Healing

There's something about beaches that heals.It's 3:27 a.m. in Boracay but I'm still unbelievably sane (not drunk, or wasted drunk) which is insane when you think about it because how could not drink yourself to death in this paradise island.

Yesterday, I nearly reached that nirvana when I vomitted on the beachfront of this bar called 'Summer Place'. But that's a different story.

Let's go back to the subject of healing. Ever since I was small, a trip to the beach has been very special. I remember my cousins and I would wake up at 4 a.m. to go to Dalahican Beach resort in the province. There, we'd swim to our hearts' content, enjoy sumptous homemade food and when we're dark enough, we’d go home which was usually after more than a half day at the beach.

As I got older and had a seaman for a boyfriend, my fascination with the beach grew stronger. When he was abroad (when we were still together), I went to this beach in San Juan, Batangas. I felt nearer to him that time thinking that that wide ocean was our link; that a slight tap on that sea would send ripples to his sea. On the sand, I wrote, 'luv u, b', took a photo and emailed it. That time, the beach was the company in my solitude. I stared at him and he would speak to me in waves. His salty air embraced me and his stillness resonated with mine.

After we broke up in October 2004, I went to Puerto Galera. I felt like a child coming home. For hours I'd just stare at the sea and he seemed to understand why I was back. To his breaking waves I would surrender my tears and he would collect them on the shore,then recede, taking away and hiding forever, the reminders of my pain.

And now I'm back at his footsteps, though entirely for a different reason: evaluation of my progress with regard to forgetting.

If you ask the sea he will tell you that I'm making little progress. There's something about Boracay that

amplifies my loneliness. "This place is a couple place," I told a friend. "It's beauty is best enjoyed by two peope basking in the glory of love."

I didn't have that option so I'm trying to make the best out of my situation. But I fail sometimes and I find myself swimming alone trying to drown his memories. At night, the longing grows. "Once you come home we'll go to the beach. Y'know for some alone time. We'll make up for lost time," I remember emailing him before.

He has since come back and I'm on the beach, alone. So I confront the fact that I am and there are two things I can do about it: submit to it or overcome it.

The default mode that I'm in is the former so I'll try overcoming it for a change.

It's a struggle. I can't even date, afraid that I'll be using my prospect as an emotional balm. I want to be honest, to both myself and my prospect. I'm scarred and I will not find my healing from another person but myself.

To me that is the first step, to recognise that I need time to heal. And I'm projecting it's going to be a long

process -- of forgetting, of erasing his memories and living my life without him, like it used to be.

And what was life before him?

Sleeping late by my lonesome. Taking out only a packet of lunch/dinner instead of two. Watching a lot of movies at home (I usually just dozed off when we watch DVDs). Going to the movies alone. Eating nachos (our favorite) alone. Taking the cab alone (Geesh, I miss him sleeping on my lap when we go home from a gimik).

A lot of it has something to do with enjoying my independence. "Enjoying" is the operative word here and I'm not.

So when I've had enough of myself (even I get tired of me), I go out with friends. Like I do here in Boracay.

Happy hours, when you can buy two beers for the price of one, start very early here, like 5 p.m. which fits our schedule to a T. For the past three days my friends and I have been waking up at around 11 a.m, after a little brunch we head to the beach and sunbathe 'til around 3 p.m. or so, shower and then off we go to the nearest bar. We end our day the next day. And repeat the cycle, without protest.

It seems to me that since I cannot get over the break-up which, quite ironically, it was me who initiated, diversion seems to be working for now. Getting over him completely will take a long process and I don't want to predict if I ever will.

So, like a banca on the shore, I shift from the past and the present bouyed by memories past and hopes for the future.

I sit still, sometimes on the beach and gaze at the vast horizon; overwhelmed by the vision of red-blood

sunsets and beautiful strangers.

Sitting still, I am overwhelmed by my own loneliness.