As much as I’d love to journal, I just don’t have the patience to do it these days. My mind flies away so fast, I can’t sit still and reflect without feeling guilty.
Also, most of my old journals never see the light of day once they are stored away.
I decided to do this journal right here on my blog so that I can just open with a click and look back on my thoughts.
I usually leave goals behind, mostly because I forget about them as I’m consumed with other worries in life. But I hope I can finish this journal by Project Love.
Shoutout to the love of my life, Hermes, thank you for being here and reading this. ☺️
Last night I was reading a heart-warming novel entitled, “Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen”, and this passage stuck with me.
The protagonist’s best friend, Lolly, has struggled with emotional abuse from her mother, Mrs. Dempsey but for her eighteenth birthday, she was given a beautiful vase from her mother. The protagonist reflects upon this.
Turns out, Mrs. Dempsey does love Lolly. I mean, she sure doesn’t love her right, but in some small or strange way, that woman sitting on that faded old sofa loves her daughter enough to save what little money she has to buy her something as beautiful as that crystal vase.
Daddy said you can see the devil in people’s eyes, but maybe the devil is nothing more than the sadness they carry around inside of them, bottled up so tight that it comes out as pure ugliness, like it does with Mrs. Dempsey. And maybe my own mama was too filled with sadness to love Martha Ann and me right. Maybe she wanted to be up on some stage so badly that she couldn’t figure out a way to make herself happy without it. And maybe that’s the way it is sometimes, that there are some mamas so filled with sorrow that it’s better that they leave the mothering to somebody else. I needed to see my mama’s eyes.
That helped me to offer sympathy to those people close to my heart that I wish could love me right.
I realized that just because they don’t love like I do, doesn’t mean they don’t have an ounce of love for me.
Maybe they have too much sorrow in their hearts, and so they don’t know how to love right.
But I’ll take whatever crumbs of love I receive, knowing it’s given with sincerity and a broken heart.
Today’s question reflects upon the person who gives the best advice.
So… Let me tell you about my boyfriend.
Aside from being handsome, kind and intelligent, he’s also a great listener.
I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about his advices that just soothes my heart. He speaks with empathy and wisdom.
I’ll always be grateful that God gave me such an amazing lover in my life.
I’ve got a bestfriend and a boyfriend in one person! How cool is that?
I’ve always been sensitive, I’m even considering myself to be a part of the “highly sensitive person” community or the HSP.
Whenever I share about what’s in my heart, I’m usually answered with: “you’re too sensitive.” “it’s not a big deal.” “get over it.”
But with him, I feel understood. I know I can always come to him and be understood. I love him very much.
I can only hope, that I’m that person for him too. I want to be a good listener… even if I’m not good in giving advice, the least I can do is to listen wholeheartedly without any judgment.
The nicest compliments are the ones you never hear.
-read this before but i forgot where..
I think this statement is true since most of us don’t know how to tell someone we admire them without feeling cheesy or a fraud.
We usually can’t take compliments so we brush it off. I’ve experienced what it’s like to sincerely compliment someone and them thinking that I was just being polite.
But I did mean it and I hope they realized it.
I’m guilty as well because I usually brush off a lot of compliments that come my way. I don’t like compliments because they create expectations for me to live up to.
But I want to change that perspective. Maybe some people are truly sincere and a simple “thank you” can make their day.
Why is it so easy for us to forget the compliments yet remember for years and years the nasty comments people made against us?
Maybe we’re trained to focus on the negative.
Today’s question is:
What is the nicest compliment you have been given recently? Who said it? Why was it meaningful?
I had to reflect on that. I haven’t been out a lot to meet with people, and the times I did go out, I was usually met with some unpleasant side comments.
However, one scenario came to mind.
One evening, I was chatting about my day with my boyfriend when suddenly he told me that I’ve changed. I looked happy and free.
It’s meaningful to me because I have been deconstructing my religion, and have taken a different approach in life. I still believe in God and I think I always will.
I never thought I could embrace the people around me with love and acceptance, simply because I wasn’t taught that. I was conditioned to view people as prospects or candidates for church membership, rather than human beings with complicated lives. Human beings hungry for love and connection.
I cried out to God for repentance and eveyday I learn something new. It’s a daily challenge to undress myself of a selfish perspective, along with all the other false beliefs I held about God, love and life.
When my boyfriend noticed the change in me and complimented me for it, I couldn’t explain the satisfaction I felt. It was a very meaningful moment for me.
I have changed. I’ve always wanted to, and now it’s beginning.
I’m working hard on myself, always learning and stripping my mind of all the trauma that was inflicted upon me. It’s not a pleasant journey, but I believe it will be so worth it.
A few years back, I was on my way to church on a bright Saturday morning, when suddenly a question popped out of nowhere:
If your Dad stopped believing in the Sabbath, would you still keep it?
My whole being was stunned. I wanted to say, “Of course!” But the truth was simmering deep within.
I was keeping the Sabbath because of my father.
My Dad strictly implemented we keep the Sabbath from Friday sundown to Saturday sundown which is the reason why I would rush home every Friday. It’s not because I’m “honoring” God but rather I’m honoring my Dad.
After that epiphany, guilt seeped through my soul. I needed to get right with God and learn to have an independent kind of faith.
For days, I’d imagine myself living alone in some foreign country and wondering if in that open space of freedom, I would still keep the Sabbath. Turns out I felt I would but maybe not to the extent of how my Dad does.
This is a controversial thought even to me so I decided to keep it tuck inside of my heart.
During the quarantine, memories of feeling empty inside the church resurfaced. I remember sitting on the pews, observing and realizing that the elders cared more for the flow of the program than the actual worship for God.
Isn’t the reason why we’re in church to worship God?
Yet more enthusiasm is given to announcements for church building or radio ministries or “please enroll your kids to our church school!””
I wanted to worship God.
The best I could get of the glimpse of real closeness to my Heavenly Father is when we would kneel and sing a short chorus of “Open Our Eyes.”
The sermons usually consisted of pastors shouting and subliminaly telling us we have to work for our salvation. Either that, or showing 100 slides of their trip to some mountain and 5 slides of the actual sermon.
Those moments brewed up the doubt in me: Am I in the right church?
I couldn’t feel God near inside the church no matter how hard I tried.
Youth programs consisted of trips to an isolated place while throwing God in the mix with some basic Bible games.
The quarantine gave me a lot of time away from the church which made me reflect and question…
What if everything you were taught waswrong?
I couldn’t even begin to entertain that question. I felt evil for ever thinking that Jesus was outside our church belief.
Right now, I’m in a state of relearning.
I want to learn the Scripture with the lens from the Holy Spirit and no one else’s.
It’s hard and confusing because what if I’m wrong? What if all these years, the reason why I felt there was this wall between God and me is because I didn’t know Him correctly?
It’s scary and I don’t know what’s going to happen next.
I’ll take these moments and dedicate it to prayer and study of the Scripture.
When my family decided to install a CCTV, I got to see my myself through another person’s perspective and I was mortified. The way I acted was definitely not how I thought I was acting.
All I along, I had this idea that I was self-aware but I was completely wrong.
The way I walked and moved was so weird, almost annoying even.
This realization only dug up feelings of shame that made me want to hide under the covers and never come out.
Childish.
I’ve been told that a thousand times and now I understand why.
I recently read somewhere in a book which I have now forgotten, or was it a YouTube video? Who knows?? Anyway, the thought is that children who experienced trauma get stuck-at the age when the trauma was felt.
And let me tell you, my childhood, was filled with a lot of traumatizing events for a sensitive little girl like me.
My mind thinks in dimensions but I execute my thoughts differently because I’m nervous.
Seeing how I acted so childishly and nervously made me want to punch myself and scream, “Grow up!!!”
Yet.
There’s a part of me who thinks that if I grow out of this childlike manner of mine, I won’t be able to appreciate the little things; like how the clouds look so blue, or smile at the pretty butterfly that circles around me. I might not be able to cherish the flowers by the roadside or the dogs I meet on the streets, etc. I might lose all this ability to see the beauty and wonder in everything if I…. grow up.
Is it worth losing everything that sparks life in me?
I once exclaimed out loud to a group of acquaintances, “Wow the sky looks so nice!!!”
To which, I was answered mockingly:
“Never seen a sky before?”
To which, I wanted to say 2 words in reply.
Sometimes I panic with the thought of: Am I annoying?
Because I don’t intend to be. And I’m sorry if I am.
My real goal in life (unconsciously) has always been not to bother anyone.
Sometimes I wish I was invisible, then I can precisely be free.
Maybe I don’t act my age or maybe people can’t seem to grasp how at 22 years old, I can still wonder and marvel and appreciate the simple things in life.
Let me narrate a few things I’ve “accomplished” so far (from a worldly perspective) :
I’ve already graduated, had my first job and quit, started a small business, self-published a book, I’m in a healthy relationship, I know how to cook, clean, do laundry…
Laundry. That reminds me, the person who keeps telling me I’m so childish is someone who doesn’t even do his/her own laundry.
And I –
There are a lot of factors that made me turn out the way I am today. I don’t want to put the blame on anyone but it sure did affect me… damaged me even… all caused by “grown-ups” who claim they know everything about the world.
If you are reading this and have called me childish before, I want to sincerely apologize for all the pain and discomfort I’ve caused you by being myself.
I am learning. I am growing. Maybe I’ll be all grown up when I’m 32. I’m still trying to figure it all out.
But be assured, when I reach that level of adulthood that everyone is talking about, I’ll still have that childlike wonder tuck somewhere in my heart.
During the month of May, I mustered the courage and probably lost my rationale when I decided to share my blog to my family members. I even created a Facebook Page and invited almost all of my family in the hopes of generating traffic for future posts.
Only, those future posts never came.
Here’s why.
“You think you write well, but you don’t.”
Those weren’t exactly the words said to me but it ran along the same lines, coupled with a mocking tone. Congratulations! My sunny hopes were shattered. I said goodbye to my inspiration to write.
I’ve been told before by various people atleast five times in mocking and condescending ways that I don’t write well, that I’m not talented, that I’m not a real writer, etc.
And believe me, I know. I know that I’m not a good writer.
I’ve accepted that fact a long time ago, but it took years for me to build up the courage and confidence to share my writings to people I know.
I have absolutely no worries sharing my blogs posts or articles to strangers. But if someone I know gets to read it, I might as well hide.
That’s why I couldn’t understand what went through my mind that made me think I could share this little piece of art I have here, to my family.
Because they don’t even care.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate them if that’s how they feel. That’s alright. I’d rather them not care than make a nasty comment.
Picture my self-esteem vanishing like a mist when I heard these words:
“You think you write well, but you don’t.”
I felt like my castle crumbled overnight. (credits to tswift!)
In C. S. Lewis’ book, The Four Loves, he explained that sometimes family members make fun of someone who is different because 1) they don’t understand 2) they are insecure 3) they wish to do what the other is doing.
That happened around May, it’s July now and my family has forgotten this blog has even ever existed. I have deleted my Facebook Page and they never even noticed. I guess this is true:
If you’re absence doesn’t bother them, you’re presence never mattered.
Unknown
Well, good riddance. I have bounced back from that deep dark well I have allowed myself to climb in to.
Another lesson has been ingrained in my heart. It’s better not to tell anyone about this. If you happen to be here reading this seemingly lengthy and pointless post, I would like to thank you. Thank you for your time.
While going through a difficult time, I pushed through all the hardships and self-published my book, Threads of Hope. I am proud of myself for persevering even when the voices got loud… I once told my mom about my plans of publishing a book and she answered, “But who would ever buy that?”
I guess she’s right. It’s been more than a month. And I still got zero sales. If you’d like to prove my mother wrong, feel free to purchase it here. 😉
I don’t think it’s all about the sales but rather about the courage and the determination to not listen to the voices telling me I’m not good enough and just publish it.
I wanted to jump up and down with joy when it went live on Amazon. It took all the strength in me not to tell my mother because I know it will only be received with a lifeless comment.
Some of us have dreams that others can’t and refuse to support. But that’s okay, because you have God and yourself. In my case, I’ve also been blessed with a boyfriend who truly believes in me more than anyone ever has.
There’s light in the darkness and there is hope for us to rise up from all this negativity weighing us down. Don’t stay in the deep dark well, you can bounce back and let your light shine. Believe in yourself. ✨
Life With Rachel 