From a girl who’ve seen it all

I lit the last incense I had, opened the window, and lit up a cigarette. The sky is the kind of cloudless clear that you can see the city lights tint it orange before fading into bluish-black. The kind of clear sky that makes me want to ride a motorbike on top of a hill.

I’ve been praying 3 times a day from 3 times a year, doing my best to make time to exercise, taking support group classes on Saturdays, and having daily affirmations written on a small notebook. I also take a meditation course on grief, watch Korean dramas, make decisions to opt for a healthier meal whenever I can, and push myself to be more disciplined at work. My best friend said I looked like I lost some weight every time we met, and my other best friend is still processing the fact that she could actually experience praying at a coffee shop prayer room next to me. It feels surreal to me as much as it might feel for the closest people around me. It’s been a week since I decided to turn Lorde’s Solar Power into my life manifesto — some generic it-girl mindfulness practice that offers absolutely nothing new other than the keyword my generation had abused to the very last drop of its meaning: self-love.

Yeah sure, self-love isn’t about face masks and treating yourself. That line was such a clichè until I experience the transformative force the truth behind it carries. I have never been so compassionate towards myself while at the same time being at war with it. I’ve been listening to myself more than all these 26 years combined. I made discoveries, some I’m not proud of and some made me arrogant (I am my father’s daughter after all). Hearing friends rant about annoying, borderline abusive boyfriends made me realize that that’s exactly what I would do if I were in a relationship at this point of my life. I realized why despite having a partner for most of my formative early adulthood, I was always, always lonely. I face every big wave of grief and guilt head-on, letting myself get drenched and shivering by the shoreline. I hurt people with a sober head and a clear intention: I say no, I draw boundaries, I bail out, I stay in. I ask for forgiveness and hope they might let another one slide while I promise myself to try making this the last time they have to compromise. My friends deserve a better me the same way I deserve a better me.

I don’t know how long I can keep this going, but I hope I have enough to run this for a couple of years. I found a fresh solid ground where confidence blooms without having to be built and rebuilt from brittle bricks. I found a new route to nurture myself without self-pity and victim mentality. I found the courage to take responsibility for my actions, and make decisions based on my instincts. I hope I wont give up on myself anytime soon.