An old, literally and figuratively, teacher I had many years back commended me for graduating with honors in grade school. Apparently, because of my consistent years of being a slacker and school fights graduating with honors was like a come from behind win. She said this is an important milestone for me and I should never forget it. Of course, I did. At that time and for many years graduating with honors wasn’t an achievement, it was a duty my parents expected from me it and it was something they do not give you a pat in the back for.

Over time I have chosen to file away in the furthest corners of my brain most of my life experiences that some people usually are proud of. Not that I am ashamed of it, it’s just that at that time I accomplished it I saw it as my duty as a daughter, as a sister, as a friend, as a citizen, as an employee, as a mentor. Even though most acts I have done are above and beyond the “call of duty” in the norms of society I was involved with for me it is still classified as duty. On the other hand, I believe in karma. And every good or bad deed I do will come back to me one way or the other.

I never lived my life based on milestones but moments. I am certain I have a lot of milestones though that has shaped me to the person I am now. Yet when I think about the word “milestone” it conjures something extraordinary, something breathtaking in an amazing and wonderful way, something that changes a person’s life forever. Like being marked to be set apart. Like being lost then found.

Having such concept of the word “milestone” I am proud to say today is a milestone. Exactly a year ago was the first time me and  B started communicating. He was holed up in a FOB in Afghanistan and I was on my first break at work when he replied to the message I sent him online. Although I was still with someone else that time he waited for me to be single again but stayed with me as an amazing friend.

Personally, I think it’s a great achievement to be with someone and still loving him with the same passion I had the very first day. I cannot deny that my track record in terms of relationships is very much tarnished by running away, boredom, and apathy after a few months. I give up easily on people I used to love and still love and would rather keep a safe distance from them rather than make myself vulnerable to pain.

I admit that the past three hundred and sixty-five days wasn’t all bliss and romance. We’ve had our feisty arguments, tears, and one too many times I wanted to throw the towel and give up. But I know from my heart that no matter how mad I am or he is, no matter how cutting my words could be, or busy he can be when all has been said and done God is the keeper of our love and we will always work things out. As days progressed to weeks then months I have been made aware of my faults, flaws, weaknesses and I work hard on evolving myself to become a better partner, friend, and lover for  B. It’s not easy, especially I can be prideful. That’s why I am proud of myself and overjoyed for having a man who loves me unconditionally. But I've learned to grow vigilant - watch my words, watch my thoughts, watch my moods, watch my actions. Being careful not to be hurtful, overly sensitive, tactless, or mean. Because it's so easy to ruin something great and beautiful. It's so easy to take forgranted blessings that come our life.

The fact that he loves me, still makes me feel awe and giddy. The way he takes care of me still makes me feel cherished. The way he wants to be with me more than anyone or anything else still makes me feel important. And when my mind thinks “my  Brian” still puts a smile on my lips. I know most people consider being a parent as a milestone. But for me, at this point in my life, finding the man meant to be with me forever, loving him and being loved by him is a milestone. Childbirth and parenting can come later.

Almost everyone is familiar with the quote, “An idle brain is the devil’s workshop” [1855 H.G. Bohn, Hand-Book of Proverbs, p. 311].

Not wanting to be the playground of the devil while waiting for  B to come home from part-time work I surfed some videos to pass the time and found this one. I know watching this clip may not be productive, but one of my favorite authors also said, “The most wasted of all days is one without laughter” [e e cummings, unsourced].

So I urge you to watch and laugh, but not too much of either...

Imagine a life without the usual comforts - a soft bed or pillow to lie down on, no electricity or even light means no television or radio or  iPod, no phones ringing or text messages in being received, no hot meals or running water in a faucet, washing clothes by hand and trying to dry it in a dark damp place, pooping in a bucket and no toilet paper to wipe your ass, no deodorants or towels or shavers. That would really ruin one’s day. But then imagine being that way for 69 days. That would really put one in a foul foul foul mood. Now imagine spending 69 days in a dark hole with 33 other people mostly strangers to you and when disagreements or fights or nerves are all wound tight there is no where to go but stay and work out your issues together...after all where can you go if you’re trapped 700 meters underground?

Approximately 12 AM this morning, the first trapped Chilean miner (out of the 33) came above ground. And as of writing twenty-two has emerged already. I’ve watched this news since it first broke in CTV, CNN and CBC on August 5, 2010. Until the rescuers first made contact when they received a note from the trapped miners. Then the depressing news that it would take them until Christmas before they are rescued. The aid coming from diverse areas that offer consult as well as actual work to make their recovery faster. Until the unveiling of the capsule that will shuttle each miner. Until the reluctance of the thirty-three miner to go first. Until today where every miner comes out the small hole into the bright sunlight. I’ve seen the images of the miners stripped, unshaven, bleary. As well as their jubilant faces and the burning fire of hope in their eyes. These men and the countless people behind their rescue has kept me in awe with joy.

I sit here writing while images on the television live from Chile show the happy and emotional faces of the every miner that comes out of the rescue capsule. But what captivated me to this news was not only the outcome but...

1. how people came together to pool resources, knowledge and even courage to rescue them;

2. how the miners displayed discipline (rationing an emergency food supply for two days to last 17 days until contact), tenacity (listening to drills approaching for days before they were’ first contacted and preparing pre-written notes for the rescuers) and solidarity (recognizing a hierarchical structure to preserve order and routine within their group);

3. how different countries stepped in to help with the rescue efforts including psychiatrists, engineers, experienced miners, doctors to help ensure that the physical and mental well being of the trapped miners are kept intact for the long process they have to go through before being rescued.

As I continued to watch the news and type, I am humbled at how these thirty-three people have shown both the goodness and greed of mankind. They wouldn’t have to stay for so long in that mine if the owners only recognize the safety standards set by the mining industry in their country. There are changes to be made, correction plans to be carried out, and expensive lawsuits that will and/or has come out of this mining accident.

But personally, there is a valuable lesson for me to learn here as well... At times I get so worked up by what I do not have and whine about how miserable my life is being far from  B. Many days I cry and have become depressed because it’s taking us so long to be together. I bitch and rant about the people I have to deal with every day at work. I get so dissatisfied with what I am earning in Canada when I had it easier in the Philippines. I get consumed by jealousy, anger, apathy, and negativity. Worst of all I share my conceived misery to everybody especially to  B. I am, despite knowing better not to, living the old cliché, “Misery loves company”.

I suppose that is the silver lining for any disaster or calamity, the ability to see the flaws and make the necessary correction. If these guys were able to keep hope and faith then so can I. I know that life is full of adversities and it doesn’t owe us anything to give us what we always expect. I am pretty sure that they weren’t always feeling dandy during their 69 days of unwanted confinement, but they focused on their personal goals and that fueled their passion to do everything they can in order to attain it. It may not be as black and white for me. Living can be filled by so many distractions but not losing sight of my own personal goals as well as my goals with  B can be my source of joy and hope in my tempestuous moods and emotions. And when the going gets really tough, God as my anchor will keep me sane.

As I end my post, twenty-six miners have been rescued so far. The whole world is watching in anticipation and prayer until the very last miner comes up safely. To those thirty-three miners, their family and friends who kept vigil, the Chilean nation that kept vigil and hoped, and the unnamed people who took a seemingly impossible task and made a fervent prayer become real -

¡GRACIAS!

¡Al único Dios, nuestro Salvador, que puede guardarlos para que no caigan, y establecerlos sin tacha y con gran alegría ante su gloriosa presencia, sea la gloria, la majestad, el dominio y la autoridad, por medio de Jesucristo nuestro Señor, antes de todos los siglos, ahora y para siempre! Amén. 

~ Judas 1:24-25

Canada is celebrating Thanksgiving today. The concept of Thanksgiving is not new to me. I understand that it’s a harvest festival and traditionally, it is a time to give thanks for the harvest and express gratitude in general. While why people eat turkey on this day is something I don’t understand, I get the “being thankful” part.

There is no Thanksgiving festival in the Philippines. There are a lot of patron saints being given feasts and majority of holidays there are Christian-based, yet when our forefathers were deciding what holidays to celebrate they probably got so busy with the hubbub of which should be paid double and which are time and a half that they forgot to set a date to be thankful. Therefore, no Thanksgiving Day.

But on the flip side, a country tormented by the Spaniards, colonized by Americans, terrorized by Japanese, dictated on by a fellow Filipino and his cronies, graft and corruption of different forms and from different levels of society, the degrading situation of our educational system, the poverty and lack of employment it’s hard to look at the bright side and be thankful. My twisted mind can see it now...if the Philippines do celebrate Thanksgiving Day, majority of the population would probably be on the floor in a fit of laughter and hysteria over the irony of life. Yep, we don’t do Thanksgiving but we do laugh at the adversities of life.

It is a difficult thing to feel, being thankful when life is burdensome. When you think you are working for people who do not recognize your efforts, it is not easy to be thankful. When you are separated from your family, the distance makes you more lonely than grateful. When you want to be with someone but the situation you are in does not permit it, being hopeless is easier to fill you than gratitude. When you want a better life but you are limited to make the most with what you have, being discontented sucks up all the joy.

As I reflect on Thanksgiving and how challenging it can be for me, my father’s voice echoes in my head, “Give thanks, basang...” I know behind those words he is quoting 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18. I smirk remembering this, because as much as he is my father he doesn’t know that to battle my moods, feelings and emotions and be absolute thankful is something close to a miracle and is indeed something to be thankful of.

I want to tell him now, despite the darkness enveloping me the past few months, I am thankful for having him in my life and instilling Christian values, I am grateful for my momi who despite the challenges she faced conceiving me and raising me she kept me alive and strove to provide us the necessities of life, I am grateful for my oldest sister who has always been around to be a pillar of strength and source of funny gossip, I am thankful for my brother because even if we have few good times together those few times were filled with his laughter, I am thankful for my youngest sister because she has always let me be me - flaws and all. I am thankful for my boyfriend who loves me unconditionally and faithfully. I am thankful for the chance to experience Canada even though it is limited. I am thankful for my health and limited wealth. Thankful for friends who’ve stayed around and left. I am thankful for my life no matter how lonely, I know it’s not always going to be the case.

Unless you have been visiting the Himalayas and not able to get an internet connection or for some reason you haven’t been watching the news because you’ve been busy elsewhere or maybe you’re not in the same country as I am then you wouldn’t have known about the sixteen year old who was gang raped at a rave party over the weekend at Pitt Meadows, BC.

Yeah. A sixteen year old was gang raped at a rave party over the weekend at Pitt Meadows, BC. In particular circumstances, the victim usually goes to her parents to help her report the crime to the police if not her go to cops directly. But based on the news reports the cops were able to learn about the rape only the following day after another teen saw the photos on Facebook, printed them and brought them to police.

Apparently another sixteen year old was present while the teenage girl was being assaulted and took photos, shared them with friends via cellphone and the pictures were eventually posted in Facebook. Now, no degree or level of education will deter from pointing out that there is seriously something wrong with the moral compass of these children.

As a rape victim, I can empathize with the horrendous ordeal she is going through. It is not easy to move forward to and it is not something one ever forgets. But to have her photos during her abuse be viewed, shared, saved, and reposted numerous times is like reliving the incident again and again. Every time someone views this images she is judged, she is pitied, she is raped all over again by voyeurs and the mini-feed that Facebook has makes her life fodder for more unnecessary tabloid. To say that what they have done (rape) is disgusting, morally corrupt and criminal those who have spread her pictures and made it viral in the internet to be visually consumed by all forms of people makes it vile, cruel, and makes her horrendous ordeal seeming trite.

I don't know which is more difficult. To have your pictures taken while you are drugged and being sexually assaulted and have it posted in the biggest social networking site in the entire world OR have the same people who posted it, people who do not know the victim, people who are “friends” of the victim made comments in Facebook about the sex assault victim being a willing participant to the hellish experience. Seriously! I speak for all women when I state: WE DO NOT WANT TO BE RAPED! WE ARE NOT WILLING PARTICIPANTS TO SEXUAL ASSAULT! AND WE DIE IN SHAME WHEN WE ARE VICTIMIZED BY ANY FORM OF ASSAULT! BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT SOCIETY WILL SAY IT’S OUR FAULT, WE HAD IT COMING, THAT WE WANTED IT DONE TO US. These people that say she voluntarily wanted to be assaulted (despite physical and medical evidence disproving their bold claims) talk as if they were not born from a woman... if it happened to their mother or their sister I bet they'd whine and whimper and cry foul.

I am angry. For the heinous assault that reflects the rotten core of our permissive society. For how easily a social networking site can be used as another form of bullying and assault. For how parents nowadays kowtow to their children’s whims rather than impose order and provide a God-based direction for them to follow. For the double standards we are using against people and fooling ourselves that we are much better than the rest. For our self-centered society has lost its moral compass.

We have learned to fly to the moon but our characters have plummeted to the pits of hell. We have worked on saving the planet but more souls are dying from immorality. We have learned to use quick fixes to remedy problems that require long term solutions. We have learned to love ourselves so much that we’ve lost the ability to love others and behave in a dignified manner towards are fellow human beings.

Somehow despite the technological advances of the 21st century human beings regressed and eliminated the humane side of our beings that we are now simply just “man”. It’s about time to re-establish our ethical boundaries that we’ve crossed and instead of just harping about it, living it in our homes and in our own lives.

I remember this day nine years ago. I was on my way back home from a trip. I was trying to run away and hide from a man who made me fall in love, promised a future with him only to break his word, my heart, and my faith. He flew eight thousand five hundred miles to look for me and win me back and mend the broken vows he’s given me. Afraid of the possibility of hurting me all over again I packed my bags, bought ticket and flew south where he can never find me.

Today, nine years ago, I had landed back to Cebu and thought I was on the clear and he has gone back to Indianapolis in his cozy American life. As I waited for the carousel to spit my luggage I looked at the front page of the newspaper the man beside me was holding. I see a picture of a very tall building and from it thick smoke billowed to the sky. Curiously, I scanned the waiting area for a TV and walked up to it mesmerized by a silent TV broadcasting CNN’s news of two planes crash into the World Trade Center Towers.

As horror gripped me and anger filled my heart I came to realize how foolish I was running and hiding from a man who broke my heart. My pain paled in comparison to these people who died without reason, people who trying to save those trapped in the building, and people who’ve died to pursue the war against terror. And so that night as the man I was hiding from sent me an urgent message to have dinner with me, I said yes and chose the best outfit in my wardrobe. Yes he broke my heart, but he didn’t break my spirit. I thought that I am blessed to be alive and learn and continue living and someday I will find that one person who is meant to keep his promises and shape a future with him.

Today, I remember nine years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. Except I feel no pain or fear. In contrary, I feel elated that what I realized that day is now happening. But the many unnamed faces who’ve we’ve lost tragically I will forever be grateful. If it was not for them, I would not have been a stronger person. And if not for them, I would have not valued my life.

Some days I put the people in their places at the table,

bend their legs at the knees,

if they come with that feature,

and fix them into the tiny wooden chairs.

All afternoon they face one another,

the man in the brown suit,

the woman in the blue dress,

perfectly motionless, perfectly behaved.

But other days, I am the one

who is lifted up by the ribs,

then lowered into the dining room of a dollhouse

to sit with the others at the long table.

Dear  Brian,

I’ve started writing you now while you are getting ready for work. You know, I have you on the phone too and I’m playing Margaritaville in my iPhone. This isn’t really anything new to you. I mean me writing you a letter. I know I’ve sent you so many over the past few months and this one will just be one of the many and the many more that will come. And possibly like my previous letters I’ll profess my undying love for you and end this hoping it will touch your heart and probably make you somewhat a bit misty-eyed for me. That’s what I hope it will turn out. But then I’m getting a case of writer’s block. I feel panic rising up in me. The same kind of panic I felt when I am about to do a very frightening task... like something really life changing. Except this one doesn’t seem like it is. It’s the challenge of putting to words how much I love you that I find an unnerving task. With all the words I’ve written and all the conversations we’ve had about our feelings for each other, I’m concerned that all words are all used up and my brain has nothing more to say.

One can only wonder how many times they can write and talk about Love. And I guess that’s the reason why books, songs, stories are written about it because it’s such a complex emotion. I must say for me it has been intricate and more than once I was afraid I was getting total insane with the push and pull of emotions as I understand what loving and being loved is. For in my life I had never encountered anyone who was able to melt my hard resolve to not fall really in love. Neither have I met anyone who was able to made me feel so much pain of too much tenderness. To break down in silly giggles and whisper sweet nothings was also something I’ve never imagined doing with someone. To feel wounded because of unlearning bad behaviors in a relationship wasn’t something I would have ever allowed myself to experience in the past. And to do it willingly and joyfully! I would have scoffed at anyone who tried to make that happen.

I suppose, avoiding hurt was easier than nursing one. So it had always been more convenient for me to protect myself from pain, from rejection, from falling in love so much I’d look like a stupid fool. I’ve made sure no one will come close enough in me to break me, not even God. And while I made boundaries so that people won’t hurt me, that same boundaries kept me from waking up with a winged heart and a thankful spirit for another day with my beloved. To smile remembering something sweet or funny or fulfilling. Or go to bed with a prayer in my heart and praise on my lips.

You can say I’ve built a fortress. An impenetrable one. Yet even when I was building it and hiding behind it I’ve always known someone would come around one day and tear it down, brick by brick until my heart will be exposed for him to claim. And for you to come around and do it seems like life’s way of humoring me. Who else could invade a fortress, tear it down brick by brick, expose a heart and hold it captive but someone who’s been a trooper, construction worker, and an enforcer of the law. Despite my heathen nature, God must really love me because He heard my prayer a long time ago and put a check mark on each of the action item I asked in the man I want to be with.

Perhaps it was my naiveté in love and loving, but it took me awhile to realize that as much as you love me, your love is not sufficient to make and keep what we have. As much as I love you, I had to learn to trust you and earn your trust. I had to learn to have faith in God and have faith in you. I had to learn to understand and accept our differences. But above all, I had to learn that when the going gets tough, not to quit. Because that’s what it means to love someone - absolute. And love and loving someone despite all odds and challenges is still a choice, like everything else in life. These were hard lessons. And for the most part I am still learning it. It hasn’t always been rosy and easy. But like what you tell me time and again, “If it’s not difficult to achieve, it’s not worth taking.” I suppose God has a plan for my life because He brought you by my side to show me how much He loves me and remind me how unconditional His love is for me every time you say you love me despite the arguments and fights.

We were born to be together, and together we will be forevermore. I am not perfect but I am made perfectly to be the woman for you. And after so much words perhaps I wasn’t really able to articulate how much I love you. Maybe I will never be able to, ever. But I know this, all the days of my life I will hold you, stand by you, love you. And I pray that everyday will be the proof that I mean what I say, when I say I do love you.

❤,

Darla

I feel my faith wavering as I wonder if we will ever really be together.

I have been battling depression as it seems our future is a bleak possibility.

I try to stop the sobs wanting to escape when I think of the events we miss out on each other.

I wipe quickly the tears that escape from the pain in my heart that squeezes out the joy in me.

I pray for endurance as I wait on the day I will see him again.

I yearn for a sign that one day he and I will never be this far apart.

I beg the Almighty to make this “one day” very very very soon.

I count the blessings: having him, seeing him, talking to him, being loved by him.

I wait some more. Even though it seems so long.

So long.

So long.

The waiting seems so long.

And here I am in my room, an afternoon alone. Just me, myself, and I.

Around two in the afternoon it seemed like it was going to be an eternity. A long afternoon without my boyfriend to talk to or friends to chat, I was awry of an afternoon of loneliness. If I really wanted to avoid boredom I could’ve read a book or watched Rat Race or The Funeral. If I really wanted to get away from the silence of the house I could’ve laced my running shoes and worked on a five mile run at Mission Creek. If I really wanted to escape I could’ve willed myself to sleep until tomorrow. If I really wanted to avoid solitude I could’ve packed a book, a drink, and have a nice picnic at the beach front. But knowing myself more than I know anyone else, I know these things will entertain me for the moment. But really, right now all I need is to be alone.

Growing up in a family of six, I wouldn’t say I grew up isolated. I shared a room with my older sister until she graduated from highschool and moved to University. But despite us sharing a room, competing for my parents attention and approval with my other siblings, and having a unique name which draws people’s unsolicited attention I have been for most part of my life alone. For a time being I tried to fit in. You know like a duck lost in a pond of swans and I forced myself to imprint on them, to think similar to them, to move as a unit with them, to be a family. But I was a stubborn duck. I never did imprint and despite my best intentions to, I found out that the more I try to warp my head to their ideology and theology a struggle within me left me stressed and hypocritical. The more I tried to belong, the more I felt alone. And desperate.

It’s been a long journey for me, learning how to be alone. First came the loneliness, then the fear that I will forever be in a state where no one will like me or love me or take me for who I am, and as the length of my solitude grew then I became impatient...desperate that time is running out and I will never be happy again. So I traveled, I moved around circles avoiding myself and always making sure I am surrounded by friends or semi-friends, of boyfriends or half-boyfriends, of partners and lovers. But the more I surround myself with people I felt twice the loneliness; the more reckless choices I made the more guilt I felt. Guilt for knowing that deep in my heart my actions contradict my intention and it will only lead to self-destruction.

My pursuit of belonging is the source of all my loneliness. Once I’ve understood it, it was natural to choose what was right rather than what is expected or what I hoped to be. As I started choosing what was right despite meaning standing by myself the more I came to accept who I am — flaws and all.

I started small — going to the restroom without my girlfriends, taking walks, reading in a library. And as I continued with this small excursions of "D time" eventually I was sitting at a coffee shop watching people, unrolling my mat and doing yoga at the park, making conversations at bench parks, exchanging pleasantries to my elderly neighbors. I may never be able to be comfortable enough to go clubbing by myself and dance at to the beat without a partner (but then again that has never real been my thing) but from that young girl who was afraid and sad of sitting by myself in the front of the house, I would say I've come a long way.

The desire to escape was replaced by passions to find ways that make me celebrate my life. Discovering music that moves me, unfamiliar places that astound me, moments that break my face into a smile, understanding my level of patience and stretching it, rearing my anger, waiting patiently for the love that lasts a lifetime and so much more made me come to terms that bottom line it’s up to me to choose positive thoughts, positive words, positive actions. And that includes not obsessing about my family not getting me or that their religious sect doesn’t fit me. Perhaps in time, as I continue to evolve, those things as well will happen.

So perhaps one day you will find yourself more lonely than alone. Be patient. And then think... you're not really alone. You have yourself a your life full of experiences and a life ahead of possibilities. So go and take life in, not everyone may appreciate the same things like you do but that doesn't mean you're less connected or less loved or of lesser being. It simply makes your life and others more interesting.

It’s been two months and a day since my last post. There has been things I have been wanting to write about but as summer is here, the urge to write paled in comparison to my urge to get out and have some sun. B came to town and spent 10 wonderful days with me, that altogether is worth a different post which I most likely will not write as I want to keep those memories for just him and I. I’ve moved out my old place but technically is still living in the same house. The details why I moved is not worth an ounce of time and energy for me to write. That chapter is closed and let me just reassure you that I am happy where I am at now.

Tonight I find myself doing laundry after coming home watching The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo at my friend’s place. And since I didn't have much to do in between loads, I decided to fix my blog due to a feedback given to me by my friend some two months ago. And since I'm on my blog already I might as well write something that has been festering in my mind. It first started Monday morning at work on my break. I chanced upon a newspaper and a particular article seemed to jump off the page and shake me from the core. Now if you knew me, I’m somewhat sardonic when it comes to reading newspapers. After all, so many years of reading about corruption and deception by people you vote for protect and enforce your rights I’ve somewhat trained my brain to be desensitized by lies. But Ashley Anne Kirilow is really a piece of work.

I’ve always tried to live by the saying “Don’t judge a book by its cover” and to keep any opinion about another person to myself especially if I don’t know that person. But really. When a woman fakes cancer for greed and attention, that pretty much is disgusting. Now I have never had cancer, and pray I never do, but I have had family members who’ve died from it and those who suffered from it. I have friends who’s has close relations who suffer from it. I may have never had it but I have a clear sense of how pain and trauma a person gets from it as well as the person’s friends and family. So how dare you Ashley Anne Kirilow insult those who have suffered and died from such disease as well as belittle the pain the family and friends of real cancer patients suffered.

God knows the burden of guilt she is carrying and the remorse she feels. She may have come out clean and apologized for her actions. But like all bad choices, consequences are there for her to face. The challenging part for her though is rebuilding the trust she has broken so badly especially with her family...if she is even given a chance.

"And there you see the distinction between our feelings: had she been in my place and I in hers, though I hated her with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against her. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished her from his society as long as he desired hers. The moment his regard ceased, I could have torn her heart out, and drank her blood! But, till then - if you don't believe me, you don't know me - till then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair of her head!" — Emily Brontë

Probably the only thing inappropriate than B‘s behavior was my reaction to it. Erhmmm...let me rephrase that. The only thing inappropriate than what he did, was my reaction to it. How I see it now, twenty-four hours after it happened, I threw a hissy fit more than Mariah Carey and Left-Eye (TLC) combined. It started out from that red flag detector each woman has and the sirens of my intuition set off when I first saw them friends in Facebook. I know this shouldn’t be deal. Let me tell you straight out that this used to be not a deal at all. In all my past relationships I’ve always been indifferent towards ex-girlfriends. But then again, I can only be immune for so much.

He’s told me again and again that he loves me. He’s always given me time and attention. And really if I had any dignity last night I should’ve forgotten about it and gotten to bed. I knew months ago she was an ex who cheated on him. But what I can’t understand was why he was

okay being friends with her but not his other ex whom they share children and cheated on him too. The double standard is just beyond my black and white mind and I just couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was still somehow attracted to him as much as she is still attracted to him even after kids and husbands and wives and God knows how many years they’ve ended their relationship. This and the many other things I’ve known fueled the doubt I felt and jealousy smoldered in me. I would be all giddy in love with him but the moment her name comes up it took a lot of internal wrestling for me to beat that green eyed monster inside. But this battle with jealousy ended in my defeat when I saw the phone records. There I was staring at it, hyperventilating and not knowing if I will cry or run or just die. But I couldn’t drop it and I certainly should have. I have a bad habit at that, letting things fester inside of me and then boom! I become this feisty bitch who wants to be off with the head of anyone I am pissed off. Although they say it’s healthier to let it out than to bottle it up, in this case it was certainly unhealthy for both of us. B lost sleep and got really upset. And I looked pathetic, insecure, and immature, a look that surely isn’t sexy on me at all.

Maybe I am acting a bit too paranoid and having a similar experience in the past where so and so ex boyfriend hooks up with a common friend and cheats on me with her all the while making a pretense that he loves me, only me, loyal to me, with all his life doesn’t help at all. But just because I am being paranoid doesn’t mean it isn’t true. After all, there’s is more than one of everything, including cheating boyfriends. As they say, history repeats itself. And yes, lightning can strike the same place again despite popular belief. So who is to say that what I am suspecting isn’t true...if it happened before it can always happen again.

Nothing pisses me off more than a lie. And for me, emotional deception is the worst of all. It’s bad enough that you want to punch them in the face for stringing you along, but you also want to kick yourself while you’re down for falling for their bullshit. If you really care about someone, do yourself and them a favor. Tell the truth, no matter how much it hurts. Because believe me, lying hurts far more than any truth ever could. And no thanks to bad choice in men before, I’ve grown quite distrustful of the gender and have worked so much to protect myself.

On the other hand, perhaps I’ve never really grasped how much he loved me. I know that he was meant to be with me forever. I know that he is the exception in my life. I know that he won’t ever cheat on me. So who is to say that what I am suspecting is true...if it happened before it doesn’t necessarily mean it will happen again.

By letting my jealousy take control of me, I know exactly what I am doing - driving a wedge between us. A wedge that can turn into a chasm that will forever separate us if I don’t work on it. And if there is anything I fear the most it’s losing him. I’ve captured his heart and staked my claim on him long before I became the name after the words “In a Relationship with...” And I know that even if he never really said it in words, I know to him being me is enough for him. I love him. And I am really sorry for hurting him last night and letting my jealousy take the better of me. There is no excuse for what I did and said and almost done. Especially when he proves his faithfulness to me over and over. So as much as as it is going to be a difficult war for me to fight off and control my jealousy, I am going to do it. Because the truth is, when I get jealous and let it get over me I hurt myself as much as I hurt him.

It was the ring that screwed me. That beautiful piece of ice that I took from the sales lady with nimble fingers. My friend and I went to a jewelry store to have my ring size taken due to persistence of B. And from ring size coversation it shifted to what kind of ring I like. I honestly told her I don't know. She then started having ring speak with my friend saying words like trilogy, princess, solitaires, round, carats until I got myself saying yes when asked if I want to try some on.

I remembered being surprised when I took it from her, it wasn't as heavy as I thought it would be. I looked down at that piece of jewelry and was fascinated by the simple elegance of the round cut three diamond engagement ring. It wasn't too flashy. It wasn't too plain. It was beautiful.

As I played with the ring on my finger letting the light make it sparkle I heard the saleslady and my friend encourage me to try it on. My face broke into a smile but a part of me was hesitating. This has gotten a bit out of hand and a bit surreal. I only came to have my ring size taken and now i have a ten grand ring on my hand and two women devil advocating me to try it. Normally I don't try on things I won't buy because it plants seeds of envy and unnecessary longings. But what woman would refuse such a pretty little thing?! So despite loud objections shouting in my head I slipped on the ring on my left ring finger.

I looked at my finger and felt pleasure as the white gold band hugged my finger perfectly. The stones sat on it without seeming to topple over suddenly or fly towards someone's face if I flicked my hand. Little did I know then that I should have listened to my instincts (which is usually right) and handed the ring back without trying it on feigning not liking it dragging my friend out the store and gone shopping. Because as I felt the band embrace my ring finger comfortably and look at it I imagine how much pleasure it would give me being proposed to by B. And the seeds of want was planted in me. The ring was perfect. It was beautiful and it was stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Over the course of a few months that want has taken root and grew faster choking all other things in me. I had gotten the notion that we're getting married soon. With or without an engagement ring. Over that time period I had assumed a plan for a future will form, mostly initiated by him, and there is such a thing as happily ever after. How I'd become so reckless and assuming in a span of 4 months is beyond me. But here I am with a brain twisted like a pretzel and a heart confused.

Between finding the perfect guy for you and wanting to be with him always, the worst position to be in is wanting to get married. What's worst than that is realizing that even if he's egged you about your ring size, asking what kind of ring you like, and talking wedding stuff your partner is actually nowhere near proposing. And I mean not in the next coming months or years.

I used to love taking things slow with him. But eversince the thoughts of being with him forever became a possibility, I've moved ahead a few chapters from him and thought "being with him" involves physical nearness, and "forever" will start the next year. And realizing he and I aren't in the same page has made my mood off kilter and I find myself resenting our separation, doubting his love for me, being depressed and crying, bitching at him, and partly regretting to be with him. And the past few days it has gotten so bad I've completely lost my focus that all I wanted to do is run from him as far as possible because I cannot come to accept the reality that he loves me but he is not marrying me. After two divorces no one in his right mind should jump into a third marriage so easily. I knew that, but my heart has taken so long to accept it. That's what happens when you let poisonous wants go out of control. They fester and refuse to die often resurrecting from the dead to take over your senses and feelings.

So here's my piece of unsolicicted advice: avoid getting dragged into conversations about weddings, or engagements, or babies - it will influence you to overly think things and hope you'd be popped the question soon, but reality is it ain't happening ... Yet or at all. Enjoy the moment and let your love blossom on it's own. Maybe he'll propose, maybe he won't. If you really want to be with him and marriage is non negotiable be patient and pray he'll come around eventually. But if marriage isn't really something you vied for in the first place, then quit smoking wedding crack and just be with him. Bottomline is - just love him. Period.

As for that engagement ring, I give you my finger... A dirty middle finger. For screwing with my head and heart and turning me into an eager beaver single lady. You pretty piece do not define love or forever. It's what I do to him and for him that does.

I had to remind myself that this call was long distance. And I’m paying for this phone call. Because I just realized that I was rambling which is not normal for me. Yes. Not normal despite my ADHD. It was difficult to focus on my words though and what I wanted to tell her. When I would think of what I want her to know about him, my mind goes haywire with the sensory overload of his laughter or his smile or just even his name. I felt bad for her then, having to listen to me ramble.

I have no clue if I made my self coherent or not or if she even had an iota of what I was going thru thinking about him. But after so many minutes of expensive long distance ramblings she said, “I think he’s the one for you.” I laughed partly because of relief that she took my words and feelings seriously despite my poor relationship track record, and mostly because I felt the same way. I felt that he is “the one” and I am hoping we were both right.

That was six months ago. I still think it’s a miracle ⎯ that I’ve found the one guy who is both thoughtful and reliable, also sexy and a wonderful lover. He really is the best of everything. An unaffected, down-to-earth boy from Georgia who loves spaghetti and country music and fishing. Yet also a brave soldier and respectable police officer. A natural in parenting his children. He is handsome without being vain. Scrupulous but not judgmental. Confident but not arrogant. He did exactly what he was going to do - no exceptions - yet retained an air of mystery that kept me on edge, kept me wondering.

He cared little what others thought of him, yet seemed to earn everyone’s respect. He was coolly aloof yet somehow still passionate. And I fell hard and fast in love with him, overwhelmed by the certainty that our feelings are as equal as they are real.

With a broken voice and tearful sobs she blurted out, “I love you and I love mommy. And I don’t want to choose between you and mommy. Why can’t you be together again?”

As I listened to the child wail to her father, the inner child in me wailed too and I was shocked to taste something salty on my mouth. I was only listening to the conversation but I felt her pain and before I knew what was happening tears were streaming down from my eyes. For a child to feel so much confusion and pain at the age of seven is too much even for my somewhat callous heart.

Divorce has been a common situation in most societies in the Western culture. Growing up in the Philippines and being raised by religious parents, separation was really not much of an option to my parents even during the time when my father was neglecting my mother and us, his children. It’s a fact also that due to the strong ties of the Philippine people to the Catholic church, divorce is not legally permitted in the Philippines. And although my parents are not Catholic, the vow my mother made before God has made her decide to stay with him even at the darkest and hardest point of their marriage. Perhaps if my parents were Western my parents would’ve divorced when I was very young and I would be weeping the same bitter tears as that seven year old child.

Yes I know, I am lucky that after 33 years my parents are still together. That despite all the cheating, drugs, emotional abuse, and neglect when my father was still starting out with the constabulary my mother thought of our future and decided to stick with him. That after twelve years of these things, by God’s grace my father changed and has become a better father than I first knew of him.

I know that this doesn’t apply to all. Each person has a deal breaker in a relationship. Each person has a threshold for pain. Each person has expectations from their partners. And for me trust, fidelity, and true love are non-negotiable. I cannot look at my partner the same way if he cheats on me. Once my trust is broken, I may trust you again but not enough for you to ever break my heart again. Most times I often decide not to even risk trusting my partner anymore. This is the root of all reasons why I have never committed myself enough to anyone before. Enough to marry. I have seen my father cheat on my mother, I myself have been cheated on. And how my mother stayed with my father despite his infidelity is beyond my understanding then. But this is me speaking from a perspective of a single person who is not responsible of another person’s life. And this was my view before I met the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

The child’s father explained patiently and lovingly that he loves her and she doesn’t have to choose, her mother loves her too but daddy and mommy can’t be together anymore. How can you explain such things for a seven year old to grasp it? As much as you want to shield your own child from the pain, the reality is when your spouse cheats it is the most painful experience of all. For you to inform a seven year old of this fact may help to understand and help them stop asking for the unthinkable but then there is the greater possibility of bigger consequences for your child. Like your child hating your former spouse, your child growing up being non-commital, and worse your child growing up resenting you.

Hearing this conversation I realized that when there are children involved already, what I want for myself would have to take a back seat and the needs of my children will come first. I know this in my head, I feel this in my heart. And for my child I will try to keep my family intact. It is a bitter pill to swallow but one I won’t hesitate taking for my child and the values I would like him/her to learn. At that moment as I listened to that child’s painful sobs and feel tears streaming from my face, at that moment I wished I was her mother and I can take away her pain and ease her confusion and not give her any even to begin with by staying married to her father and love him as long as we lived. For me, a child should never have to choose between her mother or father. For me, a child should see her parents as one unit that loves, disciplines, and supports her.

I know that compared to other people, I had it easy seeing my parents still together and be a living example of what marriage is about. It is a dying tradition, marriage, in the real meaning of the word. Something I don’t take lightly. Something that in the near future I know I will go into. And for my unborn child (or children) this I will solemnly promise you, “I take your father to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love. I will cherish our union and love him more each day than I did before. I will trust him and respect him, laugh with him and cry with him, loving him faithfully through good times and bad, regardless of the obstacles we may face. I will give my hand, my heart and my love from that day forward for as long as we both shall live.” And behind this words I utter a prayer to God that He will enlighten my child of the depth and breadth of this vow and raise my child up to be a person who values commitment with all her heart and mind.

I know I haven’t written anything the past weeks. It’s not that I have nothing to write. I do. I’ve just been preoccupied with my day to day life that every time I think of sitting to down to write something else comes up that I need to do first. But today is different. Today I have nothing left to do but to sit and write the thoughts in my head. So I’m writing again. Most likely I will write about everything swirling in my mind until it will be empty again like a dried up well that will wait until the next outpour that will make my mind lush of thoughts again.

The past few weeks B and I have been talking about his visit. We first started talking about seeing each other last year before Christmas. Ours is not a typical relationship. Everything from the beginning was electronic. Meeting in an online dating site. Having long conversations mostly in chat. Some phone conversations that got both our phone bills skyrocketing. And since he went home from deployment from Afghanistan and got himself one of those Android phones we’ve been talking in Skype. Ours wasn't what society would label a conventional relationship. And for sometime (even up to know) people who know us frown on it and think it’s not real, it’s risky, and they have discouraged me from putting out so much of myself towards him. They don’t really see that the time we spent with each other whether it’s just in the phone or internet is a huge investment we are making. It may not be your typical foundation for a relationship but we’ve known so much from each other despite the lack of physical proximity or intimacy normal couples have.

Earlier today he told me that he doesn’t know if he will be able to make it by my birthday. For some reasons unknown to me the Department of State is asking for his parent’s birth certificate. This should be easy if both of your parents are together. This should be easy if you know your parents whereabouts. This should be easy if your parents really cared about you enough to ensure they communicate to their children or correspond to them. But these aren’t the situation for B. So what one would think is easy can just throw it out the window and be ready for a difficult and frustrating task ahead.

As he was explaining these things to me I can’t help but detach myself from the situation and try to see it clinically. There was no room for disappointment. Not when B is in a difficult situation. At that point all I can think of was if I hadn’t lived in Canada he wouldn't be in this situation. If I wasn’t in a relationship with him he wouldn’t be frustrated like how he is now. And so I gave him an alternative. I suggest that he meet someone else. Someone closer in his vicinity. Someone he wouldn't have to have a difficult time with.

I know that this is a very cruel suggestion. To push the person you love with all your life and tell them, “Go! I’m setting you free, find someone you can settle with and be happy.” Deep inside it was tearing me apart in a million pieces. But the emotional training I’ve learned in all the years kicked in and instead of crying and succumbing to the pain of losing him I had immediately detached my heart and gave a practical solution wanting him to agree but hoping he wouldn’t. The guilt of being the reason why he is in an exasperating situation drove all any emotions away and I could only focus on correcting the situation. Yes, maybe I’ve learned to be a martyr. But only to those I love so much.

Eventually, B had me convinced that these whole thing is not my fault. And while he doesn’t want anyone else but me and we’re going through a little speed bump, it’s how two people in the relationship handles the speed bumps along the way that matters. When he said these words I gave up. It wasn’t because he spoke of the truth. I knew that all along as I tried to reason him into finding someone else. It was the other truth that has been haunting me for months but refused to acknowledge it’s phantom existence. It was the truth that despite everything, I am afraid.

He has long gone to bed and as I watch him sleep through his video cam, I ask myself what am I really afraid of. What am I scared of so much that I will even suggest that he find someone nearer to him, someone he can see everyday, someone he can spend time with? I know that what he and I have is not based on normal perception. How we see each other is limited to what we say when we talk to one another, what we see in the video screens, what we allow for the other to know or see. Ultimately I am afraid that if he comes any closer to me he would see how dark and twisted I am and realize he doesn’t really love me like he thought he did before really meeting me.

But after all the things I’ve learned from him I’ve come to understand that this relationship isn’t just about me. We both have a common need, we both have common desires, we both have common goals and dreams, we both want similar things, and maybe we both have common fears. But the difference is he doesn’t dwell on what he is afraid might happen. He only focuses on the good.

In economics I’ve learned that the higher the investment risk, the greater the potential investment return, and the greater the potential investment loss. There is no mathematical equation that will determine the potential loss when we meet. But even if there is, I’ll take a cue from him. So... sure maybe after we really meet, one of us may realize we don’t really love the other and then lose it all. But since we both made big investments at each other and invested wisely, we’ll take that chance. Because the truth of all truths is, despite my fear, I know that the payoff is something of a wonderful surprise.

We, unaccustomed to courage

exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness

until love leaves its high holy temple

and comes into our sight

to liberate us into life.

Love arrives

and in its train come ecstasies

old memories of pleasure

ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold,

love strikes away the chains of fear

from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity

In the flush of love's light

we dare be brave

And suddenly we see

that love costs all we are

and will ever be.

Yet it is only love

which sets us free.