Letters to a Once Broken Heart

I have been writing these past few months about so many things in my life except one thing - my love life. I wonder if you still call it "love life" even if there's not really life in it.

My silence meant that I was not ready to disclose the most fragile parts of me, the most painful part of my life this year. But I think that my long wait to "feeling super okay" before I write again about the matters of my heart is pointless.

This timely post by Jeff Goins is so moving that it made me decide to write again. I decided to write again to help myself and others heal.

I entitled this series of letters "Letters to a Once Broken Heart" because a broken heart does not remain broken unless the owner chooses to let it remain that way. And if I write to such, I fear they’d not find this helpful or even believable. I choose to write to once-broken-but-now-choosing-to-recover hearts.

Here's the first of the many letters I wish to write. The first one being entitled:

Moving on and on and on

Dear you,

You may think that no one can fully understand the way you feel, how deep your pain is and how badly you want to grieve and be miserable about it.
But a once-shattered-getting-whole-hearted-again person like me (I discourage you from calling yourself  "brokenhearted") can very well relate with what you feel and will be able to understand you whether you believe it or not.
Yes, these are times we want to lose control and search all outlets to heal our hearts, to give it pleasure, to make it forget.
Yes, our hearts still bleed at the remembrance or sight of the one who broke it.
Yes, what our mind, soul and body exactly want to do is to feel down and pity one’s self.
And over again, we find ourselves in this cycle of misery.
I’m well aware of this cycle- when we are led back to square one. That is- to continue holding on to pain and settle with being stuck there.

And when I say we’re back to square one, it means that we could have been doing good, our best even, during the previous days, weeks, months, or YEARS in enjoying our lives and moving forward, when suddenly, we come to a halt.

It does happen to us many times in our journey of moving forward. We’re back at that moment of bargain – stick with the pain or grieve at this halt and then get moving again.

At this point, I’m on a halt. I’m back to square one. No one says it’s easy, neither writing about this--- blood is still streaking down my chest.

But I write in hopes to tell you that you’re not alone.
I write in hopes of telling you that the key is not to stop. The halt is a pause to give yourself some time to grieve about what pains you but to give you as well the boost to get back up again.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a masochist. Neither am I an insensitive, unfeeling individual. I have feelings --- deeper than you think I have. I’m not telling you to sternly forget or banning you to deeply feel pain.

I’m telling you to move on and on and on and on and on. I call it that way because I realized that to move on is not a one time, big time step to healing. It’s a daily, an hourly, and a minutely choice we take over again.

And in this road to healing , pauses/halts are natural. They are welcome. They tell you that you’re human. They tell you that you’ve been hurt and that you acknowledge your feelings. But that’s why they’re called pauses- you cannot and must not dwell on them for long.

You pass by these “stop-overs” and get back to the road of getting your heart whole and well again. Because when you choose not to get going, you’re on your way to the road of misery.

Dear once-shattered-getting-whole-hearted-again person, don’t be stuck in these stop-overs, do move on and on and on and on.

P.S. The longer you choose to stay stuck, the farther you will be from reaching the end of healing’s road.

Picture… Perfect

 I should be writing about Psalmie---  my netbook buddy.

The explanation of its name, the apology I want to render it and the gratefulness I have for it--- were all but eclipsed by something that demands my attention at the moment.

I was surprised at how my unconscious actions betrayed concealment. Above is a picture… perfect to paint the nature of my present world.

 

Epiphany:

I am straying from my Main Topic.

Reason is slowly losing its hold on me, I am drawn to the currents of an unruly heart.

 

An object to pin my sight and hopes on, dims the sole Apple of my eyes.

So easily, unthinkingly, and hurriedly we equate happiness with fleeting things…

 

Why such, waits to leave and pain us still.

For the time being

Now, my heart speaks.

 

I saw and recognize you in the faintest of light.

Your features were dearly known to my memory,

And have registered alarm in my heart upon any sight of it.

 

How farther than the moon you seemed

Among the strangers before you, I was one.

 

Stare.

No I was but the air.

Words.

No nothing was spoken.

 

Silence and inaction were the active weapons

To crush me within

-emooomo!

----

Jane Eyre, the present object of my admiration and endearment in thoughts and in character (of course in the brilliant narration and depiction of Charlotte Bronte) has beautifully put into words what my heart was in dire need of.

“It is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it.” (Bronte C., 1847)

“don’t make him the object of your fine feelings, your raptures, agonies and so forth… be too self-respecting to lavish the love of the whole heart, soul and strength, where such a gift is not wanted and would be despised.” (Bronte C., 1847)

 

First, I DISOWN the idea that I am inlove. I am not. In fact, I only know now of God’s love and my love for family and friends. Love, (romantic to be particular) to me, is too complex, indefinite at the moment. I don’t bother deciphering it now.

Second, the word “Love” in Bronte’s words can be replaced by the word “Liking” to best suit the need of my heart.

Third, the emooo poem, may have spoken it all. For the time being, heartache looms before me.

Fourth, I am in awe how these heartbreak issues toughen the maturity of my heart, deepen His role as to solely satisfy my soul, and draw me closest to His love.

 

Lastly, whatever this is, it’s only for the time being.

*The posting of this entry pushed through because the heart ache was raised to the 2^nd power....today... for the time being.

50 Books Ahead

I, a future English teacher, have a number of confessions to make:

1.)    I deserve the title Abbie, Duchess of Sleepyland

2.)    I can be nominated The World’s Laziest Person.

3.)    I detest teachers who are not passionate in what they do; those who teach simply to earn a living.

And brace yourself for the worst one:

4.)   I DID NOT STUDY FOR A MIDTERM EXAM a while ago.

My realization about my third confession is a slap on my face. Who am I to detest a teacher who’s not passionately teaching when I AM a student who’s not passionately studying? It boils down to taking the log off my own eyes before I pinpoint the speck in others’ eyes. Even more, RESPECT for every teacher should always prevail.

Looking at my four confessions, it is very evident that my study habits are at its worst these days. The reconstruction I was trying to achieve came to a halt. The Christian student, doing everything for His glory, is nowhere to be found.

Being the Abbie that I am, I would always ask myself “Why is this happening to me?” My whole world of idealism for a perfect student and a perfect example as a future teacher is RUINED.

Or so I’d thought.

As I try to ponder, experiencing these failures and struggles as a student are my stepping stones to fully relate with and help my students. Where could I ever get the expertise in giving effective advice in dealing with sloth and laziness unless I have gone through those things myself?

And that’s one thing I really anticipate. I’m excited to be able to deal with these recurring student syndromes and be of help to my students (or even to other people) in the future.

I’ll end with what I heard a while ago from a passionate teacher who inspires our class: 50 books ahead. We are to be 20 or 50 books ahead from our students. However, this doesn’t literally mean we must be able to read 50 books more than they have (well it could be great if that’s really the case). This could mean that we are ahead in the experiences and learning we’ll have.

In my case, I want to be 50 books ahead in SUCCESSFULLY dealing with sloth, laziness and other student syndromes to be as what Howard Hendricks said a “running stream than a stagnant pool” to my future students.