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January 2012
I thought they were strict about the 7-day free pass to the gym rule, going there everyday for 7 days consecutively. But it turns out that I can always assume when you’re in Indonesia, one of the most corrupted nations around, rules aren’t rules 
That’s great though. It allows my body to rest for a day.
I did a lot, and I mean A LOT of heavy lifting today until I have to squeeze my cheeks (both on face and butt) real hard to get all that body real tight. It’s been ages since I’ve lifted 6-kg free weights. I used to strength-train using 15-lbs free weights, which is roughly that weight (about 6.8-kg).
Today’s a first. Lots of hand exercise and more legs and hip workouts. More sets, same reps with last week’s strength training workouts. It was cool that I can lift off so much weight again, like back when I was as tiny as 46 kg (Oops, I’ve just revealed my lightest weight ever).
Then I hit the elliptical for 45-minutes. I warmed up for 5 minutes at resistance level 5, then go up to 15, then go back to 5. Then go up to 16, then go down to 6. Then go up to 17, and down to 8. Then to 18, and down to 9. And then up to 20 (woo-hoo), and down to 9 again. And then, last but not least, 21 (my official age before this year’s birthday), and down to 10 for 2-3 minutes or so. And then back to 7, and cooled down on 5. That was a pretty tough one. I was really producing so much lactic acid (I think).
Anyway, yesterday was a pretty tough day for me.
At least, throughout our nearly-seven-month relationship I’ve began to speak up about how I feel. Back in the days I just kept my mouth shut. I felt a terrible urge to go mad with my boyfriend for all the little things he does that hurts or irritates me. Sometimes just seeing his face I want to slap and push and pinch and shout at it.
But I remained quiet. I know that it’s just all in my mind; it’s up to me whether I want to let him know how I feel.
He knows he messed up the day’s plans too. At the end of the day, when it was my grandparents’ gold anniversary (50th! Wow!), we have no choice but to take a cab to the restaurant.
He was so confused. He was so frustrated. I just don’t like seeing his face like that. I held his hand and just do whatever I can to clear up all the day’s mess. I think hugging him would help, and it works. At least I don’t feel his blood vessels beating so loudly for a minute there. Stroking helps too, even if I just slowed down the tightening arteries that might slowly but surely lead him to premature high blood pressure.
I know I’m just exaggerating, but that’s how crazy dizzy he was yesterday. Naturally I just let go of my anger toward him, because it’s not as important as working together as partners and supporters of each other.
Honestly, I’ve been worried about his long-term health for months. I myself know how it feels to get all fucked up with difficult people in life. You can’t avoid stress. You can’t make it disappear. It’s just tiresome to deal with it every single second.
Now I won’t tell you exactly what happened yesterday due to personal privacy, but my faith in the situation and in God works. At the end of the day, exactly at 10pm at night, everything goes back to normal. Not everything has went by according to plan, but because of the incident we actually learned a lot of things about our love 
At night I told him what I kept inside all day. You see, when I’m in San Francisco and we’re separated by such long distances, whenever I get frustrated he prefers it if I say all the things I want to say, because we both know that I don’t mean them but it makes me feel much better. I will say things like ‘I hate you’ and ‘I never loved you’, or ‘You’re ugly’. Whatever.
Well, we actually have a really great picture that illustrates my point:
In a nutshell: He doesn’t mind.
Soon, after all those hateful words I texted him are out, I would calm down a lot more and would tell him I love him too.
So yesterday, I asked him whether I can do that too face-to-face, and of course he said yes. So I pushed him, I pushed him hard, but he doesn’t move either. That just goes to show that men are always stronger (physically).
Of course there are plenty more reasons why I love him, but that’s private (I know you are reading this babe, you stalker).
I’ve always thought that my love for him is, on many levels, conditional. He loves me, so I love him. Simple. But hey, I was wrong.
A part of me cares a lot about him without me caring whether I get anything in return. What matters is he’s well, and well is good. And I’m fully conscious that it’s not sympathy I feel he’s down with a lot of stress yesterday, it might be something else. But that part is just deep enough that I don’t get myself hurt. My biggest fear is love, you see.
And I’m still learning to love the right way, so this fear can no longer be a hindrance but merely a state of being to get through with.
Oh dear God, love is not little.
♥
Muchaluva,
Stace.