A Seasoned Woman

I am a woman seasoned in love and heartbreaks.

I have had my share of admiring glances, overblown flattery, and love letters...

Of lingering phone calls, ostentatious bouquets, and gallant offers to take me home.

I know how it feels like to have my heart picked up its beat simply from setting sight on a beloved face.

To have electric currents running through my veins as the result of a single touch or close proximity.

To pass the day counting the hours and minutes until the next encounter.

I have tasted the pleasure of lovemaking... the tangling of two bodies in salty sweat and sweet caress.

Connected in a perfect fit where throbbing pain and ardent pleasure became one and the same. 

Taking turns to arouse, entice, and satisfy.

I am no stranger to griefs and heartaches...

Depression, regrets, and disappointments have left their marks on my mind.

My heart bears scars from loves lost, promises forgotten, and dreams that shattered. 

I am a woman seasoned in love and heartbreaks.

Who has witnessed her parents' divorce and is now staring at the end of her marriage.

Yet still believes in happy endings, prince charming, and a life well-lived.

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Be Enough Me: No Regrets

I often asked myself, whether as a daughter, a wife, a mother, and a friend I have done 'enough.'  That if I were to die right this minute, could I genuinely say to myself, that I am 'enough'?

After all, I am human.  There are many mistakes I wish I could undo, many choices I wish I hadn't made, many decisions I wish I could do otherwise.  I also wish there were many more lives I could have changed for the better, many more kindness I could have shown, many more lost souls I could have given my shoulder to cry on to.

It's always easier to focus on the negative: on what I haven't accomplished, or on how I fare when compared to others in a similar role.  I'm aware of daughters who have managed to support their parents so that they could go into early retirements.  Or those who lovingly attended to the needs of their aging parents.  Some of my friends, even after a hard day at work, still made the time to cook their husbands' favorite dish or serve them sliced fruits.  I know of wives who could keep a clean house, be on top of the children's homework and school projects, and still hosted the most amazing dinners for their husbands' friends at home.

There are mothers who despite having three or four kids, are actively involved in every single one of their children's activities, have killer bodies because they were disciplined enough to fit in some exercise time, and do not have raccoon eyes the next day because they manage their time so well that they could still have eight-hour sleep and wake up refreshed at 5:30am every day.  I have friends who would go to lengths (e.g. fly across the ocean to visit me when I was down, for example) and gave it all they could for a friend in need.  

I have not done all of the above.  At least not to that extent.  So does that mean I'm a 'less-than-enough' daughter/wife/mother/friend?  Lets face it.  In the face of all those greatness, how could I not feel small?  Insignificant?  Not to mention guilty for not being able to do what others could.  These are the things you can't tell yourself, "Oh, they're impossible," because the proofs are there for my eyes to see.  I've seen people do all of those great things.  They are not impossible.

And yet they remain impossible to me.

How many times have I, upon seeing what others have accomplished, been inspired and forced myself to do something similar because until I succeed in doing the same things, I felt that I haven't tried or done 'enough.'  I pushed myself harder and harder, to accomplish more, to give more, to do more, to be more.  And when I later ended up unable to reach the goals I've set up for myself, I became frustrated, angry with myself, disappointed, and deemed myself as not good enough.

And it usually led to the conclusion that I am a bad daughter, a bad wife, a bad mother, and a bad friend. 

The past five months, however, had changed the way I see and value myself.. I found that:

I am emotionally stronger than I thought.

I am surprisingly resilient.

I am capable of forgiving others who had wronged me.

I love unconditionally.

I care deeply.

I can find things to be happy about even during sad times.

I am doing the best I can.

I have my strengths as well as my weaknesses, and my weakness doesn't make me a bad person.

I am a good person.

I am enough.

Should I die tomorrow, I have no regrets.  Yes, there are still so many things I wish I could give or do for my mother, but above all, my wish was for my mother to feel that she's loved by her daughter.  I think I've accomplished that.  My marriage is in shambles, and should it end in divorce, God knows that it was never for the lack of love and faithfulness on my side.  When it comes to being a parent, I have nothing to complain about.  My daughter is kind, loving, independent, and wise beyond her years.  I'd like to think that I have some part in that :)  The friends that I have, I wouldn't trade them for anything.  They are the most loyal, caring, supportive group of people I could surround myself with.  And I think they know that the same goes with me.  That I'm here for them whenever they need me.  

I am enough.

This is our very last week to make an impact for Be Enough Me 4 Cancer. Last week we had 45 people link up an enough-themed post in our Be Enough Me for Cancer campaign and I’d love it if you’d help us boost that number again. For every 20 linked up posts, Bellflower Books will provide a memory book to a woman fighting breast cancer through Cricketts Answer for Cancer, and help bring a smile to courageous women giving it their all, every single day.  The link-up remains open for three days. No blog? No worries. You can also comment on the post or on the Just Be Enough Facebook Page page with your own story and be counted.

Being Just Enough Me

Many people used to tell me, how lucky I was to be an only child.  They had this perception that my parents would undoubtedly spoil me to death, that I would get whatever I wanted, and that I would never have to share what I own with any siblings.

They couldn't be more wrong.

Being the only child meant that all of my parents' expectations lay on my shoulder.  Not wanting me to repeat their mistakes, my parents would forever be feeding me with strings of advices and warnings.  I was always walking on eggshells; the littlest mistake and my parents would obsess and fuss over it.  Every single thing I did, every behavior I exhibited, was scrutinized and presumed to have some significance on my character.

To compensate for whatever they lacked during their own childhood, my parents tried to give me what they couldn't have.  But in the effort to do so, they forgot that I had a voice.  Forget about choices; it my parents thought it was the best, then it must be the best.  From having to learn things sooner than everybody else (like, learning how to type properly when I was 10, at a time when computers weren't a common household object) to choosing schools and majors (hence double-majoring at economics and psychology, instead of pursuing my love for writing).  

While many of the above were common among parents (who doesn't want to give their children the best, right?), being the only child meant everything was super-concentrated on me.  My parents thought they couldn't afford to make any mistakes; everything was either now or never.  They didn't have any other children, so if I turned out to be a failure, that was it, it was a one-time deal.  Just as there were no other children they could be more proud of, it also meant there were no other children who would disappoint them more than I did.  

That was a heavy burden to carry on one little shoulder.

When I was three years old, my parents got divorced.  I always wondered how they ever got together in the first place (they dated for 8 years before they got married), because there couldn't have been more different people than my mother and my father.  [Un]fortunately for me, this translated to a huge gap in the way they thought they should raise me.  What was 'right' at my father's house, may not be right at my mother's, and so forth.  From early on, it was like I had two sets of paradigm that I had to maintain in order to be able to please both my father and my mother.  Which I must say was very, very difficult, given how much they hated each other at the end.

Looking back, it was no surprise that I grew up feeling like I should always be the best in every single thing that I did.  If I were to view myself as any less, I would beat myself over it, never satisfied until I could convince myself that indeed I was the best.  I took everything so personally, one slight frown from others would result in weeks of ruminating what I did wrong.  There was no grey--everything was either black or white.  There was no such thing as mediocre in my dictionary--either you made it or you didn't.  Either you succeeded or you're a failure.  

But to live life always feeling like I had to prove I was the best (to myself, to my parents, to others) was not only exhausting, it was impossible.  Instead of enjoying and living life to its fullest, I was too busy being disappointed at myself at every turn.  It was already difficult when it was just me; throw in a husband and a child to the equation, and it was a recipe for disaster.  

When it was just me, at least I was in full control of myself, which meant I also had a measure of control over any possible outcome.  But we all knew that when it came to other people, there was no way I could control how they act, feel, and react.  I was at a loss when it came to dealing with my marriage and being a first-time parent.  

Growing up being an only-child, I was not used to disappointments.  If I tried hard enough, I would get it.  It was a simple as that.  There were no siblings to introduce unpredictability into the mixture, to mess up my plans, or to take into consideration when making decisions.  And we all know that in a marriage and parenthood, there are plenty of that.  It felt like my whole world was turned upside-down.  All the strict guidelines, the standards, the self-inflicted rules I had lived by didn't work when it came to my husband and later, my child.  I was a control-freak who just realized that there was nothing I could control.  In other words, I was a train-wreck waiting to happen. 

Today, I have been together with my husband for twelve years, a mother for the past seven years.  My marriage is in trouble, my husband wanted a divorce, and my little girl is growing up a lot faster than I would like her to be.  I have never felt more lost in control than I am right now.  Tell me ten years ago that this would happen to me, and I'd probably be on my way to the nearest mental facility already.  Yet, despite the worst possible case scenarios that are going on in my life right now, I can safely say that:

• I am not wasting away in some dark corner growing a beard.
• I am not going crazy or on my way to any mental facility near or far.
• I haven't hired any PI to follow my midlife-crazed husband around (or put any dangerous substance into his drinks)
• I still eat more than I should.
• I still laugh a lot on a daily basis.
• I still enjoy doing things that I like (blogging, talking to my friends, watching dvds at home, reading books).
• I'm still a bag-addict.
• I think I'm a good daughter and a better-than-good mother.
• I'm not a perfect wife, and I'm ok with that.
• I make mistakes, but I'll do better next time.
• I am alive.

It took a lot of tears and efforts to get to where I am today.  I'm not blaming being an only-child as the sole reason for every failure, disappointment, or mishap I've ever gotten into.  But I do know that it played a big role in how I perceive myself, others, and life in general.  When I became a wife, and then a parent, I realized that my way of thinking, the remnants of my childhood as an only-child, came back to haunt me.  It had, and as in the case of my marriage, still does, caused a lot of heartache for myself and for the people I love.

One thing I know for sure though, is that life goes on, and it waits for no one.  That at the end, it all comes down to how I WANT to live my life--not what my parents, my control-freak mind, my husband, my daughter, my friends, or the society tells me what I should want.  I've learned to be alright with being mediocre, with being average, with being content and happy just being myself.  I had to learn of my weaknesses the hard way, but it also made me a much more humble person, much more forgiving of myself and others.

I've accepted that there are some things I could change, but there are also others I could not--no matter how hard I try.  Until that day comes, when I would close my eyes for the last time, nothing is as 'life or death' situation as it seems to be.

Until then, I'm happy being Just Enough Me.    

This post is written as part of Be Enough Me for Cancer campaign and I’d love it if you’d help us boost that number again.  For every 20 linked up posts, Bellflower Books will provide a memory book to a woman fighting breast cancer through Crickett’s Answer for Cancer, and help bring a smile to courageous women giving it their all, every single day.  You can also comment on the post or on the Just.Be.Enough. Facebook page with your own story and be counted.  The link up opens up every Monday and remains open for three days.