Break-ups

I thought that losing a lover would be a painful experience that would take me days or weeks to get over. But what I found is that when friends part ways, that is an entirely different and uncomfortable situation from hell. As I heard my friend say the words that would alter our relationship forever, all our past memories raced through me equating the speed of my racing heart as I tried desperately grasping the fraying edges and defending myself to make it work. But the attempt wasn't enough to save the burning bridge. Fifteen years wasn't enough to absolve me of my current mistake. 

I hurt her. No excuses on my part diminish the pain she felt. I understand that very well.  But I hoped we could work it through and come to a resolution so that we would grow old together and be the two crazy ladies in the same nursing home terrorizing everyone with our canes. But I can only apologize so much to coax her to come back to me. 

The Unchanging Past

 

Today as I was browsing through the endless array of TikTok videos in an attempt to wash away the hectic workday, I stumbled on a video in which a girl asks "if you could relive one day in your life, exactly as it was, what day would that be." The idea was so beautiful and yet challenging at the same time. Was there a day in my life, that I would relive exactly as it was without changing a single second? At first, I panicked because I could not recall a single memory that I would want to relive, but after some calm speculation, dozens of memories floated through my mind.

I became lost in a sea of warm memories as the camcorder in my mind began playing various days. I would swing back and forth among these beautiful memories, each competing for a space in my mind at exactly the same time. My heart would race and relax with each new visual as it flooded my chest with soothing happiness over the heartfelt moments and aching sadness at the reminder of the moment having since passed.

A Series of Unfortunate Relationships: The College One Part 1

 

After the fiasco of my last relationship, I did not want to fall in love again because I was terrified of the consequences of that attraction. It did not serve me well on either front as it angered my parents and even I was not happy being entrapped again. I decided I would focus on myself and see where life whisked me away. There were so many things I wanted to accomplish anyway, and I had made a mess of things where my education was concerned. My grades had fallen drastically and I had not told anyone about that, least of all my parents. They would reprimand me and lament about wasted money and time and that I deserved the punishments I had received so far. My situation would probably worsen anyway because there would be no solutions provided just glares and reminders of the mistakes that led me to my current state. All I could do was figure it out on my own and talk it out with my close friends. 

    My friends could only help me so much as they were figuring out their own lives and trying to pry themselves out of their own cages. My two closest friends at the time were also Pakistani so we were all in the process of escaping the unrealistic ideals we were chained to. The strange thing about my parents was that they would not call and hound me while I was out unlike my friend's parents who would check up on them at least once per hour if not more and none of us were given a proper curfew. Our curfew was that we needed to be home once our college classes ended unless there was something important going on. So naturally, we resorted to skipping classes in order to have some free time to explore and enjoy ourselves which led to not focusing and doing well in our studies. We would use the time to escape from our confused lives and find some semblance of normalcy. Those became some of my fondest memories, the ones where we would skip class and go for long drives in any random direction. I memorized the road maps of my region just by getting lost in them and heading to different areas where we would stop and have dinner before heading home. This was stressful in its own way because my friends would be receiving constant calls from their parents who would ask them where they were and I knew my own parents would be suspicious as well and interrogate me once I arrived. I am sure they knew what we were doing and tried to scare us out of phase but it didn't really help their cause. If anything, we all rebelled more because we desperately wanted to be treated like adults and allowed to just simply live. We weren't out there committing crimes against humanity we just wanted to enjoy company with our friends. 

The Yin and Yang of Laziness and Productivity

 

I always wonder when this feeling of inferiority will drift away from my thoughts. Will there ever come a time when I think that I did great with what I had, and accomplished much even though the path was often shaky? I feel as if I am stuck in a limbo from which I can neither pull forward nor slip back and change my course. Dark thoughts swirl through my mind echoing my failure back at me so that I cannot end my day without reliving all the past experiences that have led me wrong. Funny though, because overall I am perfectly content. It makes me wonder if I am perceiving things as they are not and have decided to live in an ignorant state of mind until my head hits the pillow at night. Just as darkness consumes my surroundings, the ringing in my ears grows louder, persistent, and then the images begin to stir thoughts dragging me into an anxiety-induced haze. It always feels as if I am waiting an eternity for decisions to be made about an aspect of my life and currently it is no different. I have begun to abhor the application processes of these large institutions that require waiting endlessly on bated breath. 

    This carousel of uninhibited thoughts serves no purpose in my life because my hands are tied at the moment. I try to search for different avenues and revise my eternal list of plan B's which will take me into depths of mediocrity that I cannot sustain in the long term but nevertheless, I am forced to consider in case my future does not pan out as I hoped. The gray tones of the world overwhelm me as I beg to see in black and white. The duality of decisions would let me know when to give up hope so that I can stop dreaming instead of being lured into a confusion of gray, a realm in which maybe's and what if's flourished like a bee colony surrounded by wildflowers. The people around me observe the results of my futile attempts and choose to weigh my worth by quantities that can be measured in some numerical form and agonize over the dwindling numbers that statistically and alarmingly reduce in value as the years change. Apparently, age can only be valued and respected if there is some mark left on earth to show for it or shiny baubles kept stored away that can be accounted for and represent the riches acquired through sweat and hard work. Another value of mine lies within the passage of my genes to further the generations of my lineage and increase the population on this planet because what is the point of being a woman otherwise if not to undergo and live through the agony of pushing out children that I must raise into humans. Not that I know how many are actually enough because if I have too little or too many then that is also my own fault because I did not think my life through. I will forget who said what because eventually I will be fooled into believing those are my own thoughts seeping through the confusion.

The Art of Enjoying Solitude

 

There is something enticing about being in my own company, or perhaps with a silent four-legged partner, walking down a dirt path. I can hear and feel the crunch of the gravel beneath my shoes, the wind whispering through the trees, and the sun peeking out from behind the leaves. At that moment, the rest of the world washes away while I contemplate and organize the thoughts busy in my mind or wash them away with the music from my earbuds. The moment is mine entirely and nothing else matters. I ponder over the complexities of existence dipping my metaphorical toes into existential ideas while attempting to hold on to the literality of life. Or maybe, I am sitting bundled up in my blanket cocoon with a book in my lap immersed in a world so fascinatingly different from mine filled with characters who are now a part of my being as I savor each page that my eyes scan. As I put my book away, both mourning and rejoicing in the ending of another world, I bask in the soothing quiet, and cozy surroundings. These moments are special and integral to my well-being.

    Even when my family of four lived in a tiny two-bedroom apartment, I would search for my pockets of escape so that I had my alone time during which I could escape into my through a novel or my own imagination. My mind would be free to unravel its thoughts and ideas to entropic proportions to the point where it almost mimicked an out-of-body experience. My favorite space was the top bunk bed in the bedroom I shared with my sister. 

Rejected... Reasons Men and Their Mothers Turned Me Down for Marriage

 

As I sit here in my bedroom pondering the inexplicable intricacies of life and being human, my mind took a turn towards the complex topic of marriage and relationships. Perhaps watching Bridgerton also brought up memories of reaching the marriageable age in society and how that went for me. Being a Pakistani woman, my mind naturally raced down memory road and decided to focus on how I achieved rejections in my life amidst dressing up in colorful clothes and looking presentable to the aunties always watching me. The fact that I can sit here and laugh about the absurdities of my culture and chuckle over what these people conveyed to me at that time is an accomplishment in itself. I have decided that others should be just as entertained as I am on the various reasons for rejections and also consider the underlying seriousness of it all. Though this seems funny to me now, experiencing their brandished verbal weapons at that time was significantly jarring and resulted in the upheaval of my life. 

Ushering in 2021

 

We have ushered in a new year, 2021, and my thoughts are all over the place. Instead of making New Year's resolutions, I wanted to withdraw and not think about anything. In moments such as this, I tend to forget what and why I am doing certain things. For example, I have felt less and less enthused about keeping up with my blog. I started off strong, but then I felt my motivation wither away as doubt crept in. I became focused on whether anybody cares to read my words and if they really matter. When I type, I don't remember what I wish to say as if my words are like a dream slipping through the cracks of my brain as I try harder to conjure them up. But then I remember that I am doing this for myself just as much as I am doing this for others. Sure, I want my posts to be relatable to you and perhaps I will find a few like-minded individuals over time, but this is also a form of therapy purely for myself. 

    The funny part is that I am in a much more stable place now than I was a few years ago and my brain is content in keeping the harsh blips in my life distant buried memories. I should have started this when I was living through my nightmares to help myself cope, but it always worried me they would find it and this kept me away from displaying my agony to strangers. But it makes me happy knowing that there are those out there who are able to voice their concerns and pain because I know how challenging and difficult that can be. I have decided I will continue with my journey and my thoughts even if this becomes just a memoir for me because I can take a look back and watch my journey and thoughts unfold. This is also the reason I used to enjoy writing in journals but I never continued long enough to observe my own progression because my journal would be discovered or I would be paranoid that someone will read it.