Advice to my 14-year old self...

If there was something I could tell the 14-year-old me, it would be this:

Live your life without waiting for someone else.


I have put my life on-hold whenever a potential lover comes into my life. I stop, drop, and endorse a new identity for him... whoever he is.  No matter how great my life is beforehand, no matter how wonderfully I'm doing beforehand, I will change tracks for my romantic partner because I don't want to miss-out on him and lose him, altogether.

So, I make myself available to them so they don't forget about me/ forget about my presence.  I don't have one specific example in mind, but I have many many experiences of changing my path (literally my walking path) so that I can run-into that person to refresh myself in their memory.  I will change my schedule to adapt to his. I will maneuver my life to fit into his. I will wear the clothes that he likes to fit into his idea of a fantasy woman. I have done so much shape-shifting, partly motivated from my desire to please others; the other reason being my fear that if I don't work very very hard to fit him, then I will miss out on the most glorifying thing that I could ever happen in my life: being loved and finding the person that will love me forever.

So, now more than a decade later, I want to tell my 14-year-old self that it's not necessarily to put in so much damn work.


It shouldn't be that hard.  If it's meant to be, then it will be.  If it's not meant to be, then it will be... later. Did you hear what I said? Later, not never.  As a teenager, everything feels absolute: "If I don't ___, then I will never ___.  Listen, missy, there's no such thing as never. It's not the end if you don't adapt yourself to him. Your life journey will not be over, your identity will not be gone, and you will not shrivel up and die. The only thing you can ever lose is your identity, and you will lose that when you try so hard to fit yourself into someone else's life. 

You do not have to live for someone else, or be something different for another person.  If you did, then that's not the right person.  And if you did, then you no longer are a healthy person anymore, either. The right person will come along when you are ready and when he is ready.  You will not have to change so much of yourself or your life for him. You will do not have to work so hard for him.  You should never have to lose yourself for him or for someone else.  Just live your life honestly and authentically and good things will happen.  You may not be in as many relationships over the years, but I guarantee that you will be happier in the short- and long- run.

On being liked... romantically.

I can write for days end about being liked, in general.  But this post is not about that.  It's about my tendency to feel absolutely disgusted when I find out that someone likes me, romantically.

Why is that, I wonder?

Why is it that in almost all social settings, I cater to pleasing others and maintaining harmony for the sake of being liked? But then when someone potentially likes me and tries to get close to me, I balk at that possibility and run as far as possible?

In elementary school, one of my best friends developed a crush on me and wrote me a love letter of some sort. He was pretty explicit about liking me, and as soon as I found out, I treated him as though he had some sort of contagious disease.

Similarly, in high school, when a friend asked me to the winter formal and declared his love for me in front of well, everyone, I freaked out and began to avoid him at all costs.

While some people may think this is some sort of diva or princess attitude, I consider that explanation to be much more superficial than the truth.  The complex, complicated, and convoluted reality is actually quite sad and it is the opposite of self-entitlement.

The truth is that whenever someone likes me, I find myself immediately shocked at the possibility that some person in this world has an interest in me.  I cannot fathom why anyone would find me interesting, much less take the next step to pursue me. Instead of feeling flattered, I delve straight into contempt and disgust. What is WRONG with this person that he likes me? Why are his standards so low? What does he see in me that 99.9% of the people don't see? What is wrong with him that he sees good in something (ahem, me) that I see as so bad (again, me)?

The shame is overwhelming, and I hadn't even realized that it was my own self-contempt that blocks my way to happiness.  Why don't I love myself more? Wait, let me take a step back. Why don't I like myself enough to believe that I am likeable, and at some point, even loveable?

These self-reflections are so good for me in my journey of self-exploration and -empowerment. If I don't love myself more than anyone else in this world, then why should someone else?  And if I depend on someone else's affection to validate my self-worth, then who am I on my own? My goals, both now and for the rest of my life, are to love myself, and to find things within me that I can identify with, accept, and come to love.  It's a 3-step process: 1) identify, 2) accept, and 3) love.

First, I must identify who I am, and what I'm all about.
Next, I have to accept all that I am, the good, the bad, the neutral, and the shameful.
Finally, I have to find a way to love it because they are all part of me, whether I like it or not. And far from fighting it, why not embrace it, love it, and believe that the sum is greater than all of its parts? That I, as a person, am good even if there are bad parts?

I think that only when I can love myself more, will I be able to let myself be loved by another person. And just to clarify...  I'm not talking about just any random person. My track-record to date, shows that I keep finding people who are unhealthy themselves validate my existence. So, when I say another person, I'm talking about someone who will also be healthy enough to love me as well as love himself.  Someone whole, someone at peace, and someone that can help me be better in the same way that I can help him be better.

And let's face it, we can't help anyone be better when we're not whole. I can't help anyone.  I can't even help myself when I look to someone else to make me feel whole.

Day 5 Back Home

I had dinner with one of my childhood friends tonight.  Over our Thai iced teas and peanut satay skewered beef, I told her about my heartache, not with B., but with my obsession now towards Robert.  Because my friend Jenny has seen me in and out of this relationship, she knows that this topic is not something I casually or even frequently bring up.  She understands that unless I'm in extreme pain, I usually don't ever bring him up.

I remember when Robert and I first broke up.  No one really made a big deal out of it other than, well, me. For all intents and purposes, I appeared normal and decent to those outside of my home by plastering a fake smile on my face and numbing my heart whenever I was in the presence of others.  Home was a different story.  In the privacy of my own house, or my parents' house, I cried hysterically and did not want to go out-- ever.  One night, Jenny came over to check-in on me after hearing my voice crack on the phone. I remember letting her in the front door and promptly turning back toward her because my tears were uncontrollable. She watched me curl up into a ball on the couch and bawl.  She tried to hear me talk but I'm sure I made no sense. I was crying too much and too hard, and soon after, so did she. She cried with me because she was heartbroken seeing me cry.  She had never seen me in such pain, and it broke her heart to see that I could be so devastated.

So, you see, Jenny "gets it" and she has always gotten it.  Unlike my other friends, who I also adore but for different reasons, Jenny listens to me whereas others have casually brushed off this topic to say "oh, good riddance! We never thought he was that great, anyways."  I distinctly remember wishing I could talk on and on and on about Robert after the breakup, but not being able to because no one seemed to care.  It was so casual for everyone. So nonchalant.  Oh, a breakup.  It's all good, just move on, see more people, date more guys.  For me, it felt like the world was over.  But no one seemed to get that.

And so, about a decade later, over our dinner together, Jenny once again lets me talk. In fact, this time around, she tells me to let it all out.  She offered me such good advice.  She said that I should just feel what I feel and not stop myself anymore.  It hurts, so let it hurt.  Cry about it.  Mourn about it.  And when I feel like I'm done one day, then I'll stop doing it.  Jenny's simple response surprised me because in all these years, I never thought to allow myself to just... grieve about it.  Instead, I've avoided it, used to work to compensate for it, and I have fantasized different alternate stories to make sense of it rather than sit with the throbbing pain lodged between my heart and stomach.

So, when I got home after dinner and drinks together, I climbed into bed and allowed myself to think about Robert.  I cried a lot and I told myself it was OK to cry.  I missed him and told myself it was OK to miss him.  I looked out the window where he used to park the car and come to pick me up, and I gave myself permission to want him in that spot again.  I let myself fantasize, cry, hate, and miss him.  I let myself feel pathetic and desperate, and I considered it to be healthy this time, rather than "stuck in the past". 


I didn't feel better telling myself any of this stuff, but I did feel.