Episode 4: Weary

It's been two months since I am officially diagnosed with depression and anxiety. 10 years since I first felt them.

It's been a month since my family and I figured out I probably have fibromyalgia. Years since I've first lived with pain.

Pain and agony has always been my company, but love has always been my refuge. Both times I feel pain and I feel joy, I cry. The moments I feel tired and I feel infinite, I think. The years I suffered and I triumphed, I celebrate. I am a human who has felt both the dichotomy and the 'oneness' of life. I am like everyone else - a work-in-progress.

But I've been struggling with accepting that I am chronically ill. I was in denial. I wanted answers to my questions. To me, I've had enough bullshit and issues for this lifetime. I am so tempted to give up because I am tired - very tired, and very weary. I've been fighting with everything that I am but it seems like it is not enough. I am still ill. Still with limitations. Still "not normal".

Yet now, I feel myself softly warming, carefully hoping, and slowly opening. I am very tired, yes, but I can wonder. I can dream. I can still fly.

Downtown Boy / Girl of the Golden Hour

For a girl who loved sunrises and sunsets,
imagined the colorful and tragic
endings of her relationships,
and knew that everything is finite,
I should have docked and walked out of
the coffee shop the minute we saw each other,
the second our eyes met,
and our mouths melted into a smile.
I should have let you be a stranger.
You should have been just a stranger -
full of possibilities I can write about,
wonder about,
and love about.
You should have remained to be an idea,
a dream so unforgettable, I'd write
a story instead of a poem.


But you asked my name, made small talk, checked the spelling of my favorite book character's name,
and gave me my favorite tea.
In return, I gave you my peals of laughter, my stares, my increased heart rate,
and my words.
Too long, your manager said. We've been
creating a line.

Let her go - this is what your boss really meant.

As if the universe heard her, the golden hour set in.
Like Cinderella, I had to go -
for I chase sunsets for a living and you
pay your bills with coffee, tea, and smiles.
And we both knew that.
We both knew we had to end -
before we even began.
This is the saddest poem I've written.
And I'm sorry; this is for you.

Kanta na para sana sa iyo

Chorus:
Dahil sa bawat pagsiat at paglubog ng araw
Iniisip ko kung pansamantala ring
Tumitigil ang inog ng iyong mundo
Para sa alaala at ngiti kong alay sa'yo

Verses:
Di na mapigilan damdaming kinikimkim
Ang magkaibigan ngayo'y nagkakaibigan
Pusoy'y ibibiga't walang hinihiling kapalit
Pagkat ganyan kita minamahal, o sinta

Laging gustong kausap; hindi na mapakali
Sa unang pagmulat ikaw ang inaalala
Sa huling pagsara ipinagdarasal
Na sana'y ikaw ang mapaginipan

Bridge:
Di inaakalang ika'y mahahanap
Sa bilyong taong lumilibot sa mundo
Ang nais lang ay makapiling mo
sa habang buhay

Waiting for the Train

Like an interlock of stars,
flesh to flesh, braided freely -
we held on as tightly as we could
even as we saw
the rushing train of truth
blazing towards us.
"We are real," you whispered like a prayer.
"No. We are paperdolls," I countered softly.
"We are cursed."

Those who started
as a game of pretend
often end up with dead hearts
as the avalanche of illusions they built
bury them.
We are a dream,
a beautiful, tragic dream.
"I'm not letting go."
You stared head on.

But I know, my love,
that you won't be sleeping
beside me in the morning.
Denial has always been your weapon,
slashing at an invisible enemy.
As soon as you wake up,
you will run away; you always had the tendency.

But I understand, my love.
We pretended to be young, foolish,
and lived like teenagers -
naive enough to believe that pretensions
can last forever.
So I let you hold my hand,
kiss my cheek,
and tousle my hair.

Because when tomorrow comes,
you won't be at my bedside.
You will be at hers, the first.

Birthday Wishes

1. Spanish Classes from Instituto de Cervantes
2. Painting Easel and Watercolour Canvass
3. A Question of Heroes by Nick Joaquin
4. One-year Subscription to Esquire Classic
5. A turn table and vinyl records of Nat King Cole, Eraserheads, and Frank Sinatra
6. An OPM mixtape of songs by Ebe Dancel, Paolo Valenciano, Johnoy Danao, The Ransom Collective, Parokya ni Edgar, and Eraserheads.
7. A trip to Las Casas Azucar de Filipinas
8. The Metropolitan Museum of Manila Privilege Card
9. A DVD/CD of Cinema Paradiso
10. Film for Lomo Cam

Just because I'd like to think there is a fairy godmother, somewhere. =)

Mahal

Mahal -
Maari ba kitang tawaging mahal? Kahit ngayong gabi lang. Kahit hanggang sa huling salita lang ng tulang ito.
Mahal, mahal. Hay, mahal.
Limang taon.
Bakit nga ba hindi mo ako kayang mahalin? Paki-ulit. Pakisabi.
Pakisabi naman muli, oh.
Pakisabi ulit sa puso kong hindi matuto-tuto.
Pakisabi muli kasi kahit na paulit-ulit sa ulo ko na -
Mahal.
Mahal na mahal pa rin kita.
Mahal na kita
Mula noong hayskul palang tayo.
Mula noong inimbita kita sa prom namin - ngunit hindi ka naman rin pumunta.
Kahit noong hindi natuloy ang panunuod natin sa sine - iMax pa nga sana eh - ng Harry Potter 7 part 2
Kahit noong hindi ka sumipot at pinaghintay mo ko buong gabi sa campus ng Ateneo para magdinner - Mahal, hindi ka man lang nagtext. Piso lang naman iyon.
Kahit noong tatlong beses kang umurong sa lunch catch-up natin.
Mahal, noon mula ngayon,
Mahal na mahal kita.
at ang sakit-sakit na.
Kasi, mahal,
Hindi ako direksyon. Hindi ako ang taong puwede mong iwan kapag sa palagay mo nasa tamang landas ka at babalikan kapag nawawala ka na sa dami ng rutang puwede mong puntahan.
Mahal, hindi ako sagot.
Hindi ako ang solusyon sa mga problema mo - career man o pamilya. Hindi ako shock-absorber. Hindi ako answer key. Hindi ako unan.
Mahal, hindi ako bagay o ideya o lugar.
Mahal, tao ako.
Tao ako na kailangan rin ng masasandalan.
Tao ako na humahanap rin ng lugar niya sa mundo.
Tao rin ako na napapagod.
Tao rin ako na uhaw sa pagmamahal.
Mahal, mahal na mahal kita at kailangan na kitang palayain.
Kailangan ko namang mahalin ang sarili ko.
Mahal, maari ba kitang tawaging mahal sa huling pagkakataon?
Mahal, mahal. Hay, mahal.
Paalam

Episode 3: Everything IS Okay (And will be awesome)

I finally talked to someone about my problems, (Yes for opening up!) and took off days to really reflect about what I want to do now. Time really helped in slowing down whatever aggressive thoughts I had, as the passing of hours doing all the art projects, planning for meet-ups, and running led me to realize a few things. I am not entirely better - but I am better than before and I am okay with that. At least for now, it is enough.

So, let me list down the epiphanies I had for the past 3 days:

1. I can never live without art. As such, I should build my career and lifestyle around it. This will be one of my non-negotiables in life.  I will breathe in any form of art if this means it will always be with me.
2. Teaching is not the only way.
3. Being kind goes a longer way than scheming or taking advantage of people. Being soft too. Yes, it is easier to harden after all the bullshit this world made us go through; however, isn't it better not to contribute to the bs other people are experiencing and actually help them along their way?
4. "You will never, ever be empty." - God to me, last Sunday.
5. I am not meant to be a teacher. Nor a doctor. Nor a nurse. Nor a nun. I am not meant to practice any profession because I actually choose to be one. I choose which passion I am willing to rigorously pour my heart and soul into. And I choose to be a storyteller - in any form, in any way.
6. My life maybe a little fucked up but it is not hopeless.
7. I am blessed.
8. It is okay to take time to recover. I don't have to be so hard on myself. Life is not a sprint.
9. "Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else." - Richard Siken
10. Forgive. Exorcise every grudge that has taken residence in the recess of the heart as it will only make you diabetic to chances and opportunities to be happier.
11. Love. Always, all ways.

It feels so liberating to put these into writing. I am believing, more than ever, that brighter days are coming soon. I just gotta hold my head up high.

Impatience (or a strong desire to see you right now)

To you,

I really can't wait to meet you and fall in love again. It's 3:30 AM and I really should be sleeping but damn, I'm wide awake because the thought of holding your hand with my cold, clammy ones excite me. (I am sorry, I have poor blood circulation.) I can't wait to laugh and cry with you.

I can't wait to be with you.

I'm beyond ecstatic. My stomach is full of butterflies because envisioning how we will be together fuels me to go beyond and take risks. Right now, as I type this on my keyboard, I realize that I would like trace your cheek bones, the corners of your eyes, the tip of your nose, and the plumpness of your lips against my fingers for a long, long time. I might even want to kiss you, and explore the wonders of your soul until the sun awakes from his sleep. (Actually, I might never want to stop. I am full of greed when it comes to grasping every part of you.) I will not get bored. Even a bookish person who spends her Friday nights with words desires to be with someone she recognizes - she likes, she loves. Trust me, you are the end all and be all of all the heroes and the princes that I've read.

We won't be perfect. You and I will make mistakes. We will ride through bumps and rough patches that will make us want to stop the car. But I believe in you, in us. We will respect our boundaries, and understand our limitations. We will be off to the horizon even when Disney songs end, together. (I cannot tell you how much I love the sound of 'we' and 'together'. We. Together. We are together.)

I am so excited to love you deeply. (I just really can't wait to see you.)

A new word

Apparently, there is a word for what I have been feeling:

nodus tollens

n. the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore—that although you thought you were following the arc of the story, you keep finding yourself immersed in passages you don’t understand, that don’t even seem to belong in the same genre—which requires you to go back and reread the chapters you had originally skimmed to get to the good parts, only to learn that all along you were supposed to choose your own adventure.

Oh will you look at that...Mr. Webster must have been feeling under the weather too when he recorded such a tragic word and description.

Episode 2: Minor in Rock Bottom

Today, I lost a baby.

(Not a literal one, but it was something I had been trying to /conceive/ the whole 2014. It was my minor in history.)

Getting that certificate was my only refuge, my ultimate sign, that I had been dreaming and walking along the right path - the path to teaching kids that they can overcome and actually use their histories to strengthen their present situations and talents. But I guess it was not meant to be. I guess I am really not meant to start my career journey as a public school teacher. Or maybe I am not ready yet.

Thinking about this in a different perspective, I guess I have so much to learn more about life before I even have the right to teach. I did read somewhere that a teacher also teaches how she deals with life to her students, besides the subject/course matter. I guess He is tempering me - with all these news and conditions that I am receiving. Admittedly, I am not at my best yet. I am not facing my problems and my struggles in the most proper way. I do feel that I am lost and confused. (Even MORE so, with the arrival of this news.)

Haha, honestly, it feels like I've been beaten black and blue, and the universe is not giving me the chance to fight back. Despite everything, I still believe that there is a reason why all of this is happening. I just have not uncovered it yet. (But I will! I promise you. *evil laugh*)

And now, I find myself simultaneously eating almond chocolates (Sorry doctors. I promise to be on the right track again after this night.), watching 'Starting Over Again', and writing this down.

Perhaps I have not lost my sanity even when I am at my rock bottom after all.

Episode 1: Dazed and confused (again)

D, a close friend of mine, told me to write my musings and thoughts about how I cope with the clashes of my current health condition, my dreams, and my insecurities. She said I have interesting insights, and there might be people who can relate to what I am experiencing. As such, this post serves as my first entry to a series of random bursts of /angst/, realizations, and stories. 

Long story short, feel free to read about a hormonal, lost, and self-deprecating twenty-year old. Don't say I did not warn you. 

----

IT SUCKS.

Going to the hospital for tests and consultations again and again drained the butterflies out of my stomach. It sucks being in pain and itchy all the time, but what sucks more are the verdicts and the prescriptions given by the doctors. It annoys me to hear how my sickness limits me from eating chicken and preservatives, having frequent/prolonged exposure to water, and wearing shoes that are not made from cotton. It annoys me how I can't drink coffee nor consume chocolate whenever I want to without my chest and my stomach groaning in pain. It annoys me how my lungs and immune system seem to embrace all the flu and the viruses out there. It annoys me how my intestines seemed to want to poop all the blood it can poop. Most of all, it annoys the hell out of me that the implications of all the restrictions have such a big impact on how I should live my life, i.e.

I can't swim.

I can't do activities that will require me to get dirty. 

I can't eat in just any restaurant/house/eating place. 

If I overstepped on my restrictions, minor to major repercussions will happen. (And I don't want them to happen anymore.I hate seeing my family all bothered.) 

And I know that despite all of these, I don't have the right to get angry or even whiny. (Though I sounded really whiny just now- I want to punch myself). This is nothing compared to the experiences of the braver and kinder souls of the kids I meet in the halls, fighting fiercer monsters. This is little compared to the grandpaps and grandmoms who cannot even breathe on their own without the help of  the machines. This is just a tiny fraction of how those adults feel who had to leave their /normal/ life behind to be confined in those rows of hospital beds. 

I have no right to be a baby about this. I know. I understand. 

But sometimes, it's tiring. It's tiring to wake up everyday thinking, "Yes, I will live to the fullest today!", but then being reminded just a second later how /limited/ I am. It makes me angry. And hurt. And sad. Because this state did not just affected my lifestyle...it inadvertently affected my dreams, my hopes, my passion.

Do you know that I can't be a public school teacher anymore (Read this: Why I am fighting) - that I have to bury this dream and dug a grave in the deepest corners of my mind alongside the others? 

Honestly, I don't know what to feel and how to process all of these. (That's why this post is a bit bipolar. I'm really sorry.)  I feel lost and confused because I cannot express my resentment properly without sounding like a whiny bitch. I feel frustrated because I am so pissed at my illnesses and at myself. I'm irritated at the fact that I can't bring myself to talk about this whole thing to others. 

I know I can't remain in this limbo. I have to move forward. I refuse to remain angry when I can do something productive and even positive. I have to find ways to make my 2050 goal happen!! Those art-lovin' kids deserve high-class training, exposure, and guidance from the best mentors at a low (FREE) price!!! :) 

I guess, right now, I just have to know that somebody is willing to listen to me - crazy whines and all.