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.

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. 

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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. 

Checkpoint

"These lines kept on echoing in my head. It was probably because of the sweet aroma of the chocolate frappe and the cool breezy afternoon of Paris. I tried to stay focused on my news report about the new feature of Musee de Louvre, but the feeling of nostalgia hindered my mind from thinking about other things. I sighed and continued to look for inspiration in the beautiful landscape of France. I pushed my glasses up and typed senselessly. Somehow, the thought of returning to New York made me wake up." (Caritativo, 2011)

This is the first paragraph of the class prophecy I wrote back when I was a high school senior. Reading this again after three years broke my heart. I used to be so sure of what I wanted in life. I used to have such a clear vision and timeline for the things that what I wanted to achieve. I'm not sure when uncertainty replaced the confidence that I had within myself. 

I went from wondering if I'm fit to be a nurse, destined to be a holy nun, meant to be a barrio doctor, fated to be an advertising/newspaper writer, to finally owning that deepest desire to teach. 

I'm crying because things have changed greatly. I remembered a conversation I had with a friend a few days ago about life plans. I surprised myself when I told her with all conviction that I entered Ateneo with a goal of getting a job abroad after finishing but now, I will graduate with my decision to stay here and serve the country. Thinking about what I said scares me to levels I never thought I'll reach. It scares me because I can no longer identify with the ambitions of my old self. There is so much anxiety in me because I'm not sure if I am really growing as a better person - if I am doing a swell job in being a person. 

I still love France, New York and writing. I like the idea of travelling the world doing a job that I'm sure I will not mind flourishing into a lifetime career. However, this wonderful fantasy...it's not for me anymore. It kills me to actually acknowledge it.

I'm holding with my two hands the new dream and goal in life. I fear and worry if this is the right path for me but, with determination and God's help, I will tackle this road with my whole being. 

Hope is a tiny flower growing in my heart.

It has been a month and 5 days since we last talked, and quite honestly, I wish I could stop counting. It no longer feels like I am winning, rather, it feels like I'm still losing every time I raise my hands and point at my fingertips. Counting reminds me how I cannot completely move on from you. It makes me hate myself for being so pathetic. It takes me back to the heart of my decision, of my avoidance, and of my slowly-but-surely progress of forgetting you. 

Back then, I wanted you to feel the pain of losing someone, to experience  the gnawing suffering of liking someone who doesn't give a shit, and to really understand what I went through for you. I wanted you to miss me. I wanted you to want me, to be called 'the one that got away', and to be the best girl you never had. I wanted you to lose time in imagining the what-ifs. 

I wanted you to regret that you let me go. 

However, I realized that things have changed (again). This time, I want and need to forgive you and more importantly, to forgive myself. I realized that I can't wholly go on with my life if I keep on wishing for things that will never happen. I long to fully accept the fact that you will never miss me as much as I miss you, or even wonder about you and me. 

I still have a long way to go. Though I choose loneliness to keep me company for now, rest assure that one day, I will embrace happiness with open arms. One day, I won't dwell on counting the days anymore. One day, we'll meet again, and I will smile at you.