Tag Archives: grief

Growing up so fast

Posted on by
At the salon. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

My girls have asked me if they can have haircuts because their pandemic hair already looked unruly. So since today is a Catholic holiday, I obliged and went to a salon that didn’t require prior appointment.

I took advantage of the free time and brought them to their dentist for their prophylaxis. What was supposed to be an emergency procedure (because Twin I broke her molar tooth but it turned out to be a clean break) became a routine procedure–annual cleaning. Might as well get that out of the way.

It was kinda awkward that one of the assistants asked about J, whom they referred to as the girls’ dad. I was at the waiting room when that was asked so I didn’t know. Isay honestly said, oh he’s not my dad and he’s no longer around.

The assistant said, oh but you looked like him that’s why I mistook him as your dad.

It must be the eyes. My girls got my small eyes.

Anyway, after dentist, we braved SM Marikina because I need to buy them underwear–especially bras–because they have grown up so fast. I’m surprised that they have matured earlier than me. My body started to change when I was 12 and really didn’t have pimples until I was in college.

Their choices for their clothes and other personal stuff are no longer child-like. They hate princess stuff and gravitate towards more mature colors like teal, grey, and black.

My little girls are no longer little. They’re turning into ladies. 🥺

At the same time, I’m preparing myself for the changes my body will also go through. This essay on Huffpost is like a slap in the face for me who had become so insecure about my age after I have had an ageist ex-partner who went after a girl almost 15 yrs his junior. I didn’t mind before that I was already 40. It was a badge of honor that I reached that age and hopefully much wiser. But then…I met J. Oh well 🤷🏻‍♀️

I have to get over that trauma. I’m fine. My age doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just me and my friends, who thankfully don’t care about my age. I just need to lose my belly and I’m ok.

I will be ok.

A few words of wisdom

Posted on by

A friend just sent me this via FB Messenger a few minutes ago. She and I are both trying to heal from bad breakups. She even flew to Maryland from here to be with the guy but he just took her for granted. She went to NY and stayed with her brother to heal. She says she will be coming back home here if things don’t pan out there.

I told her, the reason I’m going back to my past is to rediscover some things I lost.

I may be wrong, but this is how I am coping with this trauma. This is how I pick myself up when I sink into my episodes. Because when you have trauma, the triggers will surely be pulled and the bullet will go straight into your head. Healing from trauma is managing how to get the bullet out of your head. Later I would learn how to dodge the bullet when the triggers are pulled.

In the meantime, I am sewing these masks so that my co-hosts and I would have uniform masks on Saturday for our high school alumni homecoming. Our class shirt is light blue so these teal masks are unisex and would go with our shirts. Sewing these keeps me busy and helps me remove the bullet from my head. Especially now that my first death anniversary is coming up on the 17th-18th–that is already next week!

Hand-sewn masks. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Picking my brain

Posted on by

I don’t feel ok.

Just had a session with my doctor this evening and i feel like my brain was drilled open and the things that I had been burying were hauled out. The things I keep suppressing burst out like a geyser.

It’s not your fault, she said. Stop whipping yourself. Give your self some credit. Be kind to yourself. He was just the wrong person. It’s not your fault; it’s just you had a lot of love to give–that’s all. You have to love yourself more, she said.

“Did he apologize to you?”

“No, not really. It’s a ‘sorry’ that went along the lines of ‘Sorry, it’s just that.’ But not really apology for hurting me. For using me. For his treatment of me towards the end that sent me over the edge,” I told my doctor. “But I have to reconcile with myself that I will never get that so I deal with it. I have to accept that I won’t get answers. You don’t get closure from someone else; you get your closure from within yourself.”

“What are you doing to get out of your episodes?”

“During lockdowns I couldn’t do anything much. Not even go biking to clear my head. Then I got Covid that further trapped me indoors and in my brain. Now that I can drive, I can see friends from way back. Those who knew me before shit had hit the fan. That’s why I’m going back to my roots; to what I was–to who I really am. To the things that made me like myself. It’s my way of loving myself,” I said.

“Good that you are able to pick yourself up now,” she said.

She then lowered my dosage of the anti-anxiety med, which may have been causing me to get sleepy more than necessary. She asked me if I could already sleep on nights I’m off it (because I now take it once every two nights). I said yes, I think so I can now.

I no longer wake up every hour, I said. Covid was bad; I was asleep 75% of the time but it was good that I made up for the months I haven’t been sleeping. It felt good,” I remarked.

Nap time. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Just like today, I was joined by my cats during my after lunch sleep. I always get sleepy by midday. Because of this I will just take my anti-anxiety med once every three days.

But my anti-depressant will still be there during my entire 12-month therapy. Hopefully I won’t have triggers by then. I wish the things that hurt me and had killed me over and over will just be a bad dream.

Certified plantita

Posted on by
My newly acquired peach rose. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I bought this on the way to my hometown last weekend and it was only this morning I had the chance to replant them. My girls bought me pruning shears from Mr. DIY yesterday when they went out with their dad. I used the shears happily this morning and gardened until half past 1 pm.

Lovely flowers I bought for PHP 35 each plant. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
My little roses have started to bloom again after careful pruning and fertilizing. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

So did my first rose, the white rose. My liquid fertilizer and powdered egg shells did wonders. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
My birds of paradise that I transferred to a bigger pot today. This one is already the daughter plant of the original that I bought in ny hometown last year. Now it has grown its own daughter (see the shoot below?). The mother plant died because it was under direct sunlight. Since I’ve transferred this baby in the shade, it thrived and grew faster. It may have to grow up to 5 ft before it would start to flower. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
I cleaned up the container garden today. I must get some pedestals so the pots would be at different levels to give it depth. Excuse my neighbor’s mess at the back. I plan to put up a chicken wire to delineate our territories and keep their trash out. And have some creeping roses climb over it. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Meanwhile, my cat loves to intervene in my bed-making chore. I was making my bed for my Zennya massage when she slipped under the covers and stayed there

Kimchi trying to be cute. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

My high school friends had been teasing me because one of the guys that we had a jamming session with (the guitarist) last week was messaging me on Facebook yesterday. True that it was odd he would be messaging me when I was the only girl in that group and in terms of friendship or closeness, I was the least close to him. He is one batch younger than us, a friend of my sister. One high school friend said, oyyyy he has a crush on you!

Too bad I’m already numb. I don’t feel anything. If I weren’t jaded and numb, I would have been flattered because he was the most popular and good-looking guy in our high school and when we were in college. But this tita is already… meehhhhhh.

Funny how things turn out.

This is how being numb feels like. Nothing. You’re just a rock. It’s like a default defense mechanism. I guess life would be easier this way.

This day, in news items

Posted on by

Meanwhile, my APAC boss said HQ is working out an arrangement that I don’t have to be in Singapore to take on my new role next year. Hopefully, it would push through. If they can’t give me the salary I want (it should be above SGD 14k because that’s the minimum with primary school children) and not just the minimum requirement that the Singapore government demands, then it’s a no-go.

If only sending kids to school there is not that expensive. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Why the trauma?

Because when you loved someone so much, more than anybody in your life like that, and you get that kind of treatment, it’s traumatizing.

Yes, I’ve never loved anyone like that in my life. In the past I’ve had the courage to walk away. Not this time.

I don’t think I’ll ever love like that again. I no longer have any love to give.

So I just pray that the next person will love him more than I did because he rejected mine since it was not enough.

And as for me, I pray that I will get my peace. That’s all I ask for. Peace.

Confronting trauma

Posted on by

Exactly a year ago today.

I have to confront these feelings again that I try to bury because whenever I get triggered, I go through the cycle again of being at the bottom and then struggle climbing my way up from that dark hole.

As a reply to all the things I wrote on this same date last year: NO, he does not miss me, he does not regret it and I just disappeared (no fading away). That’s it. That day I was writing about has never come and it will never come.

Confront these feelings. Don’t run away from it, don’t hide. It’s for my own good. There will come a time that I won’t get triggered anymore. That it won’t hurt anymore. That it’s not my fault and he wasn’t just a nice person. He was a coward for not telling it to my face and resorted to just breaking up with me on the phone, didn’t even give me that dignity after all the things I’ve done for him.

I have to confront these feelings head on.

I have to admit that writing yesterday’s entry got me triggered again. I stayed in bed the entire morning and I finally pushed my butt to get on my seat to work after lunch. My shrink was right, my trigger is anything connected to my feelings about him. It bogs me down. It’s not stress about work that keeps me from writing–it’s this trauma.

I have to fight this trauma.

man in black shirt and pants standing on the floor
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

My kids are preteens now. They’re starting to get pimples and their bodies have started to change. They have grown so much that the top of their heads would soon reach mine. And yet, a part of them are still children. Like how they jumped up and down my bed, damaging a part of my new bed frame.

At the welding shop. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

So I had that part of the frame welded and reinforced at a shop near our old house. Now my bed no longer creaks, thank goodness.

I have a towel hanger that has collapsed already. I’ll bring it to this shop for reinforcement.

Meanwhile, Kimchi is begging for some petting.

So fluffy! Photo by CallMeCreation.com

She’s so squishy! She’s a stress reliever.