Posts tagged gratitude

Here’s a little something to perk up your day, and mine too. I mentioned honey B in my previous entry and I thought I’d dedicated this gratitude post to her. She was the last girl I’d ever expect to be friends with, considering we have a common history. Let me tell you our favorite story, the story we tell people when they ask us how we became best friends. We always get a laugh out of it every time we tell it, and we never get tired of reminiscing that day:

Back in 7th grade, I was dating someone on and off for a few months. I was absolutely head over heels for this guy. Little did I know, he was dating her too. I’d never met her, or heard of her except through a social network site. She was pretty, with a rocking body and a sex appeal that shot out of the PC screen. He ended up going for her instead of me, and you can’t imagine how much that bothered me. She was the thorn that shattered my la vie en rose. Fast forward to college, and who do you think is the first person I meet? Her. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the first day of school, so naturally you had to project a certain image to distinguish yourself from everyone else. I might also mention that at my school image and wealth was everything, from the accessories you wore to accentuate your uniform, to the gadgets you had. (I might mention that if the way I tell this story seems a bit snooty, I apologize, but I’m doing it so you get a better feel of the situation and how funny it actually is.) I was sitting in the lobby of our school, prim, poised and proper in my uniform - a crisp white button down, black pencil skirt, blazer, which I paired with classic Ferragamo heels. I was wearing my grandmother’s pearl necklaces, with my mother’s fine south sea pearls adorning my ears. I was peering at my schedule through my vintage Christian Dior shades, reviewing what my day would be like. Filipino in the morning, English in the afternoon, Maths in between, et cetera, et cetera. Yawn.

I was looking around at the sea of students coming in, wondering who I’d make friends with and who wouldn’t be worth my time, when lo and behold, B walked in. I remember my eyes flashed as I recognized her, after which I immediately started surveying her. You know how it is ladies, the catty, snooty head-to-toe. That girl…that bitch…that…AGH! What was SHE doing here?! She walked up to me, giving me the quick head-to-toe and in the snootiest voice you can imagine said, “Uhm, you’re Sarah, right?” The way she said my name, the way she emphasized it was so charged with disdain and condescension. I swear, I would’ve smacked her if I wasn’t brought up so well by my mother! I took a few seconds to take her appearance in.

Her face was well-made up and polished, and she was actually prettier in person. She had big eyes, a well-pointed nose that fit her heart-shaped face, full lips and long lashes. Her hair was naturally curly, the kind of curls that women envy and go to salons to have imitated. She had a nice figure that looked good in the school uniforms. Gucci shades, Louis bag, Marc Jacobs heels. Alright, alright. Not bad. That designer-whore of a bitch. (According to her, I looked like a class A bitch too, sitting on the couch with an erect posture and my legs crossed, looking at everyone and her from down the tip of my nose! Haha!) I slipped my sunglasses off my face, hooked them in button-down and just as snootily, with my eyebrow raised, I replied, “Bea?” The way I said her name was of aloofness and haughtiness. The whole you’re-not-worth-an-ounce-of-my-time-and-I’d-find-more-meaning-and-substance-in-a-used-piece-of-tissue vibe. She took a seat beside me on the couch, in which I made sure there’s a space between us and we didn’t say two words to each other. I checked my phone and before I realized it, I was almost late for class. I rushed off, leaving her to rot on the couch, haha. (At this point she’ll cut in and say that the whole time we were sitting there, and even after I left, she was thinking to herself, “Ugh. This girl has NOTHING on me. Ferragamo? Christian Dior? Puh-LEAZE.” Haha! Then she realizes we’re in the same class and she comes in late.) As snobby as that encounter was, I was raised to be polite and gracious so I put my best foot forward and told her she could sit next to me. Yes, you may be graced by my presence. Haha, kidding. I figured I didn’t know anyone and like I said, I had an image to project and I wanted it to be of a friendly nature. (Here she’ll say that she was so confused when I said she could sit down, and her bitch instincts told her to sit somewhere else. I mean, why the hell would she sit next to ME but she was thinking, “Fine, whatever! I don’t know anyone anyway”. She ended up sitting down. Haha!) We started talking about ourselves and getting to know each other, all the while making fun as we wondered how in the world we were going to survive a class that was purely in Filipino (because English is my first language, and she communicates mostly in English as well). We even ended up having lunch together, with a boy we met in class. Long story short, for the rest of the day we laughed and made fun the boy we both dated, wondering what the hell we were thinking when we went for him.

From being the last person I’d ever think of befriending, she became the one person I’d be devastated to lose. While we’ve had our fair share of ups and downs, and we’ve had a ROLLERCOASTER of a friendship (from not speaking for months to outcasting each other), we still accept each other completely and entirely. She’s the one person I can open up to and talk about anything, and she feels the same way about me. I don’t necessarily like the things she tells me, nor do I approve, but I’ll always be there to listen willingly and patiently. She feels the same. We’re open and honest about our opinions, without maiming or attacking each other, about the things I do or the things she does; at the end of the day she’s never judged me, even when I was the worst person, nor I, her. Trust me, we’ve done a lot of silly, stupid, reckless, crazy, and outlandish things in the past, and neither of us will hear a word from each other about what an awful, horrid human being we are. I can rely on her for anything and everything, and she can rely on me. If anything went down, nor matter how far we are from each other, we’d drop everything and get to each other in a blink of an eye. We have each other’s back in any situation, even if I’m wrong or she’s wrong. In a way, in all ways, she’s my sister, she’s family, and family will always have family’s back. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for each other, and while I’m not a fan of violence and killing, we’d take a life for each other just as much as we’d take a bullet. I’m beyond thankful for having her as my best friend and sister, and so should everyone who has someone like her in their life. People like my honey B only come once, and it’ll take a lifetime to replace them.

I’ve been seeing someone recently (yes, J and I broke up) and he’s absolutely wonderful beyond words. We’ve only been dating for a month, but I’m so taken by him. Aside from the fact that he is devastatingly handsome, he’s charming, amicable, intelligent, humorous, and witty. He’s very authentic and genuine, and completely unapologetic about who he is. He likes the same things I like and we always have a grand ole time when we’re together.

What I’m most thankful for is that he is patience, concern and understanding that he displayed while I was relaying my story of bulimia and depression. You see, I’d been dreading the day that he’d find out or that I’d have to tell him because I didn’t want to scare him away. I really, really, really like him. A lot, a lot, a lot. You see, my greatest insecurity and fear about my condition is that people would be turned off and no one would stick around. If you’ve seen the movie “Love and Other Drugs”, you’d know what I mean. Jake Gyllenhall visits her, and he’s reeling with happiness from the success of his trade. He walks in on Anne Hathaway getting drunk on vodka. She’s angry and frustrated, not at Jake, but at her condition. I can’t remember the conversation verbatim, but she yells at him to get out and find another girl. Anne Hathaway’s character said something which stuck to me, and it is the essence of my fear: ”No one wants to be with the sick girl.”

Needless to say, this certain someone is still around; his presence and the knowledge that he isn’t going anywhere just because of my condition, that is enough to be thankful for.

I haven’t been around much lately. I stopped going to this tumblr because it was centered on bulimia, and it’s bad enough that I think about it too much. I thought it would help and it did, because I had an outlet where I could pour my heart out - all my victories, triumphs, aches and pains. Except things started taking a turn for the worse and I couldn’t write about it anymore. It was all too painful to recollect. (These days I haven’t been doing so well in terms of that department. My depression is getting worse and so are my episodes.)

 What I know I need is a distraction from the voices and thoughts bouncing around in my head. It’s not so much repression, because we all know repressing any kind of emotion isn’t good. It’s rather learning to deal with these voices by talking back to them. I need a new voice, a positive voice, one that will reinforce all the goodness in the world. I need that voice to drown out all the other voices when they threaten to speak up. These days there are so many bad things going on in the world, or in our heads, that I want to part of the movement that outshines that. I want to be part of the movement that speaks about the resilience of the human spirit, compassion, kindness, courage and bravery. I want people to come to this tumblr and walk away with the strength to be exactly who they are and to be OK with that. 

I’ve had a good run with this tumblr. I’ve met so many wonderful people. To all my followers and to those I followed, you’ve all been an inspiration to me. At one point or another your posts have empowered and encouraged me to keep going. To keep fighting the good fight. It’s my turn now to pay it forward.

So since this is a gratitude post, I am grateful to those who followed my blog and to those I followed. I am grateful for all the hearts that touched mine, and all the hearts I touched. You’ve all been an inspiration to me. At one point or another your posts have empowered and encouraged me to keep going, to get up and keep fighting the good fight. It’s my turn now to pay it forward. I love you all dearly.

I hope you all follow me and spread the word about my new tumblr thegratitudeattitude.tumblr.com

All my love,

S

The other day my parents and I revisited Cafe Gratitude. Every day they have a “Question of the Day”. On the day we visited, the question was, “What is most extraordinary about you?” My father said, “Well I smile a lot!” and indeed, a winning smile was plastered to his face. A few days after, I contemplated the question and came with an answer: “What is extraordinary about me is that despite all the suffering I’ve seen or heard about, despite my own suffering and inner turmoil, I have not allowed myself to be hardened by those ill feelings and experiences but rather, softened by great love and compassion for all human beings.”

Their tagline is also, “What are you grateful for?” They have merchandise and every plate they have has the words printed on them. I said this once and I’ll say it again, I believe people live unfulfilled because they fail to appreciate or be grateful for all the things around them. Sometimes, when I am consumed by my own grief or depression, I can be one of those people. I fight that by trying to be grateful for something, even if it’s just a little thing. This morning I was grateful for the morning sun. Mornings are my favorite time of day, especially 4AM. I can relax, quietly reflect or be peaceful best at 4AM. Perhaps that is why people choose that time to meditate. I think it is because at 4AM the world, or where I am from at least, is in its most quiet and tranquil state. It’s a seemingly perfect time because it is right between yesterday and today; the weariness of ‘yesterday’ is washed away by the purity of 4AM, and you don’t even yet have to think about ‘tomorrow’. It’s the clean slate between yesterday and today; the here and now of time. So I am grateful for mornings and the morning sun; the smell of coffee or breakfast. I am grateful for good morning hugs, kisses and cuddles. I am especially grateful for that little space in time where I feel as if I and the whole world is harmonized in peace.

There is so much that we can be grateful for if we take the time to look beyond ourselves and instead, inside ourselves and out to the world.

What are you grateful for?

I’m in San Francisco right now for vacation. Mum and I came over from the Philippines. My brother is following sometime in May. We all came over to spend time with my sister, who’s leaving to join the Marines. I can’t remember the last time we were all here under this roof we call home. It must have been what, 11 years ago? And now 11 years after moving to the Philippines, we’re all back. We’re all grown up now, but being back here makes us all feel like kids again. The happiest years of our childhood was spent here in this house, in this town.

I’m grateful for this house, the memories and my family.

My Dad and I once ate in Cafe Gratitude in San Francisco. Before they served our food, the server asked, “What are you grateful for?” My Dad, which a smile on his face and much conviction in his heart, said, “I’m grateful to be alive!!!” I thought it was a rather mediocre, generic and uninspired answer but now that I think of it, it’s perfectly legitimate.

I think a lot of people take being alive for granted. They’re sleep-walkers. They go through life unaware and unconscious of everything around them, just like sleep-walkers. In the end, they’re never able to fully appreciate what they have. I know I take being alive for granted. I’m sleeping too much, therefore preventing me from appreciating everything around me. I take Life so much for granted that last night I took 5 Prozacs, and if I had more I probably would have taken more, because I wanted to be so drugged up that I wouldn’t have to deal with Life.

But the realization is simple - Life, in itself, in all its glory, is worth living for.

I’m grateful to be alive (and not drugged up). I’m grateful for this heart of mine, which never stops to rest to beat for me. I’m grateful for these eyes so I can take in the beauty of my surroundings, or the faces of my loved ones. I’m grateful for my legs which take me wherever I’d like to go, and even further. I’m grateful for my hands and arms so I can hold hands, people, feel things, hug, caress, help. I’m grateful for my lips because I can kiss the ones I love and shine the bright light of a smile on the world. I’m grateful to be alive.

I think people take Life for granted because they’re not grateful for anything. I was one of those people. I took everything, everyone and even myself for granted. My mother’s NY resolution was simple: live well, love well and have a grateful heart.

Every day I will try to be thankful for something. It doesn’t have to be grand. It doesn’t have to make sense. It just has to be something you are thankful for, whether it be rubber duckies, electrical sockets or the theory of evolution.

I’ve been lying in my bed ALL DAY. I haven’t turned off the air conditioner and the only light I have on is a lamp. All I’ve done today is write things in my journal or type on my tumblr, listen to music and hoard recipes online. I’ve had 3 cups of coffee and countless cigarettes. Did a few pages of sudoku. Started reading a new book. I have my big Pooh to keep my company. It’s my REST day. “Restricted Environmental Stimulation Therapy.” I read about it in a book called the happiness makeover. Sometimes you just need to take a break from everything so you can stay home all day in your jim-jams doing whatever you please. It’s a day of pure pleasure, relaxation and indulgence.

I am thankful for REST days. :)