Conversations that I had were a map to myself

Glancing back to 2023, I asked myself what remains constant in this year of changes, where uncertainty fills each void, and I befriended with uncomfortableness and losses.

The sole answer is that throughout the year, my days are filled with conversations with various people;

family, friends, friends that feel like family, colleagues, strangers, strangers who then became friends, and other connections that I found hard to name.

Some conversations started with “hi” and were left unread; some started with handshakes, invitations, or even as random as with people I queued with at a concert or met at a running event, where it all led to be the “followers” in social media accounts in which they roam daily to peek at my filtered life. Some of it blossoms into the little corner of the account where we banter, and some remain as ghosts.

Some conversations are harder than others. Some of which I brought up by saying, “I don’t think it suits me anymore” and unfortunately….

…it didn’t end up well.

I stubbornly believed I was right, but I perhaps selfishly wanted to prove a point that I overlooked how the message was landed and translated on the other side.

Losing friendships that have been tenured for years are silent breakups of seeing that person still being recognized by your phone, smiling at the “people” corner in your album of previous years’ photos, that indicate how a year could change so much in a person – and in mine as well.

Or seeing little milestones that they achieved and you’re not there, and how you thought if both of you are still in contact you’re the one that would know it all before it’s launched on the internet.

Unfortunately, we grew apart and outgrown each other.

But I’m a firm believer in endless possibilities and chances;

that along the way, somewhere in the future, we might find our way back and form a stronger bond in a way we thought almost impossible today.

Some conversations stopped the time.

It was right after the moment one said,

“I have trouble sleeping”,

“I’ve been struggling with being alone for some time”

and with stammering and crumpled tissues they said,

“I do think I need to tell you this, otherwise it won’t be fair to you”,

“I didn’t cry when my father died”,

“I’m having a miscarriage”,

or even

“I want to kill myself”.

These conversations collapse the facade that we’ve tried so hard to maintain, and in a split second, you know: that it took a lot of bravery and a huge level of trust to be able to deliver it to someone else other than yourself. Some people that I conversed with argued that being vulnerable is a frail thing, but I argued otherwise.

I believe that being vulnerable is one of the strongest things a person can do.

As John Green in Anthropocene Reviewed perfectly put it,

“You cannot see the beauty which is enough unless you make yourself vulnerable to it.”

Instead of weaknesses, I will see another new color that will be added to a person’s spectrum.

I found it to be a celebration of humanity: where our sluggish, imperfect hearts were connected, that’s when our inner wounds could be seen and healed. This is the beauty that can be felt in hearts and stays there a long time, enough to make you feel whole.

Sometimes when words couldn’t fulfilled, the body took control and comfort through pats and hugs.

A gentle touch on my shoulder from a stranger when I finished my first meditation session with cheeks drenched in tears, enough to make me feel secure and collected.

Or the hugs after one shared a personal heavy story during a spoken words session.

I recall one of the stories in Conversation on Love, where the author interviewed a writer called Joe Hammond, who was dying of motor neuron disease and he felt a spark of joy when his seven-year-old boy touched his bony hand with his finger in a split second.

“A lot can be extracted from less”, he said.

And I thought how interesting it was that someone could feel love over a touch — even a slight brush from another human being.

For friends who are going through their journey of loss and grief, may the peace little by little bloom within you.

Thank you for surviving, and what a strong angel you are.

I’ll be here, keep believing in you even when no one believes so.

We’ll get through this together, I promise.

There were times when conversations found me.

In lunch sessions, I had with my mentor, when I said to her “What if I felt lost?” after a week of crying.

Then she told me,

“Well, there might be several great places you’ll find when you are lost. Like a cute cafe, or bookstores. Being lost doesn’t mean you’ll end up in a bad place. And in fact, you’ll always could map yourself back.”

I was stunned while holding up my tears, “I need this, Thank you”

In which she replied,

“You could always tap me whenever you need it, I will be an ear for you.”

or when I told her,

“I guess I need to sit down before I make a decision”,

To be then replied with an expression that was enough to make me breathe a little bit,

“I think you need to stop putting it all on you. You don’t need all the answers now. I’m nearly 50 and I don’t know all the answers to my life!”

These conversations feel like a little oasis amid the skyscraper jungle of this bustling city. In the stiffness, rough faces of the business, there’s still a shoulder to tap on. And I’m completely grateful to have one to relive.

And who would’ve thought this lost soul of mine could encounter other souls that also wandering alone?

In this small cafe where we held hostages ((happily)) for 6 hours to talk about books, life, or even our struggles, the world felt like it didn’t matter anymore. The only matter was us, catering to each other thoughts, polishing each other ideas, forming collective joy and connections.

This book club feels like a certain addiction, and it almost felt like my mind couldn’t process well in a month if I missed one.

Oh, just like the quote that was written in our bag, that I guess almost every member resonates with:

“The only thing that holding my shit together is this club.”

Or the other cafe community, where I wrote down all my worries in a paper, back in September. That’s when our soul speaks at the same wavelength, where cries and laughs emerge gloriously.

Or the local indie bookshop that I visited religiously which became my little hideout where I snuggled in, being surrounded by books & the people who warmly welcomed me.

Or even in the chain of emails, I’ve been exchanging with a friend since a year ago that cultivated to be one of the ways we use to manipulate time and space. There, we talked about our deepest feelings that we might not have shared with others, patting each other thoughts and souls.

Like the quote, she gave me when I experiencing Impostor Syndrome that I tightly held onto,

“Her confidence was not in her existing knowledge but it was in her capacity to learn”

or the time when she told me one of the words I said which strengthened her that she would repeat during tough days,

“I think there’s no “better” version of ourselves. There’s only us, trying to deal with different challenges in every stage of our life.”

I remember those days when we tried to figure out our lives, glad to see how all these fears and worries led her to one of the most exquisite moments in her life: Marriage.

Hi Dear,

Look how far we’ve come, that these fears and worries of you in the earliest days can be slowly answered. And If you read this, I genuinely hope, that love and happiness will always shower your marriage, and this marriage could help you to navigate your life ahead. Though it’s scary, I believe you’ll be able to figure it out eventually.

I appreciate your presence, and you know who you are.

Love,

Bibil.

These conversations had fostered me for a whole year, little by little forming a firm ground so I could stand upon them.

There is no guarantee that next year, and years ahead, there’ll be no wave that hit my shore or storms that attack my mind anymore.

But I believe, when I see downright at the ground where I stand, each sea glass beneath my feet, will luminously glow these conversations I had with people that I love.

Hence, at times I lost myself, it will then be mirrored to me:

each piece of mine that I sow and watered into these souls is a map to myself.

Honestly, I wouldn’t survived this year without all of you.

So,

Thank you.

May 2024 serve us right and cheers to more conversations ahead!