Where do I even start? All I want to do is release this negativity that’s been hanging ’round my mind lately. I don’t know.
I wake up at five-thirty in the morning, staring at the ceiling through the semi-darkness. Thinking I’m alive. Or half. I don’t know if this day, just like the days gone by, is going to just be another reminder that I have to wait. wait. and wait. Something which has turned into an irksome hobby for the past eleven months or so. Sometimes I don’t know if there’s something to be thankful for. Seems like nothing’s happening. Seems like nobody’s even moving. Seems like people are forgetting valuable things, or beings. I really don’t know.
After putting away my linens, I started arranging the couch the way it should look like in the living room, far from the make-shift bed it has turned into, every night for the past two months, since I started seriously feeling alone on my empty bed in the empty girls’ room upstairs. Then do my morning routine, sit on my throne, sleepily think about what’s going to make this day a little brighter. The whole family’s up by this time, doing, minding his/her own business. I go out to the main door facing the east. My parents decided to position it that way during the house extension, following the Feng Shui belief that a house facing the rising sun means welcoming good vibes. Good vibes. In front of me are the dry rice fields from the last seasonal cropping, tropical trees, and lush green mountains. In my head, I’m imagining frozen lakes, winter leafless trees, and mountains too – but with snowcaps. I shake it off.
Finally going out, four mongrels excitedly approach me, with all their tails waggling, rising up to me, greeting me with my not-so-favorite act of endearment of theirs – soft biting, and cloth-tugging. Their big brown eyes are full of joy. I wonder how it’s like to be one of them. Or like any other birds now busy chirping around. No problems. No worries. Just look or wait for food to satisfy the hunger. Then go fly, or sleep anywhere in the corner again. I start cleaning the front, side, and backyard, with these creatures busy following me around. Longing for the security it gives them just by being alongside their master. Or probably the other way around. Giving me the assurance that everything’s going to be just fine. Dunno.
Eating. I lost four pounds since having my surgery, and it sucks because I haven’t regained it in six weeks yet. I don’t know why a lot of people look up to those stick-thin girls along the runway, donning those Victoria Secret lingerie, flirting with those cameras with their eyes half-asleep. Because looking at myself in the mirror isn’t anything pleasant at all. I wish I had my other friends’ talent of turning their depression into eating. Munching. Binging. A task I have, in my entire lifetime, struggled to do. Well, for three days now, I have been training myself. I fill, like literally fill, my ten-inch plate with rice, and whatever viand/s on the table, and then eat it all up, no matter how long it would take me. Like I sit in the dining area for an hour, long after my people have already left their seats. I would occasionally gag from either the taste, or my fullness. A week after my surgery, I weighed ninety-three pounds. Just hours ago, I checked and saw a sparkling ninety-seven on the scale. “Hours ago” was right after leaving the lunch table. I need some motivation, real or not. Whatever.
Cleaning. I feel like Cinderella doing it. Not because I have wicked step-mother or step-sisters. But because Jack and Gus, and the whole gang, keep showing up, running here and there, and I’m like, “How can I get rid of you guys, when you’re too cute?”. For now. Some witch is going to possess me soon, and your play days are going to be over! Then I just put my headphones, listen to the upbeat songs on my most-played playlist in full blast, and drown my ears, and myself in whatever words or melody that’s currently being given. Because most of the time, when I do chores, I still do a lot of thinking. And right now, my mind’s just half full of negative thoughts, and thinking about them when I’m doing something will only make me accomplish nothing.
Studying. I really don’t know. I think I’m not effectively doing it. I’ve decided to do it in the afternoon in the nipa hut where I can be surrounded by the serene view of the Ilocano nature. The fresh air and cool December breeze might help clear my mind. And good thing, it’s still within my Wi-Fi’s reach. When I study, I usually have my computer, my phone, my notes, my Davis and Mosby NCLEX software and hardware reviewers, and my college books. It has to be this team. All or nothing. Otherwise, I’m not at my studying best. Like right now. Because all I have is one notebook and my laptop. And I’m really not in the mood to be burying my nose on my three-inch Med-Surg books with this kind of depression in me. I just need an excuse from possible family mini-commandments or even kind requests, simply because I’m just not in the mood. Hence the release of all thoughts in this post here in my bamboo-made sanctuary. Besides, i haven’t updated this blogsite for quite some time.
I don’t know if someone might stumble upon this post. If someone out there is ever going to finish reading this letter of emotional release of negativity. If someone would even care. I know I said this blogsite’s going to inspire readers and yet this is nowhere near that. But I’m in so much pain right now, I just feel I owe it to myself to release what’s inside of me, or else I’ll just continue being like this, feeling pathetic. I need to be respected with whatever decisions I make, because I’m not a kid anymore. I already know what’s right and wrong, and I know that no one’s responsible for my own actions but myself. I just want to be taken seriously. I want to feel like I’m also people’s priority, that they’ll put a lot of effort and do their best for my sake, to somehow feel that they also want me to become happy. Because right now? I’m not. I know I sound so selfish right now, but I’ve also done a lot of sacrifices, been through much hardships myself, and yet I feel like not a bit’s even coming back.
It’s hard to suppress feelings, putting up a happy face in front of people, hiding your real emotions. It’s hard, because you love them so much you feel you need to always be strong for them, to always be the helping hand, and not the one needy reaching out. When you know they have struggles of their own, and no matter how much you want to open up, you’re just too afraid you’ll only add up to their burden. And even if you have the strength to speak it out, you’re still afraid you might not get the answer you want, simply because it’s the only answer you want. You’re too hurt that you’ve built protective walls and barriers around you, selectively permitting only those you wish to get in, and rejecting other options that you never knew would help. Or perhaps you chose to reject.
But I know this will pass. I know one day I’ll look back to this moment and laugh at the ugly pathetic self I have shown to the cyberworld, or perhaps just here at my site. I just pray for the strength, the optimism to make it through this storm. To utilize everything that’s happening now to make me a better person for the people I whole-heartedly love, and to God who I faithfully adore. Someday. Insha’Allah.
Tonight, I’m going to have the couch all to myself again. I’m going to feel somehow a little better after this “spill-out”. Nobody’s gonna notice my eyes tired from controlling and yet failingly spilling out tears, or probably the smile that’s forcedly given. I don’t know how long I’m going to stare into the darkness, thinking to myself about the life, silently, mentally singing the line from one of Alanis’ songs:
“Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
when you think everything’s okay and everything’s going right..
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
you think everything’s gone wrong and everything blows up
in your face..”
I’ll probably get to sleep again at one in the morning. By that time, I’m already at my knee-chest-chin sleeping position. Back to the fetal form I’ve once been in my Mama’s womb, where I first felt safe and secured.