The Other Side

On being on the other side of the grass…

The side that doesn’t seem so green


Things may seem like they aren’t going in your favour right now. Your plans are on paper, while others’ skyscrapers are out there..for all to see.

So you’re not married yet? Sure that sucks…but you will find someone, one day, who you’ll want to spend the rest of your life with…and you will be grateful for not rushing it because of the pressure. The loneliness? It will pass. It will…

Don’t beat yourself up about it. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be in love. Your time will come.

Continue reading “The Other Side”


Journey Out of the Uncomfortable: This Space is Taken


So the other day, after a conversation with my mother, I decided that it was time to clear out my closet. It was a wreck. It started off well, I removed my school uniform from years ago, my old blazers, old clothes I’d forgotten about. As I sat on the floor to empty the bottom shelf of the cupboard, I discovered a pile of jeans I’d stored away for “When I Lose Weight”.

I’d kept those jeans for years. There were other clothes with the jeans. Clothes I wanted to wear “When I Am the Right Size”. The pile had grown with the years.

I looked at a couple of the jeans and realized, I’d probably fit them if I tried. But I didn’t try them on. I collected them and shoved them in a big, black bag.

I sat on the floor for a while and pondered on the times I’d done this in my life. Put things and people aside for “When I Am Right for Them”.

From books, to friends, to relationships, etc. I’d done that. If something came to an untimely end or so, I immediately thought that it was my fault and I set out to change myself until I could fit into their world.

The obvious result of my actions: Identity confusion. A worn out mind and body. A broken heart.

What’s the connection here? Between keeping old, small clothes and failed situations? Wrong intentions. A damaging mindset.

I’ve spent a considerable amount of my life carrying the label “Guilty” on my forehead. I took flak for wrongs I wasn’t a part of. I apologized for everything. I agreed to avoid conflict. I took the fall, so no one else would. For no reason, but to be accepted. To not be alone.

And I carried all this dead weight for years. This dead weight would come to life and become active in many of my human interactions over the years. Until I decided that it was time to drop the baggage and live in the freedom that I was given.

Part of that meant speaking up. Part of that meant taking a stand. Part of that meant saying no.

It surprised many and affected many of my relationships with people. And as the changes occurred, I reflected on how absent the person I was born to be had been.

Acceptance from people is nothing, if you’ve had to sacrifice your entire being for it. What’s there to accept? Nothing. Which is why people end up treating you like dirt, when you spend your life chasing after their approval.

Look at the world right now. Look at some of our leaders. Some people who got to where they are, by doing insane things for those in higher powers, just to be ousted by these same people.

It’s all over social media. The struggle for relevance. For acceptance. For shares, RT’s, and a heart here and there. A couple of emojis for control.

But there are enough pieces on social media behaviour and all; I was just adding my two cents.

What am I trying to say here?

Well, believe it or not: Throw out that old, and embrace the new.

That space in your heart you’ve kept for “the one who got away”. Clear it out, dear. Remove those damaging mementos, and allow yourself to let someone in who will take good care of that space.

The failures of the past? It’s time for them to vacate, friend. That space was meant for something better. Better does come. It really does.

Those jeans that will fit when you lose one more kg, stone or pound? Let it go. But don’t drop your hard work. What’s better than fitting  into old jeans? Walking into the store, finding a size smaller than what you used to be, and rocking the heck out of them.



I Woke Up Hating You

For anyone who’s going through the journey of letting go, forgiving, and allowing themselves to heal.

**Disclaimer as always: I am fine. This is not about me. No need to be concerned :)**

I woke up hating you.
Rage in my mind,
Boiling in my blood.
That mental image of your face had me waking up hating you.

Remembering the things you’d do,
To make me believe you cared too.
Hammering away at the walls heart,
Just to wreak havoc and tear me apart,
I woke up hating you.

As I recalled your gall,
Your boldness to call me out on
Not trusting you. Not giving you a chance.
Just a ploy for you to take over this dance.
As I ball my hands…into fists..
Awake…And hating you.

My breath out of rhythm,
Madness in my system,
I’ve realized this can’t be life.
I keep on like this I’ll reduce my time
Spent alive..
Spent hating you..
This won’t do.

So for forgiveness I prayed,
And the ability to love is begged for.
Day in, day out,
I battle the urge to even the score.
To justifiably end my hate for you.

But this won’t work,
I can’t let this be.
Because the only one hurting,
Harmed and affected..
Is me.

So I’ll bite my tongue,
And endure the pain,
As I learn to live again,
Love again,
Return to sane.

As I reconcile with peace,
And make friends with harmony.
Moving past the done wrongs,
Erasing the angry songs.
I move on…

To moments of laughter.
To genuine joy.
To good memories,true.
As I learn to go to bed..
And wake up clear…
As I wake up..calm.
As I wake up…happy.

As time moves,
And the seasons too,
I sigh, relieved,
That I no longer…
Wake up hating

Lessons and a Bowl of Frosties

“Tell us a moment or an incident that you treasure  – not necessarily because it brought you happiness, but because it taught you something about yourself.”

My eyes opened. I looked to my right and found my best friend still sleeping. I sighed as I found that she’d managed to kick me to the edge of the bed. I wasn’t surprised, though. I knew. Whenever I had a sleepover with my best friend I knew that there was no point in fighting. She’d always kick me to the edge – she was a soccer player and a damn good basketball player. How was I supposed to compete with that?

I sat up and stretched. Something felt strange. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though. I suddenly felt the warmth coming from the sunlight shining through my window. I adjusted the blinds and sighed with relief. I wasn’t entirely relieved, though. The nagging feeling that something was amiss was still there. My stomach grumbled loudly. My friend stirred in her sleep. I jumped out of bed and headed for the kitchen. The house was quiet which meant that my sibling was still asleep and my parents had already left for work. I opened the pantry door and began to search for my favourite cereal – Frosties. I located them, took joy in the fact that no one else had finished them, and proceeded to empty the entire contents in a bowl. I filled the bowl with a reasonable amount of cold milk and extra sugar (do not judge me). I shoved a spoon into the sea of flakes and made my way to the lounge. Someone had left the TV on. There was a soppy movie playing. I plonked myself onto the couch and decided to give the movie a shot. As I lifted my spoon to my mouth…it dawned upon me. I dropped the spoon back into its bowl. The nagging feeling. The feeling that something was missing. I realized what was missing.


I felt normal. My heart was beating normally. My mind was calm – well as calm as one’s crazy mind could be. The urge to cry or sigh dramatically was gone. I stared at the flickering images on the screen. The thought filled my mind:

I was okay.

A couple of months before this moment of discovery, my boyfriend of three years had broken up with me – for good. I, a hopeless romantic at such a young age, was beyond devastated. My days had been filled with painful memories, numerous urges to cry, sad sighs, and other similar actions and thoughts of the sort.

So it was quite a momentous moment (ha. Ha) for me when I woke up that day with a mind devoid of thoughts of him and a heart that was finally beating normally. Peacefully. Properly.

I was okay. I was fine. Sure I still missed him but I was stable. I could say his name without wanting to bawl my eyes out and/or strangle him.

It dawned upon me. Despite all of the emotions I’d encountered in the past months, the tears I’d shed, the arguments we’d had, the futile hope I’d allowed to harbour, the painful realization that I wouldn’t be walking down the aisle looking at him (once again – do not judge me) – I was okay. I’d survived the heartbreak. Sure I’d always have thoughts of what we could have been. Sure my mind would replay that dreadful day it all came crashing down. But it didn’t mean I was going to die. I’d survived the worst. I’d moved on.

I realized that one day, I’d find the right one. The right guy.

I learned that there is life after heartbreak – a lot of life. Too much life to spend crying over one individual. Way too much life to spend sacrificing smiles and laughs for something that probably happened for the best.

I picked up my spoon and ate my Frosties happily. I was ok.

I was always going to be ok.

I was a survivor. I am a survivor.

A lesson never to be forgotten. A lesson I’m glad I learned.Image