Archive for the ‘Female Experiences’ Category
Wednesday, April 9th, 2008 |
I think it was one of the most awkward moments of my life. He called, asked if we could hang out tonight, and i agreed, thinking it was going to be another nonchalant evening with one of my good friends. I was completely oblivious to his true plans until the moment his mom dropped us off alone at Applebee’s, and then she winked at you, and told us to “have fun.”
It was a complete set-up.
i have to admit my initial reaction was, ” Ohhhh No! ” Curse myself for not having common sense! I was on a date. Rummaging through my mind in panic, I was trying to think of every possible way i could have mislead him to believe i had any special feelings for him, or did something towards him inadvertently turning him on, or maybe I’d had misunderstood his intentions of the night in the first place.
So he got us a table and i could tell through his blundering ways of speaking he was nervous about the entire ordeal. To make matters worse, he made me guess who he liked, and he described every aspect of me down to the minute fact of how I laugh and then either clap my hands or smack something, making it easily distinguishable whom he were talking about.
Already i began foraging though my mind frantically searching for possible excuses that he might redeem satisfactory to my polite decline. I remember how in middle school, i prayed so forcefully for these “asking out” occasions to arise. Funny how one boy can screw that up for the rest of them. And then you dropped the bomb on me like you thought I had no idea and that excitement and jubilance would swell up from my soul. It didn’t quite work out like that, but I’m still in utter disbelief you would think i’d like you as more than friends. I told how i was sorry about the instant ‘No’ response. But geeze, it is not the way to a girl’s heart to manipulate her on a date!
I hope the night for him wasn’t a total calamity. Despite all that awkward moments, i did fancy hanging out with him, as friends.
Posted in Awkward Experiences, Female Experiences, Relationship Experiences | No Comments »
Tuesday, March 25th, 2008 |
Its hard dating and finding someone you can trust and I know 1st hand about trust. It was 2005, October was the month. I had invited a male friend over to my place, some one I had known for a few months. It was shortly after 8pm. He had been hanging out with his boys and I had planned the day before to hang out with him for a while, boy did I make the biggest mistake of my life.
I get a knock at the door it was him, staggering in, could barely walk . Telling me he had had a few drinks with his friends at the bar. I then asked him if he would be okay and come sit down. We talked a little bit not alot, because he was in no shape to say much. I was a little afraid because he just wasn’t himself or what I knew him to be. I wanted him to leave but I was to afraid to ask him to go home. He laid down on my bed and I told him, I really did not know him to well, but he could lay there until he got it together and could drive home. I then sat beside him on the bed.
He pretended to drift off to sleep. I then laid there as well. His hands started touching me in places he had no business I then asked him to stop, and he ranted and raved in a loud pitch voice. I then told him if he could not keep his hands off me he would need to leave, need less to say he was still acting wild and rubbing me in places I was very uncomfortable. I fought for hours to get him to stop touching me. I wanting him to leave so bad but was afraid to say it.. I prayed that the night would pass fast so that the next day would come where he would be sober enough to leave. I slept that night with one eye open. Scared to sleep, scared to say anything more to him, because he was getting very angry by the minute. My heart raced and my nerves were shaky. I feel like maybe I should have never invited him over. He had been drinking before he came over. And could not seem to control his hands.The night passed and the morning came can you believe he did not remember what he had done. I could have been raped that night too scared to tell him to leave.
This night was like a night mare.
CHARONDA
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Friday, February 15th, 2008 |
It was in 1996 when I first experienced the excruciating pain. I was almot 5 months pregnant to my third baby (the second was a miscarriage). I was brought to the hospital, ultra sound performed, but they found nothing, they said, and maybe it was just some gas pain because I just ate 4 eggs (balot, Philippine delicacy from duck eggs). The pain subsided anyway and we teased that each egg was worth P200 when it was really P3. The price hike was due to the hospital bill our pockets were damaged with.
A month later I was back to the hospital with an even more painful stomach. It was soooo painful. I was throwing up my bile, green and bitter. I had another ultra sound. That time they saw 2 ovarian cycsts at my left. The doctor said it is possible that it can get smaller and that she can remove it at the time I deliver my baby. At times, others experienced having the cyst come out with the delivery. We were ready to check out.
While waiting for the last visit of the doctor in preparation for checking out, I had a more painful stomach. The interval between pains were getting short too…it was like I was in labor, getting ready to deliver…but I was just 5 1/2 months pregnant. The pain was soooooo terrible. more than the labor pain. The doctor said my baby was distressed.
I had to be operated on. We have been briefed. We have to choose. My life or the baby’s. Of course my life was the choice. We were ready. We have put everything in God’s will. There was nothing we can do.
I was given a general anesthesia. I still can imagine the prick of the needle at my back. Little by little I got sleepy and numb. Before I lost consciousness I even said a little prayer, “God bless you…” referring to the works of the doctor’s hands.
When I woke up I was in my room. I was greeted by my husband but said I still should not talk and that I have to rest. With weak body and arms, I felt my stomach and asked him, how’s the baby? He said, “it’s there.” That was the sweetest words I’ve heard that day. Tears welled my eyes as I mentally prayed for thanks.
Hours later when the doctor made her rounds and I was awake, she explained what happened. What they thought as 2 cysts was actually 1 big lump that twisted, which later ruptured. That night I was like in labor pains was the time the cyst ruptured. (While I was on the table and got all the cyst parts, it filled the small kidney basin which she brought out to show my husband.) She said, my case was rare. For most cases, the mother and baby died, or the baby died and mother survived. In my case, they were able to set aside the uterus with the fetus inside, remove the left ovary and the rest of the ruptured cyst, put back the ovary in place and stiched me back up. What’s more miraculous was, the ruptured cyst remained in one place when it could have scattered and poisoned my body. Since it stayed in one place, she was able to get everything out.
In February 18, 1997 I had a NORMAL delivery to a baby girl. Her name is Myrrh Raquel. We call her Raqy (rocky), a survivor, God’s reminder that miracles do happen. She had several major miracles in her life, all having something to do with her health but she always survived.
Lesson? Always trust God. Anything can happen but with Him, there’s always a chance that miracles can happen than without Him.
Cecile Cinco
Posted in Female Experiences, Happy Experiences, Medical Experiences, Parenting Experiences | No Comments »
Monday, February 4th, 2008 |
It was a time when I questioned who I was and if I should go on living to see what I would become. It would have been easy to hit rock-bottom, but my mom offered her hand…and her credit card. I’m talking about the time I accidentally dyed my hair gray.
I’ve been a chemically dependent blonde for a few years. Every six weeks my hair becomes a famous miniseries based on an Alex Haley epic. Read: Roots. All’s fair in love and hair, but one summer I decided to flirt with the dark side. I love chocolatey brown hair, but know I couldn’t achieve it without succumbing to another chemical dependency that could be even more grueling.
I settled for ash brown. The woman on the hair dye box looked blondish, but darker. I liked. This way, I could make a change that wouldn’t seem dramatic to anyone but me. I dyed my hair late at night. My mom, sister, and I had plans to go shopping the next day, so I rinsed my hair, conditioned it, and went to bed. It appeared to be light brown.
I can only imagine what I looked like lying in bed the next morning: birds chirping, suburban dogs barking, and light shining in from the window. The rays of sunlight shone on my sleeping face - freckles dotting my cheeks and nose, dark lashes crunchy with sleep, lips dry and slightly parted, hair as gray as steel wool.
Minutes later, I sat up, saw myself in a mirror, gasped, put in my contacts, and gasped again. My hair wasn’t ash brown. It was just plain ASH. Had the fires still been lit, I’d have jumped in and let the whole thing burn.
I screeched for my mom, instead of leaving my bedroom to seek her. No need to freak her out. I’ve seen the movie Big. I know how terrifying it must be to see your teenage daughter morphed into a geriatric woman.
My mom came in and God bless her, she didn’t laugh. I looked older than her! (She clearly knows to respect her elders). My mom told me to wash my hair again and consulted my sister, Megan.
I rinsed and pulled and cursed and repeated. I checked the shower drain for gray run-off. No such luck.
(more…)
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Wednesday, January 30th, 2008 |
I remember being four. That age will forever stand out in my memory. There are days when the memories of that time of my life come back, and I get lost in the midst of what happened then. What I went through back then; my thoughts, how I felt, are still very much a part of me today. I reminisce, and think about wanting to do so many things that were constantly being denied to me. Perhaps I wanted so much to do certain things because my mother was so strict with us—her five children. Being the middle child with two older brothers and two younger sisters—I was the most defiant, and was in need of some extra attention. My mom had her hands full, but still managed to maintain control–even over me, the child who most openly resisted her.
My mother would repeatedly tell me, “You will belong to me until the day that you get married, and even then, you will belong to me.”
At times I would like when my mom would tell me I was hers–it gave me a sense of belonging. And then there were times when that comment would drive me crazy. Couldn’t she see that we were separate beings? I would fight my mother and say “No, I belong to me.”
So many instances come to mind when thinking of all the times I wanted something so badly and my mother would take it away from me. We were in a constant state of tug a war, and she was always winning; slashing my ideas and rejecting my aspirations. I longed to chew gum like the other kids, but my mother wouldn’t allow it. She would say that I didn’t need the sugar, and that it wasn’t “healthy”. What was healthy? I didn’t understand the meaning of the word. Whatever it meant, I knew one thing, that I did not like it. When I asked why gum wasn’t “healthy”, my mom would say “Stop asking so many questions. It just isn’t.” My mom didn’t like the fact that I asked so many questions. At times I wouldn’t talk at all, because I knew that my mother didn’t like that I talked as much as I did. I didn’t want to upset her.
I loved to play with my two older brothers, Eli and Mark, but they didn’t like to play with me. I was a girl, and wasn’t capable of playing like “a boy”. Mark was especially cruel to me, though he didn’t mean to be. We were a year apart. I looked up to him, and wanted to be around him all of the time. Mark couldn’t stand it. He didn’t want a girl, let alone his little sister, following him around. He used to push me away, but I would insist on staying. I suppose I was stubborn back then. Something about him pushing me away– his not wanting me to be around, made me want to stay all the more, just to stick it to him. It got to the point where Mark would really hurt me, but I continued to endure his abuse. I don’t know why.
(more…)
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Wednesday, January 30th, 2008 |
Life is never easy. Nor, I believe, is it supposed to be. It’s a great big, long-assed, painful test that is all put in front of us to make dying look like the easy part. Kind of like taking the SAT’s while having your blood drawn for seventy or so years. I think this is the reason people who commit suicide are shunned by society as a whole. Not because we don’t necessarily agree with them on some level, but because they cheated and took the easy way out. Living is a b*tch. It ain’t pretty, and it ain’t easy. I think that possibly the worst test…the worst part of living…is love.
A collective gasp rolls through the room. “Love? How can something so wonderful be the worst part of living?” Because love, in all its forms, make normally sane human beingscrazy. It changes their personality, their values, their hopes, their plans. It is a desperate addiction that no one on earth has the power to break free of. There are no twelve steps for love addiction. There are no methadone clinics for the recently dumped (although we’ve all been there, and I think this would really be beneficial.); there is no rehab for someone who has an unrequited crush. Love is emotional cocaine, and the buzz lasts an equally short amount of time, before you’re out on the street again, TV in hand, trying to make that next score.
It was my recent viewing of a commercial for Match.com that led me to this conclusion. “If you aren’t in a relationship in six months, we’ll refund your money.” Translation? “If you are still un-dateable after we’ve thrown you everything we can possibly scrape up after six months, we’ll officially deem you, ’social Ebola’, and you’ll be alone, and $60.00 richer.” Not even richer, actually. You will break even.
It made me wonder, “What kind of people (profiles), are you getting by the last week of your six months?” Guys who post their profile on a 3-D replica of a 10-sided die? Someone who posts, “We’ll be great together just as long as you stay away from the barrels in the garage…”? That person who posts the picture of them seated with their binky? What kind of people live in that gray area that exists in the microcosm of the last week of Match.com?
I, God willing, will never know. This is a part of the test of life that I am going to opt to take the “zero” on. I’m not condemning the people that choose this option, for it is a valuable resource in this day and age. I’m just going to bypass the whole experience, so as not to wind up in the last second, Match.com, cram session in the test of life. I guess I just have to hope I will do a little better than average on the “logic” portion of the test of life than I will on the “love” portion. The sadder but wiser girl’s the girl I’ll be. Yes sir. The sadder but wiser girl for me.
Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other one thing
-Abraham Lincoln
Molly
Posted in Female Experiences, Life Experiences, Relationship Experiences | 2 Comments »
Tuesday, January 29th, 2008 |
Who knew that giving birth to twins could change a life so drastically. After being on bed rest for half my pregnancy and going into labor 6 weeks before my due date, life went from a turtles speed to a whirlwind. I had a beautiful boy and girl that are the light of my life.
All of a sudden all the fears of being responsible for another human being were multiplied by the 20 little fingers and toes in front of me. Fast forward a year and now there are two whirlwinds taking over my life heading in opposite directions. Walking and running are one in the same. Who knew those chunky little legs would carry those bodies at top speed. And the bumps and bruises that come with the speed. The tears and the giggles make my life complete.
I second guessed myself as I gave up my career, but look what I get in return. Two silly grins and lots of fun all day long; Much better than a dreary day in an office. No more suits, just the Mommy uniform of Yoga pants and a t-shirt make my life complete. I have responsibility not only for my own life, but for my family. Life changes with two, but now my life is complete.
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