Loving Oneself

« You should love yourself first before you can love somebody else » - you read any self help book, go into counselling, or just plainly have girl talk with your girlfriends and I am sure that these words, or something in the same variety, will be quoted.

It’s apparently a rule of life. Everybody knows it. Everybody quotes it. Everybody is aware of it.

But does everybody know how to actually do it? What does loving yourself mean, really? Does it mean staring at yourself in the mirror and stating “I love you, you wonderful, wonderful person”? Or do you go out publicly announcing “I am great and I love myself”? Well, these words can be the end result when you actually find the key to unlocking that self love in you. But before getting there, I found out that it is actually an arduous process.

Once you set out on your new road, start shedding your old skin and grow into the person you are meant to be, the world will look like a friendly place again. Smiles again appear, the twinkle in the eye returns, the laughter peals. It gives you a heightened sense of victory, of accomplishment.

In this case, it is easy to love yourself. You are manifesting the good in you. You again see the sun shining when you have believed that it has forever set. To hear your own genuine laughter after months and months of gloom is not just a gift; it is a miracle. It feels so good and so far from the bleak and murky sounds of your dark past that you feel that you have made it. The past seems over. The old you, gone.

Until the moment when you realize that she’s still there.

It can happen in an instant that you come face to face with the person that you loathed. You can be in a new relationship and find out that you’re still reacting the same way as before. You forge new acquaintances and you see old habits and pattern returning. You are faced with a situation and familiar emotions of anger, hurt and sadness re-appear. Then you realize that the past still looms. The old you is still ever present.

And then the turmoil within begins. Confusion bubbles up. Anger trembles your body. Your mind goes back to the questions that you thought you had already answered. Doubt enters.

And you hate yourself.

As I face this most recent episode where I am confronted by my old self again, I finally realized what loving myself means. It means that I have to be steadfast. I have to accept that I will always have that part of me that I do not particularly like. And if I am to have peace within myself, I will have to learn to grant myself the right to feel all types of emotions without any discrimination.

Loving yourself means learning to exist with your faults and your strengths. It means to be able to hold yourself lovingly in times of weakness. Again, it means not resisting whatever you are feeling but to allow it, without a judgmental eye.

From today on, let me embrace my mistakes as much as I do my triumphs. Let me receive my faults as much as my worth. I revel in the knowledge that there is still much to learn, much to know, and much growing up to do. I am uplifted by the thought that there is much room left to re-create myself. That my life will continue to be enriched by the people I meet, the experiences I encounter and the choices I make.

Let me remember that in my imperfection lies the opportunity of perfection. I allow myself to wobble. I allow myself to walk straight. By doing this, I allow myself to be loved.

Silent Companions

The road to self discovery is one that is best forged alone. Some journeys are meant to be done in solitude and finding yourself is one of them. This is because you can only discover your truest nature by going deep into your own stillness. Only through listening to the quiet can your own voice of wisdom emerge.

However, I have also discovered that once you set out in this path, you are never, and will never, be truly alone. Once you begin asking your questions, answers will come from unexpected sources. Once you have expressed your sincere desire to evolve to the universe, the universe will give you back the answers. The key is to be mindful and open to everything and anything that unfolds around you.

My own path started to reveal itself to me through one of my greatest passions – words.

I am a great lover of words. I have always marvelled at the power and influence that skilfully crafted speeches, essays or discourse have over the collective population. I have always lost myself in books. Books had the power to bring my imagination to its grandest height, to enfold me in rapture and stretch my being into raw emotions. It was but natural then, in the face of my gut wrenching grief and newfound solitude, to reach out to books for solace and guidance.

It wasn’t evident though. It took me a lot of rummaging before I actually found the kind of books that will help me rather than keep me trapped in my own misery (yes, those kinds of books exist). My very first foray was into Google typing “how to win back your ex” and other variations of the like - “how to survive divorce”, “how to get over your ex in 10 days”, “how to get over your ex in a week”, “how to know if your ex is still in love with you so you don’t have to get over him”. I read everything there was about these topics. I even downloaded e-books and PAID for them. Had I exerted the same effort during my studies, I probably would’ve graduated with honours and ribbons pinned all over my graduation dress. I am not saying that doing this is something wrong or shameful, it just wasn’t aligned to who I am and who I wanted to be.

Then I stumbled into David Richo…andI never looked back. His book “The 5 Things We Cannot Change and The Happiness We Find by Embracing Them” set me down solid on my right path and finally opened the doors to finding myself. How did I know that I finally found a friend? Because his words spoke to me. From the very first sentence of his book, I felt my spirit responding. My soul vibrated to his prose and I felt myself opening up. The teachings that he imparted in his book filled me up. I drank his words like a parched man dying of thirst. It was with this book that I finally faced my fear, and let it go. It was with his words that I finally let peace enter.

Armed with this discovery, I couldn’t wait to look for more people who spoke of a similar path to enlightenment. I looked for books that resonated with the same energy. And as I have previously stated, once you start looking, you will find.

Different names became my “unknown” friends. I held onto their words as if holding on to a friend’s hand. They inspired me, encouraged me, gave me hope. They made me believe.

In this post, I would like to thank all these people and their works that, unbeknownst to them, have helped this little soul get out of the gripping darkness and find herself:

David Richo: The 5 Things We Cannot Change and The Happiness we Find by Embracing Them
Neale Donald Walsch: Conversations with God
James Redfield: The Celestine Prophecy
Deepak Chopra: The Seven Spiritual Laws for Parents
Julia Cameron: Transitions: Prayers and Declarations for a Changing Life
Martin H. Padovani: Healing Wounded Relationships
Robert Emery: The Truth About Children and Divorce

…and the list is, and will still grow.

And so I find that in order to find who you really are and who you want to be, you have to find those things that resonate within you. For me it was books, for others it could be another thing – music, art, food, sports, photography. The list is endless. It need not also be exclusive. It can be a combination of some or all of them. Find those things that make your heart sing. Find that which makes your heart soar. Find your passion and you will find yourself. I have found mine. I hope you find yours.

Shifting

I was looking at old pictures of myself and I suddenly had the feeling that I was looking into the face of somebody else. It looked like me but somehow, wasn't me.

In those pictures, I looked like somebody who was craving for somebody to notice her. I wore clothes that called attention. I was looking into the camera with an expression that says "please tell me you like me" or "please tell me you think I'm beautiful". My make up, although skilfully applied, masked rather than enhanced. I was posing like a model, which in itself is OK, if you ARE a model - which I wasn't. In short, these pictures didn't depict who I really was or who I wanted to be. I recognized in my eyes a feeling of being lost, of being in doubt, that all familiar look of fear.

Looking at those old photographs, I marvel at the changes that happened to me since then, both within and without.

Since the beginning of this year, my life has been marked by changes of gargantuan proportions that I barely had time to recover from the last and catch my breath, I am already facing yet another transformation. Not only are the changes massive, but the juxtaposition of all these changes is even more staggering. It took my emotions into different extremes all within a space of days or weeks - despondency with the pronouncement of my separation to excitement with being presented a new job opportunity, grief with the death of my father to celebration with my daughter turning 8 weeks after, from being gripped by fear of the unknown to sensing the thrill of facing it.

So many changes in so little time. I feel like the universe is catching up on all the time that I have lost walking aimlessly through life, and now that I am in the midst of discovering myself, it cannot wait to unfold all the changes and graces that I have been withholding from myself all these years. For together with all the changes happening in my life right now, I also see my own transformation. It is so palpable that I cannot even pretend to ignore it. My paradigm has altered, my core has shifted.

It is strange this place where I’m standing right now. I am no longer where I started but I am still not fully where I want to be though I can feel it nearing. I am still in the process of shedding my old skin and at the same time, already growing a new one. Is this what rebirth feels like? Am I living my own renaissance? They say that being born is one of the most painful experience humans can have. The passage through the dark alley of the birth canal is so excruciating that we have chosen to forget about it and thus we don’t remember our own birth. I guess rebirth is pretty much the same but instead of choosing to forget the heartbreaking and anguishing pain, we do so in full consciousness and mindfulness. This is precisely what brings us to a higher level of existence and spirituality. This is what catapults us from mere existence to a life of purpose. And this lets us usher in our own evolution and enlightenment.

I turned and looked at myself in the mirror…and I smiled. This person looks much calmer, more peaceful than ever. She is beginning to find her footing and finding happiness within herself. I turn back and look at the person I was in the photographs. I still hold her very dear to me. She was, still is, an intrinsic part of me. She helps me to stay grounded. She helps me remember how it easy it is to slip, if we are not constantly mindful of our course. Rather than treating her as an enemy, I choose to accept her as an ally. She will help me steer my ship. She will point out the coarse parts of the seas, the pitfalls of my way. Together, we will find our destination.

I know I will meet more challenges along the way. I will still go in places that will bring me back to that dim corner of anxiety and fear I know full well. However, this time I am prepared to meet my fate. Nothing is my adversary. Everything is there to help me. I don’t cringe nor try to make sense of what is happening. Instead, I open my eyes and heart in curiosity and let the waves of my sea propel me to the crest of wonderment.

Homage to My Father

He was larger than life. With his booming voice and a most self assured stance, he incited both fear and awe. Nobody else more than him could move me to tears and to laughter in a mere space of seconds.

It has not been an easy life with this man that I call my father. Special circumstances in our lives would not allow me to see him constantly or on a regular basis. His comings and goings would be announced with the next phone call and schedules had to be re-adjusted, plans had to be changed. It frustrated me to no end. But at the same time, it would also fill me with excitement. Seeing him would mean being able to embrace him, show him new things I learned in school, tell him of the new experiences I had. It would also mean a wait for his stamp of approval. To hear him tell me that he was proud of me and that he loved me.

As a child, I didn’t quite understand the conditions of our existence. My young mind was beleaguered with questions that sought guidance and answers…answers that would not necessarily be offered nor given.

However, through the years, I had begun to accept that whatever circumstances or decisions that led us to shape the life we lived with him, he had never stopped being a real father to me. As much as our time spent together was restricted and limited, that did not hold him from giving me the necessary love and care to help me mold myself into the woman that I am now, in the way that he knew how and possibly can.

Life with Dad was not one smooth ride. The road was replete with twists and turns, of rising and falling. Inevitably, it would be punctuated with differing levels of pain, sometimes tolerable, at times punishing. But my father showed us how to use this pain to grow up equipped with such strength that whatever life brings us, we will be able to take. He made us see that by letting ourselves fall and crumble, we cultivate within us the strength to get up and continue our journey. Through the experiences we had and the wounds that marked us, my spirit grew into resiliency. The very same resiliency that will help me overcome my own battles in life.

In the same way, my father gave me my faith, the supreme power of belief. He gave me the unshakable knowledge that masked behind every suffering and every grief, lies the gift of grace. That every agony your heart goes through is an opportunity to grow and learn and thus, serves a higher purpose. And that it is our deep spiritual responsibility to seek out this purpose. He would always tell me that “There is no room in this world for mediocrity”, something that has always been ingrained in my head. I always thought that he was speaking of seeking out the best career I can have and rising up the professional ladder. Only now that I realize that he was talking about a much higher truth – that of being the best person you can be, in whatever realm. To try to constantly go beyond your limits of being good enough to that of striving for your own excellence, in all aspects of life – professional, personal and spiritual.

My father was a full embodiment of a paradox. He can be gentle and severe, frightening and lovable, humorous and solemn. He roused both fear and respect, stirred up both anger and compassion, incited both hate and love. It has taken me years to reconcile all these opposing feelings brought about by one single and the same person. It is not easy to understand for somebody whose mind was used to resisting rather than accepting.

But through doing my own work in finding my own spiritual maturity, I finally recognized my father’s most precious gift to me that will let me go beyond my limited understanding – that of giving unconditional love. He showed me that love is steadfast. That love pursues relentlessly, in spite of and despite of, the other person’s weaknesses. He showed me that when we open up ourselves to the full reality of the other person, minus all the image and expectations we hold, we unlock in us that most stunning ability to love wholly and unconditionally. And when this happens, we are presented with the amazing grace to forgive.

Forgiveness bridges the gap between two opposing emotions. In forgiving others, we are able to hold the other person in loving kindness. My father always taught me to believe in the basic goodness of people and that gives me the capacity to not give up on anyone who has hurt me. My heart remains open to hope. My relationship with others, therefore, becomes reconciliatory and not retaliatory.

My father died on March 8, 2010 at the age of 73, when I was thousands of miles away from him. As he wished to be laid to rest as quickly as possible, I was not able to neither have a last look at him nor whisper a last goodbye. He was already cremated when I got home. Amidst my grief, I console myself with the fact that I did not see him suffer. That when I think of him, I shall always hold an image of him that was alive and full of life.

As I write and pay tribute to his memory, I begin to unravel his real legacy to me, much more than any material things he left behind. And I see that he is not truly gone from my life. The values and teachings he had given me, I will strive to pass on to my daughter and my daughter’s children. In this way, my father will continue to live. He will continue to laugh. He will continue to love.

So long, Dad and see you on the other side.

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” – 2 Timothy 4

Dancing With The Shadows

It strikes in an unforeseen fashion. The sadness. The melancholy. The loneliness. It catches you off guard.

I guess this is how babies feel when they learn how to walk. They start out wobbly and then they start to gain their bearings and find their balance. From inching a foot forward, they find out that they can do the mechanics faster. And then they get thoroughly excited that they rush forward and suddenly trip themselves on a dense mass of nothing. They fall and are left with a bewildered look as if to ask “I was doing so well….why am I down again?”

If I look back and see where I had started and see where I am standing now, I can’t help but feel a surge of pride. For me, I have done the impossible. Six months ago, I was just about ready to cave in to the darkness. I was ready to accept that I will forever be roaming aimlessly in a valley never touched by light. But little by little, inch by inch, I crawled forward, lifted myself up to my knees and finally stood on my own two, albeit wobbly feet and dragged myself out of the black hole that enveloped my existence.

Since I started letting go and gave up resisting, I felt my world open up to a myriad of possibilities. I finally feel the Higher Power at work and showering me with grace to hold myself upright amidst all the staggering blows. I finally feel hopeful and optimistic.

But sometimes, the shadows come. A song. An image. A thought. A circumstance. Anything can lead them in.

You get a dream job and there arises melancholy. You fall sick and there appears solitude. You get some really bad news and there surfaces loneliness. They come in because you don’t have somebody to share wonderful news with. There is nobody to bring you tea. There isn’t anybody’s shoulder to put your head onto and comfort you.

Yes, sadness still comes. However, I notice a different kind of sadness descend upon me this time. This sadness is wrapped in a certain kind of calm. It is swathed in a cloak of serenity. And realizing this, I now know how far I have come since I began my journey. I have finally learned how to accept my sadness. I have finally understood how to give up my struggle. I have gained knowledge of how to sit down and just let my emotions go through me without judgment, without fear.

Sitting through my sadness, I am no longer gripped by panic. I am no longer thrown into anguish. I no longer recoil in fear.

Sitting still, I am finally learning to dance with the shadows.

Valentine Musings

One of the many dreaded days that I feared facing has finally gone and went - my first valentine as a single woman in 11 years. I have spent eons of time worrying how I was going to spend this day, how I was going to feel and how I was going to be.

Sitting here, after cupid has left with his bow and arrow with a breathless sigh, I laugh at how much unnecessary time and energy were wasted with thoughts that served for nothing.

You see, I spent one of the best valentines I ever had for a very long time.

Several days ago, my very good friend and fellow divorcée, Veronique (might I just digress and say that I inwardly envy this girl, not only because she’s one of the most beautiful women I know, inside and out, but also because she was blessed of carrying a name that for me, sounds ever so chic…) proposed to spend the day with me and my daughter. I guess she got tired of hearing me whine and lament about my valentine trepidation that she took it upon herself to exorcise me of this one particular evil.

In one minute and a half, she came up with a plan that even my desolate self couldn’t refuse. She said “Here’s what we’ll do: We’ll go to the open market in Divonne (one of the small and quaint villages in nearby France), have lunch, then we’ll go ice skating.” I agreed to it because I thought that it will be fun for my little princess. Little did I know that I, too, was reserved some few surprises.

We met in Divonne amidst the icy cold of winter, walked around, bought some dried fruits and had lunch. Already there, I was startled that I didn’t get a feeling of heaviness seeing couples and their “I heart you” vibe around me. We then went back to Geneva to go ice skating. And this is where this particular valentine turned out to be a revelation.

I’ve never been on an ice skating rink before. I would always be looking from the sidelines envying other people who manage to glide, twirl and jump with such grace that left me awestruck. Much as I wanted to be like them, I was too scared. I was scared of falling, of being laughed at, of hurting myself, of plainly making a fool out of my clumsy self and a whole myriad of other fears of what may befall on me. Plus, I thought that I was way too old to learn it.

I decided to try it today because I wanted to share this moment with my daughter…and Vero told me that she will hold my hand and not let me go. So I donned those skating shoes with trembling fingers and waddled my way to the rink, already foreseeing the numerous falls that I will have.

I only fell twice. But the second one landed me full on my back, with a loud thud and seeing stars. And right there, lying spread eagled on the ground, I learned that:

1. You are never too old to learn to do anything. All it takes is a sprinkle of guts and determination.
2. You will fall. It is inevitable. However, you will also get up. There is no other choice.
3. If getting up by yourself proves to be too hard, help will come. From anybody….even from total strangers.
4. Don’t worry if some people laugh when you fall. The trick is to laugh with them.
5. The fall will not leave your spirit hopeless. Rather, it will encourage it to go on.
6. The farthest you can fall is to the ground. You cannot go lower than that.
7. The ground is nearer than you think.
8. You will hurt for a while, but you will recover. We are gifted with a natural ability to heal.
9. Skating is like learning to walk. You will need to take it slow in the beginning. You will need somebody to hold your hand. Until you hear yourself say “It’s ok. I can do this on my own now.” Then you realize not only you can walk, but you can glide. You can twirl. You can run.
10. Valentine is not only meant for couples in love. It is meant to be shared with people you love - friends, family, even pets.

Six months ago, I thought my life has ended. Today, I learned how to skate. And I say to myself: Life is just beginning.

Where Do I Begin?

Among all of the feedback I received shortly after sending the link of my blog to family and close friends, only one made me stop short.

One of my best friends, Jake, who always have been one of the wisest too, asked me why I chose my blogsite to carry my real name. I was caught off guard. Why indeed? Why just put my name instead of including some catchy phrase like “recently divorced”, “journey to healing”, or “right smack dead into the center of emptiness”? It took me a few silent seconds before I can respond with an answer that, even to me, resounded with so much simplicity that it can never be anything else but the truth.

I named it with my name because this blog is about me. Through this blog, I will embark on a path to take back that which I have lost: myself.

All throughout our lives, we always seem to identify ourselves with whatever role we are playing at a given point in time. In my case, I was a daughter. A sister. A girlfriend. A wife. A mother. A friend. My identity always hung in relation to another being. Even in my professional life, my title was always juxtaposed to somebody, “Executive Secretary to….” Or “Assistant to…”

Some even have it bigger. They are identified not just with a person, but with a country – “Mr. X, Country Manager for Turkey”. Until even a country is no longer enough, so they have to attach it to a continent - “Director for Europe”. But then, as human nature is by itself, insatiable, we seek a larger piece. We move on to an entire region and call ourselves “Vice President for Asia Pacific” and finish off with something that has “Global” in it. I suppose that had He-Man hadn’t beaten us to it, we would have happily put “Master of the Universe” in bold letters in our stiff, overly priced, calling cards. In my life with James Bond, we used to go to events where big players like these people abound. When introductions were made and they spew out a massive collection of words to identify themselves, I can barely hold my tongue from saying “I’m Malou, a libra, ruled by Venus, the Goddess of Beauty and Love”.

Sometimes, even at simple occasions, say at a neighbor’s party, I find myself saying “Hi, I’m Malou, a friend of Annie who is a friend of Patricia who organised this party.” As if people will not deem it worthy to make my acquaintance if I don’t establish my relationship to somebody.

I have always identified myself through somebody else that when I found myself alone, I crashed. I didn’t know what I was or supposed to be anymore. Only one thing was sure, I had to begin finding myself fast before I totally lose it.

When you are faced with an enormous task and do not know where to begin, it is wisest to start with a simple, basic truth. In my case, it was my name. In that moment, it was the only solid truth I can hold on to. It was the only thing that stood alone, independent of anything else. And so I named my blog with this truth and began my journey.

I am done hiding. I am done depending on another. On this space that I have created for me, I am speaking not for anyone nor everyone. I will be speaking for myself. The truths that I will put down here will be, first and foremost, my truth.

And on this space, I can finally introduce myself simply: I am Malou. Glad to meet you.