subtle threads of life flowing beneath the surface

 

 

Photography: The magic of capturing a moment. Magic—it’s a word we toss around lightly these days, but its meaning has shifted over centuries. It used to evoke the unexplainable, the mysterious. Now, it's something we use to describe the indescribable when we lack the words to articulate the true weight of a feeling. Language is funny that way. It holds so much, yet so little.

When I look at this image, taken ten years ago, it brings me back to a time when my life felt uncertain and fragile. I had just had my thyroid removed, and I was consumed by thoughts of what that meant for my future. Would anyone want to marry someone so "defective"? Could I ever bear children, or was that dream slipping through my fingers? At that time, I didn’t even have a boyfriend, but I yearned for a child, a family.

Fast forward to 2024, and life has shifted in ways I never could have predicted. I’m married—but it feels more like living with a roommate than a partner. And yet, despite everything, I have a five-year-old son, a miracle I never thought would happen. Carrying him to term, giving life to him—it felt like magic, the kind that words can’t quite capture. From the pregnancy, to staying home with him for the first three years, watching him grow—it was a dream I thought I’d never see come true. I even designed a program abroad just for him, to give him early stimulation, to ensure he learned English as a second language, to raise him bilingual from birth. I built my life around him.

But then, I made the decision to move to Miami, leaving everything behind—including the remnants of the marriage that once held promise. My husband, if I can even call him that, is a shell of what I imagined a partner should be. He’s not a drunk. He’s not a cheater. But he’s also not a man I can lean on for emotional support, not someone who shares the weight of raising a child, not someone who makes me feel loved. He’s just… there. A presence in the house. A father to my son, but not the husband I thought I would have.

It’s ironic, really. My father was never there for my mother either—not emotionally, not financially. I watched her struggle to provide the basics for us. In the end, she left him because his priorities were so twisted. And now, here I am, repeating the same cycle I vowed I’d never fall into. My husband isn’t a bad man, but he is a burden—a heavy block on my journey. He makes me angry. He makes me sad. And worse, he’s teaching my son that it’s okay to be emotionally absent, that it’s okay to let your partner carry the emotional weight alone.

How do I break this cycle? How do I move forward—mentally, emotionally, spiritually—when this weight is always there? I don’t have the answers yet. But I know I can’t stay in this limbo forever. Something has to change, and that something has to start with me.

*Disclaimer: My thoughts, but refined with help from ChatGPT.

Like a magnet

that effortlessly pulls me towards her.

I last updated this blog exactly 4 years today.

#serendipity

Sophie and Boba =)

Bobanasaur