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It’s Not About How I Feel, But What She Feels…
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PC170555
A Husband’s Reflection
By: Shaun



I once prayed for the person that I longed for. I implore to God to make me win her love, win her trust, and to make her believe that what her heart truly desires may have the chance of becoming real, if she would let me try to be there for her. For a long time I linger on the impossibility, yet even under despair I struggled to stay. She had rejected me once but I plead. I pleaded to her difficult past that’s unwilling to let go. I childishly prayed that she should love me instead of him.


My fervent prayers were answered and by spontaneous providence there was not a doubt that she is God-given. She finally came into my life so beautiful, sincere, and full of idealism and passion about love and the perplexities of life. I must admit I got timid the first time, not because she was difficult to love but a difficult person to discern. Half her heart was concealed by pain, suppressed to give the same love as she had once fulfilled. Even so, as with all gifts of life, we are filled with enthusiasm to unravel what is inside. If it was broken, we tend to look for the missing pieces to put it all together again. We may even discover how it is made and by then we learn and appreciate its history. And all you ever want to do was to protect her next time.


I won the love of my life not by chance but by perseverance. If it means having to confront her parents dismay in the past which is present in every aspect of what we are trying to begin, I'll continue to persist, even if my persistence have brought me too many afflictions. I knew already then that I’ll be inadequate. Not even she could describe who I am to her because she really doesn’t know how or where to begin in the first place. I came to her when I was not needed, yet I insist, and then impair her thoughts… she could have gone into a better life… I should have listened to her silent cry for someone else.


But I did not. I insisted on being the right person for her. I thought that it would not be in vain to try to make everything worked for her. Or was I just too damned to accept rejection? I dwell on the pain and was looking for her empathy. But she came back and that is what matters most to me, and I don’t need to feel anguish that time. Truth of the matter was, I refused to yield about letting her go, about leaving my comfort zones and this made her life tangled in a constant state misery.


The day we got married I developed expectations prematurely. Because I feel like I was now being accepted, I defined myself above all as someone who deserved to be loved and cared, and then my happiness was in her control and I was engulfed with insecurities and anxiety to that assumption. I became overly sensitive if she can’t reciprocate. The more I became emotionally attached to her, the more important I believe she is to me, and it creates more anxiety and panic to me in any event that would make it seem unlikely for her to do so. I feel elated at times when I see the effort but unhappy when she is sometimes inconsistent to meet me halfway. I stoop to low things like accusing; always looking for her faults, keeps reminding her everyday about her failures/imperfections, and jealous of her time outside home. How stupid of me, really! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid… I snapped and it meant everything to her. I became dependent upon these little signs of success or failure in a relationship. I took her to one of those emotional roller-coaster ride. I drove her away by being too emotional or too needy.I should have learned to love her unconditionally. I should have thanked her for just marrying me and not forgetting that she was God’s gift, and that she was special whom I should serve to protect, cherish, and nurture.

My wife has retreated into her deep emotional shell. She will decide if I was too late or too early to ask for her to come out again, and allow me to take her hand once more. Although it squeezes my heart in pain for us not to be together, I need to see the extent that it is necessary to let go of her so she can fulfill her life path. And as I discover mine, I must also learn to let go of my old self and remove the roadblocks to love and forgiveness so she can come home in time. And I pray that she will one day.

I know my children will have to live with all the stress that I’ve caused them because papa was selfish. Without their mama, papa can barely compensate the love she has given them. Nevertheless, I am taking a leap of faith into the unknown, my boys and me having to live as family without the only woman of our lives.


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Love and The Perplexities of Life
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windmils 
I have always been a hopeless romantic.
 
For a long time, I have tried to discover just what it was that I wanted out of love.
It seems for most people, they just want to find someone with a good sense of humor, someone they can relate to and have fun with. 

But that's not me. I want something more. 

I want someone who admires me deeply, so deep enough he is able to set me free, and allowing me to grow and gleam for my own. Someone who could understand my self-gratifying wishes, knowing this will pass, believing i could surpass this and hoping I'll outgrow this into maturity.

Perhaps I longed for someone whom i can talk to, about anything in the world in general. A person who could listen to all of my stupidity and just laugh about it. Loving every detail of my imperfections , tolerating, patiently considerate, knowing i am one delicate being…. that I must not be manhandled but be loved and cared instead.

I am tired pretending to be strong for all the make believe the world has to offer; of holding back tears when my eyes can no longer bear ; of not letting go of fantasy when reality is too much. Sometimes life gets so difficult to endure that all you can easily think is to give up. And yet, here we are. Looking for love, for approval, for companionship.

But what does that mean exactly? Let me alone be bothered. My mind is confounded with the perplexity of my heart, you might as well get confused with what i am trying to say. But should you try to decipher, then please hear what i am not saying. 

Perhaps I am never satisfied of everything when everything is already given. 

When would this end? ahh….the longing….and everything…

How stupid of me...really.
 



Photo credits: doc Peter Tabar
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I Would Rather Live Without A Man
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How do you gauge masculinity? Is it on solid biceps muscles or the sexy grooved trunk?


Others do not have those, but yet still feel masculine, macho or chauvinist. Whatever you call it. Some are with thin jaw lines and front teeth more defined than a horse's facial plane, and yet still feel that every hot chick that walked pass him desires him deeply to their bedroom. Eeww... I wanted to vomit.


How do you define this manhood? Is it conceit? Or self denial? Or insecurity hiding under the façade of overconfidence?


There are those, for some reason, fascinates himself by telling his girlfriend how he was glanced at and greeted by another sexy lass, or how he thought his ex was still in-love with him, or how unforgettably titillating he was in bed in each of his physical sensual encounters, and continued to narrate how he was torn by women fighting over him.


Alas! He emerged victorious from the luxury of seeing a freaking jealous girl parading to make a scene, searching for her greatest adversary, in a fighting stance. I see these men got nerves too tight! That even a prescription of Pregabalin or Gabapentin for repair of nerve damage won't penetrate his senseless neurons.

I have known this type of male specie, these genre of sexist men, but not necessarily sexy. Their "penile-centric" sentiment is their flawed nature, a genial chaos. I have tried to be cautious ever since, avoiding being the victim of their predatory attitude.

But these sexist men should beware. Somebody might love to freak their already freaking jealous girlfriend by taking advantage of his male's weakness, by feeding something he loved to hear into his ballooning ego in a dwindling physical manner. He might not know his flawed nature was just being played on, used against his girl….


But then again, does it concern him at all?


Well, my advice is not to the sexist men, for they know not what to do without their "pogi" points. I just felt sorry for the girls who lived with these types of men. Their life would be constantly on guard, forever on a fighting stance; a bit jittery and jumpy, and threatened on the edge. If all men are like this, making their women lose confidence on themselves, well, I'd rather live without a man at all.
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When Timing Is Everything
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AX051837


Sometimes in your journey through life,  there's a person you find interesting and you wished you could have been friends and shared secret ambitions together. Either because you think you're both stuck in the same situation and you want to hear his side of the coin, or because he's responsible, smart and witty, and you knew he wouldn't take advantage. So you felt like you wanted to look inside his thoughts because you think this person may help you improve your physical well-being. 

But how do you move passed awkwardness to be just who you are in front of this person? How do you maintain your grace, especially when both of you had been burdened by responsibilities and time wasn't generous enough for a getting-to-know-you head start? Is talking about what happened to your patients a good defense, before you explore one another's dreams and aspirations? Or does a referral system in the workplace work on this matter?

Good conversation naturally comes when you consider simple stuffs that happen to one another, medical books you read, songs they love, or foods they like to cook as a simple step towards talking about much important things. It is not just a simple hi and hello along the hospital's catwalk nor clinic hallways as we dashed for stats and ASAP's. Plus it would be very inappropriate to talk about music and books and foods in the midst of an ailing patient, is it not?

If you really desire this person, taking the first move may be awkwardly difficult, not to mention an embarrassing tongue-mumbling event. It’s like going to the gym for a body-building exercise, you need a 30-minute warming up before you proceed to the main activity or you’ll ache much afterwards. For sure, anybody would think you’re acting a little bit weird hitting on with them just like that, as you blabber around and do the talking.

My advice: wait for the timing. Well, may it be weeks or months, who knows? Getting to know a person is a lifetime process, to start it right and make it right is what matters most. Just like what others say, “It’s all in the timing”.


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The Diver Who Couldn't Swim
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SDC10683

It's been a year since my first dive into the Davao's Deep. My first ocean plunge, I did out of curiosity, but my second leap, I did out of bravery.


Honestly, I don’t know how to swim. So I am not supposed to be called a diver, right? But yet, scuba diving has become one of my greatest challenges wrapped up in my own adventures.

My dad has loads of stories of my misfortunes since the time I learned to walk. My mini adventures and the peculiarity attached to each mess, like falling from a tree, tripping over to a filthy canal, crashing my bicycle, and even my hairpin electrocution continued to amuse me as my dad used to jokingly unearth the memories. 

I love the beach when I was a kid, and I couldn’t count the times I almost drowned, turtle-turned by the waves as it brushed the shoreline. And my dad, who spent half his lifetime traveling the sea, was my first knight in shining swimsuit that saved me off my first taste of E.coli-infested, unsterilized, undrinkable salt water. Yet I never dared to learn swimming beyond the capacity and the height of my undersize legs. I hated the tan acquired from swimming as I was already dark in the first place. Hence not even a formal swimming class could convince me from learning.

Except for the backstroke I discovered I am capable of, I grew up swimming only till up to my neck and never over my head. I only have guts. Yes, guts! So as daring as the daring duck, I dive through my first journey underneath the earth’s ocean. After all, if you have the scuba gear (Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus), who needs swimming huh? I can breathe. I thought smugly.
SDC10689
Unluckily, I learned my first underwater lesson the hard way. I let my mouthpiece fall off after a big wave hit on us! I was in the state of shock and drowning myself with questions. How am I going to breathe?! That’s my life line, right? How am I going to put that mouthpiece back in my mouth without the water? 


I was already at 20 feet below sea level. I don’t know how to swim back to the top without breathing. In that very brief seconds of holding my breath, questions came as fast as the strokes of waves. My oxygen-deprived brain couldn’t even help me figure out the hand signal for “problem”. So I struggled like I’d die for my life. My expert diving partner, sensing the urgency, hurriedly ascended me to the top just one push-button from my gear. Rescued from my misery, I gasped for air and breathe the ocean breeze. I was so embarrassed and panicked stricken that I noticed my diver looked like my ex who was a swimmer; or was it because I still do not have enough oxygen to feed my brain. I must have drunk seawater that pollutes the mind and got intoxicated. I blushed and whisked it off!

I almost got drowned but I didn’t give up that easily. After a short chat and a quick reminder from my diver, I repeated the whole diving process again like recovering from a fall. This time I had done it successfully, graced the underwater beautifully, until 35 feet. Awkward as it may sound though; I had to hold my diving partner’s hand, as I'd bit my mouthpiece like a line between life and death.

When I did my second dive this year, I’d like to say that good things come out from bad experiences. This time, no more falling mouthpiece, and no more holding hands. I still don’t know how to swim though, but I was more confident. I played with the clown fish, watched the sea snake, and posed for the underwater camera, and enjoyed the wonderful scenery my eyes could lavish. I had a diver with me, still, as “never dive alone” is the general rule. But at least he didn't looked like the ex ex-swimmer of my past as I assured myself no more oxygen-deprived brain that could play tricks on me.

When I fell from the tree, I may had scratched a knee, but I brushed it off and walked through pain, till the pain's gone. I may had made a false move and tripped myself into the canal, but I rose from shame and washed it off. 


Diving can be pretty scary if you don’t know how to swim. Yet it must not stop there. Nothing has to hold you back from exploring your wildest wishes and aspirations, to open your heart to the possibilities and discover who you are, what you want, and what you can do. I’m afraid that life will pass me by if I don’t dare. I will remain at this point forever and I might never get a chance to see the other side of the world had I given up. 


Life is full of possibilities, and nothing is impossible. If it meant climbing a mountain’s peek or doing a Bungee jump to fulfill your heart’s desire and exist for one moment then let it be. Your limitations is all yours to break. 


Go,  dare life!





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