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[aveerage]

Sunken Garden

11/28/2022

My favorite past time when I was an undergrad was to jog around the Academic Oval. I don’t really know if “past time” is the right word. Maybe “coping mechanism” is a better term for it. When people go for depression naps, I go for depression runs.

Back in 2018, I used to sit on the benches overlooking Sunken Garden and just reflect on life. Me, a 20 year old girl, lost in life - who recently lost her father. We didn’t have any income, we’re running out of family, and I’ve just barely graduated college. I was extremely scared of the future. What will happen? My mother is unemployed and I have a baby sister. 

I would cry on that bench. To add to my sob story, I was in a miserable relationship. 

Fast forward four years, I find myself revisiting the campus, doing another ‘depression run’ and sitting on the same bench as I did before.

I am barely doing better but I’m better than the girl who used to sit here. My career is blooming. I’ve been experiencing heart ache after heart ache, but it’s okay. Everything was better than what my 20-year old self expected.

Hopefully, the next time I visit the campus, I’ll just run for the sake of running and not as an escape. I’ll just look at Sunken Garden from afar because I’m in a better place now. It’ll get better.

[aveerage]

Unsent Messages

11/18

Are you okay? / I want to fix things / I’ll be kinder and more understanding / I want to hug you / You’re my best friend and I miss you / I just cried all day today / How are your dogs?  / How is your family? / I wish we can start again / I deserve more but can’t you be that person / I wish you would say something / Did you block me? / Why are you seenzoning me? / My heart feels heav

[aveerage]

6/28/22

Today, I asked my boyfriend to accompany me in getting my ID picture taken. The mall was just 1.4km away and I needed this for my job interview. He didn't want to accompany me. I'm tired.

I just need a new job then I'll move out and get out of this relationship.

[aveerage]

As the eldest daughter of an Asian household, I'm used to bearing a lot of weight on my shoulders. Adjusting and adapting have always been the name of the game. I'm used to putting other people's lives in front of me first. Prioritizing others before myself. Getting no apologies for all the disappointments and the let downs.

That's why when my boyfriend wanted me to cancel our plans for a short notice work outing, I waited for an apology. It's really fine for me to cancel everything and throw my sense of justice when it comes to work boundaries away if I hear just one single apology.

"Sorry, dear. Let's reschedule. / Sorry, love. Let's do this instead. / I'm sorry you had to cancel your plans I know you're very excited for it."

But no. I never got any.

Look at how someone's childhood molded their perception on love. I think that makes sense.

Here's to finally having that soft and apologetic kind of love.

[aveerage]

6/10/22

As I undergo one of the major depressive episodes I’ve had in months, allow me to express this in words using the most basic platform in existence - Tumblr. 

I woke up this morning with a message from my best friend showing me a sweet gesture from her boyfriend - it was him randomly asking a Tiktok OP about her workout clothes for her. I don’t know but it suddenly made me rush into a bunch of thoughts and before I knew it, everything felt so heavy.

Ever since I had to leave for college back in 2013, I started fending off for myself. That was the year my sister was born as well. My parents’ are preoccupied with her and that’s perfectly fine with me. I had to look out for myself. Living in a dorm in UP for five years really taught me a lot of things especially when it comes to standing on my own. Growing up with the majority of my life as an only child, it’s not that surprising.  We were a not-so-privileged family (to scale: my parents won’t even be able to send me to college if not for UP) so knowing that I have a baby sister on board, I didn’t want to add to my parents’ problems. 

That’s a recurring thing that I have to unlearn, I guess. I am extremely hyper aware of myself to the point that I don’t want to rely on anyone and be a burden. Funny how we self-brand ourselves with a lot of things - my branding (it makes me cringe using this word in this context) is someone who has her shit together, well holistic, involved in a lot of stuff, CONFIDENT and basically happy. But of course, I’m not that good as I appear on the outside.

The most “help” I’ve asked so far is calling my friends, crying. It only happened once and it made me feel bad. I know everybody has weight on their shoulders and I don’t want to burden people with what I have.

So going back to what I think triggered me this morning, I missed someone looking out for me. When my Daddy died in 2018, I didn’t oblige my family to look out for me. Don’t think of me. Take care of yourselves first. 

For three months now, I’ve been living with my boyfriend. Sometimes, I feel like I’m investing much in this relationship. Not that it’s a bad thing but it scares me how it might backfire on me. I woke up feeling heavy this morning. I cried while on the bed but since it’s a weekday, I had to force myself to cook lunch for him. That’s okay. It made me feel productive. I succumbed to the bed. It really does feel heavy to the point that my heart feels tight and I can’t breathe. He prepares for work, asks me what’s wrong, I told him I felt heavy this morning. Asked me if it’s about him. Told me he’s going to leave. And left just like that. I don’t even know if I have the energy to. He didn’t even ask about that. 

Our own happiness is our responsibility but wouldn’t it be nice to have someone looking out for you as well? When my boyfriend was unemployed, I was actively looking for a job for him and I got him one (and now, I’m not sure if he’s even thinking of me. I don’t know but somehow, I feel used.) I always consider other people in my decisions. Even just the small things. 

I feel like I’m contradicting myself sometimes. I want people to help me but I don’t want help. Or maybe I just want help from certain people. 

Now, I’m here - juggling the heavy weight of a breadwinner, looking for a job (it makes me sad din na I helped my boyfriend find a job and he didn’t even tell me good luck sa job interviews ko. I don’t even know if it’s a petty reason but idk, fearing the uncertain future, wanting to do a lot of things but walang time and/or resources and/or kasama. Also, my ex wants his cat back.

I don’t even know if it’s self-sabotage, asking for what I deserve, and just being okay with whatever the universe throws at me. I’ve been giving and giving and giving in all aspects of my life and all I get are crumbs in return.

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SMALL WINS FOR TODAY

✅ cooked my boyfriend some breakfast despite the breaking down

✅ made it to my 1-on-1 session today. 

✅ deactivated Messenger

Next in queue: Stop crying ‘cause my contacts will shrivel up, my face will get puffy and magiging panget ako.

[aveerage]

I've always been the secure kind of person when it comes to relationships. Looking at my history, I was never the girlfriend who'd grow jealous or suspicious without any valid reason. There was never any rules. At the same time, there weren't any rules that applied to me as well.

When I'm in a relationship, I tend to have a tunnel vision on that person. I don't even get interested in anyone, even celebrities or famous personalities. I don't know if this is the baseline or anything, but it's always been like that. Loyalty has always been the bare minimum. Coming from a family where infidelity is always associated with every family member, it's something that I've sworn to myself that I will never try. Very much like smoking. Fortunately, the universe has been in my favor for once and never gave me the opportunity to experience it from a partner. It would really crush me, I assume. The mere thought gives a heavy feeling in my heart.

Trust is such a heavy word and I've always banked on it. I can be overtrusting at some point, in all of my relationships. In certain situations, like the one I am in right now, trust is the only thing I'm holding on too.

There were a lot of moments (and there WILL BE a lot of moments) where I'm alone and Aki will be somewhere. It makes me feel anxious to be in a place with a lot of space. The empty spaces can be quite noticeable. I've always lived in small areas - a 25 sqm condo, an apartment slightly larger than a parking lot. The echos are less audible in small spaces. I've taught myself how to wait. It's okay. I've always been fascinated with the concept of home and this is his home. Our home. So I'll be waiting. What else is there to do?

The only thing keeping my heart heavy and weighing it down are the external factors. I've always have this mantra in relationships - everything else is just background noise. But when it's an office norm to sleep with officemates during work travels, it doesn't make me feel at ease. How do I bank in trust when it's a problematic environment he's in? I kept on telling myself that it'll be okay, I trust him BUT it's really hard to get rid of that thought. At the back of my mind it's still there.

I'm writing this down in hopes that I can let this go. Because at the end of the day, again, trust is all I have with me. I am a strong, capable woman who can do a lot of things and if ever he does something, it's his loss. The only thing I will lose is time.

[aveerage]

I feel like I’ve been giving and giving and giving onto this Universe and all it does is to take. 

I’ve resigned from a job that requires a lot of time and effort and yet I’m not compensated well. It pains me to walk away from this career but passion won’t really bring food to the table. 

I’ve been exerting a lot of effort and making a lot of sacrifices into my relationship. I don’t get to work out in the morning (which is really my coping mechanism) because I have to prepare food for my boyfriend so he can take it to work. I’ve been maintaining the house and doing a lot of tasks for both of us. Acts of service isn’t really a love language I’m keen to giving and yet I’m here. I now think that it’s exhausting to speak in a love language that you aren’t really inclined to.

I miss getting my hand held. The romantic small gestures. The random hugs. Not from a particular person, but in general. 

I exert a lot of effort for my family, fulfill my financial obligations and yet I feel like I’m not receiving enough.

I’ve been giving and giving and giving and yet I don’t receive enough.

[aveerage]

I Don’t Believe in Ghosts

I am not a huge believer of the supernatural. I’d like to convince myself that there is life after death, but being a non-practicing Roman Catholic, a part of me really wants to hope that there really is heaven. Minus the part about eternal damnation. 

When Daddy died, I never felt anything (Thank God!) I’d like to think that he is absolutely aware that I’m  a huge scaredy cat and any form of presence would really scare the shit out of me. At the end of the day, I just pray that wherever he is, he would be at peace.

Fast forward to 2019. I contracted chicken pox and had to be off from work for almost two weeks. Adult chicken pox, apparently, is a serious thing so fortunately, my ex (who was taking care of me that time because we’re still together) was a Medtech major so he knows a lot about health. He stayed with me for two weeks straight (despite the risk).

We were just starting out that time, probably the second or third month of our relationship, so I never really told him about my family in detail yet. 

He opened up to me that one time, he saw or felt a presence of a man with tattoos. He couldn’t really describe how he looked like but he just knew that he had tattoos. He was watching over me.

My Dad had a lot of tattoos. 

[aveerage]

Most of the time, I need an intervention when it comes to owning yellow dresses. I probably have more than 5 and they make me happy. It’s a manifestation that I am a yellow ball of sunshine. I like sharing funny shitposts on Facebook and cracking up corny jokes whenever I can. I sing Broadway songs loud to my cat every morning. I say “hello” and “good morning” to everyone. I move constantly, never missing a workout. 

Sometimes, I have to hang all my yellow dresses at the deepest part of my closet. Often times, I’d just wake up one day, struggling hard to get up in the morning. It manifests itself in the most physical way possible - I can’t breathe, I feel heavy. It becomes a chore to function. But realistically speaking, I don’t even have the privilege to actually dwell in that state. I have to work so I have to consciously push myself out of that hole.

It’s incredibly easy to bottle it up and carry it by yourself. You just isolate yourself from the world for a few days then you just go back to it like nothing happened.  For years, I’ve struggled to actually explain to people how I feel because I, myself, can’t even understand it. Believe me, I would if I could. And I try. I didn’t have a clue when the next Big Sad will come up and get me. When it will make me feel insecure. When it will suck out the will to live I’ve been hanging on to. When it will trick my brain into thinking that I’m not worthy of being loved. It’s hard to explain but I just feel it. 

But in love, there is no hiding. Love is knowing that someone won’t always be the best version of themselves. Knowing and accepting that there are things that are out of control. 

When the world is stripped down and stage lights have been dimmed, I’ll be there - bare and confused. There are days when Avee is the Avee who can’t even bear yellow. Who struggles to move and get up. Who talks and talks and talks impulsively because she’s like that - her thoughts are always racing and she’s a person who constantly has to do everything. And these are the days when I have to feel loved the most. 

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My collective experience throughout more than two decades of being a human being made me realize that understanding is greater than love itself. Love isn’t enough. People love other people that they have yet to understand. Part of loving is choosing to continue to work to understand other people. It is trying and trying and trying. It won’t easy but love really is the willingness to understand.

 When people burn bridges and say they’re done, it roughly translates to “I can’t (or don’t want to) understand you anymore.”  The reason many relationships fail is that, with time, they either feel that they aren’t able to understand the person they love or that they aren’t able to love what they understand about that person.

Love is empathy - to be able to see and walk through another person’s shoes.  Understanding isn’t knowledge alone. Understanding is knowing and being able to relate – it’s being able to comprehend the logic that is behind the actions of the individual.

‘It is good to be loved. It is profound to be understood’

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As of this writing, I felt like I needed to express my thoughts and feelings in some other form. I’ve been shifting and spiraling down back and forth for a few days now. I’ve been crying all week, I don’t even like how I look. This also serves as a form of accountability that I will try to get out of it starting today. 

[aveerage]

Intimacy In Times Of Covid

How’s your day today / I need my coffee / What did you eat for breakfast / I saw this meme and I thought of you / Do you want to play / Have you seen this movie / Haha look at my cat / This article / The government frustrates me / Did I tell you about my students today / Did I tell you what I cooked for lunch / What are you up to / Congrats on making it through the day / What show are you watching / Do you want to watch this crime docu with me / How have you been lately / Did you even take a bath today / I miss the gym / Sorry I was working out / Sorry I fell asleep / I should stop ordering stuff from Shopee / Hey I have kwento / Should I make banana bread / I am so demotivated / I made nice cold brew today / I had 4 hours of sleep / I had 2 hours of sleep / Do you know which song I got LSSed with this week / I am so tired / I have tea / Don’t you miss people / Sorry I fell asleep / Sorry I did it again and fell asleep on you

 My friends would always describe me as someone who has a lot of things to say. I can say that I am also a nice listener. A couple of years ago, I remember when a former SO called me and told me in detail about his venture to the grocery store, when he had just gone in for milk, and left with 20 other things, almost knocked something over, and also left without getting milk. “I’m so sorry, Avee. That was such a boring story, basically, what I’m saying is that I didn’t get to eat cereal this morning!” We had a laugh, and then I said, “I love you so I care about everything that happened at the grocery store!”

 I want to know about you almost crashing your cart onto the Coke display. I want to know about your cereal and your lack of milk.

 Now, with the quarantine period, it feels like there are days when there is nothing new to talk about and report. There are mostly heavy uncertainty clouding my headspace, and the way we are able to connect with each other is with the littlest things. We show each other that we care by reaching out, talking about angst, not talking about angst. Sharing a meme. Asking for an opinion about that certain product that’s been in your cart for weeks.

 Intimacy is knowing about that grocery store trip.

[aveerage]

Groceries

I view marriage as a lifelong commitment to buy groceries for another person. Because of circumstances such as a city-wide drought and our dash of clingyness, I’ve spent two months living under the same roof as you. Yes, we bought groceries. 

Each week, we bought trays of eggs because they’re your morning ritual. Every once in a while, we buy maple-cured bacon (you insist that bacon should always be maple-flavored and I rant at how this is the side of you being a Canadian peeking) Months after the breakup, I find myself refusing to buy bacon that isn’t maple-cured too.

We never figured out the right way to store vegetables, though last time, we cleaned out your refrigerator since you’ve speculated that there’s already an ecosystem growing in there and true enough, we found soil that once used to be vegetables waiting to be used in our next dish. 

I sometimes don’t wash fruits but now that I think about it, we rarely bought fruits.  There was honesty in that house except for that Greek yogurt that was never eaten by ancient Greeks, though the wisdom of Aristotle is printed on the side - we are what we repeatedly do.

You repeatedly standing in front of the meat section calling. Me repeatedly staring at the gummy bear aisle. 

There were love poems everywhere but there in the canned goods section, you handed me a can of Spam and said “cook this for me” and I knew exactly what you mean.

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ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰʸ ᴵ'ᵐ ʷʳᶦᵗᶦⁿᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᴹ ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᴵ ʲᵘˢᵗ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳᵉᵈ ʰᶦᵐ ˢᶦⁿᶜᵉ ʷᵉ'ᵛᵉ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵗᵃˡᵏᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᶠˡᵒʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃ ᶠᵉʷ ᵈᵃʸˢ ᵃᵍᵒ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᶦˢ ᵖᵒˢᵗ.

[aveerage]

On solitary confinement

For the last 45 days (and counting), the only physical interaction I have been getting is from my cat. I'm holding on to my sanity by a thread and have been merely distracting myself as much as I could in this 25sqm condo unit.

I feel like I'm a Disney princess locked up in a high tower (I live on the 32nd floor, by the way) with an animal sidekick. I have found myself singing while cleaning. I've also have watched every home workout video on Youtube just to get myself moving in this small space. At least, when I'm tired, I won't be able to think of things surrounding my solitary confinement.

As a teacher working from home, I can't emphasize more on how learning is not limited to the four walls of the classroom. I have been learning a lot -  that you need to defrost meat before you fry, that a plunger is an essential tool to have inside your home, vegetables rot, and that it's hard to build a body out of words and pixelated images. My family and friends would check up on me from time to time but there are days when you just feel like it isn't enough. I watch rom-coms on Netflix to pass the time and I have found myself thinking, "I want to be hugged like that," or " I want someone to hold my hand like that." My solitary confinement has amplified my aloneness that I have been feeling for the past few months.

I couldn't help wondering how amazing it is to have someone who genuinely cares. I can't help wondering how it feels to unconditionally love someone and feel loved back. I can't help wondering how it feels to have butterflies, and even the whole zoo, in my stomach whenever someone kisses you and hugs you and treats you right.

Beyond the other side of the chaos and loneliness, I have found myself in a quiet space, a place where I'm learning to be contented with my own company. To seek validation and reassurance from no one, but myself. So, for now, I'll just hug my cat.

[aveerage]

6:59 AM

by Shane Koyczan

I’ve been told that people in the army do more by 7:00 AM than I do in an entire day,

but if I wake at 6:59 AM and turn to you to trace the outline of your lips with mine, I will have done enough and killed no one in the process.

[aveerage]

[aveerage]

Piaget

For years, I have been making double glances just to reassure myself that someone is still there. We wake up anxious and wandering if the other person has not left, each petting the sheet just to be sure.

I have learned back in college that there’s such as thing as object permanence - the understanding that objects continue to exist even when they cannot be seen, touched, or sensed in some way. In line with this, there’s also object constancy. One must learn to accept that a person can be simultaneously a loving presence and a separate individual who could walk away. 

How are we supposed to rest our fear of abandonment? 

[aveerage]

Because I have so much love to give...

He is familiar to me. It surprises me how I’ve grown accustomed to routine ruptures in my solitude: the smell of his laundry detergent on borrowed items of clothing, the way he manages to insert liberalism into every conversation, his white boy playlist I found myself listening to lately, the tiny thoughts in my head taking notes of his schedule of duty - though inevitable intruded on still by endless march of everyday concerns.

Some other time, he tells me, when I apologize for my work disturbing us, with me constantly being chased by deadlines and paperworks to cram. Some other time, I tell him, when he tells me he can’t make it because of night duties. By now, the expected course of things because we tend to get busy, certain enough I already accounted for it.

There is no reason to hurry, no rush in longing, perhaps once there was, but now that is replaced by reassurance that I never needed to beg for. Reassurance that we will find ourselves in a surplus of hours. This does not need to be said.

I joke (and sometimes most of my friends too) that we live in each other’s houses. We laze around each other’s homes: sitting on the couch while binge-watching Netflix, doing the groceries and cooking. Meals eaten in-between naps, half-watched movies, crispy Spam. We make plans that are actually plans or sometimes think about going out but discarding them to settle in our comfortable routine. We are busy, we are tired - it is the contentment of easy companionship that we return and return to, the knowledge that some things, at least, can be merely themselves, certain.

Beyond the other side of the newness of emotions, I have found myself in a quiet space, perhaps a place more of a yellow flush than burn, but one I am gluttonous enough to call ours as though I could hold it steady.

He makes me write when I’m happy.

[aveerage]