You're not alone.

A friend of mine texted out of the blue the other day:

Hi, Iris. Is it okay if you call my friend right now? He has a history of depression. I’m busy right now and he really needs someone to talk to.

Life has a funny way of waking you up by punching you in the face with a surprise. Here was my friend, whom I haven’t seen in over 2 years, seriously asking if I could pick up the phone and listen to the story of a person I have never met in my life.

So I hesitated. (Naturally.)

There is something about vulnerability and loneliness that gets us running in the opposite direction. But then I started thinking: I talk about love all the time. With my friends. To my students. In my journal. I’m an ardent believer but not a good practitioner. If I had to be honest, real honest, the things about love that I love the most are the very things I suck at. Because at the heart of love is a willingness to be inconvenienced. Love doesn’t count the cost. And when a broken person reaches out in the dark, love does not look the other way.

A world where strangers meet you at the point of your deepest brokenness — that sounds awfully nice. So I stopped running.

I wasn’t able to call him that night but I did text him. I do not know what demons he is facing or why he was so desperate for someone — anyone — to sit down and tell him that everything was going to be okay but I did anyway. The honest truth is that I don’t really know if things will actually get better. Maybe he’s at rockbottom and his life is utter crap. Maybe he’s dealing with wounds that will take a lifetime to heal. But I believe we are able to recover from everything. I believe we were wired that way. Call me an idealist but I believe that if a broken man searches for hope and is patient with life, he will find it. I believe that we are covered in a beautiful mystery called grace, which picks us up from the wreckage and restores us in ways we could not even begin to hope for. But we have to let it.

It still surprises me how many people out there are waiting for even the smallest glimmer of hope to come piercing through. Well, guess what? We’re all windows with the potential to shine some light.

I told the guy that day that I would gladly help him in any way I possibly could. And then I told him something and it’s a statement that changed my life and continues to change it because it is true even when I believe it isn’t. This statement dictates how I feel about myself as well as the decisions I make, most especially what I choose to do once my world has collapsed entirely.

YOU ARE LOVED.

Knowing I am loved changes everything. It gives me the freedom to take risks and pursue dreams. It is the truth that strips down my walls, giving me the chance to just breathe and be me. Knowing I am loved means I am fully aware that someone will still want me even after I have crashed and burned and failed again; even after my outer shell has been wrecked to reveal an entire wardrobe of ugliness.

Knowing I am loved means that I have nothing to lose. Knowing I am loved changes the game for good.

It’s a pretty simple statement. Maybe you’ve heard it before. Maybe you’ve been hearing it all your life. How many of you really know it? How many of you really believe in the truth and power of that statement? How many of you are willing to bet on its veracity? How many of you would claim that statement for your lives? How many of you would let it change you?

Everyone says that life is too short but the truth is that life is too freaking long to be spent thinking that nobody cares.

Just in case I haven’t gotten my point across enough, let me say it again. Louder.

You are loved.

You are. You really really are. Really and truly. I promise.

* If you have been wrestling with thoughts of suicide, call your local suicide prevention hotline. (All numbers can be found online) If you are from the Philippines, the numbers are: (02) 8969191 or 0917 854 9191. There are people who want to help you. You may also consider reading this.

Hang on. <3

Common reactor.

Back when nothing hurt, you snapped and told me ”it’s always mind games with you!” I scowled back and said “as if it’s not the same with you!”.

It’s a no brainer how careful I was in letting you in. For what it’s worth, you got through my head way before you did my heart. Perhaps you were never meant to reach the latter—all became too screwed up for me to handle that I freaked out, just so we remain precise, and ran away from you. No, I’m pretty sure we both haven’t figured out the reasons. We’re both too selfish to do that, I think. I’d use the word scramble but I don’t want it to sound as though I left you hanging. I was sensible with you. My feelings always came first, but we both know I cared more for what could be felt than you did.

Running from you? that I’m not so sure you hate me for. When I think about it, it could have been the most convenient thing I’ve done for you. I like dealing with my own crap and well, you simply got a free pass.

You probably despise me for always dodging you, increasingly so these past few months, if I must say. And now I can’t even be bothered to respond right when you reach out to me. My actions are in contradiction, but I speak the truth when I say I’m trying.

We just can’t seem to put it down. And honestly, right now I won’t even dare to find out why.

A different kind of fixing.

Yesterday, I learned something new about myself.

We are well aware that people have the great ability to hurt you, to disappoint in levels no one would ever want. It happens and we have no option but to deal with the struggle of letting the pain go. We abhor it, but at the same time nurture it as if it’s a form of sustenance, a source of balance.

I believe it to be true when people say that our pain becomes a part of us, and among other things, I honestly think that is a beauty on its own. However, it doesn’t become us. It should not become us. There is a fine line and I do know that pain makes us do things, some we feel, and just might truly be, inevitable, but we must try our hardest to rise above it.

I loved quite some time ago and on a normal circumstance, I would say “I fell in love and unfortunately it didn’t turn out the way that I hoped”, but I’m beginning to see that it did. Those who had their hearts broken usually find themselves scared to love again—“I loved so much I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way again, or worse manage to survive another heartbreak”.

Somehow things are different now.

I’m not trying to romanticize anything. It hurt. I did not fall and secretly kept heartbreak as a secondary goal (as much as my natural cynical side might object). Good grief, pain isn’t an ideal.

My love was a great love. I wanted it to work out for us, but it didn’t.

That love has changed me in ways I never thought possible which is what I think makes it great. It made me very happy and very sad at the same time. Both thinking and not thinking are good and you must teach yourself to find the balance between the two. I learned that I can love for two people but it doesn’t mean that I always should. I learned that if you do decide to completely open yourself up to another, it is smart to take your time. The moment you feel that you have the slightest doubt, sit down and think about it. I saw how forgiving and accepting I can be, believe me I was surprised, too. I learned that if you stay true to your heart’s desires, the bigger your chances are of walking away without regrets. I now know that once a love begins to change you, you must be fully committed to it and to the person you are with.

The day you wake up feeling like someone you don’t know is the day you need to make a choice. I learned the hard way but timing can just be everything.

Falling in love is perhaps one of the best experiences anyone could ever have in his or her lifetime. You will never be the same person you were when you first realized that you love somebody. All of this can be good if you let them.

Yesterday, I saw that I do not harbor guilt and anger. It’s not easy and to be fair, I suppose it depends on how events played out, regardless I do know that allowing these negative emotions to govern your life won’t benefit anyone, especially yourself. If anything, it will only make you grumpy, perpetually disappointed and stuck.

It pays to have the bigger heart. Although it is likely to end up being the one hurting more, in the long run you will realize that not everyone is blessed with the delicate ability to love immensely without remorse.

So instead, I now say that when the universe wills me to love again, I look forward to it. That day when someone will come into my life and make me feel the same way if not exceed it, to once again realize that I have so much love to give and more things to learn about myself.

Just to keep it :)

RULES FOR DADS OF DAUGHTERS

A must read for daddies and daughters.

Later, again.

Currently on my last I’ll-stay-up-until-the-wee-hours-of-the-morning-then-wake-up-right-before-lunch-ooh-perfect-things-while-on-holiday for the year. To be honest, the holidays were kind of disappointing. Now I’m not sure if this is normal, but it seems to be among yuppies or at least for those really working on trying to figure out what to do with their lives, to get that serving of blues right before the year finishes. I won’t lie, there were three consecutive days when I just cooped out without a word because I was caught smack in between panic/fear and some good faith in possibilities. Champagne was my savior.

During the past year, I realized that I was a go-getter in so many ways that I’m just darn proud. I was out there and I was doing! and although I did not exactly get everything that I went for, the pitches were thrown, gave it my best hit and now I’m ending the year feeling fantastic because it was a home run.

I learned a lot about myself this year. That really is the exchange when you simply decide to face life head on. Backing down? What on earth is that. I found myself doing things, wholeheartedly I must say, that I never thought I would. It’s funny when I recall how I gave so much of myself in a year and yet, I feel that I have gained more than ever. Let us not get too giddy though, it wasn’t a smooth ride. Rain checks, striking out — awful days and nights, times when you feel horrible and drowning seemed interesting— all part of the package. My wallet and bank accounts were unfortunate victims, too.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that life is one crazy force, and if you just let it carry you, you just might find yourself in a place where you’ll feel spot on, as though it was just waiting for you to arrive.

Who knew that this would turn out to be a year end entry. Up until its last day, this year just won’t quit surprising me. I can’t say I’m not smirking.

One hundred eighty eight.

188 drafts, to say that I have been stuck in a rut would just be absolute rubbish. With all honesty, I have no idea how to draw this out of my system, whatever this is, and put it into writing. I will be honest and say that there will be plenty, if not an avalanche, of unsteady entries. All the same, I’m determined.

So there has been an ongoing purge. I stopped myself from displaying too much emotions for the sake of…self-preservation. Now I just realized how crazy that comes off. Writing has always given me comfort, a form of release I’ve always cherished—hence what was in your head to take on a choice that inhibited you from doing the things you love, because you weren’t sure how to feel, since frankly you don’t know how else to coin it.

Of course that wasn’t the whole story. You were happy, over the moon happy. It was well worth it. And that’s why you took the time off from writing, you chose to feel and live, solely.

But it’s not so easy to write when you’re happy. Not because you have less feelings or feelings about those feelings, or because your happy feelings are any less worthy of being written about than your sad feelings, but simply because being happy makes you want to do rather than respond. Being happy makes you want to go out and enjoy your happiness — there’s just no incentive for you to be crouching in half darkness over your notebook or laptop, muttering sinisterly and chain smoking for days on end without showering when you’re happy.

Whatever it is that’s making you happy, you just want to enjoy it — you certainly don’t want to hole yourself up in a dank, windowless room writing moving things about your feelings, you want to be out FEELING THEM. You don’t want to talk; you want to do. You don’t want to reflect; you want to be. So it’s harder, much harder, to write when you’re happy. You know people want to read about your happiness, that yes, people will relate, just as they relate to your sadness. And you know that when you’re happy, you’ll rush through whatever it is you’re writing anyway, because you just want to thrust open a window looking down over a busy street and sing out to the crowd before you race down into the throng to embrace whatever it is that is making you so deliriously, distractingly, overwhelmingly happy.

SOURCE

Is this an attempt to be cryptic in saying that I’m in a sorry state? I won’t sugarcoat, it’s slightly shameful to have gone back to writing only because I’m at a tipping point. I’m not exactly sure how I got here but it’s more than true to say that sadness triggers analysis, plus we’ve got less than a week left for 2011. Nope, the hormonal rage isn’t making this any lighter.

Oh well who knows with these magnificent combinations, they sometimes say the mad ones do get all the glory at the end. I mean, to justify all the extra alloted shit, there must be something a bit more at the finish line.

CCF's focus on the Family

I love my family even if it is dysfunctional sometimes.

My father was a man of principles and wisdom. When I was younger his form of discipline was his belt. When I got older it became one on one discourses. Whether it be spanking or talking, every single session would end with him praying then hugging me. So even if I felt bad or guilty, I knew I was very much loved.

My mom on the other hand had a completely different strategy because she has super powers – Ultra Pinch and Mega Eyes. Whenever I do something bad, she’d instantly pinch any part of my body her fingers could reach. This ultra pinches are long and hard, I find myself repenting for present, past and future sins. She fires the Mega Eyes when I commit a booboo and we are in public company. She’d stare at me with her mega round unblinking eyes and I’d know I was in big trouble. All her power exhibitions taught me a lot about manners and respect.

My sisters would be the same siblings I’d pick if I were to live another life. Yes, we do fight a lot but the love my parents bonded us with is greater than all our misunderstandings put together. There is no such thing as a perfect family. But there can always be a perfectly loved family.

My mom and dad raised us in just two ways: in the FEAR of God and with the LOVE of God. Everything else stemmed out from that. I just finished listening and watching CCF’s archived sermon series about FAMILY. As I listened to Ptr. Peter Tanchi I remembered my dad and how he not only preached the same Biblical principles but how he modeled them in our family life.

I am personally very picky with sermons and I am sharing this because a lot of us have the same desires: to be a better parent, be a better son or daughter, raise exceptional kids or start a happy family. I took the pains of putting these together because I know, if one spends just an hour of a busy day and listen to what God has to say, lives will be changed.

The videos/audios can be an hour long so I suggest you take time and watch one sermon a week or a day. Click on the photo to go to the link.


Here's a summary:

* Focus on the Family
*Heart Parenting
*Build Positive Relationships
*Teach Intentionally Part I
*Teach Intentionally Part II
*Train Your Children
*How to Treat Family Members

The quality of the relationship parents cultivate with their children determines the weight of their influence. We only have one life and it is too short for trial and error.