I hope by today, Lili, you have gathered enough strength to face the truth, to face the pain. That’s the first step to healing — you first allow yourself to grieve, then you allow yourself to heal.
Cast away your fears of being branded as cheesy, corny, cornball or weak, wimpy and whining. To hell with labels!
By the looks of it, if you will allow me to be honest with you again, he is not coming back. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never. He has already made a choice four months ago. It wasn’t you.
But today is precious in your healing. Get up. That’s the first step. Lethargy will keep you from borrowing trouble; from replaying and rewinding beautiful moments shared together; from imagining things. Imaginary things are harder to bear than the actual ones. Get real. Feel the pain. Face it.
When you recognize that you’re hurting, my psychiatrist friend told me, you are half-healed. But if you keep on sweeping the dust under the carpet, your emotional baggage just keeps on piling up then they become garbage. I don’t like stinky friends. That’s why I’m here. I’ll help you put the garbage in the emotional incinerator. Let me freshen you up with friendly and loving thoughts. That’s why you have friends — they will keep you warm in the Decembers of your life.
I respect your decision of you not telling your family about your emotional quandary. To begin with, you never involved them anyway with your personal matters of the heart. Though, as I said at the onset, it would always be best to tell Tita Babay about it. You just don’t know how healing, too, are the words of wisdom of a mother. Tita Babay storms the gates of heaven very well and her additional prayers will help you cope. What about Tito Paeng? I’m sure he will just give his little girl a hug. And that will be enough to ease the pain. Just melt in your father’s arms. You don’t need to explain. Cry. I don’t subscribe to the school of thought that big girls don’t cry. Tears are therapeutic. I’m sure the 32-year-old in you knows that too well.
Go out, Lili, it’s not yet the end of the world. You have hibernated enough in the dungeon of despair. I’m not saying that your pain will be wiped away by finding another man who will see that you are indeed a lovable and loving person. But you have to begin loving yourself back first. Then watch the magic unfold.
Move on, Lili. Your crunchy laughter cannot hide the vulnerability you have inside. It’s not only you who is hurting. Stop suffering from your delusions that you have the monopoly of pain. Look around you and you’ll find out that a lot more are also in pain. It’s just that pain has different faces. You lost a boyfriend to another girl. The guy seated across you lost a loved one to cancer. Another lady lost her job and because of that her younger brother cannot go to college. But I want you to be like others who recognize what’s ailing them. There’s no point hiding your wounds with momentary gauze of solitary confinement. Show your bruises even to the closest of your friends. Promise, they will not judge you even if they see you black and blue inside.
Remember that people who are wounded always register that enigmatic beauty. They are strong. In fact they are strongest when their emotions bleed.
To get healed is a conscious effort, Lili. And healing begins with letting go. And letting go is tantamount to reclaiming self-preservation.
Like all ethics and etiquettes, if you still recall what I wrote in my column almost four Valentine’s ago, moving on and preserving oneself are crafts that can be mustered and mastered by people who want to get out of the crude and rude vicious cycle of falling in and out of love with the people who love them less or who don’t love them at all. These skills are the summation of one’s conscious conviction — albeit peppered and punctured with nerve-wracking and heart-wrenching feelings — to be happy and complete in one’s silence and solitude.
I’m not yet finished with my “sermon,” Lili. You always say that I should have been a dancing priest or a singing pastor because I am very passionate and animated every time I say my piece about affairs of the hearts. Wait for me next weekend, I’ll sing and dance for you as long as you promise to listen to my “homily.” I’ll never give up on you until you show me a new you.
Meanwhile, as we both anticipate the reunification of our forces seven days from now, let me repeat to you that it’s about time you moved on. The art of letting go starts from the ultimate conviction that you love yourself more and you believe that you don’t deserve to be hurt. Happiness is a responsibility. That is one beautiful option life offers us. Grab it.
(For your new beginnings, please e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com or my.new.beginnings@gmail.com. You may also snail mail me at The Philippine Star, c/o Allure section, R. Oca corner Railroad Street, Port Area, Manila. Have a blessed Sunday!)