Wednesday, February 29, 2012

3AM Randomness

Early in the morning before the sun is up, i felt a light tap on my door.  Who could this be, at this time of the night/morning?  When I opened the door, a pleasant surprise greeted me, as I saw his handsome smile.  My Munchkin at my doorstep. He said nothing but a smile. His smile and his eyes never fail to light up my world.  His presence illuminated the breaking dawn.

But suddenly darkness enveloped the horizon, as tingling... no, more like itching sensations ran all over my body.  For a moment I was confused.  I could not tell which one is the dream and which one is the reality.  I paused for a while and noticed tiny bumps marking a slash on my arm growing from pink to red.  The allergy is real.  

As reality segued into consciousness, tears suddenly came flowing.

I tossed and turned, wanting to go back to sleep, I wanted to go back to the place where I can be with my Munchkin again. But no, my mind including my hestamines, would not let me.  Darn you hestamines! Why can't you let me be at peace even for a night.  I already took two sleeping capsules.  But am afraid to drink more. I may be depressed and desperate, but I am not suicidal. The moment I give up, is the moment I lose hope.

It is still 3.00am in the morning.  It is dark and silent outside.  However the serenity outside spells a contrasting difference to the chaos and turbulennce inside.  I am now wide awake and my consciousness also awakened the raging thoughts firing ablaze and racing through my mind.  My overactive mind hand in hand with my overactive hestamines are dancing to the tune and the beat of "Rhyanne can't go to sleep."

Now, I sit up and entertain the random thoughts swarming all around my head...

I miss my Munchkin.  Had I known that the last time I saw him would be the ultimate final end time that I would see him, I should have held his hand tightly; I should have hugged him more; I should have gazed more deeply into his eyes; I should have made him smile more often; I should have spent more time with him and not go home early.  Now I wonder and ask myself if I have shown my love enough for him to feel how much I love him? Have I expressed my love enough for him to know the depth and breadth of my love for him?

I thought our love story would last a lifetime.  I envisioned a picture of us growing old together, holding hands until the sunset of our lives.  I thought he would be my partner in crime and that I would be his helpmate, journeying by his side - for better or for worse, in tears and in laughter; in sorrows and in joy; in failures and in victories.

We have built our dreams together.  He has our dream house in construction.  Whilst he took care of the mechanical and electrical stuff, I took care in the interior selection of the color schemes of the tiles, bench tops, cabinet panels, down to the details of the shower head, faucet, and door handles.  Now, I have left him on his own to finish that dream.

Why do we hurt the ones we love?  It hurts me so much knowing that I have hurt him.  If only I could embrace all the pain for him.  If continuing the relationship would mean hurting him more, then I would be happy to let go.  Yes, happy for him, even if it hurts me.  I would rather hurt myself than make him cry.

I wonder how he is doing right now?  Hope he does not miss me as much as I do.  Hope he is not hurting.  Hope his family and friends are giving him good and wise counsel, enough to comfort him.  Hope he is sleeping well.  Hope he is eating well.  Hope things at his work is doing fine and hope that people at his work are treating him well.

I can't even bring myself to call him my Ex.  Deep in my heart he is still my man. We may not be together anymore, but he still has not left my heart.  I still have not changed my profile status in Facebook, and niether did he (well, at least the last time I checked). Maybe I will wait for him to change his profile first before I change mine.  Perhaps I will not to go on Facebook for the time being and take a hiatus for a long long while.  I dread the day to see him update his status, remove our pictures and worst, even un-friend me.  How would I ever manage to cope and face that day?

What if he chooses to move one?  Coming from the statistics of my past relationships, 100% of my ex-boyfriends get married a year after our break up. Based on my historical data of post-break ups, the law of probabilities dictate that there is a high possibility of Munchkin getting in to the matrimonial ceremony within 2013-2014.  Am I that easy to forget?  Do I rub them with some marriage charm upon our separation?  Or perhaps I have taught them to love better, deeper, and stronger in their next relationship?  

Suddenly, an image of him with another girl flashed in my mind.  Just even the thought of it makes me cringe.  I feel a battalion of bees swarming around my stomach, my heart beating faster, streams of sweat and tears flowed, allergic welts  becoming more itchy.  I think I cannot breathe!  I am getting nauseous.  I want to puke.  I think I want to break down... But then again, I want what's best for him.  If this is what he wants, then this is what I want.  If this is what will make him happier, then there is nothing more left to say but goodbye.  

Who knows she could be the answer to my prayer in providing Munchkin comfort, care, love and happiness.  Hope she is beautiful.  Hope she would be faithful, loving, caring, understanding, sweet, and passionate.  Hope she will love him more than I could.  Hope she will never ever hurt him and make him cry. Hope she will make him feel like he is the luckiest man alive.

By the way, I still have not cancelled my leave application which we supposedly planned to  take a trip to Sydney together.  Should I still go?  Or should I just cancel it?  Maybe I will take a vacation on my own?  Or maybe I can just go home to the Philippines ... and not come back here anymore? ...  Hmmm, I don't think it is better not make any decision whilst I am at the heights of my emotions.   

Rhyanne, why are you sad?  Where is your hope?  Bad thoughts be gone!  Put your hope and faith in God.  When God steps in, miracles happen.  Then, what am I doing talking to myself, feasting on a pity party?  I should instead get down on my knees and pray.

Dear God...

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Love, Faith, Hope

The story of us is a story of love, faith and hope.


The story of us is a story of love.

I first met him in the midst of my preparations towards my migration to Australia.  I was still in the Philippines and I was looking for possible accommodation.  When I met him online, he was nothing but a mere potential landlord.  However, somewhere between our exchanges of communication, he could not commit to hold off the room for me. The timing was not perfect and so he had to give his room to someone else who was already willing to give him the money.

I was of course disappointed.  Tsk, tsk, tsk…  And yeah, somehow pissed off.  After that failed transaction, that  to me, marked the end of our affiliation… or so I thought. 

He politely offered tour guiding assistance instead (must he be feeling bad for offering the room to someone else?), and tried to keep our communications line open - talking about the weather, and tips and advice when arriving here in Adelaide.  I in turn curtly but politely respond to his messages.  And to me it was only up to there and nothing more.  And so when he tried to again offer his free tour guiding services and meet me for coffee, I at first ignored the offer and the cunning subsequent invitations.  But his persistence paid off and eventually I graciously obliged to accept his offer.  He sounded genuine and sincere after all.

And so, February 2010, we met up for the first time.  I do not believe in love at first sight.  But we hit it off pretty well.  It was like I have known him for a long time.  I usually have my walls up high meeting someone new for the first time, but with him the walls were invisible.  I felt immediate connection and became comfortable talking to him. 

Then after one coffee to the other, coupled with scenic drives around Adelaide hills, the southern harbour, and sunset beach views, the limbic resonance grew stronger each day.  I did not plan this and neither did he.  But cupid brought us into a force field and gravity took its course.

Finding a man to love was not in my priority list at that moment.  But just as what they said, love comes at the most unexpected moment.  And there my Munchkin came, my sweet sugar surprise.

It was the beginning of our story of love.  Munchkin knows the way to my heart.  He makes me feel special and treats me like his precious princess.  He makes everyday mundane activities super special.  And although he coyly denies it, he is naturally sweet and romantic.  Behind his strong, manly, and assertive fa├žade, is a gentle, really gentle, loving and kindred spirit.  Oh how sweet it is to be loved by him.  And yes, Munchkin spoils me so much!

The story of our love extends to his parents. His parents have also lavished me with their generosity, care and kindness.  I feel like I am welcome and part of their family.  My parents and my brother and sister also extended a warm welcome to Munchkin in our family.  They are supportive and in fact, excited, for this man who is making my heart sing.

The story of our love started like that of a romantic comedy movie.  I used to think how we would share the story of us with pride and the glow in our eyes, how we met and how the sparks flew instantly, and people will fall in love to our love story.


The story of us is a story of faith.

We have different backgrounds of faith.  I tried to resist him as hard as I could because of this.  But the gravity of our love was too much to resist. 

I tried to break away and set free.  We had our moments of separation and break ups.  And no matter how I tried to run away from him, I always see myself running back to him.  The power of love overruled the differences and the bond of love found a way to keep our hearts together. However, the story of my faith is longing to be shared, even at least in prayer with him, whilst the story of his faith cannot bring him to.  Over time, I think the story of my faith has imposed a nagging pressure on him, while the story of his faith had him enough of it.

February 2012, after two years of sweet loving relationship.  I hate to say this, but this time, it sounds final. Yes, we ended our relationship in the midst and at peak of our love for each other. 

The story of my faith makes me hope that someday he will at least be willing to try to listen.. not now, but perhaps someday even in the distant future.  But the story of his faith does not feel it and cannot see it happening not even an iota of a chance of making it possible.

He can lie to me and say that there could be a possiblity, and this issue will all go away.  But he had to be honest because he loves me.  On my part, I am willing to just even hope and not expect anything further from him.. just to hope, yes, even for a lifetime.  But he does not want to give me false hope.

We both love each other but we had to let go... Then again, I wanted to run back to him.  But he had to make the toughest decision for us, and so he let me go. I wanted it to be easy for him, so I had to let him go. 

He contends that the story of our love should make me accept him for who he is and what he is.  I  accept him and I love him for who he is and what he is.  However, to me, the story of our love should at least make him meet me half-way.

I remember one of the sweetest things he said to me.  I once asked him if he was prepared to lose me.  He responded that he is prepared to fight for me.  Spoken like a true knight in shining armor.  However, over time the story of our reality love has ebbed over the story of our euphoric love.  Perhaps somehow, this is a battle he can no longer fight. 

The story of our love has surrendered to the story of our faith.


The story of us is a story of hope.

Now, I not only cry but I weep with wailing, hoping that the pain will be washed away with my tears and the grief be expelled as I shout out loud.  The situation seems pretty hopeless.  But the story of my faith believes that there is a story of hope.

I always believe that God allows things to happen for a reason and that He works in mysterious ways.  I believe that far behind this veil of pain and sadness is a loving and compassionate God who is taking care of me and my Munchkin.  I pray that God will use our time apart to help us learn and grow to be better individuals.  I pray that God will meet us in this time of our need and will minister to us and eventually help us show  and teach us the way back to the road to recovery.

Whilst the story of us may as well look like a story of tragedy, the story of my faith hopes that in God’s time and in God’s way, He will restore the story of our love.

To me, this story has not yet ended.  It is just waiting for a new chapter to unfold.

I wish my Munchkin all the best.  I do not know if he feels and thinks the same way too. All I can tell in this period of waiting is that I hold on to the story of my love, faith and hope.

Three things will last forever - faith, hope, and love - and the greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13:13

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Like a Rose

It is the weekend before Valentine's day.  Walking around the city, it did not take me long to notice that obviously the festivity of love has literally painted the town red.  And not only that, the city centre is in bloom with different stalls of flower shops flourishing numerous varieties of flowers.  Such a sight to behold.  

But amongst the vast array of flowers in display, I realized that the rose is still the quintessential queen of valentine. If love is flower, it would have to be a rose.  It is bittersweet.  But amidst all its thorns, the pinnacle is graced with its soft, delicate, aromatic and gentle glory.  The beauty and the elegance of its bloom triumphs over its multitude of thorns, that which draws one's attention to the flower itself and shifts the focus away from the prickly thistles... Until you get cut, bruised and pricked.

Different people have different responses to the jab and the sting of the thorn.  The differentiating factor can be fathomed through the level of commitment.

Commitment these days is such a rarity.  On an average, 50% of marriages worldwide, end up in divorce.  And the reason is the lack (or lack of understanding) of commitment.  

Commitment is the actualization of that vow to stay together for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer.  It extends beyond making oneself exclusive to the other.  It is sticking to each other - no matter what.

Commitment is holding on to one another despite the thorny bush, knowing, believing, and trusting on each other, willingly going through the midst of the eye of the storm - together.  Commitment is pressing on towards the journey despite the pain and obstacle. Commitment means that at times, you can be selfless enough to make your partner's needs more important than your own.  Commitment means being able to extend forgiveness including the gravest offenses made by the other.  Commitment means that you love your partner so much that you are able to make their needs more important than your own and you are prepared to be occasionally be in a state of discomfort for the sake of their comfort.

All couples go through various peaks and valleys.  How both parties stay committed and devoted to the relationship and to each other (the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly) is indeed challenging, especially when the early spark and enthusiasm of the relationship has waned.  Commitment is the engine that drives the love, when the initial euphoria of feeling in love has faded, and when reality of relationship steps in.

Commitment is a personal process.  Unfortunately for some, commitment is dependent on emotions and the use the ebb and flow of their emotions, such as their happiness, as the gauge whether to stay or leave the relationship.  

This to me explains why, going back to the statistics of divorce, the numbers are driven mostly by first world countries. And am pretty sure the figures would go even higher, if we segregate the wealthy couple (i.e. those in Hollywood), because at a touch of slight discomfort sadly only a few would stay on and persevere.   Whilst the majority, especially those who are used to get what they want, call for first aid, wrap their fingers in plaster cast and ditch the relationship for good.  This to me is a sad, sad reality.

Yes, love is like a rose.  Remove the flower, and the plant will be nothing but a thorn bush.  On the contrary, no matter how many times we multiply the thorns a hunderfold, as long as the flower is still there, it will still be called a rose.

Commitment is like holding a rose. We may get pricked, and we we bleed. But we hang on, because when the rose is pressed in between two lifetimes, it lasts forever.  

Even if love is full of thorns, I would still embrace it, for I know that in between those thorns, there is a rose that is worth all the pain.