Chapter 95. Love the artist

I always knew that my third husband would be an artist.

I have done the foreigner, the business man, it’s time for an artist.

Artists have always fascinated me. Their ongoing suffering, preoccupation, fear, anxiety and nostalgia are common to me. Artists are like any other men but more honest. They will tell you things like “I am good for nobody” or “I can’t belong to you” or “I want to die” or ” I am not interested in a relationship because I hate human kind” and it´s true, we always hurt each other along the way…

Statements like this will set the bar low and prepare the ground for what is coming: just life, mere existence shaped in moments and shared ephemerally with some artist that feels ten times more, sees ten times more, suffers ten times more. Someone that announces to be selfish and harmful from day one. I´ll buy it, who wouldn’t? Finally the truth.

Artists are special beings indeed, to be preserved, loved and nurtured. To be understood, supported and most importantly: inspired. Only one kind of woman can be with or be loved by an artist: a muse, a woman strong enough to inspire during the artist´s creation / destruction process of each day, a woman that is above the mediocrities of human kind. A woman capable of playing the part and put up with the drama for a period of time regardless of its duration, a period during which the artist will feel alive, will breath fresh air, will find hope and energy to do what they do best: art.

Art in whatever form it is it’s an expression of the soul and the soul of an artist should be preserved and fed, perceived as the most expensive jewel in a jewelry store since it communicates the common feelings of a whole society at a given time.

Frida, Gala, Alfonsina, Rosalía, Isabel and thousands of others are nodding at this.

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Chapter 88. Toxic Love

My friend is in pain. She does not sleep, she does not eat, she does not enjoy anything whatsoever. Watching her being this way is utterly worry some. I called her and asked her if she wanted to go out for a drink, by the time I stopped by her place (9 PM) she was passed out on the floor.

She does not want to talk about it anymore, she won’t talk about anything else but him. Why he changed, why he lied, why he is doing what he is doing now.

We have been watching our friend for a few months now. She started to date this man a while back, a typical crocodile, and even though the guy seemed really into her and in love, for the past months if not more, she has been suffering. A lot.

My friend used to be a riot, she was always raising up the bar and creating amazing things, fun, easy to talk to, ready for life and with this great ability to make days special.

Then, one day, she had a strike of bad luck, you know, like the cigarretes but the opposite, really bad luck. Everything started to go down the shoot with her relationship, but the situation was so unusual that she could not assess it easily. She became more and more bitter, obsessive and above all, anxious. Who walks around in the morning with a bottle of water filled with vodka?

She did.

She met this guy at a Bahamas singles-only resort, they hooked up, and before she knew it, this guy took over her entire universe. Sometimes I wondered if being bit by a small shark wouldn’t have been a better option.

He sold her a dream life, gave her everything quickly, made her feel like a queen, he was attentive, considerate, loving, capable of ruling the world, so her time, her body and her mind were easy to control too. All of this love coat and amazing red carpet treatment happened only at first. Then he changed, at first a little, then a lot, then there was nothing left of that wonderful man that once opened the door to the best places and did not look at his phone during dinner. My friend started to drink more, changed her lifestyle, her hair color, and started to act like someone new. A person that none of us knew because she was indeed sweet and corky before.

What seemed like a fairy tale, soon became bumpy, yes, a really really bumpy road, the guy was talking about marriage and having a family and made plans for the future yes, but at the same he was pulling away, pulling away from her arms, from her heart, abandoning the relationship while in it, finding a million things to do before spending time with her and making her feel loved like before.

Everything became a bad dream, not only for my friend, but for everyone be else involved. The guy became flaky, his word was no longer trustworthy so my friend became more and more anxious, more demanding, more dependent on what this guy did or did not do, wanted said or thought. All of this while pretending that things were as good as they were at first. She was sad, insecure for the first time ever, but the worst part is that she couldn’t say why because she was fed just enough love to survive on it. She also needed him, she was alone. This guy was by all means, a true emotional terrorist.

What a horrible feeling that is, when you sense that the man of your dreams has stopped loving you, treats you differently and you would rather do anything than to admit it and act on it, whether that is vodka, pills, or doing crazy stupid things to get his attention and love back. It has happened to me too so I can totally relate.

The problem is that crocodiles are crocodiles, they go back to their pond, to get messy, muddy, to be crocodiles, to hang out with their buddies and look for new preys and there is nothing, absolutely nothing that will ever ever change that.

Crocodiles are no pets.

Chapter 74. Being happy

Being happy means living a fulfilling life and being at peace with yourself. Loving yourself. Often, we focus too much on finding love outside but what about love inside? Do you love yourself? Do you respect yourself? When was the last time that you were kind to yourself?

Inner peace and mindfulness are fundamental concerns for smart individuals these days, increasing needs for those who have overcome the ego phase, where only the superficial and the selfish reside. In order to find wellness, a balance between soul, body and surroundings must exist. You have to quiet your mind, listen to your breath, work your body and feel healthy all day, eat good food, enjoy the small things.

We see so many people and so many bloggers focused on expensive clothes and physical appearance, working hard for people to envy them for what they do, who they date or what they have. This only adds to human distress. It shrinks the heart and stops us from being free and honest. Who looks great all day everyday and wears the perfect outfit or has the perfect life at all times? Who hasn’t been in hell while in paradise? Right.

Honesty is the new trend, real life, real women who love themselves and do the best they can, yes, that includes dressing up to the nines occasionally, but above all, who have a purpose.

Happiness is about having a purpose. If you still don’t have one find it.