Author: yndrahll

Last stop: Bristol

yndrahll

Hi! It’s been a while! Work has been CRAAAAZY lately. I’m sorry we didn’t talk on Christmas or Valentine’s day, but I’ve had plenty of time to do some thinking over many things. All of that self-reflection, along with some Insta stories from December 2017 got me thinking about a time when a lot of things and feelings happened in a very short period of time. So doing a post-mortem 3-4 years later seemed like the perfect time frame to get back to this. That year I traveled to Europe to meet my brother in Germany for Christmas and New Year. He was living in Heidelberg at the time, and I decided a short Euro trip with three destinations would be a great vacation. After Germany, I would stay a few days in Madrid, Spain. But before I got to any of that, there was going to be a first stop at Bristol, UK. I will tell you all about that trip, and every stop will have it’s own not-so-short story. Today we will start with Bristol.  

For some context, I lived in Bristol for a while between 2013 and 2014 at a time when I decided I wanted to get a master’s degree in social Anthropology. I know, don’t even make that face. No, I am not crazy or a hippie; I am truly fascinated by human interaction, social constructs, culture, and all that stuff. Plus, Social Anthropology has many real-life/ real-job applications that I am not going to discuss right now.

Anyway, so I was enjoying my late 20’s in Bristol, getting a second chance at student life. Which, if you ever get a chance to do, definitely take it. You’ll find you enjoy going to school a lot more after a few years of trying to be a full-time adult. Trust me on that one.  

During that time, I met a few guys, one of them was a Welsh guy. We’ll call him Ted. I met Ted on Bumble (or Tinder, whatever) and we dated for around 9 months. Ted was the kind of guy that checked all my boxes. He was smart, hardworking, he was cute and tall; he had a dark sense of humor and would laugh at my silly jokes. He enjoyed going out occasionally for drinks and was not shy to dance to good music. He liked nice restaurants and trying all the new food from all over the world that became available in town. He was well travelled and educated. He even lived alone and was very neat and clean for a guy who lives by himself in his 20’s.  Most importantly, he liked me, even when I gained weight from all that Cadbury and fish and chips and felt gross (yes, I struggle with my self-image sometimes too.) He was always one to pick me up and drive me back home (I know, like one of those old school gentlemen). He was a much better cook than me and liked to cook for me every now and then.  He dressed well and had great taste for gifts. He was always welcoming and protective of me in a way that was not possessive or overbearing. He knew I didn’t NEED to be taken care of, but still cared for me and somehow always made me feel protected around him.  We were respectful of each other’s time and space. He was busy with work; I was busy getting a degree while working part-time at a shop, but we also still found time to hang with my friends and do our own thing without that being any issue.

 (Oh, and one final thing, he didn’t have any tattoos. Sorry, I know I’m very old fashioned, but I really don’t like tattoos and these days it is a true miracle to find guys with virgin skin. This needed to be said.)

So you might be thinking, if this guy was so perfect how come you are not married to him or something? Well, simple: because he didn’t ask me to. LOL! When the time came where my student visa was soon to expire and I had to decide if I was to try to stay longer and pursue a more serious relationship with him, no further words or signs of commitment came from him. *hears crickets in the background*

Knowing I wouldn’t waste more time chasing a guy ever again (see last blog post), I just decided to make a peaceful retreat. I cannot say I was heartbroken because I wasn’t. I don’t think I was even in love at that point; I was certainly somewhere on that path, but not quite there yet. I think I made it such a rational decision that he was everything I needed, that I forgot to feel …like really allow myself to feel. I never told him straight up any of this (which now I wonder if it might have been a mistake), but I figured no further effort was worth making since I had already decided to go back home to Mexico.

Somehow, through all of that, we remained friends. I recognized that there were always good intentions from both our ends and no harm had been done. A few months passed and it was time for me to go to Bristol for my graduation and since my family wouldn’t be able to travel for the event, I invited him and my good friend Ale from Chile (who had been a life saver/roommate/BFF, more on her soon!). And that’s how the tradition to go back to Bristol every other year began.

Fast forward to December 2017. I needed to get myself to Europe, so I could get to Germany on time for Christmas. Cheapest option I found was a round flight to London. It immediately seemed like a good idea to make a strategic one week stop at Bristol; visit friends, and have some fun. By then, staying at Ted’s place for a few days was kind of a given for every visit. And even though, we didn’t really talk much while we are apart, every visit became a little like having a genie boyfriend in a bottle. The days over there would go something like this: I would go out during the day, just walking around the city that still feels like home, seeing friends, sitting by the river. Then I would come back home in the afternoons to work because I was working remotely central US/Mexico hours. (Did you think I got like a month off from work? HA!)  He would get home and we would either go out for dinner or he would cook something. We would cuddle and watch tv for a while, then we would improvise a puppet show of some sort (Reference: Bridget Jones Baby to know what I’m talking about) and go to bed. I think it was a Friday night when he came to the pub with me and my friends. Gosh, I almost forgot to mention he even got along with my friends!  Then the following night I met with some other friends and I ended up not getting back to Ted’s house until the next morning. That next day he gave me a cold look but didn’t ask any questions. Regardless, I told him I had stayed over at my friend’s Ale (from Chile). I lied. That night I also met Manu (Manuel), a Spanish friend (-ish) and it got really late and I didn’t want to walk back by myself.

Quick side story, Ted and Manu actually met once for what was one of the most awkward moments in my life. I now laugh about it, but I swear right then I was ready to jump in the Avon river and drown if that would have made me disappear. For a short while I may have been… sort of dating both guys simultaneously, and then, OF COURSE, one day I ran into Manu when I was on a date with Ted. I calmly (#NOT) introduced them both as friends, and then things escalated quickly and all of a sudden, they started a discussion about which of them had a better carry-on luggage for me to borrow for my upcoming Spring break trip to Mallorca. I ended up taking both bags from them, but then I took Manu’s bag on the trip. What?! I mean that one had wheels! Anyway, big oopsy! “Pueblo chico, infierno grande”, is a saying we have in Mexico, which translates “small town, big hell”.  In my defense, I had just met both of them around the same time, there was nothing serious between neither of them, and I’m pretty sure they were also seeing other people at the time. I also stopped dating Manu after that horrific incident; in other words, that’s when I chose Ted…just not his carry-on bag.

So back to the original story. I did see Manu, but nothing happened. I swear! Just keep him in mind because he will come up again later during this trip.

Sadly, it was shortly time for me to leave on to my next stop. After a few days of cuddles, laughs, puppet shows, nights and mornings together, Ted dropped me off at the airport so I could to take a flight to Frankfurt to meet my brother. We hugged like friends do and said our good-byes without much emotion. And like nothing had happened, the genie boyfriend was back in the bottle and I didn’t even glance back or felt the slightest sorrow for “leaving Bristol on a jet plane” …once again. I know partially why that was. My eyes and my interest were now set somewhere else in Madrid, a story for which you will have to stay tuned…

I saw Ted again last year. I went on one of my every-other-year Bristol tours. Except this time I didn’t stay at his place, mostly because I was traveling with my friend Laura. I did meet him one night for dinner. It was nice “catching up” for a while. A few months after that trip he became a dad of a little baby girl. (No, I’m not the mother. Phew, that was close!) Last I heard from him, he’s still single, but I haven’t talked much with him since he gave me the news. I am unsure if or how the fact that he now has a kid changes things between us, but somewhere my sixth sense tells me that this story might have come to an end for good. Which is why I guess; I’m coming back to reflect on it. I think I have finally allowed myself to remember and feel what I probably should have felt years ago. Great timing by the way! But I do promise you this; if I ever download Bumble again, this will be my new bio: “Expect emotional response/reaction 3-4  years after first kiss.”  #noregrets

First things first

yndrahll

Blog Post #1:
First things first

OK, let’s get started by stating the obvious and just get this out of the way once and for all; my name is Yndra it’s pronounced In-drah, hence, the name of this blog. When I started thinking about a name for my blog, and since this is going to be a personal blog; I thought – “what would be the one thing that describes me and is consistent across my life?” And the answer to that was very plainly that throughout my entire life no one ever gets my name right the first time. It’s the kind of thing that if I had a dollar for every time someone doesn’t get my name right first time (or after multiple attempts), I would probably be a millionaire by now.  I’m not even kidding.

So I’m writing a blog about myself, and let me begin by saying that I’m not doing this because I’m a highly self-centered person, but because I was challenged to do it by my someone who used the words “Let’s make an experiment with you” and knew she immediately had my attention and got an almost instant – “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED” reply from me (for those How I Met Your Mother fans out there, you will know the tone in which how those words need to be said).  As I was thinking about writing about myself, I also kind of thought it would be really boring to start off with a line that went something like “July 30, 1985 2:00 PM…” (just putting that out there in case someone wants to give me a free astrology reading). Instead, I decided a better approach would be to go back in time and reflect on some past experiences that give you, my beloved readers, an idea of what I’m all about. But what events from my past are more relevant? Where do I even begin? And the answer was there all along as I was scrolling through my Instagram, old stories and posts. The first thing that came up was this memory from 2016 and I thought it had enough background that I could use to reflect on and “spill some tea”.

You might think this is a random vain selfie taken somewhere in Cancun, showing a little bit of a side boob, but oh no…. This one has a little bit of a sad story behind it. Behind those pink polarized Ray Bans are a pair of dark brown eyes that were frankly a little swollen from crying after I found out my ex was getting married.  And don’t get me wrong, at that moment in time I was not in love with my ex nor did I have any intentions of getting back with him. I also didn’t I miss him at all; I just thought he didn’t deserve love and a “happy ending”, at least not more than I did.

And do not worry my friends, my Instagram stories also feature some pleasant memories that I’ll be eager to talk about soon. Because I do have tons of happy and funny memories to share, especially those that involve my friends who are now married and now on their best behavior and don’t want their husbands/wives to know the kind of monsters they married. I’M FINALLY ABLE TO TELL IT ALL!! MUAHAHA. In my defense, I think they already know that and it’s too late to back up now.  C’est la vie.

Anyway, back to the heartbreak story. This guy and I dated for like 6 years while we were both in university. It was the kind of love where for the first time in your life you fall deep and hard; every moment takes your breath away, nothing and no one matters more than this person, you are capable of going through unimaginable lengths to make it work. In many ways, it was a great relationship, one that I keep beautiful memories from and where I grew and learned to share my time, my space, my life. But somewhere in that process I gave so much of myself that I lost sight of who I was. I became an extension of him, his family, and his friends….all while my family, my friends, my hobbies, my interests were put to the side. I tried so hard for so long to make this relationship work, keep this guy’s attention (yes, I had to constantly work to get his attention or make it to his priority list; and no, that is not normal nor healthy I learned later). I tried so hard to the point where not only did I lose myself but I was completely emotionally drained. I literally wasn’t capable to give anything more. Around the same time where I was reaching that exhaustion point, it also finally hit me that he had no intentions of ever taking our relationship to the next level (whatever that was), meaning, he did not love me the same way I did. He didn’t see us growing old, becoming a family, or having any kind of long-term future together. It was something he said one day, and I will never forget the exact words he used and the exact moment where I felt this hole in my stomach, and I lost my motivation or rather my reason to keep pushing our relationship. It was one of those turning point moments in life, like a bomb was dropped and suddenly everything turned dark, and I could feel was left this like “ground zero” in my whole being. So, with no emotional energy left and no motivation to keep going, I decided to end things. It took me a while to actually execute on it, I mean, I knew I needed to break up with him the second after that “ground zero” moment, but our relationship was so codependent I didn’t even know how to function without him and all the “support” system I had created around him. So, it took me a while to gather enough strength to actually do it, and it was funny because the day I did it, it came as such a surprise to him. Like he never expected me to be the one to break up with him. We cried together, said our good-byes and that was it. There was no turning back after that, at least not for me. There was never a moment of doubt since.

After that, it took me a good couple of years (maybe more), countless hours of therapy sessions, and the support of my great friends who didn’t hesitate to take me back, for me to rediscover myself.

It was after a work event in Cancun. I had decided to stay there and take a few days off with Silvia who is a very good friend I know from work. Everything had been going great drinking mojitos and working on my tan, until I got a message from a friend saying he saw that I was in Playa del Carmen (for those of you who don’t know, it’s a great beach town right next to Cancun) and that seeing my posts had reminded him of the last time we had met over there and all the fun it had been (For some context: I had been in Playa del Carmen about two years earlier and ran into this guy and his girlfriend on a trip I took alone after the infamous breakup.). He also then proceeded to ask me if I was aware that my ex was getting married, to which I replied – “no, how do you know?” and then I never got a reply.  After doing some digging with a couple of other friends, it turned out that everybody knew about the engagement and was afraid to tell me.

At that moment I was left feeling a little bit betrayed, but more than that I just felt life wasn’t fair. I had worked my ass off to make a relationship work, to then worked my ass off again to rebuild myself; only to be the one still alone, no new relationships, no excitement of a new love in the horizon, nothing. I just felt like he always did so little and cared so little, how was he being rewarded with finding his person and I wasn’t? It just didn’t make sense to me; why him and not ME? And then I sobbed uncontrollably for like an hour out of envy. Eventually, I guess I dried out of tears to cry. My poor friend Silvia had been sitting by my side the entire time and I am sure she was relieved that my crying finally stopped. You know how some friends have a way to cheer you up and then next thing you know you’re laughing again? She’s like that for me. After a while and a few beers I was laughing again. Somewhere within the laughter and the sun and the waves, I felt better again. I do think the beach has very powerful healing powers. (Highly recommend, five stars!) And then, at that moment, I saw my own reflection on my phone. I was rocking a nice outfit and a colorful headband that cost me a small fortune; I was taking a few days off at the Caribbean and had just put together a successful event for clients. – Hey, I’m kind of not doing bad at all! And suddenly I remembered how hard I had fought to become myself again and how proud I was (am) of who I had become; ultimately it all led to realizing I learned to love myself before anyone else and that’s all that matters. All else will come at it’s own right time….I think.  *camera clicks* #selfie