memoirs of a cryptic mind
By Ma. Graciella Andaya
consolation
August 20, 2022
rhythm
December 9, 2022
stripped hollow core
December 13, 2022
half pages
December 23, 2022
wandering stars
December 27, 2022
rosemary and thyme
December 31, 2022
consolation
Silence descended upon us, a peaceful cloak muffling the world. I shattered the quiet with a heavy question, my gaze fixed on him. "How do we forgive ourselves for the regrets of all we couldn't achieve?"He responded with a warm embrace, a silent promise of understanding. As my breath calmed, he replied: "We don't forgive ourselves for all the things we didn't become, but we find a way to love the life we've created."In this season, I find myself willing to recognizing a part of my being that clings to the delicate glimmer of hope—a willingness to open my eyes, accept the threads of my past, each piece a fragment of who I've become.I took in a deep breath and let the rhythmic cadence of my heartbeat wash over me, each beat whispering with the echoes of "love, love, love."
rhythm
When I was younger, I used to get lost in the thought of how other people walked. Their rhythm, their pace. I'd check to see if they were walking too fast or too slowly, and then I'd try to match my steps with theirs like the kid I was. I remember losing the rhythm after a few minutes and realizing I couldn't keep up because I have my own pace—that everyone else has.Years have passed, and it remains true. It is never about who comes first. It's never about reaching the destination gracefully and without a few scars. It's about growing along the way, about discovering your purpose, contentment, and happiness in the little things that life has given you. It's about wanting more while also accepting that what you have is enough.When you arrive, I hope you take the time to look back and smile, realizing that every step of the way was just as beautiful and rewarding as the destination.
stripped hollow core
I dreaded the awful feeling that I wasn’t truly alive or fully dead. I was a living corpse, disconnected from the world of the living, and devoid of the numbness and calm of death.
half pages
I'd come a long way in terms of learning to accept myself. I was subjected to a constant stream of hurtful words from others that I believed I deserved—words that I repeatedly pierced myself with. It was a journey in which I wanted to befriend myself while also becoming my worst enemy. A part of me despises myself, but there's a voice in my head that says it's understandable why I was that way, even if my negativity was often louder than my bravery. It was a journey of magnifying everything I didn't like about myself in the hopes of experiencing the tendency of acceptance. They said that you can't accept something if you can't see its flaws. But it usually pushed me even further.It was an on-and-off healing process. I thought I'd make it one day, but the next day I was back to square one. It was standing up and stumbling around once more. I was easily triggered and did not recover quickly. In order for the stabs to stop penetrating me, I had learned to be tough. When I feel like someone is trying to turn me back into a needy, dependent person who knows nothing but to self-sabotage and wait for others to validate my worth, I become cruel and cold.It's the reason some perceive me as cruel – my towering, impenetrable boundaries. My truths aren't always laid bare, and the pages of my life aren't always filled to the brim. It took me a substantial amount of time to develop self-love to a point where I couldn't risk relying on others to validate my worth. This is why I often seem to withdraw, maintain a considerable distance, and remain cautious. I never thought my body could be anything but a canvas of bruises, my own locked door, my haunted house. The process of unlearning these ingrained patterns is proving to be an arduous and lengthy endeavor.
wandering stars
I used to dislike the stars. I'd spend nights trying to identify constellations like Orion's Belt, Cassiopeia, and Andromeda, but I always got them wrong. I even tried apologizing to the stars for my mistakes, feeling like they were somehow judging me. Yet, their brightness seemed to intensify each time.Frustrated, I turned away from the stars, avoiding their gaze. Until one evening, in the transition from dusk to the emergence of starlight, I found myself looking up again. Without singling out any specific star, I whispered a plea for affirmation."Tell me that I deserve all of these things."To my surprise, the stars gleamed brighter, and the wind echoed. It struck me then—had they always been this beautiful? My own struggles had blinded me to the beauty of the night sky. That night, hope stirred within me, and I responded to the stars.In moments of darkness and despair, when I felt lost without a glimmer of light, I turned to the stars. In their silent presence, I came to the realization that the stars had been right all along.
rosemary and thyme
This revolves around my reluctance to be open about the emotional journey of December. Initially, I didn't approach December with the enthusiasm of productivity and warm coffee, anticipating it to be as uninspiring as the old battleground. However, on different occasions, I document my journey from chaos to tranquility, upheaval to calm, and overwhelming waves to gradual subsides—the year-long containment of intertwined thoughts.Occasionally, memories and emotions can be exhausting, especially for those desiring a mental pause. Yet, acknowledging that it's not your season, letting it pass, embracing it, moving forward, and appreciating how this year presents a maze you didn't think you could navigate.You won't stumble upon reflection just to witness the sunset and moonrise.And now, here you stand, full of bliss and aligned with your wish list, ready to welcome another chapter with new experiences and a sense of being. May this be memorable not just for the small steps, but for the courageous journey, acknowledging the countless self-doubts and surpassing them.
about
This blog is just for fun, not to be taken too seriously. I intend for the words that I create to provoke an emotional response, to have an impact, and I express these words that I value for others to read and appreciate. I find every writer has their own unique way of writing, which is both subtle and powerful at the same time. Writing has been my source of comfort and solace, allowing me to express my thoughts and feelings in ways I never thought possible. It has allowed me to explore my creativity and push the boundaries of my imagination. Hence, if you have stopped by, I would like to thank you for taking the time to read every work I have written.From my shore to yours,
Graciella