Month: February 2019

I Wish I Would Have Jumped Up As Soon As I Remembered

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So, it is currently 2:46am where I am at and I’m pretty sure I didn’t get to bed until almost midnight.  I was jarred awake by an apparent nightmare.  As odd as it was, I was simultaneously thinking of the best opening lines to a blog post about said dream.  

These sentences are not it. Lol 

I laid in bed within those first 5 minutes thinking of the way I’d love to write this post and every detail of the nightmare I just had.  I debated getting up to write it.  I thought, “no, it’s too early to get up, I will write it later”.  At that time, I didn’t even know how early it really was.  

The dream itself wasn’t even really upsetting or interesting in any way.  I was just thrown awake so drastically that I felt like I couldn’t go back to sleep.  I have also noticed, I think I am the most productive, writing wise, late at night.  

Anyway, I looked at my phone to see the time, because I was obviously too awake to fall back asleep and I was in shock.  I feel as though I have slept for at LEAST  6 hours.  I couldn’t believe it was only 2-3 hours.  Falling asleep felt like it was so long ago. 

okay…. Dream time: 

I really should of written this as soon as I woke up because now, the details are slipping me and like I said, it wasn’t that insane of a dream in the first place, but here it goes…

My dream’s cast consisted of some of my elementary and high school friends.  People that I hadn’t seen or spoken to in years.  As a matter of fact, over a DECADE.  I guess maybe it was some kind of reunion.  I feel like we were all in some kind of field waiting for something; an announcement, a celebrant.  I go off into a forest or something with my boyfriend and as we are walking,  I disturbed some sort of nest.  I think, I must of killed whatever was in there.  It was a hive of some sort.  We approach a clearing, and I guess, as dreams would have it, there were two folding chairs waiting for us.  My boyfriend sits in one, and I notice the hive mama buzzing around, gunning FOR ME.  

It is basically the equivalent  of a hummingbird sized mosquito.  Or if a hummingbird and a mosquito hybrid existed, this monster was it.  So, it’s buzzing around trying to attack me.  I’m swatting it.  I literally pick up my folding chair and I’m stepping to bat.  I’m not fast enough though because I keep feeling it hit me.  The buzzing of its wings close to my ears, even now, thinking about it, is giving me the chills.  Much to my chagrin, my boyfriend has already sat down and is minding his own business.  So I know that I’ve hit this thing a few times already, but it is relentless and I think I’m getting tired of holding up the folding chair, trying to hit it, trying to dodge it.  I keep feeling it stabbing my neck and hearing the buzzing noise.   BUZZZZZZZZ…..!!!!!!

That is when I jump awake, adrenaline apparently pumping because it is now, 3:14am and I am still awake.  

I should probably go back to bed, since my alarm will go off at 5am.  Goodnight everyone. 

Sincerely,

An introverted dreamer that doesn’t want her madness to be silenced 💋

My Heart Hurts From All the Things I Can’t Do With You Mother

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Dear Mother, 

There are so many things that I still wanted to do with you.  We always talked about more dances together.  We have gone out dancing together twice in our lives.  I thought we had so many more late nights left to go.  We joked about loving dancing so much, we would go out, you in your wheelchair, and me with my cane.  I so wanted to do that with you mother.  

My mommy dearest, we had road trips planned that we could sing our hearts out to.  We had vacations in mind.  We had scrapbooks to fill.  We were suppose to find ourselves at some French cafe loving the food but hating the portion size.  We were going to smile and giggle at the cute guys.  We were going to let me practice my one sentence of French that I remembered from High School.  You were going teach me how to truly rock heels like a pro, and get mad at me when I complained about how bad my feet hurt.  

My best friend, we were going to get tattoos together.  We said it so many times.  Even made plans to get one before you left on that airplane, but we never made it.  My heart hurts, mother, because I wanted that experience with you.  

My workout partner, my TAE BO buddy, my Zumba lover.  You were suppose to make it to my favorite Zumba class, I really wanted you to see how amazing he really is.  He’s never going to have that first dance with you mama, and my heart hurts because I really wanted him to have that with you.  

Mommy, I really wanted to pick that dress with you.  I needed you there to tell me I looked beautiful in that one or how horrid that other one was.  Mother, should I wear my hair up? Or my hair down?   Do I wear a veil?   I wanted to see you there, smiling, crying, happy to finally see me walk down that aisle.  Mother, I don’t know how I will make it all the way down that hall without breaking down, I truly don’t.  I can’t see how I will have the strength in that moment in my life.  

My heart hurts from all the things I can’t do with you mother.  There are so many things I still had planned for us.  There were still so many laughs, there were so many songs to sing and beats to dance to.  There were so many chocolates to try, roads to drive, planes to fly.  There were so so many more words to write.  

We still had to pick a grandmother name for you.  Surprise you when you would have a grandchild.  You were suppose to spoil her, you were suppose to comfort him.  

You were suppose to teach me how to cook ….. 

JUST KIDDING 

We were suppose to joke about how much we both suck at cooking.  

Mother, there really were so so many things I had left for us to do together.  It’s hard for me to truly believe that I will never be able to do these things with you.  It is hard to believe that you are not somewhere just writing away or dancing.  I miss you so much mother, you have no idea how much my heart hurts for you.  I love you, my mama. 

May we dance together again one day

With so so so much love, 

Your Daughter, 

Angelique Rose 

Self Love is Where Mirrors Do Not Exist

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The funny thing, or not so funny thing,  about our perception of beauty towards others and towards ourselves, is that they are on completely different scales.  I run around all day seeing the beauty in other women.  I hear their insecurities, but think how there is no need for the harsh words they tell themselves.  Only to realize that I am not much nicer to myself.  

It dawned on me recently.  An epiphany , if you will.  That I feel the most beautiful, I love myself the most,  when mirrors are not around to remind me what society expects me to look like.  

Let me try to explain that a little better…. 

In my apartment, I didn’t have a full sized mirror until maybe, last week.  It wasn’t on purpose, I was honestly just too lazy to buy a mirror and when I was out shopping, I just happened to forget to buy one.  In the sanctuary of my own home, with no one else’s judgment upon me and no mirrors to place judgement on myself, I did not feel the burden of my insecurities.  

On top of that, I have a boyfriend that always makes me feel beautiful.  Somehow, I am not sure how he does it, but, he makes me feel like no one else exists, but me.  He makes me feel like I am some model or beauty queen.  With no mirrors around, I begin to have this picture in my mind of what I must look like.  I feel love for myself and pride in my body, in my beauty.  

Sadly, that amount of self love drops a little when we leave home and I’m bombarded with reflections making me feel as though the perception I had of myself was just a dream.  

That is when I got to thinking.  

What is actually making me feel so insecure? 

How can I feel confident one moment, and then so little the next? 

Is it actually me? 

Is my reflection actually giving me feelings of disgust? 

LET ME TELL YOU…. THE ANSWER IS NO.

It is not who you are that makes you feel uncomfortable in your skin.  It is not the placement of your features.  It is not the size of your waist.  

Society…

Social norms…

Generations of the ideal person engrained in others’ minds….

Opinions of others…. 

Judgement … 

These are the things that feed our insecurities.  These are the things that make us think, that freckles were once meant to be disguised and now should be exposed.  These are the things that trick us into thinking natural is beauty but yet, it is better to paint a natural looking beauty on your face than just loving the actual natural beauty that you are.  Social media and the TV convince us that our eyes are too small, our lips are too thin, our hips too slim.  Some want sun kissed, some say stay out of the sun.

We really have to remember that the “ideal beauty” has changed over time, over and over again.  There is no such thing as perfection.  There is no such thing as an ideal look.  

We are all beautiful in every form and we need to love ourselves.  We need to teach our children to love themselves. 

Create goals to be healthy mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually.  

Not to gauge our self love by the number on the scale, the circumference of our waist or the reflection in the mirror.  

Who says that mirror is accurate anyway ❤ 

Angels Show Up in the Most Random Places

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After losing my mom, I was flooded with messages from friends and family sending their love and condolences.  I found myself finding solace in talking about what happened.  In random conversation, I would start to talk about my loss, to anyone close enough to listen.  Coworkers in the break room,  friends on social media, any family that would listen.  I was reminded in these moments how much death is an awkward thing to talk about or more specifically, how awkward it is for others to listen and respond to someone else’s pain.  

I think a lot of people thought it was odd of me to talk about losing my mom so casually.  What they didn’t realize was that it helped me somehow.  It gave me peace to talk about her, even if it was about the day I lost her.  Maybe talking about losing her helped me cope and let the reality of it sink in.  I think maybe I kept replaying that day, and the information I learned to try to create some kind of theory about how and why it all happened.  Like some new clue would make things more clear.  

I don’t blame anyone for the way they dodged my conversation or the way they didn’t understand the hurt I felt from losing my mom.  I, myself, do not know how to react to someone else’s loss.  I often revert to the cliche “sorry for your loss”.  

I don’t think anyone can truly understand this loss I feel, unless they, too, have lost a parent or a child.   It’s a very lonely kind of sadness.  

Anyway…

In all my efforts to find comfort, talking to everyone and everything.  I connected with an Angel.   We met a handful of years ago.  She also lost her mother as well.  Talking to her really was a gift.  She gave me hope, comfort, understanding.  

I didn’t feel alone.

My hurt, wasn’t alone.  

What really shocked me was that, although we knew each other.  Knew of each other.  We never really had a conversation, and suddenly, here I was, talking with her about my deepest loss and she was not phased.  She wasn’t afraid to talk about loss or pain.  She wasn’t afraid to keep replying or forced to change the subject.  I wasn’t afraid to tell her how lonely this sadness was or how I was suddenly overcome with the fear of no afterlife.  

Okay,  story time :

Growing up, my mom always had an affinity for  dreamcatchers.  She had one in her car, she had some in our home.  She gave one to me as a kid.  

When my family and I went to the Philippines for my mom’s funeral, we stopped by the beach that she was at when she began to feel chest pain.  We just wanted some answers I guess, as to what really happened that day.  We were told that she stopped in front of a shop and became unconscious on their front door.  As my aunt and I asked a few questions, she looked up at the store that my mom happened to lay down at.  She was in awe, because the store was covered floor to ceiling in dreamcatchers.  She bought a handful of them for us.  It really just made me feel a little more at peace with what happened.   Like there was a touch of my mom wherever we went and that, no matter how devastated we are about what happened, GOD does things for a reason.  He calls people home when it is their time, and there isn’t really anything that we can do about that.  

I told this story to this unsuspecting Angel and one day, this necklace showed up in my mail.   She didn’t have to send me anything, she didn’t have to do anything for me, her conversation that day was far far enough, but she sent me this and it has reminded me every day that my mom is nearby and at peace.  

Thank you so much to the Angels out there that have such giant hearts.  That care when they don’t have to.  Love those that they don’t even know. 

 Just to bring peace to a broken heart.