3

One night, you came home a little later than usual after your closing shift which made me kinda mad because you made me worry.

But when you walked through the door and said something that sounded like the word “cheeseburger” I was like “What? Where? I’m hungry!”

Turns out, you took a detour because you got a homeless man some food.

I love you for the all the little (big) things you do that show me who you are every single day.

I love how you text me when you’re at work as I go for my morning Sunday run to see if I made it alive because without my glasses, eye can’t see shit.

I love that I have a glass of water always waiting because you emphasize hydration and how important it is. It’s *overkill* but I appreciate it and know you’re right. 😛

I love how that means “I love you” in your love language.

I love that when you show me something on your phone at arm’s length, I say “I can’t see it!” as you put the phone two inches from my nose. Point taken.

I love that I can see us in our old age smelling like mothballs, taking a morning stroll in the park: Wong Fu in his couture China made vest, arms folded behind him walking steadily ahead with lady Feng Xei in her purple puffer and Daiso designer hat, trailing close behind.

I love that I can see us starting a lucrative tai chi gang called the “Zenfumasters” and running the recreational world of retirement… 😛

I love how you are with my mum; You treat my everything’s like it’s your everything.

I love how loving, emotional, and invested you can get talking about your little brother Elliot.

I love how as much as we can drive each other completely nuts and have emotional allergic reactions to each other’s ways … when the shit hits the fan, you are still my safe place, sanity, and peaceful pause.

As ‘colorful’ and chaotic as our upbringing was, I love that we mutually share the strong desire to live a life of simple abundance, honesty, and gratitude; ending each day with intention sharing three things we are grateful for.

I know real human stories are seldom fairy tales but I realize all it takes is that one person to make it a story worth telling (and writing about).

With you at my side, as my subject, as my art, my muse, words just pour out of me into a glass half full and my heart never short of inspiration. Some people give words life while others give it meaning. You are the first and the latter.

May the seconds, minutes, hours, and days ahead we have together tick as beautifully as the past 3 chapters I have spent loving you.

Happy three my alibae. xx

#tna #201 #musclememory #manchestertan #letterstoyou #💌

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The Present

Growing a year older means different things to different people. It can be a deep rooted intense fear of loss: loss of youth, loss of vanity, loss of life. It can be a peaceful morning stretch of sore muscles and creaky limbs. A slow metabolism. The strong desire to start a family. Forming the kind of bonds with souls who become family. A roller coaster of emotions seeking only the high. The sight of our aging parents becoming more fragile. Realizing that as our niece(s) and nephew(s) mature, we too are getting old as hell. It can mean a slew of responsibilities and not enough fun. A hard fall looking for a soft place to land; a maze when what you need is a compass; fatigue in every sense. It can mean fleeting moments that have expiry dates; a ticking clock that doesn’t wait; a race with time, or simply slowing down and taking a moment to sober up from the chaos. It can be prioritizing the who’s and the what’s of what is really important verses what’s not even worth the time. It can be sifting and taking inventory of what we place value on when our heart feels disheveled. It can mean a hard decision. A confusing dance between acceptance, adapting, change, or letting shit go. It can be a slow and steady break up with self-limiting beliefs and what no longer serve us. A process of healing through unlearning what we are taught and tethered to. It can be unwinding to life at your own pace. A passionate pause. Or finally finding that sweet spot in the futile pursuit of balance. It can even mean being in a good emotional space, being at peace and it only keeps getting better and better!

Whatever it is, age to me feels like a 360 view. The magic is in the perspective; how we choose to see it from where we stand, and embracing how we got there. The scenery can still be beautiful even though the trek was anything but.

I can name all the ways we’ve grown and changed since we were kids. I can name all the instances we’ve fallen and landed both on our face and feet. But what I want to name most is where we are now: The Present.

I find it funny how they call it ‘The Present.’ Perhaps because being in the present *is* a gift wrapped beautifully with two extra bows and it’s contents can only exist, thrive, and be appreciated in the now. The extra bow is a second chance in case we missed it the first time. 😉

As I write this, I realize with your history of gerascophobia, I possibly gave you a growing list, hahaha :p I hope you enjoy everything about today and right now dude. Not what’s behind or before you but what’s in front of you. May what reflects back at you be a beautiful reminder that who you are now, where you are now be a gift, and the present unwrapping itself gently for you to take in and absorb like a big cozy hug. I hope it all seeps in like the most amazing food coma. :p

So happy that you are spending your birthday at the big family reunion in Malaysia! Hope you have the most special reminiscent time with the familiar sights, sounds, and above all else, the people. Wishing you so much love and light in the coming year, HAPPIEST of birthdays dude! XO Terru

 

#33 #birthday #celebration #you #gratitude

 

Juxtapose

If someone were to ask me what I love about you, I would certainly mention how much you are the opposite of me. The funny instances how you kindly call dumbass people ‘weird’ then I chime in with my claws out, sink my nammer fangs in, and fill in all the expletives.

You are water. I am fire. You are calm. I am chaos. You are birds chirping on a sunny day. I am firecrackers at 6am on a Monday morning. You are a field of spring meadows. I am a dark alley after midnight. You are an upbeat rnb song. I am a melancholy indie track with side swept bangs. You are a slow and steady walk in the park. I am a maze in a rush. You are pretty easy going. I am ocd and stubborn af. You are unwavering positivity and patience. I am the middle finger stuck in traffic…hungry. You are simply so thoughtful and kind. I am … well lucky. hahaha

It’s in the power of these opposites that my darkness meets the spectrum of your light. That my circle of trust and valuable relationships are born and relishing of connections grow. And it is in the few similarities that we meet, hold hands, and are able to understand and wholeheartedly embrace all the contents our palms have held on to and let go of. It’s in the contrast that I learn most what we are about together and as singular individuals. The moments we drive each other bananas are also the most fruitful of ones. :p

Of all things that have scraped and scarred my palms, of all things my palms have learned to let go of, you make up for everything that wasn’t worth keeping and holding on to (and then some.)

From day one, I appreciate that I didn’t have to chip away at a single layer of ego or issue to get to your heart or to learn your story. It has always been wide open by choice, all accepting smiling back at me. We never had facades, just our flaws and raw honesty upfront: I adore how our imperfections sit comfortably in it’s own skin.

You are like my favorite pair of sweat pants, pj pants, legging pants, buffet pants, anything with an elastic waist band really. You lovingly accommodate my extra extra when the stretch is needed and are the most comfortable emotional attire I wear proudly. You make me feel like the most special pair of pants in a room full of dresses.

Above all, as I write this, I realise you are my heart’s most beautiful juxtapose. I am grateful knowing the other (very) different part of me is you.

Happy 34 my Alibae, wishing you another beautiful birthday and year ahead. XO

 

#34 #birthday #celebration #you #tna #manchestertan #lettuce #201

33

🎈33: thanks for the extra white hairs coming in, the assortment of fine (frown and laugh) lines in my expression, my molasses like metabolism, and the little surprises with the ache in my joints and spasm in my muscles. talk about body party. thanks for the humble reminder that everything I do to attempt to keep you healthy, is really to delay deterioration and how eating spicy ass food has it’s dire consequences. on a side note, thanks for my extra durable colon. Inspite of all the visible signs, I wouldn’t trade you for my teens nor twenties because teenagers smell weird and growing as a 30 something has been the best and most valuable years yet. You’ve taught me plenty in 2016. As a result, I feel more ‘planted’ than ever because my feet knows where it consciously chooses to stand, with my head and heart assertively leading the way.

I looked into the mirror this morning as you whispered softly “dim sum chicken feet” into my ears. With bated breath, I made it happen and chicken feet is what was had. dreams do come true. you’re welcome. :p

With no makeup and morning breath that can kill a house plant, it was still a solid feeling simply being able to recognize my own reflection not for it’s shell or external condition, but what I know to be true on the inside deep down into my bones. you’ve grounded me.

above all, the best (and hardest) lesson you teach me every single year as the years add on is that “the only way out is through.” there are no shortcuts and if there is one, it’s likely a cliff ahead without a warning sign, lol

here’s to another beautiful 365… Thanks alistair for a day of obesity eats & these blizzard cupcakes. xx

Junkie

Hi, my name is Terry and I am a recovering feelings addict.

I grew up craving for a fix every single day.

I was hungry for sentiments not expressed.

I was starving for the physical evidence & emotional proof that I was loved.

I didn’t know how hungry I was until I painfully realized I didn’t have the heart to stomach what I was not being fed by those responsible for me.

Perhaps I was fed, but it was barely enough to sustain and nourish my heart’s appetite.

If I was loved, it must have been spoken in a language I could not speak, read, write, nor understand.

I felt illiterate and intuitively knew this would be a subject I will be struggling with in life.

If it was sent in a message, I must have not received it, or received it too late, too soon, or in a way my self worth interpreted otherwise than it was intended it to be.

Then one day I looked in the mirror and it dawned on me: I had to find a way to fend for and feed myself.

And like all junkies do, I binged and got addicted to all things bad for me.

I got lost in chasing a feeling leaving all of my common senses behind.

I didn’t listen to my pain or admit that I needed help.

I abandoned anything that was honest enough to tell me I deserved better …and more.

I abandoned the one person who needed me most: Me.

It wasn’t until I got very sick that I had to learn what was unhealthy for my heart and my soul.

And so, I committed myself to sit in a chair 5 days a week and spoke honestly about my addiction, about who I was, … and I wrote about it.

I learned to pursue my purpose, not people.

I learned to stop chasing the false sense of security that never was, the so called “highs,” and how to embrace my sobriety in my own skin.

I learned to choose myself.

I learned how to choose love.

And above all, I learned how to choose to love me first.

I am now 32 years old, and 3 years clean.

Learning The Ropes

When woven rope becomes the thing in which you use to climb instead of a game of tug of war you can never win.

When the force of your own stubborn grip, leaves your hands completely scraped raw and scarred, baring the honest resemblance of all the reasons why you should no longer hold on.

You bare it.

Bare the familiar sting and you accept the nature of the injury as some sort of everyday comfort you breath in and out suffocating, as if the discomfort that was trying to tell you something worth learning wasn’t enough.

Pain whispers little grains of salt into your wounds challenging your heart’s threshold.

Did you learn?

Did you even listen?

When the illusion of the fruitful climb, is really the laws of gravity telling you the higher you climb, the harder you’ll fall.

When truth smacks you dab right in front of your face and tells you it’s who you climb for… more than why you climb.

Know the difference my dear.

Know that you can climb a mole hill or an entire mountain for someone and they still wouldn’t appreciate your efforts if they fail to appreciate you.

Here’s the thing, you have the be the reason you climb. Let the reason be you – For when you hold on, you know you’re holding on to your needs.

Respect yourself enough so that your knees won’t fall to beg, you will fall because you needed to learn and the rope was there all along to help you pull yourself up not intended to tie you down.

Is that enough reason for you to let go when it’s no longer worth holding on?

Or will you just loosen the grip until the pain forces your hand to release?

Will you release? Or will you wait for the pain to release you?

Whether the rope is used as a noose, the pull, or the climb: How hard you stubbornly choose to hold on, how gracefully you choose to let go, or how determined you are to use it for the climb… is for you to decide.

That’s the beauty and also the beast: Our decision is always our own to make.

So learn the ropes and use it accordingly.

365

There are good days and then there are bad days,
Then there are days with you.
I enjoy everything in that nothingness we so often, often do.
You make food taste better,
Love songs make beautiful sense,
Really bad days mild,
Better days amazing,
– All of my days a peaceful Sunday morning.

You are brunch on a sunny patio,
The cozy comforts of a fireplace on a cold winter’s day,
Sleeping in with no alarm clock,
– A piece of rich dark chocolate during my sugar low.

You are my hit of caffeine,
– The warmth of fresh laundry.
My strolls and sunsets.
Come nightfall, you are my heart’s resting place,
And I sleep soundly.

You are my skeptical ‘ifs’ turned into a matter of ‘whens’.
My “what ifs” into “I’m all in.”
You are the questions I didn’t need to study for,
I already knew the answers because your smile spelled yes, and yours eyes promised now.

I am eternally love’s struggling fumbling student but I’ve learned that love doesn’t give up as long as we are willing to show up for it. It is an uplifting heart based decision on whether we allow ourselves to feel it, give it, and receive it. Where love’s gravity, depth, & courage is measured in how much we allow ourselves to be seen, truly seen. Or whether or not the person is worth the chance, leap, and ultimately, how we choose to nurture each and every day together is a choice and what we make of that will be.

This 30’s something kind of love writes like sweet hand written notes, built and sewn together like all things home and handmade, and mindfully handpicked with objective palms and good intentions. And like all things made from scratch, I look forward to continue building what we have from the inside out with earnest hands, designing the blueprint using our hearts as the template.

Thank you for a great year of ups and ups Alistair & thank you for being so good(annnd patient :p) with me ~ How lucky I am to have found someone who makes all of the above apply. XO