Thursday, November 24, 2016

Just...love

I've lost count on how many times I've talked about Love in my texts. Too many? Not enough? 

The funny thing is, while growing up it never mattered much. Sure, I grew up watching all those Disney films filled with numerous Princes Charming, Happy Ever Afters and unrealistic expectations... but even in my 5 year old mind I knew those were just films, not necessarily the way things had to be. I always knew the difference between fantasy and reality (trying to make my mother understand that, was a totally different story), so maybe that's why I never dreamt about finding my prince Charming - no, I only wanted the castle that seemed to come with every Happy Ever After (still do).

And although I have two very loving parents and had an overall happy childhood, they weren't, and still aren't, very "verbally" loving. Sure, I had hugs and kisses pretty much on demand, but the word love wasn't very common. That doesn't mean I didn't know just how much I was loved, that was never up to debate. Through my "experience" with familiar love and a short term with romantic love, I'd like to think I've learned a lot of things about it. 

While I'm far (really really far) from being an expert, if there is one thing I'm sure about is that love is not exclusive. If anything, love is inclusive. That it's possible to love two different people just as much but in different ways, different types of love. That there are a million of forms of love and of loving someone.  I've learned that all love needs is a bond between people, any kind of bond, and it can grow so much from just that. I've confirmed the almost universal truth that the first love really does cut the deepest. 

But the hardest part of Love is not letting go. Letting go becomes easy the moment reality finally sinks in. The hard part is letting someone new in after the fall. It's re-learning to trust the broken heart you just fixed (or not) into the hands of someone else. It's knowing you'll never fall just as hard, just as fast as the first time, because now you know best. It's fearing you are holding back too much because you've felt the consequences of not holding back at all. It's knowing it can crumble and fall just as fast as it was built.

The hardest part is not having to let go, it's knowing you can.

Andie

spin me around , make me dizzy

Saturday, November 12, 2016

All Out [part 2]

As the year mark gets closer, it dawns on me that one whole year has in fact just gone by. Where did time go? It feels like everything just flew by me too fast and simultaneously not fast enough. I still feel the same way I did back then, and I'm still unsure why. I moved on - or so I thought -, just to fall back into the same hole I believed being finally free from.

But it's with no shame whatsoever I admit that, even after all this time, he is still my favourite thing to write about (directly or indirectly, however hard I try to fight it). There are countless words and ideas swirling in my head at all times and, when it's not work related stuff, it's about him. And I've fought so, so hard against then... But there are things that just don't change.

I'm trapped between the need to move on and the reluctance to do so.

[Disclaimer: I was positively way past "just tipsy" when I begun writing this, so I had to stop myself here and sleep it over, or this would have gotten really depressing real fast]

So, in my recent trip to Ghent I left some of my ghosts by the river, in-between autumn coloured trees and large cups of tea. I boarded that plane with a heavy soul and a desperate need to get away from reality, even if just for a week. I return somewhat lighter, with less weight on my shoulders, and an overwhelming desire to embrace the world, to embrace Life, exactly as it is.

I will admit I had thought that, by now, the emptiness would be gone... And in some ways it is. But I find that void sometimes filled with such negative ideas that make me wonder if it wouldn't be better to just keep that space empty. I still feel just as alone as I did, it still hurts just as much. But I know now that there will always be some kind of void left behind; that nothing will ever be capable of completely fill that. There will be other things to balance the scale, there will be other unfillable voids.

New things are scary. And I've come to realise that there are some things, besides unfillable voids, I didn't know I was afraid of.

I didn't know I had trust issues (and to some extent I don't). But the mere idea of trusting someone, of depending on someone, on any other level beyond friendship makes me shut down and run for the hills. Maybe it's because I've tried trusting and it didn't worked out, maybe is one of those unfading voids, maybe I'm just still broken. How in any other way would I still look in the mirror and not like what is staring back? I became dependent on what others saw in me and stopped caring about what I saw in myself.

But I'm getting better at fighting my ghosts in this "self love" thing; I'm ready to accept that not everything will go as planned or as dreamt. And that big what if is a dream I'm finally ready to wake up from.



Andie
fly away
| also on my Instagram |

[I don't usually recommend musics for my posts, but I had Sermon by James Arthur on repeat while writing this]


This is my Pity Party weekend. Today would have been the first day of our 4th year anniversary weekend, because we couldn't agree about in which day it had actually started - the 12th or the 13th. I'd like to believe that, in a perfect world,  right now we'd be somewhere getting lost. 

I've learned that we can wish all the happiness in the world to someone, but that doesn't mean it will happen. So I just hope that, wherever he is, that he is okay.

Monday, October 24, 2016

Monday Blues # 2 What If {lil' update}

I was never one to dwell on "what if's", it just wasn't a part of who I am used to be. In some ways, that "sector" of my life was pretty much black and white, there were no greys or in-betweens; it was or it wasn't. 

But I've come to realise that I've been living uncomfortably numb in the biggest "what if" for the past year, and it's terrifying just how powerless that makes me feel. I hate not knowing what's real and what's not, I hate that I still haven't found a "back up" life plan for the one I lost, and I hate that I can't seem to find motivation to do so.

The worst part? Everything I do now feels "just" a back up plan, as if I'm not living the life I was supposed to. I have regained my footing, I know which way is up but not which way is forward. And if anything, it makes me question the strength of all the plans I had before - if it all crumbled so fast how could it have lasted? 

I'm lost. I'm broken. I'm scared. And it's okay. Because there are days when I feel less scared, less broken, less lost and that, if anything, makes me believe that the day I'll stop feeling like that is coming.

Andie

UPDATE: I touched it up a little! It's better but still not sure if done.
So, I didn't what to let this Monday pass because I've been working on this #2 for Monday Blues for a while...but I'm not totally happy with it yet. I might just come back later for a touch up. Enjoy!

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

Honestly [part 1]

Lately, I've noticed that a lot of the same words and ideas keep swirling around in my head over and over. I keep pushing them back, send them away, and they keep coming back. Which is a little surprising, because I'm usually okay at bending them to my liking... But not this time.

I've never been much of a "it's fate"-thing kind of person. But there is no denying that these words in my head are fighting their way out one way or another - and they're winning. So, with nothing but honesty in my heart, I'm letting them out. [not all at once, so you get some of it now and some of it to come next month]

I've finally realised why it hurt so much more that he didn't want to stay friends, than it did when it all ended. You see, in my wild - and very naive - imagination, I though we could figure it all out as friends, without the pressure that comes with a relationship. Talk it out but still be there as each other support system like we had been in the years before. Take time to actually build the foundations we were severely lacking before and, maybe, maybe with time things could go back to the way they were (but better).  

I can see now how it was all mostly wishful thinking, and perhaps that's why I never actually voiced this idea - and as much as I enjoy being always right, this time I can't blame anyone but myself. 

I've been on this new road of self-discovery for what feels like five minutes and, although I've learned a whole lot, I already know it doesn't lead Home. 

Andie


current mood: grey with chance of rain
| also on my 
Instagram |


There is more of this to come next month, keep tuned for that.. or don't, you do you.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

The Reasons Why {updated version}

I want to write you one hundred letters.

To say hello. To inquire how you’ve been and if life has been fair with you – because I know I wasn’t. To say hello again and wonder about your plans for later, tomorrow and another day. To apologise for how unfairly I painted my memories of you. To reminisce about old times – do you miss them as much as I do?

To apologise again for blaming you for all my teen-age years’ insecurities; for all the times my emotions got the best of me and I blamed you for them. To express my profound sadness for the years we lost contact – would things be different now had we stayed in touch?

To apologise one more time for all the negative feelings I embed in my words towards you, both written and thought – even if they never reached you. To let you know that I don’t blame you for all that teenager-y recklessness back in the days. To assure you I’ve made my peace with the past and that I’m looking forward to the future.

To wonder if there is any chance I can be a part of those plans you have for later, tomorrow and another day. One for each day we’ve been away since the re-connection. And another for all those late night conversations. For all in me that was dormant and that you woke with all your smiles. And one to thank you again for bringing back all the hope I had lost. For making me feel wanted (and I can’t thank you enough for that). And one more just because it’s you.

To let you know you’ve been my light at the end of yet another tunnel; thank you for shining so bright. To thank you for making me believe again that there are still reasons to be happy.


Andie 
Update: So, if you read the first version of this text when I first posted it, you'll notice some changes in this updated version. I'm all for honesty and I did feel everything that was in the first draft when I wrote it...
But I also have to admit that it was posted for all the wrong reasons, so I'm happier with this version of 'The Reasons Why'. Enjoy!

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Find Your Happy

My grandfather has a hammock in his living room. [Yes, he's cool like that...but that's beside the point here]
My grandfather has a hammock in his living room and that has to be probably my favourite thing in his entire house. A month ago I drove 130km there for a long weekend. 

I have to say, the village my grandfather lives in, is the only place I've found on planet Earth (so far) that I've never lived at and it still feels like home whenever I visit. I find a lot of peace of mind there. The air smells cleaner, the sun shines brighter and you can see the starts better when the night falls; and the view of the hills is just...breathtaking. 

I’ve spent a long time there deep in thoughts. About a lot of different things, both past and present, but what makes me happy in Life seemed to be a recurrent subject. You know, the little things like sunshine and fresh strawberries. The smell of new books and jasmine tea (or if chance allows it, both combined). The safety sensation your favourite sweater provides and a good chocolate bar.

I’ve also been thinking about my “happy place”, both mental and physical, and I find it amusing that they are the same. My happy place is that very same hammock my grandfather has in his living room. Just being there, involved in a cocoon of warmth, swinging away with a good book on my lap and no worries on my mind. And it’s just so easy, so effortless, to close my eyes and picture myself there – safe, warm, serene.

Which are also the three things I’ve come to realise I should actually aspire to achieve in Life; everything else is a bonus. Thinking back to what my ideals of Life used to be not that long ago… they seem so petty now. It’s funny how I’ve lived all my life (so far) avoiding CHANGE like it was the plague, to lately being so eager to embrace it. This year has been all about inner growth and self-discoveries and I couldn’t be in a happier place – with and within myself.


Andie

Monday, August 29, 2016

Maybe This Time (New Beginnings)

There are many parts of me that came from him. Or were, at least, planted there by him - by things he did and things he said (some even from what was left unsaid). It breaks me to know that not everything I took with me when he left was good. There were habits developed as an involuntary response to his actions, his ideals - but mostly to his absence -, that frightens me; that’s not who I am.

I spent years trying so hard to form and cement a connection... Only to find myself, now, cleaning the mess that remains of what once was; trying even harder to sever all ties built. In the middle of all that, I failed to see how I was losing myself in a vain attempt to fit a mold I wasn’t made to fit. But back then that didn't matter much because his arms were my safe heaven...until they stopped being that and became a trap he couldn't wait to see me out of fast enough.

I wandered in my unconsciousness for so long. Lost, looking for an answer, any kind of answer. But there isn't really one... There is no cure for my almost chameleonic ability that keeps making me try to blend into my surroundings; even if it means leaving parts of me behind.

But even after all that failed, there is still hope – a new light at the end of yet another tunnel. And here I am, at the start of a new journey (or perhaps a new road), hoping this time it leads home.


Andie

Monday, August 1, 2016

Monday Blues # 1 Hints and Consequences

I'm starting a new "thing" and I shall call it Monday Blues, and they're going to be a series of posts (posted whenever I feel like it, like every other post really) where, much like in the Sunday Rant ones, I'll be doing what I've been told I do apparently quite often - Complaining. But while on Sunday Rants I basically rant about things in general that I don't like, I'm using the Monday Blues to complain about myself and things I know I do/did wrong (mostly in retrospective, of course). It'll be like a personal analysis on my life choices that may turn useful in the future... who knows?

On this first edition I'd like to address my inability to take hints and to understand that, sometimes, even actions that needed to be taken have irreparable consequences.

There is really no excuse in regards of the first topic. No matter how good of an observant I can be for some things, there are simply other areas where I'm just going in completely blind. And that field would have to be the one where deep emotions are dealt with. And my inability to take hints comes hand in hand with those irreparable consequences I can't seem to predict.

I think it has to do with the fact that I spent most of my life, while growing up, bottling it all up, hiding, keeping it inside, because no one around me seemed to care long enough to hear it all. And that just made me kind of...closed off and slowed down my ability to connect and stay connected - and to completely trust anyone on that any level. But it also means that once you have my trust, and/or my care, I'm all in. That, while it can bring many great things, it also means when it goes wrong and that trust is broken, I'm the one that takes it the harder way; I'm the one that stays broken the longest.

At different points in my life, I've made the decision of cutting people off. I can't really remember all the reasons why (not that it happened that many times, really) and I know some were decisions made almost unconsciously - I just stopped trying to keep a connection and they never tried connecting back. It was a necessary decision then, I needed that space to think, to breath, to heal, to see the world in a different light. Or maybe I just didn't want those levels of toxicity around me.  But I don't think I've ever intended for any of those decisions to be permanent. No, in my wild and perhaps na├»ve imagination, I though I could press pause for a while and then restart again when I felt ready; when things felt...better. But Life doesn't come with a remote control. I was perfectly aware that some things would be lost, but never that I'd lose it all.

Looking back now, I feel sort of guilty. Seeing the hardships some people had to face, and feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was something I could have done or said to make it better had I been there.

But if there is one thing I've learned is that the past shall remain just that - past. Nothing good can ever come of trying to bring it back.

Today I shall make a vow to hold less things inside, and we shall see how that one goes. 

No Regrets.
Andie

Saturday, June 4, 2016

What We Remember...

Memory is a funny process... We spend half of our lives trying to make the best memories we possibly can while wishing, hoping, the memories worth keeping outnumber the ones we make a desperate effort to forget. 

Then we spend the other half holding on to those memories, fearing we might forget them if we happen to look away for just a second. 

Nevertheless, the amusing part isn't in any of those facts. No, there is nothing remotely humorous regarding our almost desperate effort to fabricate "good" memories, nor in the temporary false sense of security obtained from said memories. 

The hilariousness is in the fact that, in the end, no matter how tight you hold on, you can't control what or even how your brain remembers it. How often have you reminisced on some of your fondest childhood memories, just to discover the majority of them didn't happen in the way you seem to remember them...?

Take as an example one of my last "good" memories about my uncles on my father's side. In my memory, they had a huge shiny black grand piano in their basement; and in my childlike mind, it was a magical place where anything was possible. However, afterwards I was told there had never been a grand piano, just a small, timeworn, ivory coloured vertical one. Also the reason behind that piano location (do I get bonus points for at least remembering that right?) stood as anything, but magical. 

The brain has a tendency to misattribute an imagined event as reality, the source and even the context of memories... 

So, in the end, how can we truly be sure what's real and what's fiction?


how do i let go...
| also on my Instagram |

Andie


---
Not sure if I'm 100% happy with this, I might come back later for a touch up or two...
Also, there is a small chance Lilly might come back to the blog, I've re-added her to the authors section but I guess only time will tell how that goes. Yeah, pretty positive it won't happen. 

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Off the Road

I find it extremely amusing and simultaneously not funny at all how unpredictable Life is. 

I am sure we have all heard or read it before, be it in films or books, or by words of someone else. But I hadn't been able to fully grasp the concept of said unpredictability until the day I felt the road I was walking on being swiped off from under my feet (metaphorically speaking of course). 

Truth be told, that road was anything but flat. It was bumpy with dangerous twist and turns, and multiple exit lanes... And it was much like driving through unknown lands: I had a destination in mind but no clue on how to get there. I was slowly paving my yellow brick road and I knew exactly where I wanted it to lead to - but that didn't make each step any less terrifying. 

My biggest mistake was setting my mind on one, and only one, destination without really caring about the journey as a whole. I was so focused on how I wanted it to end that I paid little notice on how I was gonna get there... Until the only option left was an exit lane. It was as if, all of a sudden, the road lost its colour and everything was dull and blurry and there were no more bricks left. 

I had been driven off the road. 

I had been driven off the road by the very same goal I was trying to reach. And for a very long time I tried to find a detour, to turn back and pave a different way around the chaos... But that was it, there was no way out, no way the same journey could still go on. 

Now all that's left is to find a new destination, new unknown roads to walk to, new paths to pave... But from now onward, I vow to make each yellow brick count.

Andie
Chasing Pavements | Andie Maars | Exclusively on Blogger

Thursday, February 18, 2016

The Hopeless Generation

On the rare occasions I venture out of the house for a night out with my friends (not that I am anti-social, I just don't like going out at night that much), it's hard not to notice all the other people that also decided that night was a good night to go out. We find ourselves usually in cramped bars or clubs permanently impregnated with an intense smell of cigarettes, where the music is loud, the people are louder and usually under the influence of something, either alcohol or something else. And it never ceases to amaze me, although not it a positive manner, the way my generation behaves these days. 

I belong to the Generation Y, the 90's Kids. We were brought up hearing how the world is full of possibilities, how we can be anything we want to be. The world is your oyster! Our childhoods were filled with fairy tales and wishful thinking.

But now we are all grown up, we realize all those promises were empty and there is almost nothing left for us to take. It turns out the world it's not an oyster, but an empty shell. My generation will have to work a million times harder to archive half the things our parents did, and even there it will not be enough. We'll be permanently plagued by thoughts of unworthiness; ... We, the hopeful kids, have grown into hopeless adults.

So it should be of no surprise to hear that all my friends' stories of great nights out begin when they are sufficiently intoxicated not to feel anything. That my generation needs the alcohol and drugs to have fun. We, the hopeful and full of hope kids, are exhausted, mentally exhausted, to the point of needing not to feel anything to feel something else. And it saddens me profoundly to see the point we are now. 

I like to believe that, amidst all darkness, there's still hope. Nothing has to - or can, really - be set in stone, but as long as we keep voicing our dreams, there's hope for a better future.  

Andie
Fog | Andie Maars | Exclusively on Blogger

Sunday, January 31, 2016

Same Old New Year

Thirty-one days into the new year and it doesn't look new. Everything stayed just the same way it was thirty-two days ago, and somehow I feel disappointed. Not with the New Year per se, more with myself for thinking one number on the calendar would make any difference. 

I know all about those self-motivation things on how "if we want something, we have to be the ones going after that something" and what not... But the truth is, I don't really know what I want - I'm finding it extremely hard to set goals for both short and long terms (if my crappy New Year's Resolutions are anything to go by). Yes, I want to read more and take more pictures; those could easily be worked out for short term goals. I just have to pick a book from the pile that has been growing on my bookshelf, and I just have to take the camera the next time I leave the house... But I can't find in me any motivation to do any of those things. I'm stuck. 

Stuck between having too many unrealistic dreams for myself, having too many of those unrealistic dreams crushed recently, a depressingly low self-esteem, rainy days and nothing useful to do. I know, deep (really, really deep) inside that everything will, eventually, turn out alright. I'll somehow get my happy ending - whatever that means and however long it take to reach it -, but it will come. I'm just terrified of the time period between now and that day.

And there is still hope that, maybe, during the three hundred and thirty-five days this year has left, something new will come of it. 

So here's to being hopeful. 

Andie

Happy New Year to anyone that might be reading this. May your year have started in a less confused way! 
And if by chance you missed it, I updated my "final words" post like I said I would when the time was right. I guess that time has come. You can scroll down to look for it, or you can be lazy and click HERE. Until next time :)