Category Archives: Personal Reflections

Back on the treadmill to try to compensate for the abomination of a lunch that I just had: chocolate chip cookies with ice cream. (Yeah, yeah, I’ll go back to eating my healthy foods tomorrow. Promise. Or at least I’ll try.)

Like a kid after a long Halloween night, I’m all shaken up on sugar. So I figured I’d get these fingers moving along with my legs.

I’ve been meaning to write about a question a close friend, who I love very much, asked me:

“Are you happy?”

OOF.

Caught me off guard, not gonna lie.

I mean… where does one, at least one like me, even begin to answer such a question?

I could probably write a book with all the thought rambling that went through my mind before I could answer.

For non-overthinkers, it could probably be a plain yes or no.

Boom. Moving on to the next topic.

For yours truly?

Um, take a couple days of your PTO to read my answer, which would probably still be just the tip of the inner iceberg.

Anyway, it got me thinking. A lot.

Could I say a hard no?

No, because I do have pockets of happiness during my days.

Could I say a hard yes?

No, because I also have the occasional pockets of sadness or emptiness during my days. Although the emptiness has been less intense lately, probably because I took some time to disconnect in order to connect…

—

Sorry, just came back. Had to hop off the treadmill for a moment.

Okay, so… yeah.

I can’t fully give a black-and-white answer to this one. There are too many shades to it.

And to be honest, it’s been very clear to me for a little while now that I value peace of mind more than I value happiness.

Or maybe they’re both in the same ballpark.

Who knows.

I’m no expert.

All I know is that I once read something in a book that resonated with me on a deep level:

Humans are not designed to be happy all the time.

Does that mean we’re not allowed to want to be happy?

Absolutely not.

It just feels right to acknowledge that, so we don’t beat ourselves up too much when we realize we have everything we once dreamed of and still don’t feel that spark of happiness as often as we thought we would.

But do I feel peace?

That’s a question that’s easier for me to answer.

The answer would be: sometimes.

It depends on what my mind is focused on.

When it focuses on things I wish were different and yet have zero control over, I don’t feel much peace.

When I come back to myself and remember that there’s only so much I can do about certain things, and try to trust the process of life to the best of my abilities, I feel a bit more of it.

Being around nature also brings me a mix of peace and happiness.

If not both on equal levels.

And that’s something I didn’t anticipate in the past, to be honest.

I was a city girl.

Part of me still is.

But lately I’ve even cried in awe at nature’s beauty.

Hard to explain, but yeah.

It gives me that air-in-the-lungs feeling that I think I was missing for a long time.

Deep conversations with my closest friends do the same.

And surprisingly, moments in solitude do the trick too.

Of course, like everyone, there’s still inner conflict that blocks my peace from time to time.

Working on that.

Not sure what exactly I’m trying to say here.

I guess I just want to put into words that it’s okay if we don’t feel fully happy, even when, from the outside looking in, it seems like we should.

Only we know what things look like from our own perspective.

And that’s the thing.

I think it’s all about perspective.

Sometimes it differs wildly from person to person.

What would be considered a reason to be happy for one person might not be nearly as meaningful to another.

And now I’m just rambling.

Funny enough, I have this feeling that no matter what we say we want from the outside, obtaining it doesn’t guarantee we’ll be as happy as we think we’ll be.

Whatever “it” is.

In the end, wherever we go, we take our minds with us.

So I can see how, if I’m not at peace in my own mind, it won’t matter what I get or where I go.

That feeling will follow until I’m ready to let it go and embrace the peace that already exists but that I’ve been blocking with my own blurred vision.

Ok. This is it.

This is the type of post that future me will likely cringe about when she reads it.

But I. Don’t. Care.

Gotta mark this moment somehow, even if it’s addressed to my most faithful crickets.

It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Not just here on this website, but here in my zone. Or one of them, at least.

Walking on the treadmill, listening to one lyricsless song on repeat (today it’s Lone Machine by YOTTO), and being interrupted by J, my husband, giving me a kiss, wishing me a good day, and reminding me to be ready at 6 p.m. to go watch a horror movie.

Where was I?

Oh, yes. My treadmill zone.

Typing on my laptop, which is sitting on the best purchase I’ve ever made (apart from my Brooks shoes): a little gray tray that lets me move my laptop up and down as I please. I place the whole thing on a wooden surface J made for me a while back.

So I write and I walk.

I walk and I write.

Forgot how good this feels.

Anyways, here’s more of my characteristic rambling.

What can I say? It’s been a long while, and a lot has happened in this weird transition where I went from Mary Bejarano Moore to Mary Jho Moore.

Where I went from being exhausted on all levels, depleted, depressed, and feeling trapped in my own body, to feeling a big pocket of air in my lungs. Feeling alive. Feeling more aligned with my choices. Feeling more connected and more ready to connect with others.

A few months back, I didn’t want to interact with anyone whatsoever, let alone pour my heart out in writing. The thoughts were too dark anyway to feel comfortable sharing, although I’m sure more than one person would’ve related.

I did write sometimes, but mostly kept it private in my digital journal. I didn’t even have the energy to write in my physical one.

I didn’t want to chat with my friends scattered all over the world (the price of being an immigrant), partly because I was afraid they’d ask how I was doing.

And I didn’t want to answer with the truth.

But I also didn’t want to answer with a vague “fine, and you?” because that would’ve felt like a big fat lie.

I was far from fine.

Too depleted to explain why.

Too concerned about being judged.

Too concerned about being treated like people needed to walk on eggshells around me.

So here I am now, finally done with the nitty gritty of changing my domain to reflect my new name for this temporary lifetime.

Not exactly in a “I AM NOW MARY JHO MOORE!” kind of way.

It’s more like, okay, this is the name of the character playing Mary in this lifetime.

My soul has no name, but it’s flexible enough to accept the ones given to it in this realm.

I do feel excited, though.

Relieved.

Because honestly, I could’ve just canceled the whole thing and moved on from blogging.

Why bother?

I haven’t exactly been consistent, and my insecurities and impostor syndrome tend to get the best of me.

But I was reminded of something I used to say back in my MBM blogging days:

“It’s not a bother. It’s a calling.”

So here I am, slowly dipping my toes back into this calling ocean.

No agenda.

No expectations.

No niche.

No structure.

Yeah, I know that’s probably not the best way to do it.

But I’m bringing two things with me:

Heart and action.

This is me taking action on something I feel utterly unsure about.

The tapping on my shoulder gets annoying if I ignore it for too long.

Not in the “ugh, I HAVE TO DO THIS” way, like doing laundry because otherwise you’ll have nothing decent to wear to work next week.

More like:

I have to do this to nurture my soul.

I’m done with the neglect.

This feels as necessary as water and food.

As music for my ears and air for my lungs.

As pens to draw my doodles.

As healthy hands to pet mossy trees.

As having people who get you without much explaining.

As expressing myself in ways that bring me joy.

So I guess all this rambling is just my way of marking the day I come back.

Not as a new me.

As the me that was always there.

Buried under stress, pressure, depletion, depression, overthinking, and insecurities.

Here’s to more moments like this.

Welcome to my little messy, unniched corner of the internet.

If you want to know what to expect from this blog, just expect unexpected things.

Thanks for reading.

Mary Jho Moore