Something Worth Being Proud Of

Everyone that has read a thing or two I (rarely never) post around here has realized I write about feelings (or complain about stuff, but that’s not relevant right now). And not just any feeling, usually I write about the really high points, and the really low ones. For the words to come to me, I’m either extremely happy/excited, or extremely sad/heartbroken/unsure about life. I’ve tried writing about all the in-between's, but it never turns out good enough. I’m incredibly mediocre in terms of writing about “meh” subjects. 

But this is different, in a way. Because all my “feelings levels” have never been this much “meh”, but I still feel the need to write something about it. On the other hand, I guess we can still file this under the “unsure about life” category.

I reached an academic milestone last week: I finished my MSc degree. I told exactly three people about the date of the presentation – my parents and one friend that just happened to ask randomly at that time. Anyone that found out about it after that was either through the parents, or through the general e-mail the university sends every student (because here, these kind of presentations are considered open to the public).

I’ve wondered why I didn’t told anyone. 

For one, it wasn’t a particularly interesting subject (no one came to watch it).

And two, I was kind of disappointed with the project itself. I mean, it had tons of potential in the beginning… But then there were delays, bureaucracy, sick days, needed material that took ages to arrive and countless empty promises to make it more “exciting” that turned out to be just that – empty. 

I’m still proud of it, kind of. It was sweat and tears, back pains and headaches, stubborn equipment and countless failed attempts until something worked out. But I did it. All on my own. I did it! 

The excitement lasted three hours, maybe four. By the time tea time rolled around I was back at feeling the same emptiness. What do I do with my life now? I spent the four days that followed in the same state of mind.

But then there was this old guy, lets call him Tom, in my anti-gravity class at the gym that realized I had missed the class the week previous to that and asked why. And I told him I had stayed at the lab practicing my thesis presentation. But that it was done now, I had passed it with flying colours. 

And Tom - who is practically a stranger that I see once or twice a week for forty five minutes on that anti-gravity class at the gym -, said he was proud of what I had accomplished. He knew nothing about the subject, or the project, or the countless ways it failed until it could be something.  But just knowing I had done it was, in his eyes, reason enough. And then we had a lovely conversation about life choices.

And that my people, is what you should take from this abnormally long and random post. Life happens, things go wrong, you fall and think you lost the will to get back up… But you can’t just sit still and let Life fly by your eyes. Be proud of your achievements! No matter how small they seem, either in the big picture or compared to what someone else did. If is something you worked your ass off for, it’s something worth being proud of. 

Andie.

Embrace the blur | Andie Maars

and if you have that anti-gravity class (i've been told is similar to aerial yoga) i mentioned in your gym and you never tried, i'd recommend you try it twice. go to one class, wait a week, then try again (don't ask why, trust me on this, you'll know). it's the best thing ever!

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 |

[Part 1]

[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.

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

Don't Listen

You know that feeling of self-doubt that arises when you hear something so many times you start believing its true, even if deep inside you know it’s not?

Like when you look in the mirror and see nothing wrong with your body, but if someone starts saying otherwise, over and over, with the sole purpose of upsetting you (and you know that)… But after a while you start looking in the mirror and not liking what you see anymore.

The power of suggestion used for hurtful intents can cause emotional scarring that runs deeper than any wound. Because physical scars can be empowering, they can be a reminder that you are strong, that you outlived something. But the emotional scar it’s always going to be there. Even if you overcome it, the self-doubt it’s still there and can (and probably will) come and go in its own “free will” at the most unexpected situations.

I know first-hand how cruel people can be with their words. And I know how the silliest thing can trigger and emotional episode, a thought or a state of mind that you fought so long in the past to get over. But I also think people in general are too attached to their own insecurities, and it’s not always their fault. We can blame society for how it makes us think that something it’s not right (even if we believe there’s nothing wrong with it) because it isn't socially accepted; that it’s wrong to do certain things or think in certain ways. Who stated that anyway? As long as it isn't causing damage or pain to anyone and is making us happy, why should it be wrong?

It’s our lives, we are the ones living it – not society. So be free, be spontaneous. Do whatever you want to do with the time you were given and be happy.

“Happiness depends upon ourselves” - Aristotle

Andie Maars