August

There’s something about August that makes me more introspective. Maybe because for us Filpinos it’s the start of the X’mas season. Or it’s the 8^th month of the year. Or uncanny things usually happen to me during this month. I usually have some kind of crisis during August. August 2005 was a turning point in my life. It was the time when I broke free from walking the thin line between what I deem as right and wrong. It was really one crazy ride. I’m mulling over this comment my sister (who cares about DNA?), Roselle or RJ, made on one of my post.

oh! i miss the girl, too.. the girl with the saner sense of life., no paranoia of the heart life.. wasnt it you who told me that people and circumstances will hurt you inevitably, but they cant and will never own you unless you’ll make them.. ?!! reading this makes me miss the old Flo with the calm and dainty perspective and stories to write and tell..loves yah Flo

Yeah I remember having said something like that before. Looking back, I sounded so wise. I was the ultimate listening ear, the shoulder to cry on, the morally upright citizen, the eternal optimist, the sensible bestfriend, the wise adviser, the sane and stable one, the favorite daughter, the honor student, the teacher’s pet, the doze of sunshine…I was all that. Until I allowed myself to be me. I lived a life of deception. I tried to convince everyone that I’m fine and living an almost idyllic life. Little did they know of the struggle that I have within. The demons I fight day and night. However, there came a point when I could no longer suppress the childhood nightmare. My brushes with heartbreaks weakened my resistance. The defense I’ve built since I was three finally crumbled. The almost perfect illusion was shattered. The past has caught up with my present. The nightmare was real. In fact, I was living it. In the past, I was the victim. The present was my own doing. I thought choosing to be a victim wouldn’t make you one. I embraced the very things I’ve been running away from. I became a prisoner of desire and of my own design. I knew it was wrong. But I thought, hey I am having fun. I’m tired of being good and doing what’s right. I’ve been good all my life and look where it brought me. What more can I lose? I asked myself. Sadly, I thought I haven’t got anything to lose. I defied my friends and family and succumbed to my baser needs. I moved heaven and earth to satisfy my cravings. It came to a point that my sanity and even my life were threatened by a relationship I had. Yet I still kept coming back to him. Until mercifully he let me go. I felt like I was underwater for too long, holding my breath, images and reality blurred when suddenly I broke surface. So here I am now. Gasping for air. Trying to breathe and trying to live. Still walking in a daze. Still trying to figure things out. Trying to scour the handprints over my body. Trying to accept the reality that some wounds take a lifetime to heal. And that some scars are still raw and can be reopened. The biggest realization I had was that it wasn’t the guy nor the past that’s hurting me but myself. Through the choices I made. The cycle of abuse doesn’t have to continue unless I allow it too. “People and circumstances will hurt you inevitably, but they can’t and will never own you unless you’ll make them” It’s difficult. It’s a conscious choice. It’s a daily struggle. A lifelong process.