To You, Thank You

23 Comments

unsplash_5244808e6b835_1.JPG

You. Yes, you. The one with dimples so cute, I knew I was a goner before it even began.

You. The one who made me laugh silly on dark days, I could feel my heart swoon all over again.

You. The one whose voice turned my world upside down. The one who made me realize I’d never felt this way before. The one who had me fall in love like I didn’t know was possible.

Thank you.

Thank you for constantly keeping me on the edge.

I was the girl you wanted to talk to. But never those three words.

I was the girl you wanted to kiss. But not the one you wanted to hold.

I was the girl you drunk dialled at midnight. And the girl you pretended to not know when the sun shined.

Thank You.

Thank you for not nodding your head when I cried my heart out.

You see, it would have been so easy. If you’d said yes. Your life would have been easy. Because I would have done everything I could to make sure it was. I would have stood by you during your pitfalls. Your tears  made me cry. Your laughter brought me joy. You were the centre of my universe. You always would have been.

And I would have been so lost in my love for you that I would have never noticed. I would have never noticed that anger you often can’t control. I would have never noticed the way you knowingly speak hurtful words. I would have never noticed that opinion you had of me when I wasn’t around. I would have never noticed the way I’d given it all up for nothing in return.

And when I did, it would have been worse.

Thank you.

I know you don’t get it. You think this is a hate letter. You think I’m sore and angry. But here’s what you never noticed about me.

I’m not that girl.

I don’t spread rumors about the boy who broke my heart. I don’t make snarky remarks just because he does. I don’t bitch about the one I love.

And I will always love.

It won’t be as overpowering as it once was. I’ll move on. With someone who makes me smile by just existing. And I’ll live a life filled with love and chaos with him. But ten years from now, if you decide to make me your one phone call, I swear I’ll come bail you out.

Because, contrary to what you so strongly believe, love isn’t an on and off switch. You don’t just fall out of love and go on like those emotions never existed. It’s always there. In the bottom of your heart. Buried under a lot of hurt and broken pieces. And I have learnt to live with that. I have learnt to dust off those extra shards of glass and pull my chin up. I have learnt to wipe my tears and make myself smile. I have learnt to love but know when to hold back. And I learnt all that without you. I learnt all that because of you.

And that’s exactly why I deserve better.

So Thank You.

For letting me have the ability to find someone who’ll love me for me. For giving me the time and the space to know who I was in your eyes. For forcing me into knowing how to take care of myself when everything within me is falling apart.

You.

I promise, someday, when I’m sitting on a patio surrounded by my grandkids, I’ll tell them about the guy who showed me what love feels like. And I’ll have a small smile as I remember the first time I found myself wanting to lose myself to that voice. To that laughter. To you.

And that’s who you’ll always be. A far away memory. Because sitting with me and correcting me as I spoke about our story will be the man I once longed for you to be.

Hence, my love,

Thank you.

For not saying “I love you too.”

#Equalism

18 Comments

Unknown

I recently got into a heated argument with a friend when I mentioned that I wasn’t a feminist. I told her that the concept of feminism is so twisted today, people have forgotten the real meaning of what it really was. That I stand for something bigger and more important than just feminism. That if I’m going to fight, I’m going to fight once and I’m going to fight for everyone. I’m not doing this one step at a time. I’m sick of fighting one battle after another. I’d rather fight it all together. I’d rather win it all at once.

She didn’t understand what I was talking about.

I’ve been whistled at. I’ve gotten paid less than the boy who worked half as much as I did at an event. I’ve been groped inappropriately on public transport and been told to ignore it because, “Girls need to have shame.” I’ve been limited with choices because I was born a female. I was told to wear loose clothes that covered it all because I am a woman. My opinions have been ignored. My comments have been undervalued. Everything I am has always been less important because I am not a man.

But when the world stands up to talk about Gender Equality, I find myself unable to relate.

Screen Shot 2016-06-18 at 1.23.12 PM

Do you see what’s missing in that quote? Do you see where the world is going wrong with the words “Gender Equality”?

We’re missing an entire gender!

The first time I understood the harsh reality of how the world treated the third gender was in an elevator in a foreign country. A transgender man walked in and wasn’t treated differently. People didn’t take one step away from him. And I was awestruck. That shouldn’t be abnormal but it was. That an elevator full of people were immune to the fact that he was ‘different’ was something so surreal. It showed me how we alienated them everyday. And that’s not Gender Equality.

I saw a transgender woman on a reality tv show say, “If someone calls me ‘Sister,’ I feel like my day has been made. Like they have accepted my gender. I’m only human.” Isn’t that the most basic human courtesy to accept the other person’s core identity? Yet, to her, that would be considered a blessing. Is that Gender Equality?

Do you know how long it took the government to accept the third gender?

Do you know the world’s biggest social media platform, Facebook, only has the option of “Female” and “Male” when signing up?

That if I’m whistled at, they’re called names?

That if my time isn’t valued, their life isn’t valued?

No. I’m not saying their struggle is more important than mine. I’m not taking away the seriousness from mistreatment of women. I’m simply bringing to your attention that there’s someone else who’s going through worse. And if I’m going to use the word Gender Equality, then I will include every human being in it.

The girl whose dreams weren’t as important as her brother’s. The transgender man whose identity was suppressed with fear. The woman whose life was spent serving one after another. The transgender woman who couldn’t get into university because of her gender.

I don’t care how much hatred I get in the comments.I don’t care how my own friends will stand against me for not calling myself a feminist.

Because the truth is, I am not a feminist.

I am an equalist.

I believe in equalism. I believe in human equality. Across all genders.

If I have to stand up for someone, I’m going to stand up for everyone.

Equal opportunities.

Equal choices.

Equal respect.

Equal pay.

Not just for me. Not just for my gender. For everyone.

Because equality is not just a topic of conversation. It is a problem. And I am done fighting them one gender at a time.

#equalism

“Gender equality is not a women’s issue.

It is a human issue. It affects us all.”

Transgender_symbl

 

 

 

“I ______ You”

51 Comments

photo-1432105117111-b8c5bed69654

If I were to ask you what the three most powerful words in this universe are, you will probably answer “I Love You.”

And I would disagree.

I Love You – They make any relationship special. They make any moment so important. They make you feel on top of the world.

I Love You – What if I told you there’s something better? That there’s something more important?

I recently stumbled upon the wedding video of Colleen and Joshua. For a very long time, I thought I was the only person who believed in those words. Who knew how they made every other sentence in this entire galaxy seem so irrelevant. And then I heard Joshua’s wedding vows.

Because..

Love. He can love you and still not be with you.

Love. She will love you and still marry him.

Love. They love you but still won’t want you.

Love. It’s not the most powerful word.

Love. It’s not enough.

They still have to Choose you.

668952628

On your worst day, when you’re stuck with the flu and your loved one has to be elsewhere, it is not love that keeps them by your side. It is the choice that you are more important than anyone else. Because there isn’t a sentence in this world that will matter as much as – I Choose You.

I Choose You. In sickness and in health.

I Choose You. For better or for worse.

I Choose You. Since the day you were born until forever.

I Choose You. Despite your flaws and your shortcomings.

I Choose You. You’re not my best friend, you’re my sister.

I Choose You. You were a parent when we had none.

I Choose You. No matter what the world comes up with.

I Choose You. Despite the rest of the human population.

I Choose You. Even if she’s better.

I Choose You. Today. Tomorrow.

For the rest of my life,

I will always choose you.

Choice.

It’s everything.

 

To The Girl In Her Mid-20’s

187 Comments
dcc2ccd9

 

Photography – Ravi Roshan

 

You’ve spent so many years looking forward to this phase of your life. And it always looked so cool. So glamorous. So filled with love and laughter.

Yet here you are. With knowledge that it’s anything but.

It’s messy buns and messier lives. It’s baggy shirts and overflowing laundry bags. It’s a lot of work and never enough money. It’s freedom with responsibilities. And life is no longer what it seemed.

Different people are doing different things.

Your best friend’s getting married. Your old classmate is killing it with success. Your ex is happy in love. Your old mate is drowning in drugs. Different people are doing different things. But not you. You’re just existing. You’re getting through everyday a little better than the last. But then you have days where you can’t get up at all.

You spend your Friday evenings holed up in a corner because you’re too responsible to drink your night away. Too control freakish to lose yourself to someone else’s tunes. But somehow, this isn’t enough. This life you’re living doesn’t feel complete. Loneliness wraps around you like a blanket you love and you wonder where you went wrong. Why you became different to everyone else.

“Did I do too much too soon? Did I not do enough? Was there a reason why it was never me? Is this going to be the rest of my life? Alone? Unsuccessful? Filled with dreams that never come true?”

And your hands reach out to your phone. One text. One call. To that someone who might make you feel pretty. Who might make you feel important. And your need takes over.

The need to feel accepted. To feel appreciated. To feel adored. To feel loved.

And it is so strong, you forget your sanity for a few minutes of flattery. You lessen your worth for dishonest words. The hurt in your heart, camouflaged. If only for a few seconds.

But it’s never enough. And when you wake up, it’s worse. The hammering of your heart so loud in your ears. A memory of last night frustratingly haunting. Yet another mistake. Yet again.

You scream hateful words to yourself. When will I ever learn? You go over those messages. Those conversations. How you fell right back into a ditch when you knew better. Just for a moment, you wish you weren’t yourself.

And in that moment, read these words:

Breathe. It’s not so bad. You think I don’t understand. But I do. Because I’m there, too. I’ve made that call. I’ve texted that wrong person. I’ve woken up with regrets. I still do. I’ve felt the need to be held. I’ve felt that silent green monster towards a friend in love.
Yes, we all make those mistakes. And we all think nobody else does. But they do.

So please, don’t hate yourself. And don’t stop. Don’t stop loving with all you have. Don’t stop wishing on every shooting star. Don’t stop dreaming of fairytales and being as amazing as Malala Yousafzai. You might not always get there, but don’t stop.

You have so much left to do. You have a world filled with life waiting to happen. You have books to be read. Steps to be taken. Places to see. People to meet. You haven’t lived half your life yet. There’s so much ahead. And in ten years, when you look back, you’ll wish you were here again.

So don’t waste it wallowing in your own sadness. Don’t lose yourself to your self-pity and non-existent boundaries. Use everyday. And I don’t mean spend thousands of dollars and visit the North Pole. I know how you’re struggling to make ends meet.

Do the simple things. Stop procrastinating. Take a walk with nature. Go to the gym. Read your favorite book for the millionth time. Watch a movie. Write your novel. Sketch until you’re better than the best. Eat like you’re dying tomorrow. And most importantly, make mistakes. Your heart will heal. But today will never be back again. Don’t live with “Could-have-been’s.” Take chances.

And ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS remember – It’s okay to be alone.

There is time to let your life revolve around someone else. But today, let it revolve around you.

Not because you can’t find someone. Not because you can’t be loved.

But because you deserve to wake up with a smile. You deserve to live life. To make memories so wild, you’ll be the coolest grandparent they’ve ever known.

Breathe. It’s only your mid-20’s.

You’re going to be alright.

 

 

 

Mom

15 Comments

Untitled 2.jpg

How important can a three-letter-word be?

Mom.

She knew me when I didn’t know myself.

When I didn’t understand alphabets,

When hunger was an emotion and not a word,

When laughter was a face and not a joke,

When tears could mean anything,

When sobbing was a nightly activity.

Mom.

When school wanted to keep me away a few hours,

When I was but struggling to read,

When friends brought drama for free,

When boys developed a new identity,

When a bridge I crossed took her farther away,

When it was a struggle to not see her everyday.

Mom.

When life made me too busy,

When phone calls were made on necessity,

When a group of strangers filled up my time,

When she let me be and chose not to whine.

Mom.

When all my decisions went wrong,

When all my choices fell apart,

When love from him turned to dust,

When all I knew was not enough,

Mom.

When I was at my worst,

When I had given up hope,

When I had nothing but failure,

And she hugged me with love.

Mom.

She’s not magic.

She’s no superhero.

She’s a person

With never-ending love.

Mom,

It’s not just a three-letter-word.

She’s so much more.

Mom.

 

 

 

#IStandUp

28 Comments

 

This is a problem. One that needs to be addressed.

I have an unshakeable memory of a moment in my life. A moment when my ObGyn suggested I see a therapist because she thought I might be depressed. The therapist was a woman in her late 50’s. And I’ll live a million years and never forget the way she looked at me as she spoke the words no emotional healer should dare utter to someone that might be on the verge of depression – “Imagine being at an interview. You and another girl are the last two contenders. You’re both equally talented. There’s only one difference. She’s thin and glamorous. You’re.. Well, you. Who do you think they’ll choose, sweetheart?”

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve wondered if that was true. I’ve wondered if I’d lose my dream job because of the way I look. I developed an inner fear towards interviews because of her. And you know what the problem is?

She’s just one of the many, many people in this world who, everyday of their lives, continue to make girls feel this way. Like they’re not enough. Like their physical characteristics are flaws that will haunt the dreams they’re building in their minds.

Why does a size 0 swimsuit model still feel fat? Why does Queen Bee feel the need to photoshop her thigh gap? Why does the covergirl on a magazine claim to be make-up free when every inch of her skin is carefully airbrushed?

Have you ever been so uncomfortable in your own skin that you’d pay a man thousands of dollars to alter it? To look in the mirror and want features that aren’t yours. Her nose. Her hair. Her cheekbones. For what?!

The 70’s boasted women who are now considered too fat to have a life. Bigger women were considered beautiful then. A new mother’s pregnancy fat is considered a disgrace now.

But why?

I was having a conversation today and suddenly, something struck me as ridiculously abnormal. When taking a picture with a friend, it is no longer important that only you look good. The person with you has to look that good as well. A human being no longer makes a friend based on emotional attitudes. They’re solely formed on the physical characteristics. He looks decent. He’ll make it look like I have decent friends. She looks hot. She’ll make me look so cool. If I take pictures with them, I’ll get more Instagram followers. This narcissism fuels the concept of “Look Good, Feel Good.”

Fifteen pictures later, there’s always that one person who comments, “Who’s your friend? She’s hot!” And just like that, out of nowhere, your insecurity appears. You stare at your mirror and you see flaws. The girl with a happy-go-lucky smile finds that nonexistent flab and picks at it. Workouts. Fitbits. Walk more. Eat less. Smoothen your hair. Get side bangs. Curl it in the bottom. A Brazillian wax. Inch after inch, your body is carved to the world’s concept of perfection when it is anything but. Only, it’s no longer called an obsession. It’s called “Being Healthy.”

Have you ever stopped long enough to wonder why the men, who’ve always spoken about a “thinner” woman, are suddenly asking for more meat in their women?

It was a few days after the floods hit my city. We were finally out of our houses and in a safer, more drier part of the city. My mother looked at me and said, “I realize now that maybe it’s okay for you to be fat. Some people are meant to be the way they are. You’ve really helped at a moment of crisis. I think you should stay as you are. You’re a nice person.”

I smiled. Not because I’d received a compliment. But because my mother had finally understood something the world is teaching girls to forget.

It does not matter how you look. Nobody cares if you’ve got a thigh gap. Kylie Jenner’s lips are NOT real or natural. Who you are to the world is not about promoting the beauty you possess on the outside.

It is embracing who you are within. It is feeling like a million dollars on your worst day. It is knowing that you’re worth something because you’re kind. Because you’re caring. Because you think and act with your heart.

I don’t want to raise a daughter in a world where the person she turns to for help is going to teach her what that person believes are her flaws.I don’t want to let my sister live in a world where she feels the need to walk up and down the stairs because she ate a slice of pizza. I don’t want my mother to know that the world she’s leaving us with is polluting our brains with everything we’re not. I don’t want my grandmother to ever hear about how, if she were twenty today, she wouldn’t make the cut. Because her beautiful soul will never make as much sense as the perfect winged eyeliner, the close to nothing stomach and an unhealthy waistline.

Who you are today is everything your daughter will live through tomorrow. Is this really the world you want to create for her? Is this the example you want to set?

Because I’d like to believe that somewhere behind those fake eyelashes are eyes filled with tears at the inability to be who you are. And I’d like to hope that this post is telling you it’s okay. It’s okay to not fit in. It’s okay to have thighs that stick together. It’s okay to not have an hourglass figure. It’s okay if your nose looks weird. It’s okay if your cheeks are chubby. It’s okay if your chin looks doubled.

It’s okay. Because that imaginary standard they’re setting? That will go out of fashion within the next decade and all this energy you’ve spent fitting into that stereotype will become pointless. But a good heart? A kind soul? That will always matter. That will always stay in fashion.

So take a deep breath and wipe that makeup off. It’s time to stand up for who you are.

#IStandUp for You.

Who’re you standing up for?!

The Lonely Goose

9 Comments

Facebook, over the past year, has been taking us down memory lane. A recent trip took me to this status message:

Screen Shot 2016-03-20 at 7.10.07 PM

Romantic as it is, it also reminded me of something – I haven’t been in a relationship in five years. I’ve been in love, of course, but it never grew outside of my heart.

And if you’re as emotional as I am, you probably understand the desire to avoid that grey area in your love life. The one where you’re with someone without being with them. The moment your heart flutters at their name but you can’t call them yours. The physical and the emotional Friend with Benefits.

I can’t do that. I’m too serious. Too emotional. Too insecure. I need that security blanket we call a relationship. It may not last forever. I may know that the term ‘girlfriend’ will never turn into ‘fiancé’ or ‘wife’ even. But I still need that promise. That commitment. Even if it’s just for a little while.

And so exists those evenings. The ones we all have. The ones we can’t avoid. The ones we, as single people in our twenties, endure without a choice.

Yes, I’m talking about all you single people struggling to make ends meet with that all-too-insufficient money you’re making while working four times harder than the guy who makes four times the money you make and would just love to come home to someone for that oh-so-amazing hug but you can’t because you don’t have the time for a relationship and when you do, there isn’t someone who wants to date you!

I know how that feels! I know those long evenings where you’re struggling to not make that desperate call to that person you know is the wrong one. And it’s not because you’re horny, no. It’s because you just want to cuddle up on a comfortable couch and watch that crappy series finale of How I Met Your Mother and use that as an excuse to make out like teenagers who’re too afraid to get to second base while in the real world, they’re getting everywhere we aren’t.

It’s torture, isn’t it?! Your arms craving to hold someone. Your lips tingling to be kissed in that comforting, not-ending-in-sex way. Only, you’re sitting alone and you tell yourself – This is better. This means I’m going to end up with someone right. All this will make sense when I’m old enough to find the right one. When I have the time to find the right one. – And you believe it! You believe that little pep talk about the future and decide to distract yourself by logging on to Facebook and Voila! She’s not pretty. He was always an asshole. But here they are. Happy. In love. And you hate being jealous but “How does this person who is just not nice in life find love so fast and I can’t even find a boyfriend pillow?!”

I know how that feels. And if there’s anything that makes this worse, I know what it is.

LOVE SONGS AND ROMCOM MOVIES.

Adam Sandler, with his egg shaped head, goes on FIFTY first dates within 3 hours. You.. You can’t find one date if you lived to be fifty. So you turn off the TV and put on some loud music and try to dance your woes away. There’s only one problem.

Your playlist’s agenda of the day is to make yours worse. So your time away from all things that remind you of your singledom completely and utterly destroys you the moment your earphones blast Landon Austin, in all his glory, singing Once in a Lifetime and you’re wishing. You’re praying. That in that moment this would all fade away. That the Earth would open up and you’d be sucked into a vortex where it’s never lonely. Maybe become a part of NASA’s sleep for 72 days program so the need to walk becomes so high, you no longer want to cuddle. Or maybe take a family vacation! Surround yourself with enough drama and at the end of it, you’d scream at the idea of people!

Yes, I know what this feels like. This evening of being so miserably single that you’re almost ready to just give in and call that person who will be the biggest mistake of your life.

And I’m here to tell you, don’t do it.

Because right now, it sounds about perfect. But tomorrow, when you’re in the middle of an important meeting trying to embarrass the guy who makes more money by working less and your phone buzzes constantly getting you cold stares from every person in the room, you’ll wish you’d listened to me.

Better a lonely goose than an underpaid office clown.

 

 

 

 

 

Dear You

21 Comments

Screen Shot 2016-02-13 at 11.30.55 pm

Dear You,

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this. You’re wondering what could be so difficult to say in person that I have to write about it. You’re maybe even wondering why you’re the one reading this. But bear with me this once because I can’t explain clearly what I don’t really understand. Yet here I go, trying to do just that.

It’s been six years. Six years since I looked at someone and thought to myself I think I have a crush on this guy. Six years since I wondered what it’d be like to go on a first date again. Six years since I’ve felt anything but love that terrifies your very soul. And I don’t really know how to do this. But I’m trying.

I fell in love. The crazy kind. I went on a first date. I felt butterflies. I texted all night. I giggled silly. I blushed through the day. I fell in love. And I had my heart broken. Ruthlessly. I told myself, “Never again.”

But then I fell in love again. The one-sided kind. There was no first date. There were no butterflies. I cried all night. I begged him to say Yes. I fell in love again. And I shattered into a million pieces.  Irreparably. I knew in my soul, “Never again.”

Dear You,

It’s difficult to rise from a lost love. I’m rising from two. I had the man dreams are made of and I lost him. I had the man I couldn’t stop dreaming of and I never stood a chance. You see, it’s not been easy for me.

But you know what they say. Time mends a broken heart. Maybe they’re right. For, I don’t wake up in the morning and think of him anymore. But somewhere along the day, I think of you.

I’m not in love. No. But I’m still scared. I have scars that run deep and a heart that’s healing. And I don’t know how to make sense of it all. I don’t know how to tell you of all the ways you’re helping me get better without scaring you away. I’m nervous, I guess you could say. But there’s so much more to this.

Dear You,

He said I have that look on my face. The one where he knows it’s your text I’m reading. We weren’t even flirting. But you bring about that smile I haven’t felt in a while.

And it’s not like you don’t know. I’ve said it in so many words and more. Yet it feels like there’s words to say that haven’t been spoken. Emotions that haven’t been felt. And I know you’re healing too.

But Dear You,

Waiting doesn’t help. Longing doesn’t make this better. You may think I don’t understand. But I do. I know this isn’t easy. Rebound never was. I know we both need time. Patience at most.

Patience to take this slow. Patience to understand. Patience to figure this out.

So I won’t ask you mighty things. I’ll ask you the simple ones.

Dear You,

Hold my hand. In the middle of road. In that all-too-awkward way.

Dear You,

Send me a text. In the middle of the day. And surprise me beyond say.

Dear You,

Catch my fingers. In the middle of a conversation. I promise I’ll blush all day.

Dear You,

Ask me out. In the middle of this sentence. And I swear I’ll say Yes.

Dear You.

 

___________________________________________________________

Write a love letter campaign by Chennai Bloggers Club

 

(Not) A Mistake

26 Comments

Sex.

In my world, that’s a taboo word. It doesn’t matter if you’re married or not. You just don’t throw that word around. You whisper softly to ears that will judge. You blush when asked if it hurt that first wedding night. “You’ll be treated like a whore if you say that word aloud,” my parents taught me.

Sex.

I was 16 in a high school half way across the world. My only friend there said, “Oh my God. It was all about sex.” I looked around panicking. “Our Dean is here. Shh..” She stared at me like I had lost my mind. “So what? He’s married. He knows what sex is about.” Yet again, a word I wasn’t allowed to say was spoken for everyone else to hear.

Sex.

It’s the only way to grab a man’s attention I was told. It’s what a man wants from a woman. Dress carefully. Dress decently. Don’t let them see things you should show to only one man. Don’t utter words that aren’t meant for the one you’ll marry. Walk with your head down. Don’t giggle too loud. He’ll hear you. He’ll notice you. He’ll want you. And when he does.. “I can’t explain, darling.”

Sex.

“It’s nothing but an insignificant part of life. Lying naked next to a man is not what matters. It’s disgusting. How can you crave another body? How can you express a need that cannot exist? How can you want something you shouldn’t be talking about?”

Sex.

It’s what he saw in her. In that decently dressed girl who never spoke above a whisper. That girl who hid her beauty behind a mask of silent laughter and tied up hair. It’s what he needed from her until she was nothing but a ball of mess in a corner for anyone to see. Her mother’s words lost in ears that were filled with her own screams.

Sex.

All those lessons die within. When you learn from the world that sex isn’t sin. Because mother, there’s only one definition..

Sex is only sex when we’re both in it together. Everything else is just rape.

So don’t teach me not to utter words that are meant to create. Don’t tell me to hide who I am for a man who has no control of himself. Don’t taunt me when I dare say the words you’ll never approve of. The day you talk to me about it like it’s a mistake, you’ve enabled another man to believe it’s his birthright.

Sex.

It’s not what she had. She was raped. Don’t use her as a lesson. Don’t abuse what she’s been through for me to learn something that’s not true.

Teach me it’s okay to want another person. Tell me it’s okay to love a man, not just emotionally, but also physically. Taunt me when I ask you if I should let him do what he wants even if it’s not what I want.

Sex.

I’ll say it out loud for the world to read. Because it’s not a mistake. It’s not a crime, mother. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.

 

 

 

 

A Painful Addiction

40 Comments

Like so many things I’ve talked about here before, this, too, is a secret well-kept. One I’ve often wondered if others have been through.
Doesn’t every addiction have company?

We were texting and it was a fight like all else. There was shouting. There were rude things. I told myself I’m going to block him. Then came the text I’d dreaded, right below his name – Typing…

Do you know that hammering in your heart when you’re saying goodbye? The one where you know it’s for the better while you wish something had been different all along? That’s how I felt. I stared at that word.

I knew in my heart I had to walk away. Block him now and never have this conversation again. But I stalled. I heard my mind tell me, “He’s going to type something hurtful. This will not be kind to your soul. He is angry beyond comprehension. Being nice isn’t what he wants right now. Walk away. You will break down over the words he’s typing. Press the button. Block him now and walk away.”

But I stalled. Because I wanted to see them. I wanted to see the names he would call me. The words he wanted to throw at me. I wanted to feel just how much he resented me. I wanted to feel my heart crash. My emotions sink. I wanted to hurt from within. To curl up and sob over the physical and emotional turmoil the words he typed would bring to me.

And for the first time, I noticed it. I noticed an addiction.

One I’d never known before.

Nobody talks about things like this. People don’t tell you this is a possibility. And maybe it isn’t. But it was there. Pulsing through me with a need that words cannot explain.

I called my friend and told him about it. I told him what I’d just realized about myself. And the more we spoke, the more instances I recalled.

Like the time I sat in a car with a boy I was dating and waited for him to tell me what I already knew. He’d been cheating on me. But I wanted to hear him say it. To hear him say he was sick of me. To hear him say he’d upgraded. Even when I knew the stinging pain I’d feel right after.

And the time I had a fight with my father and, instead of walking away, I stayed so I could hear him tell me how disappointed he was to have me for a daughter. I knew he wouldn’t mean the words he’d say. I knew my heart would still believe it. And when it did, I knew it’d shatter into a million different pieces. But I stayed to hear him say it.

Or the time I had the opportunity to talk about it all. To end the misery of being the messenger in a broken marriage. To finally be just a child again. The time I chose to stay quiet. To not end what I knew would consume who I am for the rest of my life.

The time I chose to stand beside someone I knew was breaking from within. I wanted to absorb what he was letting out. To feel what he was trying to get rid off.

Because an addiction doesn’t have to be material. An addiction doesn’t need a physical form. It can be something bigger. Something more disturbing. Something more life shattering.

An addiction can be a feeling. Of heartbreak. Of emotional damage. Of misery.

An addiction can be something you’d never consider.

An addiction to an emotion.

Wanting to be hurt. To be emotionally ruined. Wanting to hear the words they’ll regret in the morning. Finding comfort in places you know you’ll crash. With people you know will wreck you. An addiction to an emotion so strong, it breaks you. Piece by piece. Until there’s nothing left of you.

And I..

I am addicted to Pain.

And I don’t know if someone out there feels this way too. I don’t know if this feeling is common. If it’s normal.

But it exists. Deep within me. And I can’t shake this off.

So there’s no positive end to this post. I’m not going to tell you how I plan on beating this or how I’m going to work on getting better. I don’t know if there is a way to get better.

But I’m talking about this because I know.

I know this addiction. And it’s not easy. It doesn’t make sense to many. It’s a battle everyday. A battle where you repeat to yourself over and over again to walk away. A battle you always lose.

So if you’re out there. If you’re feeling the way I do. If you’re addicted to the one thing everyone resents and avoids. I want you to know you’re not alone.

I want you to know that I feel it too. Everyday. Every moment. And I know how it consumes you. How it’s destroying you. How ridiculous it can sound. How real it can feel.

I know this painful addiction.

It’s mine too.