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Not today Justin
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@dayanaaldg
I am not new to plane rides. Growing up in another city and studying in Metro Manila, plus having relatives in other regions and parents who are keen in seeing more places made the take off and landing more familiar. I wasn't scared, I did not worry. Now though, I find myself very anxious after booking a flight even when it means I'd get to see home (cause home is the only place I travel to now, with COVID).
And then, here I am. With the knowledge that we're making descent, and when it gets rocky up in the air, I'm not scared. I stare at the window much like how I stare at the syringe needle when an RMT extracts my blood. I guess, when I'm left with no choice but to face my fears, I tend to stare at the feared object with a straight face even when my heart rate increases steadily. Steady, but increasing. I guess, compared to the girl I was 5 years ago, I've grown more scared of consequences. Before, I'd lose competitions and fail quizzes, but now I'm more aware that I can lose people, time, and experiences. To my overthinking mind, I think what makes it worse is I now know how these things may happen and sometimes I can't do anything to help it.
Unlike my very first heartbreak, I now cry because I now know that grief hits at random times of the day, when I get reminded of the people I love/used to love. I now know that I am a sum of the bits and pieces of everyone I have ever met in my life thus far. More often than not, I cannot choose when or when not to cry. I just cried at the plane before we took off as I wrote this. I wanna hug my Lola. Idk. It is what it is. It is what it is.
But even with fear, I want to learn how to hold myself so dearly because it would be a shame not to. I'd still want to love even when I know that maybe, I have loved so wrongly in the past; when I know I have erred so gravely. And this is where I draw the line for my future self.
So this is how grieving really feels like
I was never one to grieve in public, I was never one to show most people who know me how I truly feel, so let me write and publish this in a manner that’s as private as our relationship. Lola, I remember you held me when I was crying when my parents left me alone at home for the first time. I think it was the time he had sever panic attacks and depressive episodes. I can still clearly remember the taste of the food you made me, of how you allowed me to squander in National Bookstore in Glorietta because you knew I liked getting those packs of colored sand, paper strings; that I loved the smell of books, the way new pens could help me write some nonsense. I’m sorry for remembering these things only now that you’ve passed. I was one of your favorites, and even when we never truly spoke (even when your house was also mine) in the past few years, I could feel that you still loved me and cared for me. You never gave me that look – sad, lonely, almost always judgmental – that other people tell me they have received from you.
When people asked me two years ago if I had any regrets, I would always say I had none. Now I think I do, because in the process of growing up I no longer felt the need to establish whatever I had to with you, because I was hurt for how you saw and talked to my parents, too. I just wished that in feeling those things, maybe I could still have had more meals and hugs with you. After all, it has been constantly on my mind these days that all things have an end.
You taught me the concept of a bear hug, of a tough love, of a woman so strong she really wouldn’t settle for less. Yet here I am, not hugging myself enough, not loving myself enough, and maybe even settling for less than what I really deserve. Some of your influence, the things you did when I was a kid, I find now in the things I do. Now they all kind of make sense.
I look now at the last decent photo we have. I never really felt anything when we took this photo, but now I see that even when I thought our relationship had turned stale, you still held my hand like how you held it when I was 8. I’m so sorry.
Surprise, I’m in law school
...and that means different sets of problems.
So my Consti prof, upon learning that we will be losing 3 meetings this semester cause of the reading break, said “OMG, and they expect you to pass the bar?”.
It has been a lingering thought since last week, but today I was able to shrug it off with the help of my Persons prof. He said, “You will learn more in the face of adversity. Passing the bar is your deal, not the institution’s. If you don’t perform well as a lawyer, that’s when it becomes the deal of the institution. Do not think or be bothered about it too much as long as you are doing the work.”
He sighed and continued, “Your concern now should be WON you’ll be a good lawyer and not WON you’ll pass the bar.”
Remembering my mentor in ALS who is a lawyer and an FSO, he said that the goal is to pass the bar. My point is not to highlight the difference in their points, but rather to emphasize the intent of the ALS mentor. That is, to remind me that a law degree can complement the work of an FSO so much that it is important to not get distracted by wanting to work for foreign service while in law school. “The goal is to pass the bar because it will make you a lawyer, then take the FSOE just like any other exam,” said the former ‘student at the top of his class’. Buwahaha.
Bakit ko susukuan ang sarili ko eh sila nga di ako sinusukuan?
“...beats like every plea you will learn how to swallow; don't go, don't go, don't go, don't. Your father teaches you how to be the first one to walk away, leave before they realize you are not worth staying for. “
Hello, hello
It’s 6am, I haven’t slept, and I’m searching for research opportunities, part-time gigs, etc. I am now stopping because I know deep in my heart that I won’t be able to fit all of them in the coming months.
Back in college, I kept grabbing opportunities and was really happy to do so. Not a single regret for all of it. I feel differently now, however. Keeping myself busy and doing new things are two things I like doing; but I’m turning 24 in three months and I feel that I have really achieved nothing. For some context, I make no income and have only a small amount of savings. I keep reading up on saving and investing to improve my non-existent portfolio, though. Now it seems all theoretical, and I’m not really a fan of settling down with theories. I need to apply it. So here comes what I wrote in the previous paragraph. I search for opportunities then later realize that I can’t take on more commitments. I acknowledge that I need to work on a lot for myself.
I mean, I just realized that the father I talked a lot about in this blog was overly glorified. He is a product of his own time. Sometimes though, that reasoning isn’t enough for me not to defend my own thinking especially re the LGBTQIA+ and women. Anyway, a lot of things are pushing me to work towards complete financial independence. I want that soon. It will be in a long time but I’ll think of it as soon. We will work from 0 to 5 to 10 to 15 to 20 until we reach 100. Until then, I will go back to reading and writing. Sounds very basic as we all learn it in grade school, but really, it’s all I do now.
So yes, cheers to reading and writing.
No reason takes deeper meaning than others; it's what we make of it.
Hard to be mad at someone who always forgives
The COVID-19 ECQ has left me more time to ponder on my thoughts not just as graduate citizen but as a human in general.
Yet, I am disturbed by my fears -- not for myself, but for my family and for this country. Just three nights ago, I had a nightmare. I woke up crying incessantly. It was a scene of me and my father talking intently, with him giving me instructions on what to do when he’s gone. It was a dose of utter sadness. Why is a question I still could not answer flawlessly, but I think it was a mix of my fears, overthinking, and quite honestly, missing home.
It’s a different story when you’re locked up all alone, doing everything on your own, while people suffer medical and societal ills. You know it is unfair yet you know you can’t do anything. At least not for now. And while it has been a comfort to have everything I need, my mind goes wandering in daytime, thinking what would happen in case someone I love gets infected.
I write this as I finish the first episode of Itaewon Class, the one where the lead character’s father dies. While my father is not perfect, he has always been the one to always forgive first; the one who always laughed first. Very much like the man in the drama although more playful and bitchy. I do not expect anything bad to happen, not for hundreds of years that will come.
In all honesty, I just am praying that all of this subsides and that all of us make it out alive, well, and with a better sense of life.
Today, at 4AM, I texted my father if he’s awake. As usual, he replied. I haven’t had sleep. I was in pretty much a good mood a while ago up until I casually decided to look at an ex-fubu’s girlfriend’s instagram. Why am I so stupid?
I need to love myself more. I need to understand what I’m worth more than anything else. Why is that so hard? I’ve been following IG inspos and they help a lot. Instead of comparing myself and my happiness to those of another, I instead take time to understand what each post says. Yet, no one really talks about the ugliest parts of learning to love yourself more. After all, relapsing to that sinking feeling of not having anyone by your side isn’t so lovely.
My MA, on the other hand, is going well. I made the right choice of dropping one subject. I just need to work harder the following sems. While thinking about my future, I realized that when I decided to pursue Master’s with an endpoint different than the usual -- staying in the academe -- my case will never be conventional. Is that so bad?
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
-- Robert Frost
Today, we fight a good fight
woes from work
My father recently asked me how I was doing. I said, “Okay lang”. How else could I have answered it?
He replied and said with conviction that if I was having a hard time balancing work and grad school, I can give up my job. It was supposed to make me feel better. I know he said it because it was unusual for me to wake up at 5AM to begin with my work so I can go out with them while they are in Manila.
He might have also said it because of my overall aura, my eye bags, and sometimes my mood. So you see, working from home sounds like the heaven that it is: you can avoid the life-threatening Manila traffic, create your own work schedules, go out with friends almost anytime, and work even from a thousand miles away.
Yet, even heaven has its walls and gates. Working from home (WFH) has its own serious disadvantages. If you have anxiety like me, it might not play too well for you as well. I can enumerate some risks:
1. WFH is not a traditional job format. It is a “millennial” compromise and response to the ever-changing demands of several industries. It would be hard to explain to your Auntie, older cousins, and even other relatives what you do. Even peers of the same age who are not entirely familiar with it may mistake it as a simple “raket”. Others would just nod but to their mind they may be thinking, “Ah, freelancer siya”. Thing is, the descriptions of free-lancing and engaging in ‘rakets’ does not really do justice to what WFH means. To my mind, WFH is an umbrella term. So when you WFH, you can be working for an organization, freelancing, doing additional ‘rakets’, or everything. So as someone who is more detail-oriented and makes the effort to understand things, it can sometimes be tiring to hear even the most meager comment on the job. Yet, it can be also really tiring and disappointing to just assume that everyone will think the way you do, and act with a heart the same as yours.
So what do I do? In times when I get asked what I do, I take a deep breath and begin with, “Ah, I write for a digital marketing startup”. On some days though, I just say, “I write blogs.” On worst days days I just say, “I write”.
2. WFH gives you freedom. I mean, a whole shit-pile of freedom. Yes, it has life-changing benefits especially when you work under a company as understanding and generous as mine (thank God, I got lucky on this one. More of that later). However, dealing with anxiety takes a great deal especially when you really don’t need to be physically somewhere to get your job done. For one, waking up is a serious challenge. Setting up a routine, is even harder. Let me tell you why.
I am not the most disciplined person, I will have to admit. I am a night owl, I wake up at noon sometimes. My brain functions best, I believe, from 10PM to 5AM max. My class schedules are no problem since they are at night. Sure, I can easily make a routine out of this. Then the rest of my responsibilities come in. On some days I attend meetings for our non-profit at 8AM, my parents ask me to go on meetings at 9AM, and establishments (govt agencies, school offices) are open and better-serving on early times. This may sound like an easy problem but it is not especially when my body has already adapted to how I do my work. I am on the process of setting a routine, though. And recently I have been consistenly waking up at 4AM, then sleeping again by 10AM. I wake up by 2PM to prep for my classes, then go to sleep by 1AM. It’s not the best but it works for my work and breakdown schedules.
3. WFH also gives you the freedom to really push your deadlines even beyond their deadliest deadlines. Yeah, this is where my problem lies. Since undergrad I have submitted outputs in time. It was during the first half of 2018, my last semester in university, when I noticed by inconsiderable passion for finishing my work, or my lack thereof.
I remember not having enough drive to finish my thesis. I think it cost me the ‘best thesis’ award hahahahahahaha. My Professor said so, anyway, just in case you didn’t know. Moving forward, I identified myself as burn out. One who just fleets with the wind, letting days go by and not really minding if she will be wiped from the face of the world (permanently) today. Days were no longer counted by hours, they were only two parts of the day: morning and night. I sleep in the morning, I work at night. I think a lot during the in-betweens.
You see, as a 22-year-old, I may have had a lot on my plate. My hormones and emotions which have gone wrong (I have PCOS, my pills also affect it), my classes with approximately 600 pages of readings weekly, my job with at least 6,000 words to be written per week, the non-profit with communications materials needed at hand, bills, plates in the sink, hair on the bathroom floor, cockroaches in dark corners, my thoughts in dark corners, the heavy Manila traffic, my parents, oh my beloved parents. On top of all these is the cherry on top, the irrational fear of never being enough.
Hope it did not sound that bad, I think they aren’t. I have stopped accepting other tasks offered to me. I started accepting the fact that I could no longer do it all. It makes me sad that the same tasks I did not have to worry about when I was in college actually and vividly worries me now. I tell myself to be patient with me. So far I am succeeding, but for how long?
4. WFH means constantly working on yourself, at your own pace. So, my father’s offer still stands. I know I’ll take it when I pursue law, but not now. I actually like what I’m doing. I guess, if not for my anxiety, the feeling of being burnt out and not being good enough, I would be doing so much more. A person has limits though, and I guess this really is mine. It took me months to accept this. Maybe because in UP, we were taught that we could be anything we wanted to be, in honor and excellence. I strongly believed this. I still do. But maybe it is indeed true that honor also means honoring your own thoughts and your efforts.
Even when it is a painful thing to admit, yes, I should admit that you are enough. It is painful not because I aim to dwell on the negatives, but because I even had to doubt and reaffirm myself for so many times.
I am currently struggling with my backlogs. I have so many. brb
uy, nakakapagod.
I swear to God, I’ll make next semester better.
I am easily catching up with the truth that I am not yet ready for a relationship. After talking with and making a couple of guy friends, I am happy to say that I am ready to settle with that fact. There are a lot more things I need to do, and a lot more people I need to be there for. Most who I’ve gone out with tell me my intelligence is sexy (awuw diba wow lang) but we all reach a point of conversations where we all get so honest. Honest enough to conclude that neither is ready for another relationship, and that some good company would just really be helpful.
Along with that realization, here are some of my 2030 agenda:
1. learn how to shoot
2. further/regain my swimming skills
3. find a stable job
4. earn my postgrad degree(s)
5. in a general sense, be more mature
Mind tricks
I think grad school is made to make us do mind tricks. It’s technically a break for everyone, as it’s undas. But here I am counting the number of pages I have to read by Nov 3!! As of 10:54 PM, my page count is at 400+.
And I mean to say this not to pursue a comparison of what my dear friends in law and med school have to take, but the thing is, I also need to absorb these and construct questions -- provide an analysis that would bring these texts into life!! Mygod!! I hate drugs!!! LOL.
So in an attempt to reduce my anxiety, I have stopped counting. I have decided to print my readings back to back, so as to reduce the panic-inducing thickness of the readings I already have c/o my professors.
Also, DPS has just sent us e-mails asking us to send them a list of the subjects I need to take next semester. At the back of my mind (all while I throw my fears to the nearest recycling bin), I have decided I will take 12 units to achieve my #MIS2020 goal. And so while at the local coffee shop this afternoon, I gulped the bitterness of what I feel is gonna be one of the most challenging semesters of my life. But okay hey hey heyyy. Mind tricks, comfort from close friends and peers, as well as the never-ending support of my family, shall add up (hopefully) and give me more inspiration.
Take home from today’s derma preceptor: on med school
You don’t have to be the best. Just pace yourself, and don’t stress yourself out too much. It gets easier when you start practicing. Don’t quit. You shouldn’t let stress win over you. You don’t have to be the best, just don’t belong to the bottom 10 of the batch. In the end, you will still be a doctor. People who were top of their class ended up not practicing. They quit because not being the top stressed them out so much, they decided to just leave.