.
Twenty-four years ago, I ran my life in boxes. The most prominent from these boxes were the ones I labeled ‘Work’ and ‘Personal’.
Twenty-four years ago, I moved heaven and hell to make sure that ‘Work’ did not take hold of ‘Personal’. My personal life remained personal, and nobody from my ‘Work’ box had anything to do with it. Consequently, whatever happened on my professional plane must stay there. They did not mix and strike an imbalance on my system I had learned to build and protect over the years.
Twenty-four years ago, I never believed in the philosophy behind Google Plus’ Circles or the concept behind the Venn diagram. There were only two shades of people in my life, and they never, ever intercept. One could only be white or black, and I chose where they fit in my black-and-white world.
I never mixed business with pleasure. I had officemates, and I had friends, and my life was as simple as that.
(Yes, Gabriel García Márquez was right: we have three lives—the public one, the private one and the secret one.)
Thus, it never came as a surprise to me how officemates would only know me for my work. And my friends would know me for who I really am—and that would include how an idiot or a genius I can be, depending on the situation.
(I do not have what you call a quasi-friend or a real friend, because I may be civil, funny and open to you, but you will never be my friend unless I tell you the deep, dark and horrid secrets of my life.)
Am I too closed off, you may ask? For a person who should be an “expert” in mass communications, why not go “public” and bare all, socialize, like what communicators do?
(Twenty-four years ago, I met this question all the time from all the people I first met. I still receive them now.) Until now, I do not have an answer to that.
Or I do have an answer, but they would never accept it (Why should I? You do not need to know who I am aside from being a worker, do you? Those, I would say, and they would give me that kind of look I got used to ignore.).
The mind, after all, is a powerful entity, and it can continue to compartmentalize every bit of information that it meets so the mortal can continue to live the life in the way he wills it.
I had boxes set in timelines as well. There was a box of that life I had back two years ago, where I was still naïve and petrified to go out of my shell for my first ever real job and had some of the worst experiences of my life. That was a box I had tucked safely at the unconscious recesses of my mind, for I wish to forgive, and remember fondly.
(It is the most protected box I have for the 21st century. The memories may be full of excitement, adventure and lasting relationships, but it also overflows with so much anger, stress, pain, and loss.)
Yes, I run my life in boxes and used all tools I know to make sure one does not touch the other. The boundaries of my boxes are delicate and easily rent, for the world moves rapidly and sometimes catching up to it is rougher than expected. And what keeps each box still separate from the other is my strong will.
But there will always be an exception. In time, someone will rip away the restraints of my strong will and make her presence known. In time, that someone will render me speechless as I take a moment of contemplation, insist that I spend a time to remember her, make her irreplaceable, and make me see that I can be idiotic at times because she is neither friend nor worker because she is both—and so much more.
That someone will become so much more than what my idiotic boxes define her because she has become a partner in crime, has listened to the story of my life and judged fairly, has had the same share of sad and painful experiences simply because we experienced them together. This someone will have the same thinking as I do, will communicate and understand me without need for words, and will simply make you the best version of you that you can be because you complement well in your line of work.
That exception was you. And right then and there, you broke all the rules I set aside for myself, learned to let go some bit and trust in people some more, because it matters not where we met and first shook hands: it’s how you have become a part of me, and how you have evolved to be more than one part of my life in black-and-white boxes. Because people change. And whether I accept it or not, there will be friends who will leave you, and, worse, betray you. And there will be people who you never considered to get that close to you to actually do.
So, thank you for being such an integral part of my life. Now, you’re no longer my officemate. Now, you’re no longer my friend. We still communicate once in a while. We have different experiences, we took on different paths. And yet, we still share the same frustrations, the same issues, the same successes.
And because of that, you have become my soulmate.
Belated happy birthday, and this one is for you.
Twenty-four years ago, I ran my life in boxes. The most prominent from these boxes were the ones I labeled ‘Work’ and ‘Personal’.
Twenty-four years ago, I moved heaven and hell to make sure that ‘Work’ did not take hold of ‘Personal’. My personal life remained personal, and nobody from my ‘Work’ box had anything to do with it. Consequently, whatever happened on my professional plane must stay there. They did not mix and strike an imbalance on my system I had learned to build and protect over the years.
Twenty-four years ago, I never believed in the philosophy behind Google Plus’ Circles or the concept behind the Venn diagram. There were only two shades of people in my life, and they never, ever intercept. One could only be white or black, and I chose where they fit in my black-and-white world.
I never mixed business with pleasure. I had officemates, and I had friends, and my life was as simple as that.
(Yes, Gabriel García Márquez was right: we have three lives—the public one, the private one and the secret one.)
Thus, it never came as a surprise to me how officemates would only know me for my work. And my friends would know me for who I really am—and that would include how an idiot or a genius I can be, depending on the situation.
(I do not have what you call a quasi-friend or a real friend, because I may be civil, funny and open to you, but you will never be my friend unless I tell you the deep, dark and horrid secrets of my life.)
Am I too closed off, you may ask? For a person who should be an “expert” in mass communications, why not go “public” and bare all, socialize, like what communicators do?
(Twenty-four years ago, I met this question all the time from all the people I first met. I still receive them now.) Until now, I do not have an answer to that.
Or I do have an answer, but they would never accept it (Why should I? You do not need to know who I am aside from being a worker, do you? Those, I would say, and they would give me that kind of look I got used to ignore.).
The mind, after all, is a powerful entity, and it can continue to compartmentalize every bit of information that it meets so the mortal can continue to live the life in the way he wills it.
I had boxes set in timelines as well. There was a box of that life I had back two years ago, where I was still naïve and petrified to go out of my shell for my first ever real job and had some of the worst experiences of my life. That was a box I had tucked safely at the unconscious recesses of my mind, for I wish to forgive, and remember fondly.
(It is the most protected box I have for the 21st century. The memories may be full of excitement, adventure and lasting relationships, but it also overflows with so much anger, stress, pain, and loss.)
Yes, I run my life in boxes and used all tools I know to make sure one does not touch the other. The boundaries of my boxes are delicate and easily rent, for the world moves rapidly and sometimes catching up to it is rougher than expected. And what keeps each box still separate from the other is my strong will.
But there will always be an exception. In time, someone will rip away the restraints of my strong will and make her presence known. In time, that someone will render me speechless as I take a moment of contemplation, insist that I spend a time to remember her, make her irreplaceable, and make me see that I can be idiotic at times because she is neither friend nor worker because she is both—and so much more.
That someone will become so much more than what my idiotic boxes define her because she has become a partner in crime, has listened to the story of my life and judged fairly, has had the same share of sad and painful experiences simply because we experienced them together. This someone will have the same thinking as I do, will communicate and understand me without need for words, and will simply make you the best version of you that you can be because you complement well in your line of work.
That exception was you. And right then and there, you broke all the rules I set aside for myself, learned to let go some bit and trust in people some more, because it matters not where we met and first shook hands: it’s how you have become a part of me, and how you have evolved to be more than one part of my life in black-and-white boxes. Because people change. And whether I accept it or not, there will be friends who will leave you, and, worse, betray you. And there will be people who you never considered to get that close to you to actually do.
So, thank you for being such an integral part of my life. Now, you’re no longer my officemate. Now, you’re no longer my friend. We still communicate once in a while. We have different experiences, we took on different paths. And yet, we still share the same frustrations, the same issues, the same successes.
And because of that, you have become my soulmate.
Belated happy birthday, and this one is for you.
A soul mate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we're safe in our own paradise. Our soul mate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we're two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we've found the right person. Our soul mate is the one who makes life come to life. -- (AA Milne, From Now We Are Six).
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