Dont we just all have our favorite pair of jeans? Then suddenly, we find a much better pair. Your old pair just gets locked away in the darkest corner of your cabinet. You just don’t want to let go of it. But as time goes by, you forget about it. You neglect its presence. Months pass and then you suddenly remember that you still have that old pair of jeans…
so you look for it…
Only to find out that there are many holes in the fabric, eaten away by moths.
So what is the moral lesson of the story?
Gumamit ng moth balls?
Wala lang. Kaya ako wala akong paboritong maong. I may have my frequently used pairs just because i like their fit but I have pairs that i really really like and treasure. And I love all of my jeans. I wouldnt want any of my jeans to rot away. I may not wear some of them as much as the others, but at least i know they are there. And I acknowledge their presence.
Writing comes more easily when you’ve got something to say.
A line taken from an old unreleased Boyzone song.
I stopped writing when nothing made sense at all. I stopped writing because I did not have anything to write about. I stopped writing because there are things better left unsaid. I stopped writing because I did not want to remember… and there wasn’t anything worth to remember those days by.
I’m starting to feel a bit better. Better is the operative word. I’m not really feeling bright and shiny still. I think it’s a long way to go. But today is better than yesterday. Oh God, yesterday was like the trough. I so never want to go back to that.
I think I’ve sunk low enough (as I’ve mentioned in a previous post — LOW POINT!) that the only way to go is up. For the past few days, I was on a physical and emotional downward spiral –
I feel so fatigued and so tired
I don’t have the urge to get out of bed
I want to sleep through the entire day
I feel pure and utter loneliness
I dont have my appetite completely. Even Jollibee chickenjoy and spaghetti failed me.
I feel that nothing was going right. And that everything I am doing is so wrong. At work. At home. With Friends. I might have successfully pushed away some people. Hooray to me. NOT.
I average a 3x a day crying spree
I have a hard time concentrating at work
I get stupid headaches
I feel so sad it’s so pathetic.
I have trouble sleeping.
I get lower abdominal pains
I get stomach cramps for whatever I eat. And yeah, I have ulcer. Hooray again to me.
I have trouble swallowing food now. Ugh, maybe my throat is constricted or something.
And seriously, I have to get better. I felt that nothing was going right at all. I was told by a friend to: “magmukmok ka na all you want, but give yourself a deadline.”
I don’t want to give a real deadline… but I have certain steps in mind:
First step: I need to get my appetite back real soon.
I am missing fooood.
With food comes a lot of GLUCOSE! More energy, mas happy!
Second step: Get out of room.
Okay fine, I’m still recovering from illness. And it doesn’t take just one day to recuperate and to get better… but I will go back to my old social circles, maybe get a new routine, and do something worthwhile outside.
Third step: Surround self with people who love me
I just got to stop being so miserable. Period.
Fourth step: Plan. And always look ahead. No looking back.
Whatever mistakes I have made in the past weeks/months/years are just that — PAST. They have no reason to hinder me in whatever I can achieve and pursue for the next weeks/months/years. I will find my passion once again.
Fifth step: Take it easy.
I will not pressure myself into being okay and bright and shiny in just a day or two. I will accept that the road ahead is tough. And that I will still find myself down and defeated at times. I will still falter. I will still succumb to some bouts of loneliness and uncertainty. But I will not be hard on myself. I will never know the best approach to everything. But I will do my best. No matter what. Because I know I will be able to get out of it in one way or another.
And when that day comes again, when everything seems bleak and when I feel that I am feeling sad and depressed over things that are not worth the trouble — I will look back at this blog entry…
Stop picking up from who you were. Stop trying to go back to what you were before. Stop pretending that things haven’t changed you.
You just have to accept the fact that you have changed. You are never the same person you were yesterday. You are different now and there’s no going back.
And this you have to learn to accept quickly because time doesn’t stop for anyone.
… because I am not good at remembering things of the past.
I have an odd mechanism of recalling things — I only remember those that made the most impact in my life.
Everything else just goes to the recycle bin. Emptied. Leaving no trace behind.
I used to write a lot (though I’m not a writer… a blogger is a more appropriate term) and I used to tell my LJ everything that has happened to me on a daily basis. All my little victories and defeats, immortalized in my now unupdated, shabby looking, deteriorating LJ account.
I felt so compelled to write about everything before — because I know I tend to forget.
But my posts of late are just mere reflections and contemplations. Nothing new. Nothing interesting.
Nothing to help me remember in the months/years to come.
But then again, maybe, there’s nothing worth remembering now. Maybe I just don’t want to remember my uneventful, transient existence lately…
Things change.
People change.
Circumstances change.
Once the second-hand of the clock moves another degree, nothing is ever the same.
I have reposted another of my blog entries years ago. I’m not sure if I can ever write that way again. I want to believe that I’m still the same me that I used to be 4 years when I started this LJ account. But I am now forced to see that I changed a lot through the course of time. I wrote about things that mattered to me – things that affected me and influenced me in so many ways. I wrote about the people I loved…lost… cared about… and this I wrote about a lot. Now, I’m just not sure.
And now I find myself not writing so much (I don’t think my one liner rants count). Is it because I don’t have anything interesting to write about? Or is it because I have so much to write about and I don’t know where to start? Or maybe so much is going on that I can’t articulate them well enough and put them into words?
Maybe it is true that I have changed — that I have started to gain some apathy and have grown to learn how to become numb — and thus making me uncompelled to write about the things that amuse or annoy me. Maybe I am learning to not care and be unattached to things that matter to me.
Maybe I’m afraid that if I write about them here, then I will end up getting hurt or disappointed (like I always do) — maybe not expressing my feelings clearly will save me from misery.
Maybe time has taught me a lot of things. And time has changed me.
This I have to write down. Because it’s getting to be a heavy burden…
My mom’s a tough woman — which then translates to — my family’s a tough unit: we don’t go emo on each other. we don’t even say I love you to each other. feelings are left unsaid and unarticulated most of the time — but we’re sensitive to each other. we just know.
we handle tough times by pretending not to know. for example, break ups usually are dealt with a pat on the back and some quality time with the family. no one dare ask the question WHY until we feel that it’s OKAY to ask and that we can all laugh about it.
I don’t go emo on my family. hahaha. mom has only seen me cry maybe four to five times as I grew older. I only made “sumbong” to my dad ONCE in my entire life. he hasn’t even seen me cry. hahaha I wonder how he’ll react to me crying. I dont show myself crying to the family members. I just hide in my room… I’m iyakin but I dont show it to them…
anyway, the point im trying to make is — I just dont know how we’re going to handle the upcoming change in all of our lives…
and I just heard a while ago that my mom cried over this the other day… and I have only seen her cry for like once or twice… and this made things a lot sadder… because even my mom gets upset about it.
it’s getting a bit heavy… and it’s testing our tough facade…
That’s the saying on the cork board I have in front of me (which I see on a daily basis) right now…
(the cork board was a gift from Rodz… for Christmas of 2004)
Anyway…
I talked to a dear friend (who has a broken heart still) and blurted out that saying –
Friend: waaaaah, pag mga philosophical na ganyan hindi ko naiintindihan. hahaha kelangan ko ng example
Me: Arrghh, kelangan ba iexplain?
So I explained the line (in the uncheesiest way I know how) and elaborated on how to “pick up the pieces”:
After you get your heart broken, it’s like you shut down parts of yourself because you’re in so much pain. You deliberately forget all the memories you’ve shared with that person (whether good or bad). You erase that person from your memory just to ease the pain.
But simply forgetting that person will leave you incomplete — the experiences and memories made you who you are right now. The person is part of you — no sense in denying that. You have to acknowledge that that person happened to you. So after you get rid of the pain, then hopefully you’ll be able to remember everything again… with no remorse or regret. That’s when you get all the pieces back again. Then GOd can glue you up all over. And then you’re ready to love again.
You can never understand perfectly a broken heart unless you’ve gotten yours broken before as well.
You can never comprehend the pain and the agony one goes through unless you’ve been there before.
You can never sincerely say that everything will be all right in time, unless you’ve come back alive — wounded and scarred, yes, but with more wisdom and character.
In love and war, all battles are the same… some survive and win, some are left dead and broken. Everyone’s life is altered, nobody left unchanged. All of us are proud to show off our scars – mostly not the marks of victories but of failures in relationships and friendships – because they make us unique; they make us who we are today. We fight our own battles every day. And whenever we lose a battle for that one love which could have made us complete, we can look at our scars and tell ourselves that we will be fine. That we survived before. That we can do it again this time. That the fight was worth it. Because despite all the hurt, we learned from it. We are never, ever the same.
But then again, if that love is even worth all the hurt and the pain, why should there be a fight for that love in the first place? Why suffer if it is indeed true? It is because when we love truly, we give a part of ourselves that we can never ever get back. We never hope to gain anything from loving another person. We should never expect. It is this selflessness that gives this love its truth. We fight because we believe in that person. We fight because that person has changed us completely. We fight because that person means the whole world and more.
There is no right or wrong in this battle. We can continue fighting, no matter how senseless, hopeless and pointless it may be. Or we can love ourselves more and wave the white flag.
