philomathhh9

[philomathhh9]

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

Philomath, I just took a stroll down memory lane. A very cliché thing to say, I know. It was a long stroll though; the sun set and dawned upon my path countless of times and I kept walking. Swept away in a journey of nostalgia and emotions of comfort, I soon was struck by a wave of anger and resentment.

  All began when I chose to check my phone as I dressed to leave home to study for a big upcoming exam. A friend and colleague of mine had messaged me his location in Riyadh; his family recently moved there. We went back and forth and chatted about how our homes where a mere ten minute walk apart and that we could meet up once we visited our families in winter. It then hit me. “Home” was no longer that small cozy place in Saudi Arabia; the little apartment that I spent seventeen years of my life in. The place I had just called Home in front of my friend was nothing but a figment of my past - a dream I dreamt for just a little over a decade and a half. Home in the present is this place in Amman in which I currently take residence in with my sister, my lovely cat Leta, and my sweet departed cat-angel Valenta, who has been buried in our garden since May when illness rode her fate.

  I am content with the present day. I really am. However, calling my parents’ place in Saudi Home swung me back to the moments, days, months, and years of my being that I spent in innocence. I ran the Maps application and I checked every part of what used to be my life. I saw the school I spent the whole of my childhood in. I saw the park and the malls I used to go to on weekends with my mother. I saw the restaurant that my father enjoyed dining in on Fridays and I even saw the school I spent my high school years in. I then paused. Memories of my high school senior year washed up from an ocean I thought I had left behind. I spent it the way I spent the entirety of my days till then: dreaming, reading, and exploring the wonders of what life is. Curious is what I was. Not the kind of curious that is forced and involves taking a risk and leave familiar surroundings because they feel threatening and unsafe, but the type of curious that sticks to you in innocence while thriving in your provided environment- you just wonder if the outside is just as splendid.

  I wanted to become a lawyer at some point in high school and that brought me to read my personal statement that I had sent to universities in the UK for an undergraduate law degree. In front of me was a live example of what I used to be: a dreamer. Today, I believe that ignorance and innocence are synonymous from a certain perspective, despite being two very different words. The saying “Ignorance is bliss” is popular because of that very reason. Not knowing and staying in my naivete brought me happiness. Soon, the clock started to tick and the time came where being curious was not a thought to think of, but a thought to I had to execute. I had to figure out what was to become of me. My dreams of becoming a lawyer leaped away as the reality of its demanding financing settled. This marks strike one against young Philomath.

  Now, I am in the path of becoming a doctor; something I had chosen and kept as a back up plan in case the launch of my time with law failed. I know I did not choose it for the prestige of it. The human body and the world within infatuated me just as much. To reiterate, I am content with who I am and what I am doing today. It just so happened that the start of my new life as a meds student yanked my innocence away from me as I cried for and held on to it for dear life. My parents’ conditioning brought me to block away all my triggers and flaws by daydreaming and spending my time with thoughts of idealism. Now that my little daydreaming session of seventeen years had been brought to a screeching halt, I was shocked with what I found down here. As I recalled this and what followed today, I felt nothing but a strange mix of anger, resentment, disembodiment, and disbelief of what I had been and put others through. My surroundings in my first year of medicine were not only less than ideal, but straight up parasitic and gnawed at my little body day by day. The gnawing manifested physically; I lost a good fifth to fourth of my weight as depression and maladjustment took over me. Now that my bubble of idealism was popped, I was subjected to the thorns I harbored all along and had no idea what to do with them other than project them on others, both good and horrible people alike. That marked strike two for young philomath.

  Personal boundaries were alien things to me. Unfortunately, that me twinkle in the eyes of whom I know now to be a narcissistic sociopath. During the timeline in which him and I met, I was already dealing with confusion, maladjustment, and a dear friend that faced demons only I knew of. Today her and I do not really keep in touch anymore despite being mostly amicable. As far as I know, she is thriving and walking up her own path and struggle day by day and I am happy for her. Though, resentment still plagues the back of my head as she fell victim to projection of my own flaws and I sadly fell into hers. It was a lot of up, downs, lefts, and rights with her and at that time we brought horrible things out in each other. Apart from my doings, she had a phobia of abandonment and would do anything and everything to reassure herself and of course, due to my lack of boundaries, I enabled her. She was and is not a person of bad morale, but the anything and everything included a lot of jabs and stabs that mark where some scars in my soul still are today. That was strike three for you, young philomath.

  Back to the twinkly yet empty eyes of the narcissist that ended up becoming my wicked boyfriend. Like a vulture, he spent his first few weeks and months with me circling me and analyzing just how vulnerable I was and how much I had on my plate. Again, I had no boundaries; that meant that whatever he wanted, he would draw out of me. And inspite of that, nothing was ever enough for him. Everyone dear in my life at that time, I gone to the extremes for. That is: everyone but my own self. So I kept enabling him to use me, control me, and display me as an accessory. Did I project my flaws on him too? Yes. The truth is I never was, am, and will never be perfect. The difference though, was that I eventually recognized where I fell wrong with my people and took it upon myself to halt it and improve myself. Him on the other hand, emotionally abused the soul out of me until it no longer yearned to be in my body and to this very day, he victimizes himself as the ex of a horrible liar slut that harassed him for affection and ended up cheating on him. Again, horrible move on my part for both parties involved, but I will never ever dismiss the things he would do to me. He would use my insecurities as leverage and hold my emotional needs hostage until I popped and fell into an irrational reactive state. And of course, he contorted it all to make me out as the guilty. The crazy bitch. Yes of course, the crazy bitch that gave him everything she could give to him. The same crazy bitch that he gaslit, put down, and rejected when she needed him the most. What people do not know today is that when I horribly sought other than his affection as I fell into another reactive state due to constant episodic emotional rejection, I already was contemplating leaving him. The cycles of abuse became unbearable, and although I do not excuse myself for it, they finally pushed me to do something that was awfully wrong on my ex’s and the involved person’s behalf. And I cheated. The cherry on top of the icing? I do not recall the timeline it happened and suppressed it due to personal trauma. I lived my life knowing and believing that everything that happened between me and said person was at a time where him and I were not an item. Until it was brought to light by the third party that I did what I did around two weeks before I left him, the time I knew as the moments I was building myself up the courage to leave him. And that was strike four.

  Strike four marked the most ultimate of an ultimatum for me; it was either saving myself or continue down the path of self obliteration. Those two weeks before I left him were a turning point; for once I felt like I had to choose myself and my sanity before anyone else’s. I took back control of my life by ending it with him. Although initially it was amicable as we shared a group of friends, I ended up backing away more and more until I cut him off completely because he kept trying to get his sticky fingers on me and snatch me back onto his rollercoaster. Things with my friend were still going though, and with all that I already had endured she again did anything and everything to feel like I was not going to abandon her. I felt and feel for her, I really do. Just like emotional rejection and abuse pushed me to do a big mistake, her fears pushed her too. But reasons and context do not mean excuses. If I held myself accountable for everything I projected on her and him and everyone else in my life at that time, it would mean I had to hold her accountable too. And so, the journey of learning how to set boundaries and bettering myself began. She rejected it the whole time. To her, boundaries meant abandonment, and the more I set them, the more she’d do anything and everything to reassure herself I would not desert her. Until she did one last move, after which I could not bring myself to tolerate anything. At a weak point of hers, she spoke with my same ex that I had cut off to console her about my issues with me. She knew what kind of a person he is. In her vulnerable moments, he saw an opportunity to “avenge” the narcissistic injury I caused him by taking back my own control and pulled and withdrew information from her that he ended up using against me. With one big mistake, he contorted, molded, and spiced things until they tasted just right. To him, this was his big moment that he was waiting for: to end the bitch that dared dump him before he finished dumping her. One year after breaking up with him and not speaking with him at all, he used my friend’s poor judgement and vulnerability to attempt sabotaging me and my reputation. He circled me with other people and bullied me for my pronounced sexuality and supposed “manipulation and lies” and tried to convince other people to jump on an anti-me bandwagon. He even went as far as claiming that his reputation, which he ruined with his own hands, was in fact tarnished by me and the said fact that I was “psychotic” and never shut up about him and talked horrible of him to everyone I knew. All I did was confide in my so-called friends about the abuse I endured; ironically, no one turned against him the way he claimed and everyone that actually had a problem with him had nothing to do with the people I confided in. In this circle of nonsense that brought me severe trauma, barely anyone took him seriously. Reasonably so, picture viewing a couple split and move along with their own lives until one decides to dish and chase the other with some old dirt between them to convince people that the other was ruining their precious reputation. No sensible person would interfere with someone else’s problems with another. I ended up standing up for myself and further asserted my boundaries away from him by refuting responsibility for his broken reputation and stated that in fact it was his problem. I also mentioned that the circus of a show was unnecessary and that if he approached me like normal people do I would have been reacting very differently and took responsibility for my “dirt”. I ended things between him and I by pointing out the fact that it was pathetic to harass someone a year after they broke up him and it did nothing but prove his goal of claiming me as the “obsessed liar” the actual opposite. In the end, I was not the one to harass the other long after no contact with an old screw up.

  I then retained my most powerful tool: boundaries. Although I understood why my friend spoke with him, I could not help but hold her accountable that her irresponsibility with that move caused him to set off on a rampage. So I kept withdrawing from her and she could not bear it. Until one day she comes and “warns” me to “be careful of what I tell my friends because they are not the people I think they are”. The very friend that I had trusted with my life and a lot of information and mistakes on my behalf. The same friend that allowed him to grab those out of her in her vulnerable moments. I am more than sorry for everything I caused her, but this is something I would never forget. I remember trembling with anger and blocking her so that I would not blow up on her and cause her trouble and cost her a spiral. I got so angry that I became sick the next day. And ever since then, I had enough of my relationship with her. It was clear to me that we had both done too much to each other to recover from as normal friends. It had to end. After a few months of occasional angry SMS’s from her, I made it clear why I left and what I felt and that she would have to stop sending me message. She ended up acknowledging my hurt and apologized for everything she had done on her part. Everything. I remember crying with exasperation as I read her message admitting to everything; as for a good while of my life, I felt like I was the only one paying for my mistakes and trying to remedy them. The fact that someone else finally took responsibility for the damage done to me was something new and something alien. All that because I learned to set boundaries.

  I brought myself out of my stroll down memory lane. Now, I am filled with nothing but pride that I not only overcame my own demons and learned the concept of boundaries, pride that I chose to use my mistakes as a learning point and not a point of shame. I now have more power and independence than ever; although, I still have a lot to work on. My ordeal has caused me to be very reluctant with expecting anyone to assist me with any hardship and become guarded. On a note, I do not expect my ex’s last appearance to be final; that is unless he becomes knowledgeable enough to realize one more move towards me would show everyone watching his true color and that his most prized possession, his ego, would be in danger. I do hope he left things as they are and just gave up; as I am not a hostile person that enjoys attacking- even in self defense. But it became clear that staying out of his path does not stop him from staying out of mine. I feel always ready and on edge to play his exact game and use leverage against him so that he would never come near me again.

  As I now conclude writing to go study, I feel nothing but content with who I surround myself now and the person I have become. Thank you, Philomath again for living up to your name and allowing your love for learning get me out of a path of self destruction.

[philomathhh9]

The Truth Indeed Is A Beautiful Thing

I am back, Philomath; but not for long. It’s surprising how it feels like it has been years upon years since I’ve last seen you, when really it’s merely been a year and a half. Frankly, that makes me happy. I’m happy that I feel so distant from you; it only shows how far I’ve managed to walk. But, Philomath, please remember: this does not mean I hate you. You were bleeding from wounds you never knew were there. You were suffering. You were desperately alone; you did everything possible to not ground yourself to your mind for even minutes. It was unbearable to you. The thoughts would immediately rush in together at a speed none of us could ever fathom. Derogation, unsolicited critique, and underestimation were the only things you could hear when alone. It was like you were trapped in an isolation room with static of multiple frequencies all playing at the same time; it was overwhelming. Never did you know that you could mute the noise. It drove you to resort to desperate, harmful measures to leave the isolation room. You lived a whole different life in your head. Philomath, idealism was not your cry for battle; it was your cry for help. This is not to say that shreds of idealism do not exist within me anymore. This is to say that you were so unconsciously miserable that you attempted compensating by living in this mental world of perfection. Perfect grades, perfect social life, and even perfect eyebrows lead you to believe that you have had created an invincibility to the static; that it was never there. The daydream came to an end the moment you moved out for college. You were forced back to reality. Then the cries started; the debilitation wore you out, and sooner or later: you realized you could not daydream your way out of it. You pushed so hard to leave Hell itself. Actually, too hard. You sacrificed your life, your worth, your dignity, and even your morals to leave. Philomath, although I know what pressure you were put under to drive you to do a lot, I cannot stop life from giving you consequences. I came to peace with the aftermath quite earlier on. I have accepted that I really do not excuse you for the harm you’ve caused others, in spite the understanding and empathy I’ve shown you. Frankly, we are both human, and your core is still my core. It is normal to mistake, but what is mandatory is to take action and change. I am glad I chose to do so. Mistakes, however, never meant allowing others to make mistakes to you in return. That is entitlement. You never had to withstand abuse. I now do not tolerate my integrity being dragged to filth for any reason. In the end, Philomath, rightful consequences are never in the hands of another person; they are in the hands of fate itself. If you have made peace and aided your consequences, took responsibility, and changed, then no person has any right to dehumanize you. You are not an object for projection. You are a living being made to walk, forward, and learn.

Philomath, in spite of everything that went wrong, you managed to live up to your name. Your affinity for learning has liberated me. I could not thank you enough for this. Although you only are a figment of the past, I have always and will always carry on your legacy while moving forward and making the most of what is available.

Farewell.

[philomathhh9]

Taking down this tumblr permanently

[philomathhh9]

Temporarily uninstalling tumblr. I can't be surrounded by suggestive thoughts anymore.

I'm sorry.

[philomathhh9]

Val di Funes. Photo: @_marcelsiebert #nature #landscape #scenery #explore #travel #adventure #photography #wanderlog #valdifunes https://www.instagram.com/p/BnX1jZHA_ZR/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1eb708gu0f2cc

[philomathhh9]

petition to rename the usa ‘south canada’

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[philomathhh9]

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971)

[philomathhh9]

What is this?

If you guessed scanning electron micrograph of a partial fingertip, you hit the nail on the head. Or rather, you recognized the junction where the nail plate (the visible part of the fingernail, seen here as the grayish portion upper right) emerges from the cuticle and nail folds (a framing of tissue that supports the nail on three sides).

Fingernails are composed largely of keratin, a hardened protein that’s also an ingredient in skin and hair. As new cells grow in the matrix (the hidden part of the nail under the cuticle), they push older cells out, which are compacted and take the familiar, flattened form of a fingernail.

The average growth rate for nails is 0.1 millimeter per day or about one centimeter (a little more than third of an inch) every 100 days. The exact rate of nail growth depends on numerous factors including the age and sex of the individual and the time of year. Fingernails generally grow faster in young people, in males, and in the summer.

Fingernails grow faster than toenails. The fastest growing fingernail tends to be the middle finger; the thumb is the slowest. Fingernails on the right hand of a right-handed person grow faster than those on their left hand, and vice versa.

Those little dots on the skin in the micrograph are pores.

- Scott LaFee

[philomathhh9]

Road trip

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“Being alone doesn’t always mean being lonesome. But most of the time, It does.”

— what I learned during my days in solitude // @fueledbysadnesss​

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[philomathhh9]