Lamentations and Whatnots

 

Is it just me? But I get really sad when someone I love wakes up one day and decides that they don't want to be friends or lovers anymore, and they walk out, leaving me wondering how it went wrong, what I could have done to prevent it, if I was the problem, or why they couldn't love me or stay with me for as long as I can or am willing to.

You could say these are the reasons behind why I've been somewhat hesitant when it comes to opening up to people or making new friends. You could say I'm stuck in the past, and I'm finding it hard to give new people a chance. These days, I've been socially awkward and always find an excuse to bury myself in a pile of abstract or theoretical work that doesn't require me to connect or network physically. I shy away and cower at the thought of being surrounded by people I'm not familiar with. I don't want to know you; I don't want to fall in love with your personality, and I don't want to dream about our lives together and get attached.

Most people close to me would say I'm hung up on the surreal idea of what a relationship should be. Could it be my head or heart is just stuck in the clouds? I can't have that one person who's my go-to for everything; I can't be everything for them either, so what is the ideal society relationship like? One that doesn't have depth or any meaning? Are we all just stringing ourselves along because somehow this person is important when it comes to academics, business, art, etc.?

Do I have abandonment issues? Maybe, yes, no, I can't say...

Do I want people to stay? Yes, totally.

Do they? 80% of the time, they leave. Lately, I've longed and actually been lamenting about the fact that I don't have a best friend. It's been about a year since I lost one, and the thought of it still hurts till today.

Maybe I'm suffering from the ability to love so deeply and quickly with fickle beings. But that is me, and I can't apologize for being a plain simp.

XOXO

I Miss the Comfort of Being Sad

It's another go-around the sun for this blog, and I still can't believe it, guys. But it's safe to say that while I've been given another year to write to you, my dear loyal readers, I will always come here with a mind-stimulating article. Let's dig in, shall we?

Today, I want to explore a topic that has been on my mind lately—a subject that demands our attention and understanding: the addictiveness of depression. It's strange how our emotions can sometimes become a familiar sanctuary, even when they seem counterintuitive. This idea was prompted by three separate encounters—a touching post I read on Instagram, an article written by a friend, and my personal experiences. These encounters served as a catalyst for this contemplative journey, and I felt the need to delve deeper into this mysterious aspect of life.

Interestingly, the Instagram post portrayed a young man battling with the shadows of depression, and as I read the post, I couldn't help but relate to the allure of that darkness. There's an odd comfort in sinking into despair—a sense of control amidst chaos. For some, depression becomes an old friend—a space where emotions intertwine, finding solace in its embrace. It almost feels like donning a familiar, tattered coat—a coat that shields us from the world's expectations and pressures.

But what if depression becomes more than just a visitor? What if it starts to linger, seeping into every aspect of our lives until we find ourselves entangled in its snare? It's not a conscious decision to become addicted to sorrow, but as we linger in its clutches, we may start to lose sight of who we once were.

To be honest, after reading about her experience, I began to understand some of my mannerisms as well. I'd clamor, work for, and look forward to something, and when it finally does happen, I'd shrug it off like it didn't mean anything at all. Of course, internally, I was sure I wanted to display nothing short of joy, but I just couldn't bring myself to. On some other occasion, I'd try to hold onto a toxic view that the world was better without me in it and I didn't choose to be born. Why? I ask myself. I have life good, I have a family that adores me, I have love in abundance, I have intelligence and almost everything working for me, but why do I still cling to feeling continuously like crap when my life isn't?

This eye-opening revelation highlights the delicate balance between sorrow and happiness. When depression takes root, it can become a comfort zone, perpetuating a cycle of negativity that seems almost impossible to break. As strange as it may sound, depression can be addictive, tempting us to dwell in its clutches rather than seeking the light beyond the shadows.

The question then arises, how do we overcome this addictive despair? The journey to break free is complex, and it starts with acknowledging the presence of depression in our lives. We must recognize that it's okay to seek help and support, just as we would during any other addiction. Opening up about our struggles is not a sign of weakness but rather a display of strength—a step towards reclaiming our lives.

Moreover, we need to be mindful of the stories we tell ourselves. Instead of allowing depression to define us, let's remember that we are more than our sorrows. Each one of us is a tapestry of experiences, both good and bad, and we shouldn't let the dark threads overshadow the vibrant colors that weave our lives together.

Seeking professional help, talking to loved ones, and engaging in activities that bring joy are essential steps in overcoming the grip of addictive depression.

And just like the passing of another year for this blog, life too keeps moving forward, and with it, our understanding of ourselves and the world around us evolves. Until we meet again, my dear readers, take care, and let's continue to grow and learn together.

XOXO

Papa, Is That You?

Today is Father's Day, and as I reflect on this occasion, I realize that I may not be the most qualified person to discuss the topic. Having lost my father at a very young age, I have no personal experience of the father-daughter bond. Looking back, I can't help but feel a sense of longing, as if I've missed out on an essential part of life. Yet, over the years, I have come to grasp a glimpse of what I believe it should be.

During my childhood, my mother had a close friend who would visit us regularly. Whenever he came over, he would bring my favorite snacks and captivate me with bedtime stories about the mischievous adventures of the cunning tortoise. I would run to him, exclaiming "Big Daddy" with joy, and he would catch me in his arms, playfully lift me up, and place me on his lap. I would excitedly chatter away about my day, sharing personal details meant only for family. In my young mind, he became like family, and I would proudly boast to my classmates that he was my father. He held a special place in my heart then, and he still does now. Sometimes, I wonder how different my upbringing would have been without those cherished moments, as I can't imagine anything that could replace those memories. Unfortunately, this kind-hearted man passed away a few years ago, but his memory will forever remain dear to me.

With age, I have come to understand that fatherhood encompasses much more than the experiences I had. Our society often fails to recognize the immense sacrifices made by men for their families. Men leave their own families to build a home for themselves, their wives, and their children. A good and responsible man dedicates most of his life to his family, prioritizing their needs over his own. Despite being labeled as the "stronger sex," men are denied the opportunity to show vulnerability, express emotions, or make mistakes. If they do, they often face criticism even from those they consider family and friends—the very people who should be there to support them in their times of need. Men, too, are human beings and should be allowed to experience a range of emotions, to be fragile, and to acknowledge their pain. They are integral members of society and contribute significantly to its growth. These men are our fathers, brothers, cousins, uncles, and friends.

I have come to realize that being a father goes beyond simply being a playmate. Deep contemplation has led me to the conclusion that not having a biological father does not make me fatherless. I am fortunate to have two wonderful men who are married to my elder sisters. They have stepped into the role of father figures with grace and love, defying societal norms. Through their presence and guidance, I have gained a clearer understanding that being a father is not solely determined by genetics but is rooted in love—the truest and purest form of love.

 XOXO 

Jar of Hearts

Hey book worms! It's Dee again. Your friend, confidante, and goofball. Well, I'm going ahead to give my dramatic intro now that the salutations have been exchanged.

"To love is to die many times and be reborn into paradise." - Agnes Dairo.

Confused? Chuckles!

I recently started writing unrequited love stories because it's a favorite pastime of mine, and, well, I've had a substantial amount of experience with it. I record and turn them into videos. Then later, I post them on Instagram and TikTok. If you're interested, the handle is @InTheShadowOfLove. So far, I have gathered a few followers who are attracted to my beautiful and moving writing. Sprinkles some spice.

Then, one day, while scrolling through the streets of TikTok, I saw a video where it came to my notice that people only focus on the pain of unrequited love but forget to consider the pain of the object of that love, i.e., to be at the receiving end of unwanted feelings.

This video made me realise how unfair it is that we often fail to consider the emotions of the person who unintentionally becomes the villain in our stories. Looking back, I must admit my own past selfishness, and perhaps many of you can relate. Now here is a little exercise for you. Place yourself in the shoes of the other person. The person who is supposedly the object of your desires, the one who thoughts of them start your mornings and end your evenings, the one who your heart calls for, the one who you burn for. See what I did there? 😉

You don't love this person as they do you. They are probably your friend, coworker, or someone who just has a pleasant air about them, and you love to have them around, but you have no choice but to break their heart because you simply do not feel the same way. If that were you and such a person meant the world to you albeit in a platonic way, wouldn't it hurt you or break your heart a little to give them up? Knowing that your relationship with such a person might never fully heal? You get it now? I did this same exercise, and I guess you could say I understood how hard it could be for them too. I'm in no way invalidating the person whose love is unrequited feelings; I'm just looking at it through a different lens.

To be frank with you, bookworms, being alone in love sucks. And with reference to the quote I made earlier: "To love is to die many times and be reborn into paradise." What makes love stories so beautiful is the fact that both parties truly and deeply love each other. I say, "To have one's true love love them is to be born anew into a fantasy that will never end." Now, imagine a love where it is only you loving from afar. There will be no light, just darkness and hurt, and you might never truly know what happiness feels like. But really, unrequited loves aren't as bad as they are entirely made out to be, friends, as "There's a beauty in pain," and that love which has left you wounded can also heal you if you extend it to yourself."

 XOXO