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“God in His love always wills what is best for us. In His wisdom He always knows what is best, and in His sovereignty He has the power to bring it about.”
The lot is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the Lord.
WHEN I AM SUFFERING, I WILL CONTINUE TO TRUST A LOVING AND WISE GOD WHO IS IN CONTROL.
Stella and I were glued and awed by the story of a woman on TV. She’s insecure, scheming, emotionally battered & definitely a masochist. I could think of more words to describe her state, Stella called it normal and jealous, I simply call it crazy.
There was a lonely silence in me as I watch every scene unfolds. “That was me” I caught myself saying not only once. Her thoughts, motivations, her deep longing for validation were very familiar, that was me before.
It’s excruciatingly embarrassing to realize that I was in that state, that it was that bad. Sadness stung inside me, that can’t be, I thought. But it was true, she was endlessly jealous and self- destructive, her inner self drowned in egoistic thoughts and bursting uncontrollable emotions.
She was crazy, so was I. Like millions of women in this world who choose to let their ego and feelings take over, we became crazy. Like many women, the woman in the story died with a lonely heart, angry and with a revengeful heart.
She passed away without knowing the truth, her truth. She was very far from her truth.
It was an eerie feeling to know that you’ve lost yourself. Your sense of self, your sense of control, your purity of heart and your faith were totally nowhere to be found. Although I know I am not at that stage anymore, it just is simply unnerving.
Have I recovered? Have I become aware? enlightened? Not yet, I can consciously see myself and how I think and feel. That’s a good start though. Somehow I have a certain feel of control over my actions. I’ve slowly defined what I want and where I want to go, small choices, that’s where I am now.
There are so many women who suffer the same fate.
I watched Stella talk to her husband, fooling or playing if you want to call it. Playing sick and helpless to get his attention. Childish? Yes. Real? Not Quite. I couldn’t really fathom how women play games with their husbands or with the men in their lives. How they manipulate their men to get what they want.
Do I want that? No.
Stella is depressed, looking and wanting attention. She got it from different people, but never from herself. She could see the depression of other women and goes on to freely comment on it, what she doesn’t see is her own. ”Women should learn how to deal with their men“, she said. Men should woo women and make sure that they win them over and marry them, during this stage the work depended on the men, once they’re married, the burden lies on the woman.
A few years of responsibility over the relationship lies with the man and a lifetime of the burden to maintain it lies on the woman. Its crazy, simply crazy.
I look at her wondering how could someone who have so many things, articulate, beautiful, rich and working on her PHD yet still insecure and still hang on for validation from her man.
Without her man’s affirmation she is nothing, she gets fazed and starts to seek attention. I just couldn’t help it, I had to ask her ”Why do you have to lie to him?” ”It’s normal for women to do that, that’s how I keep my man” she said. Inside my thoughts were filled with questions, for how long? why do we need to do that? why can’t we love and accept in peace, without games, without manipulation?
That person who search for peace and happiness in me asks, who is this person who just wrote all these things? It this my ego talking, trying to be more superior from other women? No, it is simply a recognition that women due to our centuries old suppression and oppression do have all these issues to tackle day after day. It’s a pity, but its very real.
I am not alone, and it is saddening to realize that we have to go through the roller coaster of life, punishing ourselves, ruining our inner selves, always wanting and longing for peace but never finding it.
How can women detach from themselve, when the process of discovering their story as a woman gives them empowerment? I wonder how does detachment from the body, the pain the story becomes empowering and enlightening?
Why let go of the power of knowing your story and being aware about it when that same “consciousness and awareness” becomes a rope that carries you out from the well of oppression? How can these two be so contradicting while both presents themselves as sources of enlightenment?
Letting go of the woman story means letting go of the I self and of the ego. Does this equal to silence and submission?
I am in the process of recovery, still trying to pick up the pieces together and gather the slightest sense of self still left in me. It still is hard because for a long time, I couldn’t get myself to move and simply, live day after day.
My concept of self, relationship, home and future have been shattered. I believed, trusted and had faith to all those images and words which eventually became lies in the end, all failed possibilities.
I was lost and now trying to find my way back. As Julia Cameron puts it, I am walking away from the crash site, all bruised and injured, with soar muscles and bones. Right now, I am just simply walking. Every single day is a decision to continue to walk away from the crash hoping that as I take those small steps I will become healed.
Walang kaso kung ika’y magwala, sumigaw at maglumpasay dahil nagbigay todo ka at ang kapalit ay alipusta.
Walang kaso kung magmura, magtanim ng galit, manlait at mambara dahil sa iniwan ka at trinatong walang kwenta.
Lalong walang mali kung magsalita ng diretso, tumingin sa mata at taas noong sabihin, eh tarantado ka pala, mali ka at ako ang tama.
Kung ang kapalit nito’y pagkatigatig sa natatago mong lakas, pag gising sa malalim na pagkahimbing ng kamalayan at paninindigan.
At kung ang kapalit nito’y pagpulot ng pira piraso mong dignidad, sumigaw ka hanggang mapatid ang iyong ngala ngala, magmura ka hanggat hubo’t hubad na ang iyong kaluluwa. Magalit ka kabaro hanggang tumulo at manuyo ang iyong luha.
Hindi kailangang humingi ng pahintulot at paanyaya. Hindi kailangang matakot dahil hindi mo sinunod ang sabi nila, na sa lahat ng panahon ikaw ay dapat magtimpi at magpasensya.
Nagsimula akong sumulat sa Tagalog. Unang artikulo, unang tula, mga unang kataga ay nasa Tagalog. Makulay, madrama, tuliro, tuwid, bawat bulong naisusulat ng malinaw, naisasalansan ng mahusay.
Nakalimutan ko ng sumulat.Kasabay ng paglimot ng sarili, nalimutan ko na rin ang pagkilos ng mga daliri para isulat ang patuloy na agos na dikta ng isip. Ganun lang kadali ang pagsusulat, dati-rati para sa akin. Taga ukit lang ako ng mga salita, dahil patuloy ang agos, patuloy ang bulong.
Impit ang mga salita ngayon, kadalasan balibaliko, walang daloy. Putol-putol, walang saysay walang anod, walang pakiramdam, walang husay, mga walang husay na katha.
