Stepping into the unknown

If we were to imagine a Break-up as a homicide of something that is (or could be/ could have been) love, I reckon that among the suspects on the list we could find Jealousy, Betrayal, Misunderstandings, Character Difference ... However, if that list was mine, in almost all of the cases, the main suspect would be my construct of a Fairy Tale vs. No relationship at all. 
Like in Jessie J's song, "when I am nervous, I have this thing, I talk too much...", I say all different kinds of  things that scare people away, although my only goal in those conversations I so obsessively insist on, is to be honest, to communicate, to be open and to clarify to myself what other person is thinking in order to prevent further misunderstandings. It surprises me repeatedly  how I, in so many occasions, despite being a future psychologist who talks so much about problems of emotional stability and about being mature enough to endure the difficulties and struggles, go back on my own words and act like a 15-year-old. I don't articulate my thoughts properly, I burst into tears whenever I stumble upon something that might be hard to say. And then I go excusing myself for being emotional, which makes me even more vulnerable. And then I just look plain stupid and childish. I can teach and preach about assertive behavior for hours if you need me to, I can demonstrate it perfectly anytime... except when I really need to be assertive and communicate without ...you know, losing it. :)

But, I am who I am. Goofy and silly. Overly emotional. Many times hurt. With bunch of bruises which you might not see.
Previous relationships affect us, no matter how much we tend to forget about them. They make us more or less tolerant, more prone to reacting negatively, more open or more introverted... they affect us on multiple basis. 

Being a future psychologist isn't helpful. Quite the opposite. We are often pulled into a trap of interpreting what is not even symbolical. We attach meanings to what is meaningless. And then we look like psychos. :) But what I have learned is that it is important to step up and fight for your own feelings. I have learned the tough way that you need to sometimes put yourself first and say what's bothering you before exhausting all of your energy supply. Having experience isn't helpful either. Nobody should endure the consequences of our previous mistakes. We should train ourselves to treat each person with which we are in a relationship as if we were in a relationship for the first time ever. Like we are falling in love for the first time ever. Like we have never been hurt before. We should train ourselves to approach to that person with undivided attention. We should enter every relationship all patched up and healed. That's how it should be.

Getting into a new relationship means giving yourself a permission to feel again. 

I wish there was some kind of insurance policy when stepping into the strange jungle of what might become love. I wish we could go surfing in the unknown, just enjoying the waves, the breeze, the sun, the thrill, without worrying whether some big evil shark will suddenly show itself beneath us... But all I can do is wish, because the whole point of being able to step bravely into the unfamiliar is to accept the fact that being scared is okay, that being vulnerable is okay... That putting your guard down is okay.
We just need to be emotionally mature to know when is the time to do it.
You'll never know what will happen next. Don't be afraid to step into the unknown.

 No regrets. 

No instructions. Just love.

Blame it all on capitalism. 

It has managed to interfere in one sphere of human relationships that I believed it could never interfere. It has transformed the concept of love.

We choose a prospective candidate on the market, we sign the relationship contract and pay a certain arbitrarily set price for it. What do we get from it? An unfinished product that requires a lot of care. And, of course, as every other product it has an expiration date. It is either used up too quickly, or is too fragile that it breaks quickly. To rationalize the fact that we are paying for that kind of uncertainty, we cautiously handle the situation. Professionally, with little or no emotion. 

Relationships nowadays require a manual. Instructions with all of the DOs and DON'Ts. Instructions saying what you are supposed and what you are not supposed to do.

You are not supposed to call him more than once daily. Do not express your emotions.

Do not show jealousy at any cost, he'll think you're a psycho.  Do not call him before he texts you in the morning. " I miss you" notes are strictly forbidden. Keep him at unease. Make sure that he never knows what you are about to do next. Stay untouchable. 

...

I guess playing love games just isn't my thing. It is not that I am not able to play them. Anybody can play them. However, if I start playing them, they just become GAMES with no LOVE. Should we lose love at the cost of playing the game?

Who are we playing for? Who are we playing against?

By playing games, have we managed to lose LOVE? Or have we transformed into something that I no longer recognize as love?  In basketball, many of my coaches insisted on defense as a crucial instance of our game. If love is a game, like basketball, does that mean that our guard needs to always be on set? Love used to be one sphere for me in which I can be vulnerable. In the time when fragility and sensitiveness are not to be used in relationships, when can we let our guards down? When will the constant game one-on-one be over? 

Does dropping the ball end the game or a relationship? 

I find this crap exhausting. Unbearable. As I have said, games aren't really my thing.

Call me silly but I will stick to the construct of love that I already have. 

Unconditional, breathtakingly intense, creatively silly, unbelievably inspiring, authentically beautiful...

I am not giving up on it. Neither should you.

Write your own story. With no manuals. With your heart.

The ones we want to remember us

Birthdays. One's reminder that time does pass indeed, even if we somehow try to sustain its passing.

I am always excited for mine, because I love seeing how many different people, dear and kind to me, remember that date and try to make it special for me. I love reading the inspiring sentences they have put together to express their sincere wishes for what will await for me in the future. 

However, on each birthday, there are a few people (or maybe even just one) whose names you desperately want to see on your laptop screen or your cell phone display. A few days before your birthday you sometimes even create a whole imaginative version of how the one who you've been so passionately desiring, awaiting, craving for, comes back into your life by preparing something breathtakingly romantic for your special day, letting you know how dear you are to his heart. Of course, if those people forget about your special day, despite hundreds of "happy b-day" notes, it seems like nobody has even remembered. 

Memories are tricky. In those moments when we feel fragile, they drag us into their cage and display all of the nice, funny, sad, romantic etc. videos and make you burst into pieces every time. They are vicious. "People change. Memories don't." In that  very sentence is hidden the destructive power of memories. 

I promised myself to delete certain messages right after my birthday, as a personal boycott to my own feelings... As absurd as that sounds. Funny how, when it comes to emotions, we regress to thinking that the erasing the concrete means also erasing the abstract. It is as if, by erasing the messages, I can erase the memory of the one who typed them. 

The trouble is that I feel like I can't, because now when there is no physical presence of him, losing the metaphorical is unbearable. One of the brilliant Serbian poets noticed how women after relationships become like fetishists; they persistently collect every single detail that reminds them of their loved one and stick to them like to the most precious things in their life.

The object of our desires exists firstly in our fantasies. When we catch up to the reality and have our hypothesis overruled by "objective" life struggles, I believe that we still use that imaginative aspect to make up to our heart for all the pain that we endure. We imagine, we dream, we create our own little story apart from the reality as a hide-out in case this hack of a life causes us more pain. I am not referring to the world of potential paranoid. I am talking about the magic of our imagination. At least about those of us who never stop using it.

I admit it- I overuse it. That's why my friends often accuse me of acting childish. 

Well, this birthday, I deleted all of the messages. I made myself delete them. 

I decided to move on. To find something new. To embrace the fact that people change and to fully accept the chance that I can change as well. 

Don't let anyone ruin your special day. Ever.