The happiest uplifting

The formula is: if what you're writing is not worth reading, stop writing.

And so I have typed and deleted at least six entries since last night.

I am a Monica at the core. 

I arrange the clothes in my wardrobe first by color, then by full length, then by sleeve length. I have to fold my blankets and tidy my room before I leave the house, no matter how late I am. I compulsively tidy the fridge, including cutting excess flap at the top of cereal packets, once every week.

I edit all my iPhone songs by hand, retrieving the album cover, typing in all its accompanying info, and inputting the accurate lyrics word for word. I have my online photo albums named accurately as such "name of person I was with/ activity I was doing @ location of event)" and even then I would clean out the entire folder once every month.

Does that give you an insight into my mind yet?

In my mind, everything is in perfectly arranged shelves. The memories I have between 1 - 12 years old is in the prized cabinet. I can remember my favorite moments to the last detail. I can tell you the time it was when I was lying on my grandma's couch, drawing out blueprints of a mega camping trip while my grandma brought me my favorite paddlepop ice cream and proceed to watch tv.

I let the 13 - 21 years old memories box rot in the most sordid corner of my mind. The 22 year old box is in a separate section now, pending seal, because the year isn't over yet. But right now, without waiting for QC to give me their final report, I can tell you this is the best year I've had since I was 12.

But that's not the point.

The point is: at the core, I am a Monica. But at heart, I am a Phoebe.

Gabriel would tell you I am a Rachel because he watched one episode where Rachel tried to get Ross to grab her ass by forcing him to lay out his hands while she backed into them, all the while screaming WOULD YOU JUST GRAB MY ASS. And throughout the entire scene, Gabriel kept bobbing up and down going, "See that's you that's you!"

But it isn't. I am a Phoebe.

And I am a Phoebe because I believe deeply in the karmic balance of the Universe. I believe the Universe will only give you what you can handle at any one point. I believe in not saying things you don't want come true because the Universe will hear it and fucking grant it, just because it can. I believe the Universe is fair, that it is the strongest blindfolded beam balance there is.

Yesterday I almost lost it.

Yesterday I said things I didn't want come true.

And I can pretend it doesn't faze me but it did. It burned through my mind and scarred a trail of anguish down my throat. I spent so many hours weeping my eyes out that I'm pretty sure a nearby environmentalist is forcing Nature to take a restraining order against me now.

In the end, it worked out.

I used to believe the gods hated me. It wasn't a hard fact to believe. This blog barely documents the surface of the misery I've suffered. The entire 2010 - 2012 were the darkest ages for me. Most days I wonder how I even made it out of it alive. The hospital trauma, the court cases, the therapy sessions, the cells, the pain the pain the pain.

But I did it.

Without grace, yes. But I did it. I made it out alive.

Looking back, I would've done things a whole lot differently.

I would have done things so differently, that I would have never needed to be in the same cell as one of the most hardened women I've ever met, as she told me about how this square box and all in it was the last thing she was going to see before they ship her off to hang.

In the end, these are stories. These are, what my old friend used to call, grandmother stories. These are the tales I will use to scare and enthral my kids, to make sure they never take the destructive path I chose.

I can take this pain.

I can take a lot more pain.

I've been through so much worse. I can take on more.

Because I know the gods have finally stopped.

Because I know the gods have finally seen that despite everything I had to live through, I managed to scrape out of it alive. Because I know they are done toying with me and will now look for new, tortured girls to torment. Because I know the Universe is nothing but a balance. Because I know for all that I suffered, I will find my blessing again.

And I did.

I found Gabriel.

And he completes my family and relatives.

And that is my Universe.

And that is all I will care about for the rest of my life.

























I think yoga is becoming very much like pole.

There are pole exercises that are usual. The usual spins, the usual inverts, the usual hooks. But then sometimes, there are tricks. They involve a quick shoulder switch, a hand flip, a leg turn. And this trick makes the whole class worthwhile.

Well my Shiva Yoga class today was basically a yoga tricks class. I stayed through two hours. The first hour was a torturous core session but the second, the second was such a fantastic yoga tricks lesson. I am midway putting my leg behind my head! God I love this instructor.

Now to go back to work.