13/8/24: Let It Stay Out There for a While

Today, I met mi terapia (I use 'terapia' because I always struggle to spell it correctly in English). Though we meet every week, today's conversation struck a chord within me, resonating in a way that felt both timely and profound. It touched something deep inside, which is why I feel compelled to share it on my blog— it's a moment of clarity and connection that holds value for me, offering insight and comfort during a time when I need it.

Long story short, I am going through a breakup, even though we weren't officially committed. We had built a beautiful foundation of friendship, then experienced romantic moments, and truly connected. We liked each other, enjoyed each other's presence, and gradually discovered more and more sides of each other.

Now, we are both emotionally and physically separated, for me this is a breakup, and I feel an overwhelming sadness.

Today when I was talking to mi terapia, I noticed how fast I was—both in my speech and my thoughts. My mind raced through my emotions, feelings, thinking, and plans (both short-term and long-term), and my brain was analysing everything above.

At the same time, I realized my schedule for this week is completely full. I can’t quite recall how or when I made it so packed. On one hand, it’s great to have things going on, to be returning to normal life. But I wonder—isn't it a bit fast?

She pointed out that I assume everyone else knows what they're doing 100%, and that I respond with solutions based on that assumption;

She also reminded me that I don't have to rush to conclusions or solutions right now.

It's okay to let things sink in, to simply feel without needing to analyze why. We'll see what happens as I allow myself to experience these emotions without rushing to make sense of them.

At that moment, I felt a sudden clarity,

"You're right. I've been relentlessly analyzing, feeling, planning, thinking.

I'm exhausted.

I don't know what else to say—I don't want to talk anymore."

"That's okay. We can end here for today.

You need to allow yourself to not know how to react, allow yourself to feel without knowing the reasons behind."

Now as I am writing, I opened my notebook to make some notes. Last week, one day when I was alone at his place, I stole some of his perfume to spray on my notebook. As I flipped through the pages, his scent unexpectedly filled the air, bringing with it a sense of immediacy and intimacy—an invisible embrace, but also an illusory imagination.

Yes, I miss him.

And yes, perhaps it's time to leave everything out there for a while.

Just allow myself to miss him when those feelings arise, without the need to think the next step.

Time to give myself space. Time to simply feel, to stop the constant spinning of my mind. Time to pause the analysis and just ask myself:

How do you feel? What do you truly want right now?

I feel... tired, sad, and utterly exhausted, there’s a sense of loss, the hollow emptiness that comes from the connection severed, leaving behind a void where something important once was.

I want to go home, make chicken soup with fresh veggies, take a long, hot bath, and wrap myself in my love. Then, I'll eat a cold orange from the fridge while standing under the shower.

Afterword

In the bathroom, warm water flows gently over me, and the fragrance of essential oils fills the air as candlelight casts a soft glow. My toes touch the water’s surface first, and then the warmth of the ripples gradually embraces my entire body.

As I immerse myself in the water, the warmth surrounding me reminds me of being in a mother’s womb—secure and gentle. But this time, I’ve created this womb, this sanctuary. With closed eyes, I embrace the tender interaction between my skin and the water, feeling the delicate caresses and touches. My hands delicately explore myself, fingertips dancing, kneading, and releasing. At times, I feel electric currents coursing through my body, unintentionally deepening my breath, lost in the unconscious melody of moans. Every pore seems to open, every hair senses the touch of tenderness.

Gently, I massage my scalp, cleansing myself. I love handmade products, inhaling their natural aroma as if I were in a forest. The morning mist, the midday sunlight, the trickling streams, the scent of soil, the vitality of plants, the hues of dusk, the symphony of insects and birds—each element pours into my awareness. After the bath, my cheeks are tinged with a subtle blush, my entire being softened like melting honey.

Now, standing under a steaming hot shower, the water cascades over my skin. The bathroom is filled with humidity, the air thick and warm, like a soft embrace. I feel slightly dizzy, I am so relaxed. My mind is quiet, and fully present.

In my hand, I hold a ripe, vibrant orange from the farmers’ market. It’s not perfectly beautiful—there are scars, it’s uneven—but it feels so authentic. Its skin is textured, slightly rough yet yielding to the touch. As I press my thumb into the orange peel, I feel a slight resistance before it gives way with a soft pop. The citrusy fragrance bursts into the air, cutting through the humid steam with its bright scent.

Slowly, I begin to peel the orange, each section of peel mingling with the juice that starts to escape from the fruit. As I bite into the orange, the juice explodes in my mouth, a burst of sweetness and tang that tingles across my tongue and lips. The contrast between the cold, juicy fruit and the warmth of my mouth is striking. The juice dribbles down my chin, my chest, my legs, mingling with the hot water, the flavors dancing on my taste buds as I chew slowly, savoring every moment.

The experience is immersive, a heightened awareness of every sensation, grounding me fully in the present. My breath slows, matching the rhythm of the water, my entire being focused on the sensations of taste, touch, and smell. There’s a certain intimacy in this solitary moment, a connection to myself that feels safe and beautiful, where the simple act of eating an orange becomes a profound experience of presence and pleasure.

I close my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me—the warmth, the sweetness, the feel of the fruit on my tongue, the way my body responds to the combination of heat and coolness. My tears run with the water, and suddenly, time seems to slow down, as if nothing exists outside of this moment.

Let everything else stay out there for a while.

To simply eat an orange, to cry, to be sad.

I wrote a poem last night:

我独自在Córdoba的大街上，

那些曾经陪伴我回家路上对他的思念，

如今变得如此遥远。

去年告别之夜的“说不清道不明的连接感”，

那份在夜色中轻轻流淌的亲密与陌生；沉默和节制，

如今已不再涌动。

现在，我感受到的是一种正在死去的爱意，

不再是思念，而是悼念。

曾经弥漫在空气中的浪漫因子，

如今与记忆中的碎片和逐渐褪去的欲望交织，

正逐渐沉入大地的深处。

它们仍在微微颤动，

但我知道，

它们正缓缓睡去。

让它们沉睡吧，

就这样安息在土壤中，

不再醒来。

Camino sola por las calles de Córdoba,

y aquellos pensamientos de él, ahora se sienten tan lejanos.

Esa “conexión inexplicable” en la noche de nuestra despedida el año pasado,

esa intimidad y extrañeza que fluían suavemente en el silencio y la contención de la noche,

ya no se agitan en mí.

Ahora, lo que siento es un amor que se está apagando,

la añoranza se ha convertido en duelo.

Los rastros de romanticismo que alguna vez impregnaron el aire

ahora se mezclan con los fragmentos de mis recuerdos

y con los deseos que lentamente se desvanecen,

hundiéndose en lo más profundo de la tierra.

Todavía palpitan,

aunque débilmente, pero sé que están muriendo.

Déjalos descansar,

que duerman en la tierra y no vuelvan a despertar.