Saw this on Instagram and shared it on my stories…it made me laugh so I thought I’d share it here too.
Since God sees what we can’t see, He separates us from those people to fix and stop the haemorrhage. As any doctor would.
You feel lonely when God separates you. Often you experience the worst anxiety ever to exist on this earth. Out of fear, you start to question God. Saying, “please, don’t take these beloved people away from me”. You do that because in your mind, you’re thinking that God is being unfair. Yet, God separates you, anyway, because His operation must continue. So that your wound can heal, and your bleeding can finally stop.
Accept being seperated from people. Accept solitude. Because, in the end, it’s for your own healing.”
― Mitta Xinindlu
I’m trying to trust the process because I know that the only way to get this over and done with is to go through it. And because I know that whatever this is, it is part of the masterplan that God has for me. I’m desperately trusting in the perfection of God’s plan and His timing. It is VERY difficult though. I think it is the sitting still and the waiting that is getting to me. I thought I was patient. Maybe I’m not as patient as I thought after all.
I’m discovering a lot about myself during this waiting period – what I thought I was and what I actually am and what I’m actually not. It is humbling and I find it very suprising. It’s not to say that I don’t accept the discoveries about myself. because I’m learning to embrace the parts of me that I didn’t know existed — or maybe a better way to say it is that I’m learning to accept the parts of me that I thought were unacceptable because someone said they were. They’re part of the fabric of my personality and I think I actually like the parts of me that I subsumed so that I could keep the peace. I’m glad I can bring them forward again because I am seeing who I am again. For all my faults and foibles, I’m actually okay with that. I can work on what I need to improve.
I’m also trying to lean into the solitude. I think that’s what I’m finding very difficult. Because when one has been part of a unit for such a long time, it is difficult to identify yourself as a solitary being. Part of how I had started to identify myself is that belonging to that unit. I found that realisation quite disconcerting because I thought I was determined to mark myself as independent, anindividual. I remember being determined to establish myself as Yelly, not the granddaughter of General Medina, or the daughter of Dr and Mrs Medina, or my Tita Bing’s niece. I was quite proud that I’d established myself in my life in the UK as me and not who I was related to. I guess that was mostly professionally. Emotional identification was different, I guess. Now that I’m no longer part of that twosome, while I accept that to be a reality (and to be honest, I now know that I will never want to be part of that unit ever again), I think my subconscious is having a difficult time catching up with the status quo. My mind knows it and so does my heart. It’s the emotional muscle memory that needs to follow.
I am now, today, separada de soltera.
I’m usually the first one to be excited about events involving pomp and circumstance because to me it’s being part of contemporary history, even if it is on the periphery. When the late Queen Elizabeth died, I was glued to the telly for days absorbing the news. I was also constantly looking out the window because Green Park and Buckingham Palace were quite near my office and there was a constant parade of flower tributes being brought to the Palace by members of the public (I nearly got brained by a massive bouquet of sunflowers because this guy was rushing and texting at the same time, not looking where he was going and he kept zigzagging and nearly walked into me with the gigantic yellow blooms – I’m only little!).
While there was (apparently) a build up of excitement for the big day in the country, I wasn’t quite feeling it. I know I’m going to watch the coronation ceremony on telly later, and I’m probably going to get teary-eyed. But I’m feeling very underwhelmed. Maybe because I don’t necessarily like Charles and Camilla (yep. I’m #TeamDiana, always have been). While I agree that everyone deserves happiness and to each his own, etc., etc., I’m still not feeling it (I was, in comparison, more excited for Harry and Meghan’s wedding!). I’m not a royalist, but I am also not a Republican. I believe the British Royal Family serve their purpose and they do bring in a certain amount of tourism and with tourism comes jobs…plus Prince Louis, God bless him!
I didn’t even really go out to take any pictures of the decorations around the capital until yesterday and only because I was near Regent Street. Let’s just say I had other things going on in my life.
But I do wish that Charles gets to do what he wants to do whilst he’s on the throne. He’s waited so very long to become the monarch and it would be such an anti-climax (to him personally, I suppose) if he isn’t able to do the things he wanted to do when he got to the throne. Everyone deserves the chance to fulfill their destiny.
Everyone. Even the King.
OH on the OG
No these are not cool in-with-the-kids acronyms. I don’t think the words cool and Yelly have actually featured in a single sentence in quite a very (VERY) long while! Ha!
It just means “overheard on the overground” (for those not living in London, the Overground was established in 2007 and is basically the network of trains that connects Central London to London suburbia, aka Greater London – the trains travel over the ground as opposed to under the ground, mostly).
I will usually have my headphones on while commuting as I’m almost always listening to something: either a podcast or some such playlist on Spotify, or Hamilton (yes, currently obsessed again – it comes in waves! Hey! Hey! Hey! And if you’ve ever listened to the Original Broadway Cast recording or watched the musical on Disney+ –not an advert, btw, it’s just where I get my Hamilton fix at the moment — you’ll get the reference!). I meant to charge my headphones last night because I had the feeling that they were running low on charge, but like most evenings lately, I’ve been distracted, and didn’t get around to doing anything on my I’ll-do-this-tonight list. Tut-tut, I know.
And of course, my headphones died in the middle of Leslie Odom, Jr. warbling (a word that is a favourite in my vocabulary at the moment) about being in the room where it happens (again, a Hamilton reference, and if you’re not listening to Hamilton, WHY AREN’T YOU?). I took my headphones off, attached the charging cable and attached said charging cable to my power bank, and proceeded to mentally drum my fingers in ho-humness. I usually will start scrolling through either Twitter or Instagram when not listening but my eyes were tired so I put my phone away.
I couldn’t help but overhear the very audible conversation on the train these girls were having and, considering that I was in the middle of the carriage (most overground trains are basically 4 carriages connected), they were talking quite loudly.
Girl 1: I think Jeremy (I presume the boyfriend) is seeing someone else.
Girl 2: Uh hmmm (you could hear the disinterest from where I was sitting!).
Girl 1: Did you not hear me? I think Jeremy is seeing someone else!
Girl 2: Girl, I hear(d) ya!
Girl 1: Yeah but you didn’t exactly react?
Girl 2: I did! I said Uh hmm. That’s a reaction.
Girl 1: No it’s not! You’re supposed to say something else!
Girl 2: What did you expect me to say? Like oh no that’s terrible?
Girl 1: Yes! You’re my friend. You’re supposed to sympathise!
Girl 2: Girl, I told you he was a bad one! I told you and told you! Didn’t I do that?
Girl 1: But…but…
Girl 2: And now that he’s done something like this, you expect me to sympathise?
Girl 1: Yes!
Girl 2: I am your friend, but I will not condone stupidity.
(there were giggles heard)
Girl 2: What you all laughing at? This is a private conversation! Stop listening.
I am all for minding one’s own business, and to be fair, most Londoners are fairly good at doing this. The tube, and as far as I know, the OG passengers are fairly good at avoiding eye contact and not having conversations while commuting on the trains. But I guess when conversations are this loud, it will elicit reactions. I was just glad I had my mask on because underneath my mask I was grinning like a cheshire cat!
Thank you for keeping me entertained on the train ladies! You were absolute gems.
Hmmm. I need a haircut. My hair looks like it would be quite comfortable sitting on a scarecrow’s head! Luckily, I’ve actually managed to sort this out and not ignore this item on my I-need-to-do-this-soon list. Yay me!
Sometimes, if I used m brain, I feel like I could rule the world!
This hasn’t happened in a while.
I am wide awake at 2.14 in the morning!
I’ve tried reading, listening to relaxing music, watching a documentary, meditating, and breathing. All these activities worked when my brain is restless. But not today. I think it’s my subconscious working overtime not letting me rest until I wrestle with something that it wants me to face and deal with. And I think I know what it is but it’s not something I want to think about just yet. Someone suggested physical activity but at the moment, I don’t think I can start dancing around the flat. Not at this late (or early) hour. I don’t really want to put my neighbours through the baby elephant stomping.
I might have to buy myself some yarn so I can start crocheting again. That always allowed me to clear my mind. It’s time to start crocheting poppies again anyway.
I think tonight, I’ll just have to wait it out and wait until exhaustion claims me. That or try the breathing again. 1. 2.3.4. Hold the breath, 2, 3, 4. Exhale, 2. 3, 4. Breathe in, 2, 3, 4. Hold the breath, 2, 3, 4. Exhale, 2, 3, 4…
What to do today?
It’s a bank holiday Monday and whilst I should enjoy it by doing nothing, I’m bored of doing nothing!
It’s foggy out there!
You know when you start something new, it feels like you know nothing, you’re completely inept, you feel slow to respond and everything just makes you panic?
Yeah, that was never me.
I always said that I thrived in challenging situations and, as long as it was a learning environment, I would excel. It was something I was proud of. It was one of my strengths that I always counted on. Adversity never really properly phased me. I would always say to people that I would want to be thrown in the deep end so that I could figure out what I had to do. I would eventually start swimming (and I can actually swim in real life!). I could always adapt and adjust. I was quick to do that. I was good at doing that.
I’m still trying to find out exactly when things became difficult when I couldn’t depend on my ability to think. Because surely, there were signs. There must have been a starting point for this descent into this unfamiliar landscape enveloped by crippling uncertainty. In the past 9 months, I would find myself answering questions with “I don’t know!” and for someone who always “knew” this was a terrifying place to be. How could I not know? How could I not figure it out in my head?
Especially during this time, when I was the only person I could count on, how could I not know things.
I’ve been trying to read up on this and every time I type what I’m going through (I guess you can call it my symptoms), Google just keeps coming up with brain fog. Brain fog is generally characterised by confusion, forgetfulness, a lack of focus, and mental clarity. I’d add anxiety, terror, and self-loathing to that list but I guess those are my specific symptoms.
Brain fog is real and is acknowledged and apparently is caused by stress, nutritional deficits, lack of sleep, hormonal changes, medical conditions…if this was a tick box exercise, I’d say I can tick all the boxes
I’ve finally decided to seek professional advice about it. Because saying “I don’t know” no longer works. The more I say I don’t know, the more terrified I become. I cannot not know. I need to know because I can’t function like this anymore. I am never one to make excuses for my shortcomings. I’ve always admitted to mistakes. I am usually the first to say mea culpa. Saying “I don’t know”, to me , is a cop out.
The doctor’s appointment can’t happen soon enough!
Are you going through something like this? Do you have advice? Do you have any short term quick solutions? Any kind of help is welcome!
I really just want to know who I am again!
Spotted: a massive Lindt bunny in the Hampton Court Palace grounds.
Did you see it too?
“Have we ever considered that God is so enraptured with beginnings that He permits the pain of endings so that we can experience the exhilaration of beginnings?”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough
It has been quite a year.
My life has changed so drastically.
I’ve had a failed relationship, moved counties (to be fair, I didn’t actually move very far from Essex), lost 25 kilos, changed jobs (twice), moved into my own space (twice), and in a few weeks, my failed relationship will be part of a very sad set of statistics. But life goes on!
A heck of a lot has happened in a year.
But I’m still smiling so I think that’s a win!
I’ve had a lot of change and upheaval happen since I last blogged.
I sometimes look at myself, where I am and what I’m doing and I wonder who the hell is looking back at me. There are glimpses of a person who seems familiar, and then there are days when I have absolutely no idea who this person looking back at me in the mirror is.
I’ve been through a lot, even more so in the last 3 weeks. I’ve not been well and like this unshiftable tickle in my throat, I think I’m battling a subsumed mental health struggle. But I think I’m avoiding tackling it because if I tackle it, I’ll unravel, and right now, I can’t unravel.
I tell my mum off for being an ostrich, but bury-your-head-in-the-sand tendencies are very much genetic. I have the worst procrastinator gene and the worst avoid -it until-you-can-no-longer-avoid-it habit.
I don’t necessarily recognise this avoidant behaviour in myself. I’m usually good at facing things head on.
But like the picture below , I don’t recognise myself these days.