Sunday, 11 September 2016

Thailand: Part 1

As I’m standing on the terrace, looking out in the deep hills of Thailand, I can’t help but feel peace.  My trip began only a week before. A long journey from London to Bangkok. A short layover in Hong Kong and an even shorter plane ride to Bangkok. The weather was stifling the moment you step out of the cool air conditioned airport. I was terrified. This world, asian world was so very different from what I was accustomed. Yes, I’ve traveled. I’ve spent my last two years traveling as much as I could. But this was my first trip to Asia. A country that I knew nothing of the language and barely of the culture. 

Since I was young, I’ve dreamed of traveling the world. I dreamed of seeing far off places, places, I’d probably never see in my tiny New York bubble. Well, not that tiny but still. New York is my comfort zone. It also took a hell of a lot out of me, so why not get out? I always thought I’d volunteer abroad. I wanted to join the Peace corps but health issues always stood in the way. So as I spent my year In London, through my university, an opportunity to volunteer in Thailand showed up. I didn’t hesitate and signed up. I would spend a week teaching English in a Hill tribe and another week volunteering in an elephant sanctuary. I was excited yet fearful.

Traveling to any new country can be exciting but anxiety comes with it. Being halfway around the world without family or close friends is daunting. So many things can go wrong but at the same time so many can go right. Bangkok was strange. It’s a city that lives up to it’s name of debauchary and beauty. It has gorgeous temples that can bring joy and peace to anyone willing to experience it. I had many spiritual awakening and moments of pure thankfulness sitting upon the top of Golden mountain. You will experience this if you’re looking for it. I’ve spent many a years researching the ways of Buddhism. I was raised Catholic, but at the same time have parents very spiritually open. We all do not believe in organized religion and was only shown that path at a young age to find my own spiritualism. My grandmother had been very invested in the teaching of Buddhism so it only made sense that I would follow in that way. While religion is so deeply invested in this country, Bangkok also has a heavily partying nightlife. I’d be lying if I had said I had not partaken in this. An almost stolen stray cat and a horrible hangover the next day reduced my love of bucket alcohol significantly. 

After my fateful hangover, Chiang Mai was the next stop on our destination before we embraced on our journey to the hill tribes. Chiang Mai is beautiful, much more peaceful then the congested streets of Bangkok. While still an easily accessible tourist destination it still has a  uniqueness to it. Markets upon markets and the casual western fixtures like McDonalds and Starbucks line the streets. Everyone wants to sell memorabilia of elephants and buddha but it makes sense since it’s heavily religious influence. 

Only spending a quick night in Chiang Mai, we spent the next day traveling up the hill tribes. I didn’t know what to expect which made my stomach turn more and more by the hour. Half our journey was in a normal van while the other was sitting on the back of pickup truck. Yes, on the outside of a pickup truck. I swear I didn’t cry (there may have been some tears). As we reached the village, it was beautiful. Basic and beautiful. Every house or maybe considered hut, wooden with no bottom floor but a top. Sometimes with farm animals underneath. We drove past to our accommodations. We were staying at the school. The school was a decent building but you could see how much lacked. The charity, FutureSense Foundation, has been helping to build it up and bring volunteers to help the kids learn english. An advantage they probably would have never had been given before. The accommodations were basic. The building was pretty nice. The girls rooms were above our eating area while our rooms were bedding on the floor surrounded by a mosquito net. It wasn’t the most comfortable but in perspective, we were living how they did. My only true complaint, which I got used to in the end, was squat toilets. Men have it easy. You need serious muscles to hold yourself above a squat toilet with no railing next to you. i managed and did not fall surprisingly with my balance, Bucket showered also were not my favorite but again you just roll with the punches. 


Annoyingly my body thought otherwise. I had quite a few coughing fits and my stomach was never to be underestimated. Some days I had to not eat as much in fear of how my stomach would be react. I’ve heard to expect this but it did damper my spirits. I still carried on and was able to help paint the outside of the children’s lunchroom. It was a pretty calming experience. The most I got though was from teaching. My partner from the group and I taught the younger 7-9 years olds. That is in no way an easy task. Children are adorable but at the same time so hyper you don’t know what to do. Then couple with the fact that you don’t speak there first language is hard. The kids were sweet though. When they did pay attention they were eager to learn through games. It also was rewarding with the amount of hugs and smiling faces as we had our last day teaching. These kids just wanted to know us. It was beautiful but at the same time so sad because more then likely I’ll never see them again. 


My time in the hill tribes came to a very fast conclusion. Yes, it was hard but the good outweighed the bad. I felt like a calmer, patience, and humbled person. It made me appreciate the life I led and the people in it. It made me appreciate my life and all the bullshit i’ve gotten though. It released a lot of my anger that I’ve felt. How mentally bitter I was allowing myself to become, How wrapped up in myself I had become and how I stopped being the person I wanted to be. I was becoming a person that thought who she was rather then doing. I have progressed through the years and I will continue my journey. This was just another beautiful step. 

Wednesday, 20 July 2016

Overslept

Sometimes I can’t get out of bed. I feel like nothing is real except for sleep. I could sleep for eternity. The sun can be shining. It could be the perfect temperature but I’m alone, locked under those sheets. I’m so tired. I don’t know why. I’ve slept for hours upon hours. Yawn, sigh, I pull the shades down, lock the door, ignore the day that’s calling for me. 

I have a meeting. I have to see friends. I need to do anything but there I am, my warm bed weighing me down.

Sometimes it’s the nightmares. The dreams. The pain. The feeling nothing will ever truly be better. It’s always the same. I’ve spent years missing weeks of my life. A school week, a friend week, a family week, it doesn’t matter. They are all the same and I’ve missed them. I’m irresponsible the unknown say. I wish they were right. 

Sleeping turns to fears to anxiety to the overwhelming weight holding down my chest. 

A vicious cycle that year after year, I can’t ever seem to shake. The help never ends it or the motivation or the slight glimpse of joy. I fight to get up and out that door. I’ve fought and lost and won. An endless struggle, but that bed calls. It always wins.

Sometimes in pleasure, I have a day to spend, but others, that bed is my worst enemy. 



Tuesday, 12 July 2016

Night Light, Past Regrets

Leather jacket, dirty jeans
Moonlight walking down the abandoned street
Piercing desire, hanging in the air
lips apart, teeth clenched
Messy hair running through your hands
Should have made the dash
You knew you could

These city lights 
and your poisonous eyes
holding you back 
Gone too far even with a breath
Pull back and slide away
You’ll be her biggest regret

Wanting her never came too hard
Those dark eyes, made her yours
Slipping, and falling into your arms
You wanted her, she wanted more
Can you live with the pain of breaking her heart

Or the echoing darkness 
Without any start.

Shut door, locked key
Now a distant memory
smiling photo
Wishing you could be
The guy she's locked onto
So Gracefully

Where Am I?

Where am I? I don’t even know. I have seemed to lost any direction I’ve had. I thought I was ready for change, ready to see the world, ready to finally be me. But who I am? I don’t know. I once was the girl with the smile to brighten the sky, then the girl who can make almost anyone laugh, then the girl with the broken smile, now I wear nothing. I don’t have the strength to put on a mask or to lie to the world. I can’t even lie to the one person who truly changed me. I’ve lost him somewhere in the distance. He’s still with me but the man I love is gone. His touch, his smile, and his kiss is no longer there. Maybe, it is lost with whatever I was. I don’t know anymore and I don’t know if things are going to change for the better. I think the small part of optimism is gone forever. 

Wednesday, 22 June 2016

Thunder

Flashes of light
Your dark blue eyes
Huddled under blankets
The taste of your lips
Pouring rain echoing outside
Scared to remember
Windows slammed shut
Scared to forget
Another crash
The feel of your skin
A shiver down my spine
Too easy to love you
A click of the lock
To painful to hate you

Tuesday, 5 April 2016

Scared

I’m terrified all the time. I don’t like to admit it but I am.  I’m scared I’m not good enough. I’m scared no one loves me. I’m scared of being completely alone. I’m scared of never living up to anything. I’m scared of dying. I’m scared of everything but the fear keeps me going. The fear pushes me out of it. The fear forces me to learn, to write, to feel. To not be numb, to not be broken, to live. To truly live and be alive. 

Thursday, 3 March 2016

Love

Just another breath and it will all be ok. The burning pain shredding through my body will subside. I will live. You’ll love me again. Love me like the first moment you saw me. Love me like the first moment I brought you coffee on that chilly fall day or the moment I read you one of my poems. You chose me. You found me. You pulled me out of my proverbial darkness. You told me I was the only girl you ever wanted to love. I was to be your Mrs. forever and for always. You courted. I fell harder then I ever thought possible. I was the sad, lonely girl dying for love. Love that was nothing like my parents. Not angry or bitter or full of rage. True, pure love. Something to dream of to ride off into the sunset with. I fell without safety nets. A year flew by. I began to feel weak. Addicted to you. Wanting no-one or nothing else. You promised your love. You told me I was insane. I believed. Then she smiled your way and you hurt me. Humiliated me to a point I thought I would die. I lost 20 pounds and became a skeletal remain. Everyone said you were no goos. I tried. A month went by. You called and said you were wrong. I spit out the remaining pills. 

We fell back in sync like nothing changed. You flowered me with love. I grew afraid. You became distant and made me feel small. Tiny comments began to grow. You’re stupid, you’re fat, no one will ever love you. I deserved them. I needed them. He would apologize when I would cry. It was okay. He was sorry. He kissed me and everything was better. He would go away and I would crumble. Are you okay? People would ask. My puffy eyes would deceive. I’m fine. I would lie. He  beckoned. I ran. The word would seep in again. I began to fight back. He began to pull away. I begged for him to stay. He dangled himself over my fragile state and left a bruise across my chest. Our little secret, he would never hurt me again. 


I believed. I believed it all. I believed after every bruise, every cut, every black eye, every hospital stay, every lie, every shot to my dignity. Because I believe in love. I believe in true agonizing painful love. 

Saturday, 30 January 2016

Drip

Tiny drips of blood
scatter like pieces of glass
on the cold, hard floor
Pieces that echo lost moments
lost love
lost pain
Drip
the color turns
red to black
Changing itself
or another word of killing
Killing bits that are taken away
forcefully
reluctantly
suffered
It drips until there is nothing left
a gaping wound
festering
painfully
until nothing
black
empty

Alone

Friday, 15 January 2016

Self Preservation is Learned Not Taught.

I never thought of myself as beautiful, hot, cute, and whatever adjective you would describe attractive. I always felt as if I was skinner, my teeth were straighter, my nose was smaller, or my skin was clearer I’d be pretty. If I was pretty, people would love me. I would feel accepted. I would’t feel as sad as I always did. Everyone has awkward teenage years but for some it hits harder then others. Braces, frizzy hair, a rather large chest, and at least 5 inches over most girls can make anyone feel self-conscious. I was made fun of, but who hasn’t? I tried to not listen to them but it creeped in on me but that didn’t matter. I was harder on myself then others were. I spent hours dissecting every tiny detail what was wrong with me. I know I’m not the only one either. Girls especially are instilled with this hatred of our looks. I have never met a girl who didn’t feel some anger about a particular feature or the way they looked in general. We are made to believe we should look a certain way because what we are told by everything in books, to magazines, to the big screen. Why do we do this to ourselves? I was rarely told I wasn’t pretty. I spent most of the age 13-on being hit on by men (some attractive, others not so much), loving parents who always told me I was beautiful, and friends who constantly reassured me that I was a knockout but it was never enough. I even have a way (to this day even) to completely shut down when someone gives me a compliment because it’s so instilled in me to believe they are somehow lying. Maybe, it’s deeply rooted by the thought that since I don’t get hit on by the type of men I want, that I’m not pretty. It’s a scary thought to think my worth is based on some ideal of a man but that’s what the world has taught me. I only matter if I guy I want, wants me back. Thanks, romantic comedies! In all seriousness, when I stepped away from a relationship with a man I wanted (and thought wanted me back) I began to reevaluate myself. I stopped thinking of myself that needed to be validated and began to think ‘hey maybe I can feel beautiful on my own’. I won’t lie and say it wasn’t a struggle. Hating your flaws for almost 15 years isn’t an easy habit to break. So I take it one step at a time. I do take care of myself physically (like everyone should) but I add in almost time just looking into the mirror telling myself that I’m beautiful. It sounds laughable but for the first time in my life, I believe it. I walk with confidence, I take photos of myself without cringing, and I smile a hell of a lot more. Sure, I have bad days but everyone does. I still pick myself up and make sure I take care of me because no one else will or should. I wish all women could feel this rather then having all this hatred of our own bodies being shoved down our throats. Maybe, this is a step. Maybe, admitting that we are flawed but that’s what makes us who we are and just saying tiny, silly words can actually make us feel better. Maybe one day, our daughters or granddaughters don’t have to feel this way anymore because they will believe they are gorgeous inside and out on there own. On can only dream…


And I hope you can, too. So go tell yourself you’re beautiful because I guarantee you are. 

Monday, 4 January 2016

Perception

Perception is key. We perceive everything the way we want to. It's rarely the full truth. How we perceive movies, songs, situations, and most importantly the perception of people. We think we know someone. We think since we've been out with them or meet them and heard there tales that we know them. We see them through others eyes and either good or bad light but do we ever truly know them? Change in inevitable and every single day our minds change. We aren't the same people, we are we evolving humans with a mask. So how can anyone ever presume to know us? Our thoughts, our ideals, and the thing that defines us the most, fear. The closet of friends, lovers, and family never truly understand the person we are. We are are slipping and sliding pretending to be someone. No one is ever truly themselves because perception is the key. No one wants to be there true self when they know it's never going to be the real version.