I just called to say

“Hi, it’s me. The heart you broke two weeks ago? I know you blocked my number because my calls go straight to voicemail. Perhaps that is the single best decision you’ve made in our relationship because your voice was all I wanted to hear at the end of a long night, when I have no one else to talk to. I’m sure all of my friends -you included- are tired of my sadness charades or spells in the weeks following that fateful e-mail.

But you’re a hard drug that’s difficult to quit. My brain may be able to take the break-up for what it is, but my delicate and agonizing heart is screaming and sinking. The constant nagging and tugging for a dose of you, the outbursts of tears and the feeling of emptiness all point to a ‘withdrawal’. And there’s nothing I can do to get a fix… except maybe hearing your cheery greeting that is all too facetious for my intents and purposes.

Hi, it’s me. I know there’s nothing you or I can do to calm my mourning heart, but I just needed a fix… there’s so many things I want to say to you, but never will I spell them out in written form because some things are better said in person than not at all. So I guess I’ll just have to hold on to those words until I forget.

Hi, it’s me.”

a mother’s day present I’m all too scared to give

Dear Mom,

I’ve long wanted to write you a letter. I hope you know what this is about and where I’m coming from, but just in case you don’t: I am soon turning 28, I am a girl who likes other girls (some people call us lesbians), and I love the life I am living.

Let me start off by apologizing for making big life decisions without letting you know the things I was contemplating. It wasn’t fair for me to move out without any notice. I knew you wouldn’t have said yes so I didn’t ask for permission – too often do things happen this way, and I wish they didn’t have to. This wasn’t exactly the right attitude to have but it was the only way I could get what I wanted. I’m sorry our relationship has deduced to a kind of a work-around to avoid your dictatorship over my life, and I’m sorry I was selfish.

I was also selfish when I informed you over the phone of my sexuality. Actually, I don’t think I had been very clear. But it didn’t matter anyway because you either think it’s just a phase or are complete denial of my ‘tendency’ to couple  and get involved with people of the same sex. I’m sorry I was such a coward that I couldn’t tell you in person. I couldn’t imagine myself uttering those words in front of you and having you register them. I also knew you’d deny them, much like how you’ve been denying my sexuality ever since I came out.

I wish you could see how your denial is hurting me. Your refusal to acknowledge or treat my ex-partner(s) with kindness that you often show to strangers is pushing me further away from you. Heck, your refusal to recognize how I identify is heart-breaking.

To add salt to the wound, we do not have effective communication. I can’t say anything that will offend or anger you at all because we never have an open discussion. You’d just shut me out or shut me down. No discussion, no dice.

You should be proud of who I am and who I’ve become. You did not fail as a mother because I turned out to be one of the best people I know (if I can boast so myself). I wish you didn’t have to waste your breath to tell me that the clothes I wear are too “boyish” or not “girly” enough. I wish you’d see past the gender binary that is inscribed in stone in your head. I wish you knew what I was going through in life. I wish you can be one of those people I call in times of need. I wish you’d have an open mind and listen to my agonies and struggles of growing up a queer person of colour.  I wish you cared more about my happiness than what is expected of me. Most of all, I wish you’d accept me for who I am, not for who you want me to be.

Frankly, you won’t know who I am any more and you’re going to miss most of my adult life if you are unable to wrap your head around the fact that I am ‘eccentric and unconventional’.

Dear mom, I hope you would just love me for me. Nothing else.

adulthood is lonely

What are the benefits of being in a relationship? Why do people partner up and get themselves tangled in that messy messy web of relationships? Why put themselves through the trouble of negotiating compromise and the risk of getting hurt?

For me, it’s the fact that I get to share my life and my journey with someone else in this bizarre, cruel, and unfair world. I am saddest when I have no one with whom I can share many of life’s awesome moments. The greatest joy known to me is to be able to share my happiness so that others can be happy, too. Perhaps coming home to someone, snuggling at night in bed, and waking up in the morning to the face of your loved one sleeping is enough. Or the fact that knowing someone cares about what you’re doing in your life is sufficient to justify having a partner. But ultimately, it’s all about the sharing. (Also why our lives have been taken over by a storm called social media: being able to share digitally to a bigger audience and getting praised for that ‘shareability’.)

When a relationship ends, you are faced with the stark loneliness of spending nights by yourself. There’s no one to hear your woes or struggles at the end of the day; there’s no one to whom you could tell that funny thing that happened at work, and there’s definitely no one with whom you could unwind slowly. You are you. Alone with your thoughts and by yourself in your apartment. No one to help you sort out that work-life balance, no one to tell you what to do; no one to dictate how best to spend your time, and certainly no one to help you cook dinner or wash the dishes at home… but at the same time no one will draw your attention away from that TV show you’re desperate to finish.

I’ve always been a kid who didn’t want to grow up. I never had big aspirations or realizations of “when I grow up, I’m going to be…” when I was little. However, now that I’ve aged past a quarter-century, I proudly tell people that I am secretly 5 at heart. And it’s not far from the truth. My bestie says she always feels like a kid when she’s around me (I also think that’s the best kind of superpower to have). I am the silliest and always come up with the most intriguing (read: bizarre) ideas in a group of friends. But I love it. I embrace every single minute and every single moment that I get to be a kid without consequence.

It’s just the times when you have to be a grown-up that suck. When you have to do your taxes, pay the bills, deal with your emotions that are all too real, or simply navigate through the dark trenches of the world filled with traps, you have to put on a brave face, pretend everything’s under control, and pray to God (or whatever spirituality you believe in) that you don’t make mistakes. All but fun and games. THAT’s when being in a relationship can be the most beneficial – because if you fall, the hope is your partner will help you get back up. Or, if they don’t know how to help, they’ll at least tread the waters and keep you company in your pool of deep shit.