Trying To Move On? Read This.

Once, in an anti-smoking ad, producers sent kids to the streets on a smoke break.

They smoked faked cigarettes around adults that were on a smoke break as well. Nearly every single adult was bewildered by what they were seeing, and told them to stop. When the kids asked why they should stop, the adults said, “Because it’s bad for you.” And the kids responded, “Then why do you do it?”

Now that is a good ad. It gets the message across clearly and very effectively, but more importantly, it illustrates a very familiar human concept:

That many things are easier said than done.

Not swearing in fits of rage, not eating food we know is bad for us but tastes so, so good, and lastly, walking away from something we know is bad for us.

One thing I’ve been hearing about since my entrance into womanhood, and a thing that I have certainly experienced for myself at one time or another, is how hard it can be to move on from someone that does us no good whatsoever.

The tough part of this whole thing is that once someone enters into your life, it is next to impossible to imagine a life without them. Not everyone can be so easily dismissed.

What if the smoker never picked up the first cigarette?

A lot of people think that moving on is the part where you’re just over someone. You’re over their ways, your over their words, and you’re just so fed up. But that, simply, is just being over someone.

Moving on is different because you get to a place where you genuinely wish the best for this person. It might even mean smiling at them finding love with someone other than you. But most of all, it’s being at peace.  Peace with the past, peace with the present, and peace within yourself.

How does one find peace?

The best, and sometimes the only way to find peace, is to give it time. It is the most dramatic and cliché saying and suggestion, but that’s because it is deeply rooted in truth.

In many ways, a broken heart is like a wound. Sometimes it’s so deep and so internal you don’t even know it’s there. But after a while, the pain becomes unbearable, and you finally realize it. It then turns into a scar or a cut, and while it can be so present for the first little while, time passes and it slowly starts to fade away...

And even after it’s almost fully gone, you’ll see the little mark, the little difference between who you were then and who you are now.

Don’t be afraid to be changed by your experiences. Don’t apologize for being more careful. And don’t apologize for the steps you took to grow. You are the result of your life experiences.

But being bitter about the past is perhaps one of the most toxic ways to be. It disables us from truly basking in the greatness that is our present, even if it doesn’t feel so great at times, or ever. Because greatness doesn’t come from what we have. It doesn’t come from our luxuries or our ability to fulfill our materialistic desires.

Instead, greatness comes from being at peace. It comes from knowing that even if you were stripped of all that you had, you would still be at peace because of the greatness that lives within you.

So, if the greatness lies within us, why are we so caught up with people who only seem to take it away?

Simple.

We have not realized our greatness yet.

And to you, I say that you are worth the discovery of your greatness. And you’re certainly worth the discovery of your peace. You do not need to exhaust yourself with the process of trying to extract blood from a stone or assign meaning to things you know will mean nothing in the end.

You’re better than empty words and broken promises and repeated mistakes.

The good news is that you can still love a person and get over them, and you can still love someone and move on. But hate fits nowhere. Because all hate means is that a part of you is angry at the person, the situation, or yourself. And frankly, all three things go hand in hand.

Fill yourself with love. Look for love and light in everything that you do and everyone that you meet. Smile when you want to frown and be thankful when you feel there is nothing left.

I know it sounds like the most abstract and indirect route to getting to the place you know you need to arrive at, but there really is no final destination. Just a journey. And you ought to keep an eye out for the beautiful things you’ll see along the way.

So what if the smoker never picked up the first cigarette?

They would not have learned the beautiful lesson in finding the strength within themselves to conquer something they once felt they couldn’t.

The Bachelor Recap: You're Joking, Right?

I missed the “exciting” season premiere of season like, 101 of The Bachelor. However, during a 5 hour break between a lecture and my shift at work, I decided to watch it online.

It never ceases to amaze me how silly I can be sometimes.

To sum it all up, 25 plus an additional 2 women were selected amongst a sickening number of women who applied to be contestants on the show after finding out that the bachelor would be no other than some guy named (get your accents ready) Juan Pablo Galavis.

From what I know, he was on The Bachelorette last season and despite not winning the heart of Desiree Hartstock, he did win the hearts of women all over the world. Critics say it was his devotion to his daughter and life as a single dad that wooed us all. But maybe, just maybe, it had to do with his athletic build, perfectly messy hair, enchanting eyes, and “romantic” accent.

I watched in agony as the “wide” variety of blondes, brunettes, and the token black female were introduced. Each of them trying desperately to put on ridiculous Latin accents to impress him, appear genuine, loving, and “in it for love”. Despite vomit sitting comfortably at the back of my throat, I was able to waste an entire 86 minutes of my life that I will never get back.

As the show progressed, I found myself questioning the ultimate purpose of the show, particularly, the unintended consequences of it.

Maybe some of the women are in it for love, certainly some of them are in it for the publicity, and I bet a few of them are in it hoping for some sort of sexual encounter.

But as I sit here in the audience of God knows how many women, more critical than enticed, I can’t help but think about what this show says about women, and how it portrays us to be.

A number of these women in their introductions jumped at the chance to tell the stories of their “sad” and “depressing” love lives. One of them stated, “I was hoping to be married by 31.” As the visual image of depression grows on her face, she tells the audience the story of how that all fell apart after her ex-fiance called off the wedding six weeks after their engagement.

Aw, how sad. Two words: move on.

My spirits rose when a few of the women portrayed themselves as career-oriented females. One of them is a criminal prosecutor, one of them is a pediatric nurse, and to be honest those were the only two careers I remember really. My spirits sank again when the women attributed their devotion to their career as the reason they were unable to find love.

As if we haven’t seen this enough in our society; the unspoken ultimatum given to women; it’s either your career or your love life, and you'll be lucky if you can fit motherhood into the equation.

Although, Marissa Mayer did a fine job of indulging in all three.

I’m sick of it all.

After watching the show, unsure of whether or not I would progress to the second episode (luckily I have 6 days to decide), I couldn’t help but feel like women can do better. As much as I’d like to blame the television production company, I’m quite sure it wasn’t them holding knives to the throats of the contestants who uttered the following remarks:

“I’ve been dying to hug you.” (Dying, really?)

“It’s not just a rose, it’s my future.” (I doubt your future was that bright anyway, honey)

“I’m sick and tired of people looking at me and feeling sorry for me.” (This came from the woman who had been dumped by her ex-fiance and she said it as her eyelashes slightly unglued themselves)

I don’t know about you, but I don’t actually know any women like this. Not in real life. Most of the women I know who are single are single by choice, or patiently waiting for love. And half the women I know in relationships are dying to get out. Although we ought to be more careful with our use of the word "dying", right contestant #1?

Maybe it was my mistake to watch the show, although I do recall truly enjoying it when I watched it a few years ago. Mind you, that was before I took a few Women and Gender Studies courses at the University of Toronto and totally gave in to trashy, over-sensationalized television drama. I can’t be that unfair though, because I do watch every Real Housewives there is religiously. (New Jersey is definitely my favorite. Gotta love those Italians)

But how can we be onlookers of such genuine tragedy?

If you ask me, which I’m well aware that you didn’t, the biggest part of this tragedy isn’t the lame essence and desperation of the show. It’s that it has been so popular that it has lasted for like, 101 seasons, and evolved itself into The Bachelorette and Bachelor Pad.

The only ray of light I found in the entire show came from, drumroll please, the Canadian! Woohoo! 29-year-old opera singer Sharleen came to the rescue of dignified women. She was granted the holy grail (first impression rose) for being “elegant” and “beautiful” according to Galavis, and undesperate, according to ME.

Prior to the rose being delivered to her, she mentioned on camera that she felt, quite frankly, that the build-up of the chemistry she anticipated fell short of what she felt, or didn’t feel, after meeting (accent time) Juan 

Pablo. She opened up about how forced the connection felt, and then she uttered these magical words:

“It’s about whether I feel something or not. That’s the most important thing.”

The best part of the entire show was her nonchalant reaction to receiving, and apprehensively accepting the rose. She actually said, "Sure", when he asked her if she would accept it. Priceless. She proved to everyone that desperation doesn't win you a rose, just ask the girl in the pink dress with the terrible dye job who thought he called her name, had to turn around, and asked if he'd take them both anyway. Yeah, that really happened.

Sharleen proved that being cool, calm, and collected in the midst of such madness might get you farther than an erotic massage 5 minutes into your one-on-one time.

Bravo!

I know that come next Monday, I will face a moral issue of whether or not to tune into it on television. And if I do it will be because I have absolutely no homework, will have consumed a glass of wine or two, and really, to see Sharleen, my heart (and vagina’s) hero.

But the promise I’m making to myself and to my readers is that I will not let down my sense of reality, and certainly not my understanding of it, and believe for one second that this is a fair representation of women.

But in case it is, we have got a lot of work to do.

Self-Love

Yesterday someone asked me, “What do you look for in a partner?”

This is a question that I had a well-rehearsed answer for whenever it was asked. It was one of those questions I anticipated being asked in that first phase of a blossoming relationship, or one that was blossoming for the time being at least. I loved this question because I got to outline my expectations.

But as I have come to learn, expectations lead to disappointments.

My aunt once told me, “Don’t ever tell someone what you want in a partner, because they act as that person just until they have you. Once they do, there is no need for the act anymore.”  For me, that lesson sunk in immediately.

It’s as if in that very moment, I realized where I had gone wrong in my past relationships. I had such a clear vision, of who I wanted, and what I wanted in that person, that I fell in love with their performance of my vision, rather than recognizing it was an act.

My retrospection on relationships illustrated to me how blinded and consumed I was by my romantic involvement. I often felt myself at odds with myself for not paying attention to my own needs, and neglecting my desires. I broke promises I made to myself, I shunned some of my closest friends, and I felt like I had no time because all of it was spent with the variable him.

When I was asked what I look for in a partner yesterday, my response, for the first time, was “Actually, I’m not looking for a partner.”

If you know me, you know that I’m always looking for a partner. I’m always looking for someone to talk to before I go to sleep, someone to text during class, someone to go out with on a Saturday night, and someone to spend Valentine’s Day with.

But something in me has changed, and a revolution has arrived within me.

My partners are my friends; the few that I have that promise me a good time even if we spend hours in a small space with nothing but our words, and always seem to deliver. My partners are my parents; who are in the living room when I come home, waiting to hear about the events that unfolded in my crazy life that day. My partners are my books; who fill my head with knowledge, inspiration, and food for thought when I need something, anything.

But most of all, my partner is me.

I am not going to re-enact the Women’s Liberation Movement, or belt out “Independent Women” by Destiny’s Child. I am not going to pretend I don’t get lonely at times. But I am going to profess the new found love that I have for the individual that I am, in my complete state of raw imperfection.

I am my partner.

I am the one person that doesn’t abandon myself when things hit the fan. I am the one person that knows everything from my lies to my truths, and everything in between. I know every flaw, every imperfection that makes me perfect. I know. I just know.

While I was writing this, I looked down at my right arm. And I had the simple thought, “My skin looks so soft.” That thought turned into a gesture of me wrapping my arms around myself. For a few minutes, I just sat there, embracing my own body, rocking gently back and forth. The embrace was so warm, so genuine, and so full of love that I began the most peaceful cry I have ever had in my life. Each tear was a piece of my freedom, a part of my emancipation, and a testament to my liberation.

In my head, I repeated, “I love myself. I am beautiful. And I am divine.”

I did not let go until those words travelled from my lips, to my head, to my heart, to my toes, through to my fingertips that radiated self-love to the flesh of my body.

I think that if any of that were untrue, I might feel weird about writing that, and a lot weirder for publishing it on a blog. But because that is my truth, I admit it shamelessly.

You are a mirror of your own world. If you want your world, your life, and your relationships to be full of love, you first must fill yourself with a love so unprecedented, so unconditional, that not even the wildest of fires could burn it, or you, down.

I have endured my fair share of tragedy, and I have endured my fair share of heartbreak, but in all those instances, I was my own healer. It was my hands that healed my wounds, and my voice that provided reason.

If any of that were untrue, I might feel conceited for writing that, and a lot more conceited for publishing it on a blog. But because it is my truth, I admit it shamelessly.

Find your truth. Find yourself. And find the truthful love that you have for yourself, within yourself. You might not want to profess it to the world. But one day, you will wake up so full of love for your life, for your friends, and for the world that you have created around yourself, that nothing short of standing on top of a mountain and screaming it out until you lose your voice will do you any good.

I realized that the reason I answered “I’m not looking for a partner,” surely wasn’t because I’m not looking for a partner. Like I said, I’m always looking for a partner. I think really and truly, it’s because deep down inside, I already have a partner.

Me.