Like that’s all my purpose is ever gonna be in this world. A baby making machine. A support system for someone.
I’ll tell you what: I know what I am capable of. I don’t need someone for me to see, nor achieve all that. If anything, that someone will be a good compliment in my life, and I, for him (or her. You can never tell). Kind of a Yin and Yang. But I’ve found my own balance, anyway, and even if it teeters most days, it is in the attempt of loving myself that I am most happy. Everything else will follow.
It took getting rid of all my addictions to truly understand who I really am. To truly forgive myself, my past, and all the people I’ve loved and blamed for my emptiness. I found peace when I took a step back, and removed myself from doing all the things that didn’t serve my purpose. I had to come face-to-face with myself: What is it that you really want? Why do you still keep doing this if you don’t like how this feels in the end?
Everything gets old after a while. But love, self-love, that shit never gets old. This life is a journey. You peel apart the many layers of yourself as you go along. There’s so much more that you will get to know about yourself along the way. And there are so many people you’ll meet and learn to love, too. And whether someone will want to be in on the long-haul with you or not, won’t really matter, in the grand scheme of things. You are your own anchor. No other person is the answer. You are.
Cover photo credit: https://www.instagram.com/p/BMPB5PogL8X/?taken-by=care4art