I have been asked numerous times why I moved from New York to where I am today. For a number of reasons, really. And they can’t quite be explained so simply in a conversation because of the highly personal nature of these reasons. I can, however, share on this blog what was on my mind at the time. Let’s time-travel back together, shall we?
May 5th, 2009
Day 1 post-surgery.
About a year ago, out of nowhere I discovered a tiny protrusion on the joint of one of my fingers. It was uncomfortable and I thought I must’ve overdone the knuckle-cracking or something. Over the course of a few months, whenever I was washing the dishes, I could feel it distinctly and even though it was not causing a lot of pain, I became concerned about what it might be. To make the story short, it turned out to be a ganglion cyst and I had it surgically removed a few months ago. A harmless little procedure, actually. The surgeon informed me that there was a little tear on the tendon sheath situated where that joint is and thus the ganglion cyst was formed. Most likely I had hurt myself lifting and carrying all those heavy boxes from my floral suppliers.
It’s been over a couple of months now post-surgery and what’s left of it now is a scar. An arrowhead-shaped scar pointing to the right. Sorta. I have permanent ink all over my body already, and the scar is another form of mark on my skin that will not ever go away. An expert inspected it recently and informed me that my body has developed a form of resistance towards the suture, therefore it has taken the scar a lot longer to recede than initially anticipated. Hmmm.
Day 3 post-surgery.
Day 71 post-surgery.
You know how they say the definition of insanity is the act of doing the same thing over and over, while expecting a different result? This is what I am thinking about tonight. In taking stock of what has happened in the recent years, I realize that I need to investigate the option of letting go of preconceived notions in order to progress towards a happier state of being myself. I know, I know, this is so obvious. Even I roll my eyes, like how could I have not known any better? But years of mental conditioning and a stubborn streak have made me tough as nails, and I’m starting to see that being tough and all that has clearly not brought me any closer to the happiness that I’ve been seeking. Bitterness, most likely. Especially if I continue hanging on to my predisposed judgements and fears. I was telling myself if I keep doing what I believe is right, everything will be fine and dandy. It may not make me happy and it makes me feel alone, but at least I am protected in my safe little bubble. My comfort zone, my rules, my “alone” space, my consequence.
Of late, I have begun questioning whether this is really the best that I can do for myself. I have been convincing myself all these years that the now and here is all good. It’s not great but it’s okay, I’ll live! Even though okay is fine, why do I still keep feeling like crap? In the last few months, while I was away (and taken out from the context of my okay-ness bubble), I started realizing that I can do so much better for myself. Because I’ve been aware of the perpetual void within me and I cannot live with it anymore. Sure, I am known to be resilient and strong, but I have been stuck in the same set of self-imposed conditions that I’ve placed myself into for too long. God knows I have wished many many times for these conditions to change, but at the same time I am reluctant and afraid to step out of my bubble. Now that is insane, especially upon realizing that I have been standing in my own way. It’s just like my scar; the more I am resisting, the longer it will be for the unhappiness to recede. No one can say for sure how long it takes, only I will know when that moment comes to me and I can feel the peace from within. I am healing and I want more for myself. I suppose now is a good time to put the stubbornness aside and regard things with slightly more flexibility, huh?
Taking leaps of faith has never been my thing. It takes a lot of courage, determination and persistence to let go of old modes of thinking. I’m too skeptical and suspicious for that. But now, I want this latest scar on my hand to remind me of what I have to let go in order to move forward. And I do need to move on. For my own sake, goddammit. I really have to get the hell out of my own way and put myself on a different path, or I’ll predictably die alone and insane. The best I can do for myself right now is tune into my intuition and listen closely to what the little voice is saying.
“Follow your heart,” one of my girlfriends had kindly written to me as a form of encouragement.
So that’s that. I made the leap of faith and dove in with my heart serving as internal compass.
Day 985 post-surgery.
Today there is a barely-visible, faint scar on my left hand. I no longer think much of it, but it remains a symbolic reminder of how I had made one of the biggest — and most terrifying — change in my life. To move out, move on and move forward.
A Note from the Universe:
The baby steps in the beginning of a journey, Moonberry, always seem inadequate compared to the brilliance of the dream that inspired them. This is natural. If the dream wasn’t so far “out there” and dazzling, it wouldn’t be worth dreaming! Just don’t be led to think that the physical ground you cover with your baby steps is all that they accomplish. Because for every mortal step you take, another cog in a giant wheel behind the curtains of time and space advances, and with it, 10,000 new possibilities.
Better than Star Trek,