diary entry #2


There are times when I’m in the thick of my emotions, and I need some external kick to bring me back to earth. For me, I’ve noticed that it helps to aid another person in their struggles during those times. I would still argue that it’s important for me, or anyone, to acknowledge and address their feelings, but sometimes there are moments when you want to be reminded that no matter how shitty you feel, there are people out there who value you and even need you. That despite all the shit that’s been tossed your way, it doesn’t define who you are. There are people in your life who you are important to and need you to be there for them, and that far outweighs all of the shit.

Earlier tonight, I was in one of those times, and I felt my past getting triggered in my current relationship. The logical part of me knew that nothing in my relationship is like the past, and if anything, it’s different in a good and healthy way. In actuality, it’s been a great reminder of my own progress and growth. With all of the self-work I’ve done, I have concrete evidence showing me that I’ve built the tools needed to enter into a healthy relationship.

But just like any other human being, I still struggle with things, and I have my emotional triggers. I’m realizing how much I still carry some of the pain of my past relationships, and how I need to work through some of those emotions. Tonight, those emotions rolled over and gripped at me. I felt as if I were being ignored, tossed aside and passed over yet again, even though nothing of the sort was logically occurring. But the fear and pain were chewing at me, until I wanted to retreat far away inside myself.

Just as I crouched on the floor and began to cry, a friend messaged me. He was going through a situation and he needed someone to talk to. Immediately I felt this jolt. Instead of spiraling down into my despair, his need stopped my spiral and grounded me. Anna, I know how triggered you feel, but someone needs you now.

So I got up and attended to my friend. And afterward, I felt a lot better. It struck me then how powerful it can be to be of help to another human being. And even more, it challenged my spiral; instead of soaking in thoughts of being unloved and not enough, in the very next moment, I was given proof that contrary to how I feel, I am loved and enough. There are people who see something in you and it’s about time that you start seeing that in yourself. That’s a fight I need to start taking on.

But the thing is, no matter how many people you help, your baggage doesn’t magically go away. You still need to attend to that, as well as yourself and your feelings. Even as I write this, I feel remnants of those heavy emotions and I know I’ll need to face them head on. But it’s good to surround yourself with good people, and good reminders of the honest to God truth, that we are worthy, lovable and enough just by being who we are… regardless of how people have treated us.

still hanging


Truth be told, I’ve always sucked at letting go.

All the unanswered questions are threads still tied to my wrist, tugging and beating against my thin skin to the rhythm of my heavy heart. They keep me hanging on.

It’s all because of you that I hate being left hanging now.

But I keep it to myself, because I already hear their words spitting harshly in my ears, “That was a long time ago. Shouldn’t you be over it by now? Just stop thinking about it.” Yet I’m coming to find that when it comes to the matters of the heart, time plays a very minuscule role, no matter how much they try to convince you otherwise. It feels as if very little time has passed, especially when I see your face, when I am reminded of you on freeway, at the cafe, or in those moments when you randomly pop into my mind. The wound is still there, bleeding profusely, but I only clench my fists and wish fervently that it wouldn’t matter anymore.

I often tell myself, “You had a serious lapse of judgment there.” The neon sign flashed at me, telling me to turn the other way.

But that’s the other thing. Although in all other cases it is an apt sword, logic, too, cannot tame the tsunami of emotions that flood you when you let yourself go to love.

And when I let the emotions flow, they scream out, I hate you. I miss you. I’m hurting so bad right now. Get out of my head. Leave me be. I want your memory to die away into the deep recesses of my pretend. And how desperately I still want to pretend… but my feet are firmly rooted, and I worry now if I will ever fly again.

When two people break apart, you are left to pick up the broken pieces alone, to make sense of it, to reconcile, to forgive, to move on. But what do you do when you are missing so many pieces, that you don’t have enough to put something together?

So I keep trekking, keep rising up. Hope is my air and I inhale. Make do with what you have.

The threads pull and wrap around my wrist tighter.

My heart is a mangled mess and even though I try and try to re-right it back, I know nothing will ever be the same. I won’t be the same. Maybe I’m not supposed to be. Even with all the agony, pain and despair, we’re meant to be moved, to be affected, to hurt. Maybe that’s the only way we learn and grow.

diary entry


There’s this guy at Starbucks that I have a big crush on. Every Monday and Tuesday, before I head to work, I see him.

Most of the time, the extent of our conversations are if I want sweetener in my latte, or honey with my tea.

Once I tried to strike up a conversation with him. My heart pounded in my chest, I swore he could hear it, and I felt vulnerable, bare, and stupid.  We just talked about sprained wrists.

Whenever I see him, I wonder if he feels attracted to me too, or if I’m just spinning fantastical fairy tales in my head as I’m prone to do, or if I’m just a regular customer to him, another face in the crowd.

He remembers my name.

But that doesn’t mean anything.

He looks so calm, cool, and collected. So it makes me want to play cool too.

Yet to what end? Here I sit, here many of us sit, chewing on our feelings, putting up a “cool” mask, holding back for the sake of social propriety, saving ourselves from the risk of being vulnerable because it fucking sucks to hurt.

I wish I didn’t have to hold back. I wish I could just fearlessly say what I really feel. I wish vulnerability wasn’t seen as so ugly or scary in society, but seen for what it really is: real, genuine, and beautiful.