I haven’t blogged in a long time... probably more than a decade. I first started back in 2008, and after that it was an on-and-off thing between 2015 and 2018. Then life happened. You know how it goes: work, responsibilities, general adulting.
Somewhere along the way, writing quietly slipped out of my routine.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the things that have stayed with me all this time — books I keep rereading, shows and movies I return to, songs that still feel familiar no matter how many years pass, even arts (sketches/drawings). And I thought… why not write about that? Why not put my thoughts somewhere again, even if it’s just for myself at first.
So this is me, starting over. No pressure, no schedule — just a place to collect thoughts about stories, scenes, and music that mean something to me. Things I’ve dog-eared in my mind and keep coming back to.
If you’re here, welcome. And if you’ve ever found comfort in revisiting the same stories again and again, you’re probably in the right place.
I really don't know what to title this but heck, i care!
38.
And instead of celebrating like a normal, emotionally stable adult with a clear life plan…
I made a list.
Because somewhere between surviving, healing, working, overthinking, and pretending I have things under control, I realized: I’m still figuring things out.
So here it is.
Not advice. Not lessons.
Just… thoughts.
1. I really thought I’d have everything figured out by now.
That was… optimistic.
2. Dear 18-year-old me:
We are not on the timeline.
But we’re alive. Still fighting. Slightly unhinged—but thriving.
3. I don’t perform anymore.
If you don’t like me, that sounds like a you situation.
4. I used to please people.
Now I barely have time to please myself. Unless....
5. I still try to speak my truth—
but now with less ego and more… let me calm down first.
6. I am letting go of the version of me who was too hard on herself.
She did her best. She also needed to relax.
8. I know I am spontaenous.
But like… controlled spontaneity.
Let’s not destroy lives and schedules, please.
9. People think I’m unapproachable.
I’m actually just shy with a strong face card.
10. I need to feel your vibe before I talk to you.
This is not attitude. This is quality control.
11. Am I proud of myself? Yes.
But also… I can’t believe I survived some of my own decisions.
12. Success used to mean climbing the ladder.
Now it means peace… and not wanting to fight people at work.
13. I’ve been in leadership.
I’ve done it.
I survived it.
I’m okay being the reliable person in the corner now.
I'm just a flower now.
14. I don’t need to be on top anymore. I just need to be okay.
15. One thing I’m good at?
Being resourceful.
Throw me into chaos, I will figure it out. Eventually. With snacks.
16. Also, I’m honest enough to say “I don’t know.”
Which is a skill, by the way.
17. If money didn’t matter, I’d be creating. Painting. Writing.
Being soft and dramatic in a creative way.
18. Somewhere along the way, I forgot that part of me.
Now I’m slowly coming back to it.
Like a reboot… but emotional.
19. I used to shrink myself for people who couldn’t even see me properly. We’re not doing that anymore.
20. Healing is not aesthetic. For the gram, for the TikTok.
It’s messy. It’s ugly. It’s crying and then eating and then crying again.
21. Some days I feel healed.
Some days I feel like I made it all up.
22. Closure doesn’t always come from other people.
Sometimes it’s just you… accepting that they’ll never get it.
23. I’m still unlearning my ego.
Sometimes I want to speak.
Sometimes I should not.
24. Growth is also… knowing when to shut up.
25. I forgive myself for being too hard on me.
And for the times I spoke to myself like I was the enemy.
26. I don’t accept love that feels misaligned anymore.
If we don’t speak the same language: emotionally, mentally—
I will not translate forever.
27. I still believe in love.
But not the chaotic, anxiety-inducing kind. I don't believe in butterflies anymore. I want a peaceful love and a peaceful, aligned partner. (Dear God, when?)
28. I want peaceful love.
The kind that feels like coming home, not like a rollercoaster I didn’t ask for.
29. My people? Few. Solid. Real. Family and real friends.
The kind I’d trust with my life and my worst thoughts.
30. I love deeply.
But I’m learning not to drown for people who won’t even get their feet wet.
31. I am still becoming someone.
And honestly, I don’t fully know who that is yet.
32. Some days I feel strong.
Some days I feel like I’m still that confused younger version of me.
33. And maybe both are true.
34. I overthink a lot.
Like… unnecessarily Olympic-level overthinking.
35. My brain at 3AM++ deserves its own podcast.
Unfiltered. Concerning. Occasionally brilliant.
36. Turning 40 in two years feels… unreal.
Do I feel ready? No.
Will I show up anyway? Yes.
37. If I’m being honest,
I don’t want to work forever.
I just want a soft life, a peaceful home, maybe a farm, rescued animals…
and okay fine, maybe a rich husband, sugar-daddy level. Let’s not lie.
38. To my 40-year-old self:
I hope you’re softer.
I hope you’re happier.
And I hope you finally realized—
you were never behind.
You were just… becoming.
This is 38. Not perfect. Not figured out. But finally… honest.
I think that when you're overstimulated you should appear kind of grayed out and no one should be able to interact with you like a locked character in a video game
To be honest, I literally just watched Dead Poets Society today — and I didn’t even know this movie existed before that.
It all started with me scrolling on TikTok. My feed has been very House M.D. lately — edits, clips, everything. And then I found out that Robert Sean Leonard — Dr. Wilson — played Neil in this movie. That alone made me pause. Then I found out Ethan Hawke was also in it, and my curiosity was officially triggered.
I wouldn’t say I’m a hardcore fan or anything, but I really like Robert Sean Leonard as Dr. Wilson. So my feed slowly turned into a mix of House and Dead Poets Society, and I thought… okay, let me actually look this up.
I read the basic plot, got curious, and decided to just watch it on Netflix.
First Impressions: Surprisingly Engaging
It started really strong. It didn’t feel slow or dragged out at all. Even though I already knew the general idea, it still pulled me in emotionally. I understand why people are divided about this movie — but this is just my personal interpretation.
It’s Not About Rebellion (At Least Not for Me)
What stood out to me most is this:
This movie isn’t really about refusing to conform just to be rebellious.
For me, it’s about questioning things before agreeing to them. Making sure something aligns with your values, your personal convictions, and won’t lead you to regret later. That’s something I strongly relate to now, at this stage of my life.
If I had watched this as a teenager, I probably would’ve focused on the rebellious side. But watching it now, it feels more like a lesson in critical thinking and self-awareness.
“Carpe Diem” and the Power of Voice
I really liked the “Carpe Diem” moment — seize the day. Not in a reckless way, but in the sense that you don’t always have to wait to live meaningfully or speak up.
I also loved the camaraderie between the boys. Each of them had their own personality and growth. The movie slowly shifts from being warm and inspiring to deeply emotional — and that transition hits hard.
Neil’s Story and Why It Hurt
Neil’s storyline was the most painful part for me.
He was a great student. He did everything right. But he felt trapped. Acting was the first thing that made him feel truly alive. When he performed on stage and smiled, it felt symbolic — like he had finally found happiness and fulfillment.
But that happiness was short-lived.
His father’s control and expectations closed in again, and the idea of being confined to a life he didn’t choose was devastating. You could really feel the internal conflict Robert Sean Leonard portrayed — the hope, the fear, and the emotional exhaustion.
Who’s at Fault?
I’ve seen discussions online blaming Mr. Keating, blaming Neil’s father, or blaming both.
Personally, I don’t think it’s that simple.
I don’t see Mr. Keating as the cause. But I do think Neil’s upbringing — not being listened to, not being given emotional space — played a major role in how trapped he felt. It shows what can happen when someone isn’t allowed to express themselves safely.
If I had a child, I’d want to guide them — not cage them. Let them explore who they are, while still offering support.
Final Thoughts: What Stayed With Me
By the end of the movie, what stayed with me wasn’t “to hell with conformity.”
It was this:
Don’t agree blindly. Think. Question. Choose consciously.
And that’s why this movie stayed with me long after it ended.
Compatibility and chemistry are not always enough.
I met you when I was 25.
My first love. My first real relationship.
The person I thought would be my forever.
The person I thought I would grow old with.
We met at work. He wasn’t even my type at first — but he was funny, creative, adventurous. We shared music, art, blogging/vlogging, and turning mundane topics into long conversations about life. Somewhere between laughter and late nights, I fell in love.
Our relationship was intense. Passionate. Full of chemistry.
But compatibility and chemistry, I learned, are not always enough.
Over time, we clashed. We misunderstood each other. I compromised parts of myself to keep the peace. I ignored red flags because I wanted to save us. I loved deeply — sometimes more than I loved myself.
And then one night, after almost seven years, it ended.
Not slowly. Not gently.
Just… suddenly.
There was no long conversation. No real explanation. No proper goodbye.
Only silence.
The hardest part wasn’t the breakup itself.
It was the lack of closure.
I had so many questions I never got answers to:
Did you ever really love me?
Was I important to you?
What was the real reason you left?
I blamed myself for a long time. I wrote letters. I begged. I apologized for things that weren’t only mine to carry. I convinced myself that if I tried harder, loved better, became softer, maybe he would come back.
But he didn’t.
And eventually, I had to accept the most painful truth:
Sometimes, no response is the closure.
Healing didn’t come fast.
It took me almost three years to feel fully okay again.
There were days I thought I would never recover. Days my work suffered, my health suffered, and my heart felt permanently broken.
But I stayed with my emotions. I didn’t rush into another story just to forget the old one.
I healed with time.
With friends.
With journaling.
With faith.
With quiet mornings and long walks with my dogs.
With choosing myself, again and again.
One day, three years after the breakup, I realized something simple and beautiful:
I was okay.
Not pretending. Not surviving.
Just… okay.
Now, six years later, when I think of him, I feel mostly peace.
No anger. No longing.
Only gratitude for what the relationship taught me — about life, about love, about spirituality, and about myself.
That chapter shaped me.
It taught me self-respect.
It taught me discernment.
It taught me that loving deeply is beautiful — but loving wisely is necessary.
And maybe the most important lesson of all:
Sometimes a breakup is not a failure. Sometimes it is a redirection.
I used to feel embarrassed that my first heartbreak happened in my 30s. Like I was late to life.
Now I understand — timing doesn’t mean wrong timing.
It happened when it needed to happen, to become the version of me who finally knows her worth.
Today, I’m not searching.
I’m just… at peace.
Happy in my own lane.
Learning to love myself more deeply.
Laughing more.
Living more gently.
If you’re reading this after being left behind without answers, I want you to know this:
Healing is not linear.
But one day, you will smile again.
You will look back and feel calm instead of pain.
And you will realize that closure can come from yourself — not from the person who left.
This wasn’t a bad life.
It was just a hard chapter.
And I’m grateful it led me here.
Dear you,
When I think of you, I don’t feel anger.
I feel gratitude.
For the love we shared.
For the lessons you unknowingly gave me.
For the version of myself I became because of that chapter.
I pray you are well. Truly.
I don’t carry grudges anymore.
Only understanding.
That relationship was not a mistake.
It was a redirection.
It taught me self-respect.
It taught me discernment.
It taught me that loving without limits is beautiful — but loving with wisdom is necessary.
Wherever you are, God bless you always.
Lately I promised myself to give reading more time — during work breaks, my down time, my quiet me time. Out of all the books I own, these two are the ones I chose.
funny thing is stoicism actually found me first during my breakup era six years ago. i bought this book two years after that. and now here i am, three years later, back on january 25 — day 25, “the only prize.”
today’s reading talks about how the only real prize in life is your own self-respect. not money, not praise, not achievements. just living simply, wanting less, and knowing you’re doing what matters to you. it says the more we want and chase, the less free we become. that part really stayed with me.
For the 101 Essays, i just finished chapter 6. It talks about how discomfort is actually a sign you’re changing. feeling lost, unsure, overthinking, realizing your thoughts are your biggest enemy, wanting to finally stand up for yourself, and accepting that you’re the only one responsible for your life and happiness.
still not consistent. still figuring things out. but i like where my mind is going lately.
I think for the past, almost 6 years I can definitely say— Congratulations self! You made it this far in living these 3 words.
Simple words, but they feel heavy with meaning once you start living them instead of just reading them.
Six years since my first — and last — real relationship. And yes, there was that embarrassing situationship in after… that I’ve fully repented from and moved on.
At almost 40, and I still can’t quite believe I’m here — not settled with someone, not even actively chasing anyone, just living and watching how life unfolds. I think it’s taken turning this age to see how little patience I have for anything less than honesty, depth, and real connection.
Sober
I mean this not just in the drinking sense (though that’s part of it for me), but in living life with clarity and presence. I don’t want to blur my moments with confusion or numbness. I want to feel what’s real. I want to respect myself enough to stay awake in my own life.
Celibate
Not because I’m closed off, but because I’ve learned that not everything that feels close is truly meaningful. I now understand that offering my body without emotional and spiritual safety leaves me depleted.
I’ve never been drawn to hookup culture. Still, in my previous relationship and in that situationship, I compromised my own values more than I should have. I acknowledge that without shame. I’ve repented, I’ve learned, and I’ve grown.
Sex is energy. It’s a spiritual exchange, whether we admit it or not. When shared with the wrong person, it doesn’t nourish, it drains.
This choice isn’t about restriction. It’s about reverence.
It’s not deprivation. It’s discernment.
Selective
This one took time. It came from being exhausted, from being disappointed, from finally realizing that peace matters more than attention. I don’t want just someone. I want someone who aligns with my values, my pace, my honesty. And if that means waiting, then waiting is better than settling.
I still believe in love. I really do.
I’m just not willing to lose myself trying to find it.
Being single doesn’t scare me the way it used to.
I’ve learned that being at peace is better than being partnered but constantly anxious.
I like my life. I like my quiet. I like knowing who I am when no one else is around.
So yeah — sober, celibate, selective.
Not because I’ve closed my heart, but because I finally respect it.
If love comes, I want it to feel steady. Honest. Safe.
