Spelling Silence in Alonica: A Quest for Peace
Alonica is a place within yourself, where being you and having you is enough for you.
When i’m in LA
“Try not to compare yourself to others; compare yourself to who you were before.”
A special someone said that to me back then. Thank you for introducing me to LANY.
Naturally, I became a woman who lost herself when others disrespected my boundaries and demeaned my worth. I should have fought back against that disruption. But I couldn’t. I was made to feel guilty, so I forced myself to love, forced myself to impress others just to be praised and validated. I felt inadequate, I felt overwhelmed — but I have overcome it.
But my dear, we’re slow dancing in a burning room.
That pressure turned me into someone starved for validation, even though that person from my past didn’t care about me at all; they only cared that I complied with their wishes, keeping me firmly under their control.
An ordeal that heavy built a massive wall around me, keeping me from accepting myself for who I am. Then I realized it was too cold there anyway.
But know this, my friends: no matter what or who breaks us, in the end, we are the ones who have to pick up the pieces and fix ourselves.
“Ultimately, the goal here is to restore your mental state back to how it was before you experienced the abuse.”
Those words lingered. It feels unfair — so incredibly unfair — to clean up a mess that someone else made. But please mark my words: nothing changes, even if the person who ruined you makes a promise like;
“I will fix you”
“I’ll take responsibility.”
“Vent it all on me, I’ll take it.”
No, they couldn’t. They’re just blackmailing you when you show them what they’ve done.
You cannot accept the sweetness from someone when the pain they caused still echoes in your mind. You will lose. You also cannot force yourself to forgive just to receive that sweetness; forgiveness must be for your own inner peace, not to gain something from someone else.
Even though it is all unfair, and it is utterly exhausting whenever the memories return and triggers hit — even as you strive for peace — you still have to heal yourself. Alone. By yourself.
This is my consultation note from March 18th.
Traumatic experiences manifest in an unstructured chaos. It is like shards of broken glass inside a cabinet, completely shattered. Every time you open that cabinet, the mess reveals itself, deeply unsettling. The sad part is, we can neither discard it nor process it away. Enraged, we are left with no choice but to meticulously rearrange those shards ourselves.
Cause the fate doesn’t work the way we hope.
I once failed to fight all those feelings. I thought I was strong enough, but I wasn’t. Under the weight of academic and career pressures, I felt rushed to fix my broken pieces immediately — so I forced myself, and I pretended. I said, “I am no longer afraid,” yet minutes later, I confessed, “I want someone to protect me.” Naturally, as a psychologist, she noted, “You are still afraid.”
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That forced feeling is what they call fighting with yourself. I owe a debt of gratitude to my friend, who listened to my ramblings over the phone and said, “You’re too harsh on yourself. You’re forcing yourself to change too quickly. You’re angry at your own inner self, but that energy bleeds into others, exploding into rage. You’re too consumed by yourself, constantly at war with your own reflection.”
It is always others who notice what I feel before I do. Because I am so accustomed to manipulating my own brain, I mistook ‘self-acceptance’ for self-deception. My psychologist even went as far as to say, “You aren’t even aware that you’re anxious.”
Yes, I am anxious. I’ve been so consumed by fixing this single aspect of my inner health that I feel left behind in terms of my intellectual potential. While others have already mastered emotion management — leveraging it to benefit their academic and career paths — here I am, still running away from anything that puts pressure on me. The trauma from past pressure has left me entirely intolerant to any form of stress.
Even so, bit by bit, I am finding the courage to take on new responsibilities.
To be honest, back then, the one who made a mess of me would say whenever they crossed the line:
“Don’t prioritize feelings over logic.” (To which my psychologist instantly responded, “Don’t be a cruel person.”) They believed that people who prioritize feelings are fools. But now, I have learned that human beings are precious precisely because of both their feelings and their thoughts. The two exist in harmony. When I faked that harmony, I suppressed the emotions that surfaced and immediately channeled them to my brain to be solved, without ever actually managing them. I must stand firm: none of this is my fault.
Back to Alonica.
Alon (alone) ica.
I felt inadequate on my own, so I masked my true feelings and pretended to be fine. Naming the feelings — no matter how repulsive they seem. Feeling a sense of loss? It is real, even if it feels disgusting to mourn someone who repeatedly hurt you. That is a form of disappointment. Still hoping that person might change? That is a form of feeling cheated. But whatever pertains to ‘others’ is entirely beyond our control.
There were times when I felt the need for someone else to protect me, to give me a distraction from unnecessary thoughts, a distraction from the pain that arrives in an unstructured chaos. Truly, I hoped for it. But without loving myself first before loving someone else, it would only reinforce an emotional dependency on others. That is not a form of inner peace.
I have still lost myself ever since I began setting my life standards around other people. Right now, I don’t even trust myself. Of course, back then, I knew exactly what I liked, what I wanted to do; I was passionate and I genuinely enjoyed being alone. But now, it’s gone. As I try to reclaim control over myself, I realize I have forgotten how to even begin.
Alonica became my medium toward rediscovering who I am and what it means to find joy in solitude. My solitude back then was entirely unproductive; I only liked the part where I closed my eyes and lost consciousness, turning off my thoughts and feelings to let myself be carried away by the slow rhythm of my breath and the quiet flow of my blood. We cannot rely on just anyone to settle the chaos in our minds. I can only rely on myself as my home.
These writings were born from Alonica. Perhaps I am honoring myself when I finally know where things ought to be placed. Like the contents of this mind. I am the one who wrote them.
Made up of a thousand colors, everything is in its place.
The place where I am alone.
When I do everything solely for my own sake, it feels as though I and my other self are gathering together like old friends. My heart is learning how to love again. How do I learn to love the parts of myself that have changed, vanished, and have never been touched again?
Even though I still do not know what true love actually is. Is it far better than before? Is all love guaranteed to be a healthy love? What does a healthy love even look like? How does it feel? Is it completely free from any element of fear and intimidation?
People say love should be fun. But perhaps I simply need to be happy being myself, without any pressure.
The healing process, after all, is only safe when the main character is the one who decides when to restart life, and where she will find her new happiness.
How does she face failure and embrace the process without caring about what others say? Perhaps in Alonica, there is no one to look down on me or make me doubt my own abilities. It doesn’t force me to compare myself to others; instead, it allows me to focus solely on the things within me that are changing for the better. Others should only inspire you to keep growing and teach you lessons along the way; it is utterly exhausting when you constantly strive to become someone else.
My friend once told me, “Our biggest competition is ourselves.”
You win when you are finally able to make peace with yourself.
But you’re worth every sorry that you can give to yourself. Always.
My psychologist wrote that right after I noted down her words: “He isn’t even worth forgiving.”
