Cost of Freedom

 what-does-it-takes-to-be-human“I just cant imagine myself in shackles, following his lead, his guidance, his eyes trained on me. I wanted to be wrong again, I wanted to make some mistakes, I wanted to learn, I wanted to rise, I wanted to live.”

What does it really mean to be free? What does it really take to be yourself when you already have two kids and individuality is something you should scrap from your list? They say, get yourself a good husband, form a happy family, get a stable job and you will live in peace, you’ll be truly happy. What if life itself is more than that? What if you cant wrap your head with that construct?

In my opinion, you still need your individuality, you still have to claim yourself even when you are journeying motherhood. Especially when you are journeying motherhood. Every values, every care, every happiness, every love that you will give to your kids and to everyone who surrounds you will come from within yourself. When you are truly free and happy, that is the only time that you are capable to give the quality of love that you can truly give. It will radiate from you, its glow will touch your kids. Quality of life you aspire will grow from there. Happiness in its utmost authenticity.

Right now, for almost a year… I’ve tried my best to settle down and be happy. Be happy with the blessings that I have, with the husband that I have. But that’s not the case, I am not happy and I wanted to break free. Pushing this thought aside every single day for a span of a year is draining me, driving me crazy, turning me into a bad person filled with guilt and silent rage, one who cant give anyone a genuine smile, a genuine love and genuine care, including her self. I tried several ways to overcome, I tweaked my emotions, my way of living, I’ve been depressed, I shut myself, I tried to open myself, I tried to eat healthy,. I even blame the pills I am taking, but I remained depressed. Is this an act of selfishness? Yes, I suppose. But I am not truly happy. I have to grant myself the freedom to find that happiness and to realize the person in me, my individuality in order to be a productive mom, in my own way. In my own way.

But what will that cost me?

What do I have to give up for my own freedom?

What do I get in exchange?

I have to leave my husband, my ever loving, supportive husband. My husband who has nothing in mind but to love his family and plan the future with me. My husband who’s been with me for 7 long years, and hasn’t given up on me, during difficult times, during extreme mood-swings, during my breakdowns. My husband so perfect and yet I still couldn’t love him.

Whats wrong with me? I do not know. One thing is for sure. I have to break free from it and start from scrap. I just cant imagine myself in shackles, following his lead, his guidance, his eyes trained on me. I wanted to be wrong again, I wanted to make some mistakes, I wanted to learn, I wanted to rise, I wanted to live.

With him, I just cannot do it. Everything is carefully planned, which is a good sign, right? That’s parenthood all about. “But I am not happy. I dont want to be a wife anymore, I still wanted to be a mom of course, but I want to be truly myself. ” These thoughts are killing me.

All I ever wanted to do is live and see myself finally happy. Taking care of my kids. I cant be a mom in this kind of state. Overwhelming guilt and sadness is eating me alive. I’d like to picture seeing him happy and being loved by someone better. Him, treating the way he should be treated, and me continuously learning my lessons, through good or bad.

Is it that bad for me to choose the way I wanted to live?

I know, everything is not logical. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is what I tell myself.

Come on, frown upon me. I will get used to that.

 

How Can a Photograph Capture the Image of a Person Falling Apart?

I stared at the black and white photograph, “Is this how unhappy I look like?” I hadn’t realized it before. I was never beautiful, but looking at this picture.. This is not me. This can’t be me. This is far from the remark of “Oh. I look so ugly”

I took the photograph, studied a bit more closely. Is this how people see me? Since when did I look this empty?

Day by day, for years, I’ve watched confidence fade away. I’ve cut my hair short. I’ve given up on any pity attempt to look pretty. I neglected myself for a very long time. I look so dull and wasted, tired and drained. This hopeless face can never be covered up. This depressing, decaying body cannot be dressed up. Look a little more closely, you’ll cringe. You’ll cringe at the person beneath this veneer body.

Hate reflects. I didn’t know it reflects. People can actually see through me. How can I not know? I’ve been hiding all of this. I’ve been hiding. I’ve been hiding all this time.

How can a decent photograph capture the image of a person falling apart?

How farther can I descent?

What will I look like next year?

Where will shame and insecurities lead me to?

Is this photograph my cry for help?

Look at what you’ve done.

What have you done to yourself?


“When you photograph people in color, you photograph their clothes. But when you photograph people in Black and white, you photograph their souls!”― Ted Grant

photograph-blog-2
Actual photograph

The photograph was taken by our Photojournalism professor. It will be shown at our university’s photo exhibit next week. It is a black and white portrait of me. I have seen the photograph just a few minutes before writing this. It is like meeting my self for the very first time. A revelation of how I’ve let myself down. A potential wake-up call to pull myself up.

Prison of Truth

(This is how you lose your youth)

You started to wonder, how you’ve lost your voice
Was it the day you ceased speaking?
Or was it the day you started repeating,
repeating the chant everyone else is saying

You’ve lost your point of view, honey, it was all you.
You are always ready to bend and mold,
To conform, and nod. To find the truth
From different set of lies laid in front of you.
You always choose whatever it is that can fool you.

For years, you’ve been complaining about your lost freedom,
For twenty-two years you have been living,
Six years spent grieving,
Every persona you wore were lined up in a shelf
Six fucking years, spent building a prison for yourself

The next time rage fill you,
While you clasp and shake and grip the bars that surround you,
Remember this, the only thing that can set you free
Is the very thing that confines you.

With Blank Eyes, You Wait

The thing is, it’s a cycle.

You don’t know the reason behind the cycle,
but if you are going to observe it, there is.
For the past few months, you were doing good.
You thought you have finally became stable, okay;
ready to grab any optimism life has to offer.
You were so proud of yourself.

Then there’s this shift.

Slowly, or drastically,
it pulled you again to that pit,
that same pit you fought really hard to escape from.

But you’re at it again,
and this time you don’t know what to do.
It just swallows you.

You have no idea, there is no reason.
There is no clear reason.

You tried to talk to people, for normality’s sake, and it feels fake.
You don’t really feel like talking, but you have to at least try..
You can’t move, everything is forced.

At first, you thought it’s just a bad morning.
You just woke up on the wrong side of your bed.
Then it becomes a bad day.
Then you try to cheer yourself up,
you told yourself, tomorrow is another day.
Then the next day came, and you’re dragging yourself up again.
Then you hadn’t noticed it has been a month, it has been months.
You feel defeated without knowing what you are fighting against.

So you just wait…
With blank eyes, you wait.


Written in August, during the early days of the shift.

(Featured photo was from Pixabay.com) 

Blogging Buzz and Bus Tales

Do you still remember the very first week when you had your blog?

It’s already 6 o’clock in the morning and my head is still buzzing with things I could talk about, the things I want to talk about, all the blogs I have to read, and the widgets I need to customize! I cannot believe it, I’ve never  felt this enthusiasm for a long time.

I just wanted to pinch in a little background. Before creating this blog, I deactivated all of my social media accounts, (Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, you name it) the reason behind this, you can see Breaking Free From Facebook Anxiety. I also gave up on having a smart phone. Everyday, I ride a 2 – 3 hr bus drive to my university. I live in the province (suburbs, as you call it), and my university is in the city. I don’t know why. I look really discreet; a typical sleep-deprived student with nothing but lunch money, but seems like pick-pockets are always on me. I’ve already lost three phones! In a span of six months, I’ve lost three smart phones. Now, that’s not pretty smart! We are not that well-off, so after losing the third one, I decided not to buy another one. Not until I have the right job, and can actually afford it. For a little experiment, I told myself, why not try to live like in the 90’s, no phones, no interruptions –  and no pick-pockets! I am living peacefully since then. I get to see the people I needed to see, they can talk to me when they really need to talk to me.

Going back to blogging buzz…

Do you still remember how you started here? The things you frequently talked about? How did blogging help you, since then?

Share your stories! With tired eyes, I’d love to read about them!