Tag Archives: heart

Letter To My Heart

27 Jul

My dear Heart,

I never thought I would ever consider writing you a letter, but somehow—and for many obvious reasons—here I am doing just that. The need to write to you is intense and overwhelming, so I can’t ignore it.

Like with the letter to Pain and Loneliness, I feel the need to acknowledge you in ways I never done before and tell you a few things . . . This one thought keeps circling . . .  not sure what I will accomplish with writing to you, but like so many things happening lately, not much makes sense these days so here we go:

I have this knot in my throat writing these words because . . . because the truth of the matter is . . . I’ve never taken good care of you. I’ve destroyed you too many times to count. I’ve taken you for granted. I’ve thrown you to the jackals and watched them rip you apart. Thrown you in the whirlwind of love, never once wondering if you can take it; never asking if you want it. If you could handle it. I’ve bruised you, let others wreck you over and over again . . . not giving you much time to breathe in between blows. Never letting you fully recover. Time and time again.

The smarter people say recovering from loss takes somewhere between 12 months to 24 months. Looking back at our history—I never mourned enough any of the losses you and I went through. I never let you fully heal. Acknowledge the loss, deal with it, say goodbye to it. Instead I found a new love—or a new love found me. The highs of that blanketed over your broken pieces, gave me new purpose, new strength and diverted my focus from what I should’ve paid attention to most: you. Feel your pain. Wipe your tears. Bandage your bleeding wounds. Put your pieces back together. Help you recover. Help you become whole again.

I guess . . . I’m a terrible home for your precious being. I treated you badly, as badly as those who shattered you over and over again. No wonder you hurt so much now and scream, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!

As much as I let you down, I want you to know that I never intended to hurt you. I never intended to break you and let you become of stone. I never intended to make you pay for my mistakes.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I broke you and let others do the same.

I’m sorry I took you for granted.

I’m sorry I mistreated you.

I’m sorry.

I was hoping . . . could you ever forgive me?

 

You vs. me–An unfair match

10 Jul

Pain. I’ve known you for most of my life. I’ve tasted your bitterness and felt your blows. I’ve knelt under your weight and crawled under your pressure. I know your ways, your power and fury. Nothing you’d do to me could surprise me anymore.And yet . . . here you are once again . . . looming over me and unleashing your punches with such fury, I can no longer stand. Twisting and torturing my empty soul with such vengeance, I’m once again on my knees. Clawing my heart with the power of a thousand tentacles, squeezing breath and life out of me.

I’ve begged you to stop. I’ve begged you to lessen your punches. I’ve begged you for mercy, but you are relentless. You only know how to destroy everything in your wake. You can’t care less about what you leave behind you, the bigger the disaster the more you thrive.

Giving up would be so easy. Just declare you the winner of this match and let you reign over me. Let you settle in my bones, petrify my heart and turn my soul to ashes. It would be so easy. I’m already on my knees; all I have to do would be to bow and admit defeat.

Only I can’t.

Just can’t.

I can’t let you have this, let you stay much longer. I’ll fight you with every breath, defend what’s left of my shattered heart. You know why?

Because I’m worth it. Because I deserve to be happy. Because I am strong. I deserve to stand tall and live life how I want it.

Watch and learn, Pain. I’m getting up. I’m fighting back.

Dear Loneliness

21 Jun

Dear Loneliness,

I can’t remember when you first showed up, but I remember you’ve been part of us for a long, long time. I can’t remember when I first felt your presence but I do remember how you stubbornly refused to leave, always there, persistent and determined to break us. I can’t remember when I gave up, but I do remember wanting you gone, afraid once installed between us, you’ll be the one to win.

Loneliness. I hated you. I hated you with my whole being. I hated how you snuck between us, making yourself comfortable and at home. I hated what you brought between us: the cold, the silence and the pain. I hated how you stretched, lingered and took over. I hated how you gained the space between us, bringing us on the verge of no tomorrow.

Loneliness. So often I wanted to scream at you, punch and throw you out of the house. So often I wanted to tell the world your name and what you’d done to us. Make you feel ashamed for your ruthlessness. Make you leave. Make you pack your cold, silence and pain and make you disappear.

Somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow I lost the battle. I gave up. I let you win. Loneliness, I hope you’re happy now.

Broken and empty. Lost and wounded, that’s what I am, that’s how I feel. But amidst the darkness veiling my soul, somewhere very deep and where you, Loneliness, couldn’t reach, there’s the tiniest ray of light giving me reason to keep going: hope. Hope that one day I’ll be whole again. Hope that one day I’ll emerge stronger than ever and ready to love again.

Goodbyes are hard, but not this time, at least not with you, my dear Loneliness. You’ve been part of my life, part of us for a long, long time, but no more. It’s time we part ways, for good. Do not come back. Do not try to reconcile, it’s all futile. I’m actually not saying goodbye. I’m saying: good riddance.

A delusion called Friendship

1 Oct

Do you ever wonder why—during times of crisis—you react the way you react? Do you ever think that, if faced with some sort of one of those life-altering moments, you know yourself so well that your reaction won’t shock you? Like for instance, a friend tells you they decide to tattoo their forehead / hike Everest / go on Naked & Afraid Show / rob a bank, and when they tell you that, you know exactly how you’ll react to it, but in reality your reaction is quite the opposite, shocking you and your friend, to a point it alters your relationship with him/her. Shock that would make you pause for a surgical, introspective look, not only at yourself, but also at your relationship with that friend. And the deeper you look, the less you like what you see to a point you question not only how well you know yourself but also how well you know (or you thought you know) that friend.

Friends.

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We all have them and we all have heard at least once in our life the saying “you cannot pick your family, but you can (and you should) pick you friends.” We all build relationships based on likes and dislikes, common ground/morals, values, etc., and develop a support system so when we or them—our friends—fall apart, someone is there to catch us/them. We count on each other during good times and bad times, help each other pass whatever obstacle is thrown at us and eventually watch each other waltz through life.

Some friendships are meant to last a lifetime (they’ll be there to call you on your mistakes but still love you). Some are based on certain commonalities but have limitations (you might agree on politics but disagree on religion). And some friendships are there only when its convenient, through their good times and bad times, but fall apart at your first news of “I’m gonna tattoo my forehead/ hike Everest / go on Naked & Afraid Show / rob a bank.”

This past week my world titled, knocking the air from underneath my wings. For two days I dragged my broken wing trying to “float”, doing that surgical and introspective look at myself. I didn’t like what I saw, so I did what I knew best and reached out to my friends, baring my soul and letting them see my bleeding heart in its full tarnished splendor. Some of them gave me a piece of their mind, knocking me over the head, but also telling me—even though I’m stupid—they still love me. Some hugged me and told me they are sorry. And some got up and left the room.

images-1I stared at that door for a while . . .

I know it’s going to take me a while to process what happened, what triggered that to happen and that eventually my problem will have a solution and one way or another, I’ll be okay. I always am, always have, always will. I’m a fighter who, even after finding that I don’t always like the person gawking back at me in that mirror, I take responsibility for my mistakes and try to repair the wrong I’ve done. I always come back up for air, take baby steps toward recovery and eventually I will heal. But I also know that the door you closed behind will forever remain closed so. . . thank you for walking out like that, sparring me a delusion called friendship.

Addicted. Taking a rain check on curing myself, thank you very much.

14 Dec

Existential questions have always been on my mind: why am I here? What’s the purpose of life, my life? What am I supposed to do?

Most of these questions remain so far unanswered while I grow … wiser one day at the time. But I do try to live my life in a way that it has purpose. I take each day as a brand new chance at something to create, something to leave behind so when I’m long gone people will remember me.

Several years ago, while on yet another quest to figure out who I was, I began writing. Doubting every word I wrote and myself a story took form. The more I wrote the more this fountain of creative juices rose inside me and before I knew what’s happening, I became addicted. My debut novel titled Hidden Heart was published in March of 2011. Since then three other novels spread their wings for the world to read them: A World Apart, Born In Vengeance and Born In Sin. Me Tarzan—You Jane is my latest novel out on December, 6th 2014. Several other stories are in process of being developed / edited / finished.

From an early age we learn that addictions are bad: drugs, alcohol, tobacco, gambling—you name it. I’ve long acknowledged that writing is my addiction. But I’ll be damn if I ever try to rid myself of it. No rehab, no treatment, no therapist or counselor would ever convince me this addiction is bad. You know why? Because unlike all other addictions writing nourishes my heart and soul. Writing gives me purpose, part of me as my very heart and, “until my moment comes / I’ll say… I, I did it all…”~ I lived by One Republic.

New beginning–same emotions

22 Aug

I remember. I remember my son’s first day of school, back home in Romania. On a sunny September morning I took his hand in mine and walked into the school’s yard. Walked among hundred of other students and their parents, all excited for the new beginning.

I remember his palm fitting in mine, holding tight and not ready to let go. I felt his nervousness and all I wanted was to hug him and take it some how from him and replace it with calm and love and reassurance that everything will be okay.

Today, twelve years later I am blessed to see him go off to college, his once again first day of school. A different kind of school—for bigger people—but the emotions pooling in my heart still the same as back then.

Before his first class this morning I met him for an ice tea at the bookstore on campus. Instead of holding hands we hugged (he gives the best hugs ever). Placing his chin atop my head he wrapped his long arms around me and squeezed.

“Hi, Mom,” he said with a smile.

“Hi, kiddo,” I replied. “Ready for your big day?”

“Ready and excited.”

We waited in line at Starbucks and made small talk. A cup of ice tea, and a hug later I saw him walk away from me, my heart so full of love and pride I’m surprised it didn’t explode.  

I said a silent prayer and sent him to conquer the world.

Go get them, Tiger!

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Peel–Strip–Free

29 Jan

It’s not the onion needing peeling, but the heart. Strip it of suffocating feelings. It will set you free.

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