“You’ve seen my descent, now watch my rising”

There is a little girl within me that is calm and uncomplicated. That can hear what you are saying and not have frantic highs, that can see what’s happening and not feel agonising lows. I’ve been working on channeling that little girl, hearing her voice, being present, being here, happy with my journey, my face, my body, my comments, my actions. Isn’t it funny that we grow up learning to push away everything we are, and then circle back trying to be who we once were?

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Can you hear me?

We had been together for a little bit. You know, exchanged numbers, off bumble, one date in, lots of texts, and once a day FaceTimes. In that small space we had a level of knowing. Okay, I had a level of knowing. I knew he could hear my voice. I knew it followed him. Triggered him? Moved? Softened? Angered him? There I was, sitting in my apartment looking out at the San Francisco Bay, and him in his, by the Santa Monica Pier. I spoke to no one, and he could hear me tell him, what are you doing to better yourself? How have all these supposed regular, deeper, meditations actually helped you? How are you connecting with others? Why don’t you get to know me, instead of complaining about my questions, my accent, my jokes. Why don’t you be kind for a change?

Or maybe he heard none of it. Got off his couch. Went to bed. Covered his eyes with an airline sleep mask. And I lay on my bed, alone, recognising here I was, falling again. Off the bed. It felt higher than it was. Maybe off a hill top. Yes, I was falling off of that.

In my descent, I started doing this thing, I blamed him for my emotional state. I lost my ability to communicate openly. I walked out. Well, physically I walked in, but held so much back. Not able to face the fall, the rise, the drop, everything that was coming.

I’d like to say, we were not in the right place at the right time. I’d really like to say that. As if everything else was great. As if, all of him and I, was great. I don’t know.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Be still.

He was still there, in my fucking heart.

I scrolled through my calendar to see how long it had been. I typed “surf lesson” in the search bar; that was the day after the last time I saw him, nearly four weeks ago. I still cared. I still brought him up in my mind. I still believed, or thought I believed, or made myself believe, whatever. The point is, I closed my eyes, calmed my mind and was lost with him. He could have been great for me. He could have been for me. We could have been great. Does that stop? Every time this happens, I wonder if this will stop.

Sigh, be still my heart: be open to your loneliness. Be kind to the place that wasn’t right for someone else. Know that it is yours, all yours right now.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Steps of Kindness

I wish you an abundance of energy, tranquility, love and real kindness. I truly hope you can live your life the way you want to. With achievement and stability and inner compassion.

Thanks for teaching me more about myself. The triggers were worth it. Right now I can’t give you what you need. What you want from me doesn’t bring me joy.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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First on SoundCloud

I was listening to my new guys music on soundcloud, whilst me ex was texting me, and another ex-from 10 years ago asked me what I’m doing tonight.

Life has a way of consistently bringing everything I cared about to one place, as if to remind me, keep going, keep swimming, keep being kind, stop judging your past.

Remember, everyone always leaves and always comes back. There is more to this life than any one of them.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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While he was in London

He whatsapped me a picture.

I clicked and stared at it for a few seconds. It was a picture of him with a vitamin drip in his right arm, half his face cut off by the frame. It hurt, looking at him hurt, conversations without him, hurt.

So I just reminded myself to notice it. This time, rather than texting him a sentimental and long message about my feelings, and wishes, and brokenness. I just noticed it. It was in the middle of my chest, center left, forced, and choking. Constant and reverberating. I kept breathing, it kept coming back up. Like our entire relationship, it felt disproportionate. His full detox to my repeated aches.

He said he was checking in to see how I was doing. To me this was 60 days since the last time we spoke (I counted them), to him this was just his morning catch up text.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Learning to say I Love You

I may have said I love you, once, maybe twice, in our entire three years together.

Near the end, because he started to feel like family, I would say “love you, bye!” You know, like when you hang up the phone, or leave their place, with that familiar bounce in your step.

Sometimes he would say matter of fact, “It’s cuz you love me” or he would ask gently “You love me?” My response was always, “Always”.

I would always love him, I knew that. But at the time, responding with I love you, or starting with it, was so big, so real, it was really vulnerable. If I were to ever say it, I had to pause at every word, I, Love, You. Heavy. Fear. Much. Maybe weak. Couldn’t say it.

I did love him. I’ll always love him. We both felt it.

And now, after all this time, I can tell him I love you, and mean it as a friend. I am so thankful for this version of peace and love that I feel today.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Until you grow big enough to handle anything

I can handle anything. Truly, complicated negotiations, mortgage application, car lease, purchase of a home, name the task. I can step out the house and take on the world.

Until I like you.

Until I’m chatting to you and I feel the potential. The tiniest spark of like. Then I’m at a loss. For words. For the right words. It’s like my heart is cursed. I shame and second guess and go back wanting to correct everything and anything I just said, I come out frazzled, upside down, lost in my mind, everything but my real self.

And sometimes I am a lot and sometimes I am nothing. And I don’t know if you are a lot or nothing. But I know right now it’s too much for me to handle on my own.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Feel Something

On the 4th Sunday, in my empty bed, I hurt myself. I lay there, feeling drained and overpowered by a beating in my head. I was flooded by an urgent need to make myself see things, things that my eyes and ears couldn’t unsee, things that I knew would cut deep. I had been here before, and here I was again. Like a sado-masochist, stabbing myself, over, and over. Not with a blade, but with messages, and pictures, and writings. I scrolled through my phone, through Instagram, looked at videos and pictures of him and his ex, videos that had always been there but I hadn’t wanted to watch. And for some reason, in what seemed like a permanent anguish, I really needed to find them. Needed to open up his profile, scroll to exactly what I was looking for, find it and burn. I think I needed to feel pain, and tears, something, anything, to remind me that what we had was real. That my feelings were real. That you had feelings for me, that you meant something. Mean something. That maybe if I still care, you’ll still come back, or something.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Protect Your Heart

For my Sunday workouts, when I lived down in LA, I used to hike this popular path going up a steep canyon. The hike itself was a joy and the views up were beautiful. Walking towards the park entrance, there was always some form of graffiti that would catch my eye. One in particular was the “Protect Your Heart” sidewalk stencil. I’ve taken numerous photos with it, angling my phone directly above it, in order to get the right shot of it flat and painted so boldly by my feet. The image has formed a memory of my time there. And the words really resonated with me, it was like a calling to my soul, yes, you too? you agree with me? I’ve been trying to protect my heart, from pain and people, and disappointment, and heartbreak. Ah so, all of us.

A few years after this, after my ex and I broke up, I thought about how bad it felt that I couldn’t be with him for reasons beyond my control. But I also felt terrible, once again, that he didn’t want to be with me for life.

A lot of what I felt with him was based on fears. Future fears. Real fears. I was scared of not knowing what was going to happen. Scared of the responsibility of finding someone again. Scared of feeling alone again and feeling lonely again. Scared of missing him severely, of no longer having him take care of me, having him think about me. Scared of losing him.

My reactions were always attempting to protect my heart out of fear. I wanted to hold it, put it in a box, love him from inside four walls. Tell him this isn’t working. Explain that I couldn’t make this work. Tell him to walk away. But that wasn’t what happened. I gave him my heart, handed him the box, and never took it back.

Recently, I read that the artist was trying to remind us to love ourselves, to connect spiritually, and to choose love. There shouldn’t be walls, or a box, or distance. Instead there will be love, and we will always choose love, for ourselves and to others.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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From lovers to friends

And today, this is what I wanted.

This special kind of friendship. I may not have been able to ask for what I want, or make the decision out loud, but I knew how to guide it.

To here.

With all its issues, concerns and nonsense. For me, perfectly placed where each of us sits in our lives. But we are connected on the periphery. Far enough to live without you. Close enough to ping you on days that I need a friend. And you would be there. And I would be there, in the same way.

Because in the end, we are both human in this struggle. Craving a heart that could see us. That would always see us. Worlds apart, cultures apart, cities apart and pain apart. But we always see us.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Five steps of heartbreak

1. Clarity – I left yoga feeling so clear about breaking up with you. About the decision I finally made. What I should do. The words I should use. Finally clear about what I needed and how unaligned we were. How okay it would all be. We were different people, different times. Walking boldly back, nodding to myself, it rang so true, in my mind and heart combined.

2. Clingy – It took exactly two weeks to feel everything, to realize my actions, to doubt my actions, to revel in shame and personal hatred, over and over and over again. I desperately wanted him back. Clumsy, losing, begging, creating scenarios in my head. Needing the attachment, closeness, his touch, so excruciatingly bad that I messaged him and begged him to sleep with me. Told him I missed him. Liked his messages. Made feeble attempts to be with him again. There was no space to do nothing, there was only space to act on it.

Whisper to myself, over and over, to no avail, “Remember your value. Remember your value.”

3. Crying – I found his new song online and listened to it. I wouldn’t normally like the tune, but I adored it. I imagined he was listening to it at the same time as I was listening to it. As if we had a bond. As if we were so in tune. Imagined the words were about me. Thoughts, and feelings of despair: why didn’t he love me. Tears trickled down my face because of the sadness I felt inside. Tears, lots and lots of tears.

4. Cold – I feel nothing. Memories of him seem unreal, someone else’s. Within me there is nothing. No sadness, not happy, not angry, just numb, and careless. Who are you? Why did I care? Will I ever care again?

5. Care again – much time passed, and I thought I forgot, I thought I’m okay, I accepted it, he was not for me; but then I saw a picture of his new girl. Not the main blonde one, with her I didn’t have insecurities. The cute, little new one, the one that took my place. The one that looks carefree and fun and unlike me. Oh, fuck me.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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The Big Stuff

Exactly at 9pm I walked into his friend’s newly opened bar. The neighbourhood was grungy but the bar was impressive, spacious, light wood, retractable ceilings. The group hadn’t arrived yet. Of course he was late to his own goodbye party.

I stood nervously at the bar, looking for empty seats. Orderly, I found two next to each other. I sat down, hugged my small bag, wondering how I could make myself seem more approachable and less serious. I got up, took off my jacket and hung it on the hook beneath the bar, shook my hair out, before flipping it over to one side. I sat back down on the stool and hobbled myself forward. Resting my elbows and bag on the bar, I took space and got the bartender’s attention. Thoughts trickled in, should I tell the bartender I’m a friend of a friend of the owner, should I reposition myself to face the entrance, was my top cute enough for tonight. Oh text him: “I’m here, no rush.” More thoughts, do I look hot. Smiling at the bartender, “hi, could I get a glass of Prosecco please?” Awkward just sitting and waiting, should I try to have a conversation with the bartender. Definitely don’t check your phone, no one else at the bar will come up to you if you check your phone.

An hour later, I see him walk in towards the back of the bar. Dark, his black D&G puffer jacket on, left hand pulling through his hair, and a silly bounce in his step. He walked to me, said something irrelevant about the bar and his friend the owner, and sorry we’re late. I returned a warm hug and bubbly, “Hi! No worries, how are you?” After that it’s blank, I don’t remember much of the small talk between us. We kept it very mature though. Not that I’m surprised. I appreciate that we did. My heart was beating on overdrive most of the night. I smiled a lot that night.

Later, when I got into bed, alone, every part of my chest hurt. Profusely. I wished and wished and wished I could have left with him. I was upset that another friend made a comment about our relationship as if we were playing a game. I was also upset that his friend felt left out of our connection. I completely, unashamedly adored him. I don’t know what it is about humans, that after 9 months you can still feel the same familiar pangs of need for each other.

There was a heavy spark between us all night, but I somehow found the power to leave early, at midnight. And I made a decision that I wouldn’t be with him. Reminding myself of the things I needed but he wouldn’t/couldn’t give. Reminding myself that, we did not have the relationship that I wanted. Reminding myself that, he was not willing or able to give me all the connections I wanted and needed.

I’ll tell you though, I adore him. I can’t fathom how it is possible to remember that you love someone this much after not seeing them at all. Nothing for 9 months.

It just destroys me to know how much we loved one another. I could cry all night about it.

I needed something to remind me that he was not for me. I read and reread the painful things but it wasn’t enough.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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New Title: things my therapist said..

My therapist said, our relationships go to the core of our trauma, because we seek in our partners what we need and what we are searching for within ourselves. That blew my mind.

I then told her I wanted to be angry at my ex so that I could get to the next step faster, but for some reason I couldn’t be angry at him. She said: because you love him. Again, mind blown.

I wanted to message you, though I didn’t know what to say, where to start. The easiest thing, the only thing I had to tell you was, how difficult last week was. I cried three nights in a row because of how much I felt I needed you, fists clenched wished we were still together, in a well of sadness drowning with the thought of losing the love of my life.

I know when we broke up it was for the best. I know that we were no longer helping each other grow. I know. I don’t believe it though. I still hope you will realise how strong your feelings are for me and come back to me. But I’m working on this part. I’m reading about my attachment style and your attachment style. I’m reading about the steps to go through after a breakup. I’m taking notes and thinking about it all. I’m letting myself feel sad, I’m letting myself stare at your icon for a minute a day and wonder if you were staring at my icon in that exact minute too.

I try to remember the things I had written down, I was sad when we were together. Not because of you, though it felt like it, it was because of me. It wasn’t all butterflies and soulmate and sleep and touch and serenity. I wasn’t able to communicate my needs and I never asked or understood yours.

We had a connection, and I guess we couldn’t have planned that, but it wasn’t enough. Eventually no longer for us. We both needed so much more we couldn’t give each other.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Am I jealous of your baby?

This one was hard to admit…

I had a thought that made it clear to me that we shouldn’t be together. Loving him too much, hurt, not just me, but everything.

Turns out when he sent me a picture of his newborn nephew, my heart cracked. I felt the love, he felt, for him, in my bones, and under my skin, and running through his veins. Two seconds later, I felt he lacked that love for me. My place vanished beneath his chest. I was bothered by a newborn baby.

This rattled my core beliefs.

I loved babies, newborns, their soft smell, and unending surrender; I had a pulsating love that radiated for them through my eyes and my soul; but here I was feeling jealous of this little adorable thing. Shameful, real, jealousy. This round little Indian Spanish baby.

That was definitely not healthy.

As it turns out, I’ve been struggling with this year on year. I try to work on me these days.

We become jealous because we feel threatened. We do not want anyone to take our partner’s affections from us. We do not want to lose any love or admiration, nor do we want to share. Truth is, everyone has to share.

Romantic love isn’t the only love that exists. Inevitably, your partner will care deeply for other people. Your partner will always love other people; he or she will always want to express admiration, give affection, and offer support to them. This has absolutely nothing to do with you.

Love yourself. Improve parts of yourself you are not happy with. Share. Practice being the person you want to be around. Practice acceptance and love. Be generous with your attention and affection. Be spontaneous with acts of kindness and tokens of appreciation. Respect boundaries and be understanding, with yourself and with others. Practice honesty and respect and patience.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Break ups in cars with questions

This week has been difficult. And I know you would love to hear me tell you that. That I miss you. That I’ve needed to message you. That this shit is hard without you.

Why do we need a reminder that someone truly loved us, when we know they did, we felt they did, and being away from that is simply going to be difficult, tough, and full of moments we just don’t want to sit through.

And now that we are no longer speaking, it seems like all the answers were in the car that day. And frustratingly I didn’t ask any of the questions.

I was set on a path, unable to think beyond the thought I had had and was ready for. Unable to think beyond breaking up, now, in the car, get this done. Everything you said, although I remember nodding like it made sense, I can’t remember any of it for the life of me.

And I could have asked you everything and anything. And you would have answered. Like how long do you think we should stop speaking for. What will you think if I hang out with your friends. Really what is it that frightens you. Who is it you are trying to please. Why didn’t we make this work.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Going through and through and through our reckoning

I started to imagine we would have the most incredible, last night together. You moving out next Wednesday and our future over since last Thursday. In our fickle, forever relationship, I pictured one, last, fun, full of conversation night. I clung to the thought of one final night with you, even final night tripping with you. 

Oh, but you tore me apart. Punched me in my stomach a few times these past two weekends. I don’t know if I can ever forget what you did and how it felt.

I’m well aware, I’m the one who broke up with you, via text, lest I forget. I’m the one who told you verbatim: I can’t speak to you; can’t be with you; can’t see you.

Those words were cumulations of so much pain, so much pain that I couldn’t handle on my own anymore. I was/am in such a dark place that I needed the distance, to take care of myself and to not take you there too.

And you never, not even once asked that we stay together. Instead whenever I feebly attempted to talk about it, you always said: whatever you want.

Whatever I want, means you made a choice. A choice to let me choose.

I love you beyond words, any words that I could perfectly piece together and write to you. But neither you, nor I, should be going through this misery.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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It felt mean, because I thought it was mean

Tonight was the worst.

I felt like he punched me straight in my stomach.

I had no idea who the girl was who answered his phone.

It was unintentional. Poorly planned. Hours of partying, bathroom powder breaks. Unwinding of a tough work week.

Whatever it fucking was, it was mean.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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This one is for you P

I’m having those thoughts again. Sad, lonely, empty heart, thoughts.

Sad that he wasn’t the person for me. What I needed was consistency and daily connection. It was simple, I needed daily connection. When I finally understood he couldn’t give me that, I didn’t suddenly feel a sense of clarity, instead it pained me. It really hurt.

Lonely that the person I loved so deeply didn’t give me the things I needed. I stayed available but unfulfilled. It frightened me that I couldn’t open myself up to someone else, because of the place I kept hidden from others, but ready, for him.

My heart felt empty. I saw how I could lose someone who was giving me what I needed, who was available, attentive, complimentary, creative, and I couldn’t let him in fully. I couldn’t fill him into that space within me. That felt sad, lonely, empty heart.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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Lesson #4257: ask for what you want

How can you improve me? What can you teach me about life? Do you want to take this journey with me? What can you give me? What can you do for me?

I want you to make me feel confident, beautiful; make me feel like I am your priority. Make me smile. I want you to support me through my job troubles, family troubles, anxious troubles. Protect me. Be with me. I want you to be consistent and consistently available.

My belief was that feeling the love he had for me was enough. His love for me was all I should want. All I could expect. All I deserved.

I would be too demanding, too much of a gold digger, too arrogant, if I expected or asked for more, for anything. So instead of asking for a big house with a pool and friends in Connecticut, I said, that’s nice he knows people there. Instead of asking for good morning messages, I sent them to him. Instead of getting his support and kindness for what I was going through with my job, I helped him pack up his house and told him I understood how his move after living here for 6 years would feel confusing.

Miss Mess

xoxo

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