Breakup Survival 101

I am hooked on reading blogs. My day is not complete without checking out my favorites. Interestingly, today I came across a post entitled “Great Break Up Songs”. From a list of ten, I chose three entitled “One Last Cry”, “I Will Survive”, and “Last Goodbye”. You’ll see why.

Fresh out of college, I married at 21 years old. Very young and naïve, I thought marriage would be a fairy tale. Like the stories I read as a little girl I believed it would end with “… and they lived happily ever after”. Looking back now, weddings were the happily ever after endings in fairy tales. After that, your guess was as good as mine.

For 24 years I clung to my marriage trying harder to make things work, hoping to at least make it to the 25th year. But there are things that we can’t stop from happening and it is then that we know when to walk away. It’s been two years now. I don’t remember when I had my one last cry. But I have survived gracefully. I am certainly not an expert in this but I have learned how to survive a breakup and yes, I have learned well. So if you’re still drowning in your sorrows, stand tall, wipe away those tears and learn a few lessons from me.

First, love yourself. When you look good, you feel good. I have always physically taken care of myself. While other women end up miserable and sink in despair, I could easily rival those younger ones whose waistlines could easily match their age. The gym with its dumb bells and Nautilus machines was my playground. But now I have moved on to more nature friendly mind and body wellness activities. I hear every breath I take as I lift my head out of the water, my body gliding across the distance of the pool while I do my laps. I see every muscle where once they never were – in my abdomen, my back, my arms – as they move in rhythm with each pilates repetition. I twist my body and flow with my breathing as I concentrate on my mind and body connection moving every inch closer to a full yoga pose. I catch the wind on my face as I pedal uphill and downhill on my bike until my muscles ache. I have never felt stronger and healthier. And I must admit I look better and feel more comfortable with my body now.

Pamper yourself with time alone. I have learned to go on solo trips. While others cannot imagine themselves doing this, I think it’s the best thing I ever did. I went on a solo trip to Bohol recently. Somehow it made me focus on myself mindful of my own safety. Having already seen the tourist spots before I was prepared to spend a quiet weekend in the resort. I armed myself with books to read, a journal to jot down random thoughts and my iPod to put me in a relaxed mood as I lounged by the pool and, not to forget, my swim goggles. I realized though that even as you prepare yourself for a weekend of solitude, you are somehow forced to go out of your comfort zone. I found myself engaging in conversation with the resort’s General Manager, the dining staff and even the “masahista” as I was having my massage on the beach. And ever so brave, I sat down by myself at a restaurant along the beach waiting for the sun to set while sipping my wine in between chats with waiters. With the attending fears, it was altogether a very liberating experience. I had a wonderful time and will definitely do it again. Go try it yourself.

Second, keep yourself occupied. When your mind is active, you have no time to dwell on the past. Grab a book. Take up a hobby or even a foreign language. Challenge your brain even with those very addicting Sudoku puzzles to keep Alzheimer’s away. Volunteer your time and share your blessings with the less fortunate. Try something different. There’s so much to do out there.

Early on after the breakup, I went back to work. While I was delighted to have been able to re-enter the work force at my age, I realized that it didn’t give me the same satisfaction I used to get when I was younger. I refused to be stuck and miserable. I didn’t waste time. Three months passed and I decided to quit. I have now turned my passion in cooking into a humble home business and continue to grab opportunities in the industry as they come. I too have recently attended writing workshops to nurture my mind and soul. Farthest from my mind, I took it up as a challenge. In my solitude, I am now able to compose my thoughts with wild imagination and creativity. And in my spare time, I teach arts and crafts to underprivileged children.

Third, be happy. Reconnect with women. In times of trouble, your sisters and girlfriends will always be there. Without them, your world will never be the same. My sisters have always been there for me. Somehow they have special roles in my life: the eldest is my confidante - I’ll never forget the time she sat with me for seven hours just listening and giving me words of wisdom; the second is my biggest supporter, encouraging me in pursuing my talent; my twin is my recreational partner, whether it be dining out or just hanging out in the beach.

I have re-connected with my girlfriends. There are seven of us in a closely knit group. We have scoured the restaurants from Binondo to as far as San Pablo, each meal peppered with wild secrets and lots of laughter. We may be naughty and crazy at times but we actually thrive on each other’s spirituality. And of course, there will always be my best friend. Despite the distance between us, I know she is just a phone call away. And even if we see each other only on occasional visits, we will always be there for one another.

Now, you might say that amidst all the heartache, this may be easier said than done. Okay, I won’t say it will just come to pass. There are conditions for this to happen and these are actually inspired by the best selling book, The Secret.

First - acceptance and forgiveness. Each of us has our own shortcomings. Accept the fact that there are things you cannot change and establish the qualities that are most important to you. Once you are able to do this you should be able to forgive your spouses and yourselves for all your faults. Second - thanksgiving. Be thankful for what you have, your children, your own families and all the happy memories you once had with your spouses. After all, there must have been some! Third – the intention to move on. Being miserable is your choice. It’s either you choose to wallow in your misery or move on and emerge a stronger person.

There is life indeed after a breakup. When you’re down there’s no other way to go but up. It’s all about the choices we make. I’m beginning to love myself more as each day brings a smile to my face. I have certainly moved on. I don’t remember anymore my one last cry. I have gracefully survived. But despite our differences we have remained friends. So there’s no need for a last goodbye, isn’t it?

A Thousand and One Faces

There was something about her I couldn’t quite explain. She had the most beautiful and expressive eyes, big and round framed by thick, dark eyelashes. She would excitedly run to me and hold my hand each time I arrived in class. She listened carefully and watched eagerly as I demonstrated the art project for the day. She seemed like an angel, almost too shy.

There were at least twenty five students in each of my two classes at Kaisahang Buhay Foundation (KBF), all of five to six years old. I dreaded the lopsided distribution of three boys to one girl as it really was a test of my patience. Like a rubber band being pulled on one end, I tried so hard to stretch it as long as it can without snapping at my students as soon as it breaks. But boys will be boys and I learned to accept them for what they are, forgiving of rambunctious little monsters, at least for most of the time. But she was different.

She quietly worked on her project but seemed to always want to finish ahead, almost rushing not mindful of the outcome. What was she afraid of? I thought perhaps she easily got bored. But she made others cry, boys included, as she grabbed their materials to create another one or to just simply destroy them. She seemed to derive pleasure in doing so. She was destructive. She showed a certain degree of aggressiveness others would just simply submit to. She was a bully.

I gave her a little warning but her eyes begged me to be more patient, pleaded for me not to be angry. All at once I realized she liked the attention. I looked at her project. It didn’t resemble anything close to the sample I showed them. She had a mind of her own. Was she being creative or just being rebellious? I looked at her coloring sheet that I rewarded them with after doing their project. It was a web of black colored strokes haphazardly drawn outside the picture’s edges. Was she angry? I tried to be very careful not to criticize her work so as not to make her feel rejected. I encouraged her to do it once again, showing her the right way to do it but she was very distracted. I couldn’t read her mind. Her eyes this time were totally blank.

I went to her class once every month and each time she exhibited the same behavior. I tried to dismiss it as out of the ordinary. But something in her struck me and I needed to find out what it was that made her so different. As small as she was, she seemed to be a volcano waiting to explode.

I probed into her family life hoping to find answers to what was bothering her. Or was it I who was bothered? Her father was serving a prison term for drug pushing. Her mother passed her on to the care of her aunt as she could hardly make ends meet occasionally accepting laundering jobs in order to survive. It probably didn’t matter to her that her father was in jail. Perhaps she wasn’t even aware of it or was just too young to understand but having been given up by her mother was the ultimate form of rejection. While this may have been painful to her, I cannot simply fathom her mother’s pain giving her up to afford her a relatively better life.

With so much desire for her to belong, she excitedly started going to school longing to be in the company of other children her age. Her initial feeling of rejection probably began to manifest making life for her teacher difficult. She was a handful! Her teacher, probably not knowing where she was coming from, ultimately gave up on her. She was transferred to another school and once again felt rejected.

This is where I met her. This is where I came to see her if only once a month. It is all clear to me now. Her eyes elicited a thousand and one emotions. She was distinctly filled with anger, sadness and fear. She felt rejected and begged for love and attention. She was always afraid to be left behind. Her eyes spoke to me, pleading for acceptance. And all she wanted was for me to understand.

I now ponder what really is the spirit of volunteerism? Is it just giving a little of our time? Do we actually dare to study their environment? Do we truly give them hope for a better life? Do we in fact give them dignity?

In essence, it entails three aspects: physical, mental and emotional involvement. By being there with them for only but a few hours, we give them importance. It tells them that we choose to be with them despite our busy schedules. When we try to examine their background, we are better able to identify their needs and cultivate their minds. More importantly, when we try to look deeper into their hearts, we are able to nurture both our souls.

I hope, in time, the sadness in her eyes will be replaced with joy, the anger with acceptance and the fear with pride. I wish, one day, the stigma she once felt will be forever gone as she radiantly surfaces above all in her own social sphere.