Spiral

Few things are harder in life than watching your loved one suffer.

Silent suffering of an individual whose fate is wrenched out of his hands, whose life has been turned upside down in the span of an email. His life really has turned upside down and his fate held in the hands of a man. And nothing is worse than having someone else control your fate.

For all our optimism and fighting spirit, the efforts we are continually struggling with, a part of me cannot help but feel as if we are going against insurmountable odds. Against an entity that cannot be seen. Against a corporation. And unfortunately, corporations have no heart, no sympathy, no empathy. Corporations see things in black and white, removed from emotion and the lack of that humanity does not bode well for our case. He could not help being ill right smack in the middle of his exams and the timing of that threw him off everything. I know how difficult it must be for him, how unjust that in this twist of fate his ill health was not taken into consideration.

I know how he feels, I have been in a similar situation before. But times change, and I was lucky. He is not as lucky as I was, so we cannot do anything but appeal and appeal again and pray that someone is reasonable enough to read our plea and agree with the circumstances.

I feel so helpless and angry and frustrated. Angry that they are not more reasonable in the process. Frustrated at the lack of help we are receiving from the very person who should be helping us. And helpless, despite all the optimism I can muster, there are those times in the night when I fall quiet and imagine the repercussions of the suspension. Of last minute efforts, of wishing I knew someone who could make a difference. Of even, unlocking the secret we both hold.

It feels like our time together is in an hourglass, and the sand is trickling much too fast for my liking. I don't know what I'd do if he left.

I cannot cry.

The One

A friend once asked me, "How do you know he's the one?"

The thing is, sometimes I'm not quite sure I do.

There are times when I look at him and I'm so absolutely sure that he is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. When my heart sings because I am happy because I am with him. When I am doing nothing but sitting with him and I am content. When he smiles and his eyes light up in such a way that I cannot resist smiling back. It is never one big thing that jumps out at me, but a million and one different things about him that I love so much.

And then there are times when I am not so sure. When our opinions differ on things that are crucial. When the tears of sadness and hopelessness come and insecurities creep up on you. Yet, every single moment of sadness has stemmed from the thought that we might not end up together, tears of a possible ending that I do not wish to happen.

Do I know he's the one?

No.

But I believe any two people can make a relationship work if they are willing to. Relationships are learning curveballs, and there's nothing more personal than letting someone else share your life. I believe that as long as we talk and are able to find that happy medium for the issues that hail our relationship, we will stay strong and we will stay together. I believe that we can grow old and happy together, if we work for it. Sometimes romance isn't everything, and life needs to find a more practical solution to the greatest love stories ever told.

How do I know he's the one?

I believe.

Beauty is In the Eye of the Beholder

“I wish for one day, I could be you.”

Only, most times it’s not them wanting to be me. It’s wanting to look the way I look.

In my line of work, I see a lot of women. Mostly, I see a lot of women with insecurities, who look at themselves with distortion. Too skinny, too fat, too ugly. A lot of them wish they were someone else.

And regardless of what I tell them, they can only believe their version of the truth. They only see what they want to see, that ugly self-image of themselves in their minds.

I have never wanted to be anyone else. All my life, I have wished for things. Wished for abilities, and talents, and character. Wished that I didn’t get breakouts, wished that those little fatty bits here and there would go away, wished for muscles and strength and tone. Wished for a hundred and one physical things.

But never once in my life have I wished to be someone else.

How I looked made me who I am, in many ways.

Wishing to be someone else seems like an ultimate betrayal of self. It’s telling myself that I am not worth of being me. What physical features I was born with has nothing to do what I am inside.

I used to be skinny; all sticks and bones with major acne, big pink glasses and a toothy smile. A guy who sat in front of me once called me the Queen of Nerds. He wasn’t far off. Would I change that phase of my life?

Hell no.

Like most women, I worry about how I look. The zits and bulging bits, the cellulite I have on my thighs. Heck, I would like to be a couple of inches taller. Maybe have that curvy hourglass figure people used to covet so much. However, somewhere in my life, in the haze of insecurity and uncertainty, I learnt a couple of very important things.

Most women are much too critical. They see flaws in themselves that they can never see in anyone else. Women always believe that other women are much more beautiful.

“Oh, at least you don’t have my thighs.”

“Are you kidding? You haven’t seen the amount of flab I have on my stomach.”

“Honey, compared to you, I’m like Blubber.”

Sometimes I wonder if they have such difficulty accepting themselves. Almost like being trapped in a cycle of reinforced self-doubt. Almost like being in a competition to prove that they aren’t worthy. Is it so difficult to accept a genuine compliment?

I’ve learnt that you take the good with the bad. It’s true that no one’s perfect. Everyone is beautiful, in their own way. It is embracing those things that make one beautiful that is more important.

Small things that set you apart. The way you laugh. The way your face lights up when you’re talking. Your humour, your wisdom, your personality.

We live in a world where beauty is superficial, where what is considered beauty is in the airbrushed pages of glossy magazines. We live in a time where women strive to be a body type some may never be able to achieve. We live in a world where beauty is flawless perfection and impossibly achieved.

I can tell you that you are beautiful, and you may never believe me.

As for me, I will take my chances.

I am imperfect. My nose is a little strange. I wish these little hairs wouldn’t grow by the side of my mouth. I still occasionally worry about the day where all the chocolate will catch up with me. I know that my bum is a little jiggly and my thighs will never regain their cellulite-less glory.

But I love myself and every little bit of me.

Self worth is self love. And god knows, I have enough of it to go around.