2016

Mom died. 

Mom died last January 3, 2016. I still haven't had the time or energy to process the fact that she's gone and never coming back to this earth. We're all dealing with this in our own way. I don't know how my brothers are doing. But I know that Papa and I are dealing with it through silence. Papa rarely doesn't anything productive now. He sleeps. A lot. He watches shows on TV. He stays up late. He eats only when I remind him to. Sometimes I have to force him to. He still doesn't talk. No words. 

I tried for film school.

I tried out for film school and yet I know that after this process of getting accepted, I won't actually be able to pursue this dream. I thought that when mom died I would be able to have and live my own life. I thought I would be able to work or get into film school. Or leave. Or get out of this house. But no. I'm still stuck here caring for Papa. I don't regret it. But I don't exactly love what I'm doing. Get a maid? We have one. Get a caregiver? We have that. So please explain to me the pain I feel when I leave the house to get a job and come home to find Papa sitting on the couch exactly where I left him nine hours before waiting for me to come home and be with him. Explain that. 

So here we are. 

So here we are and I am so confused and unsure. I never thought that I would be this lost. I never thought that I'd lose everything all at once. Because honestly, I've lost both of my parents (mom to cancer and papa to his heart attack) though papa is still alive. I've lost my dreams because I am stuck here doing something I hate for someone I love. And I've lost my drive to. .Well, live. 

Happy New Year. 

Live With It

This is for that ophthalmologist who saw me last week.

I came into your clinic hoping to get a pair of glasses or contacts to replace the ones I broke. You led me into a small room and made me read stuff on the board. I could read everything clearly, but I kept reminding you that I had no grade and only had astigmatism. After you checked my eyes you told me, "You don't have a grade or astigmatism." You said it in a way that sounded like you were accusing me of lying. That was when I had to explain to you that I have optic neuritis. Some days I'll have a grade. Some days I'll have astigmatism. Some days I'll see well. Some days I won't see at all. And one day, people must find a cure to this.

While I was thinking about how doctors have not found a cure for this yet, you said, "There is nothing I can do for you but pity you." I nodded my head and forced a smile. But really, I don't need your pity or your sad looks. I don't really need a cure for this or someone to tell me that it will get better in the future. Am used to taking painkillers, throwing up and sleeping off the pain. Am used to not eating seafood, chocolates, chicken, peanuts and anything else that might make this sickness worse. Am used to the headaches and tunnel vision and the dizzyness. You are not obliged to do or feel anything for me.

What irritates me however is that you told me to just live with it. You said, "Just live with it then." Isn't that what I already am doing? I have stopped hoping that some type of medicine will be invented to regulate the pain. I have stopped wishing that some other person had this instead of me. I have stopped dreaming of a day when my head will stop throbbing. I have also stopped praying to God to heal me. Don't tell me to just live with it. I don't want to hear that from you. I don't want to hear anything from you.

See, I've heard this all before. You're not the first ophthalmologist or doctor or neurologist who has told me that there is nothing you can do for me. I know the lines. I know the spiels. I know you're just doing your job when you tell me these things. But I don't need to be reminded that I've got to live with this. As much as possible I just try to block it out of my mind so I can concentrate on living life.



 



 

Thoughts On Sickness And Other Things

 My body feels sore. So sore that the only position I can stand is lying on my back in my bed while my eyes are staring at the ceiling. Urinating is a chore for it means getting up from bed and dragging myself to my toilet. I refuse to stand. I crawl. I crawl on all fours to the toilet. Finally, when I need to force myself to sit on the toilet seat, my body feels like a huge balloon that will explode when pricked. And then I imagine myself bursting. For no reason at all, my body becomes liquid and I become a pool of particles on my black floor. 

I wake up. On my bed. A tray of food is before me. A voice tells me that it's been there for the past two hours. The soup's getting cold. The cold water's getting warm. I am getting hotter and hotter. I force myself to eat food I cannot taste and drink liquids which hurt my throat. They want to turn the lights on in my room. I blatantly refuse. They turn it on. I whine. Like a brat. The lights go off. I go to sleep.

 I drift in and out of sleep. Veep is on. Modern Family is on. I listen. I sleep. My phone vibrates. People from college asking if I'm going to school. I reply and say I am sick. Their next few messages baffle me. They ask if I'm in school. They ask when I'll be back. When a person is sick, a person stays home. When a person is sick, they don't know when they'll be well. I stopped replying. Catastrophe. 

My closest friends entertain me. They try to make me better. But I'm here and they're so far away. To make up for distance they call and talk while I fall asleep on them. They send me funny videos that makes me smile. They chat with me and I send them emoticons. I fall asleep and wake up to their messages reminding me why I have to get well and not give in to this sickness. They say life is good. 

I'm not so sure about that.

Nothing

I honestly don't know how to start this because I don't know how this started. 

There is no date to celebrate. There is no specific time or moment when the feelings started to creep in. There is nothing to look back to that will ever prove that any of this even happened. And maybe that's the problem with this whole I-don't-know-what-to-call-it-relationship. It was built on nothing. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it is nothing. Yet if this was all nothing, why does it suck? Why does it - excuse my fucked up term - hurt? Why do I feel that this is just another break up altogether?

Perhaps there was something after all. It wasn't love. I'm sure of that. It was a mutual respect and admiration of each other that led us to this nothingness. Trust was involved too which was broken month after month after month. Lies existed to cover up a multitude of hurt that came about from lies also. Happiness was sporadic, but we both lived for those precious moments. Fighting was our language through which we communicated with a passion. There were no rules. Anything was possible! 

And that "anything" happened. You got drunk. I got drunk. You flirted with other girls. I got drunk because you flirted with other girls. I smoked. You got mad. I said you had no right to be because you didn't own me. You shut up because you knew I was correct. I cursed you. You cursed me. My curses had no effect on you. Your curses to me scarred me for life. You stayed. I left. You didn't call me back. I kept on hoping you would. I said sorry. A lot. You always just accepted it. My pride got in the way. Your pride blocked the way. We refused to give way. I hoped. I hoped too much. You made me believe that I had something to hope for.
  
Finally, I came to my senses and threw nothing down the drain because I had nothing to throw away to begin with. There was no us to tear apart. There was no date to forget every month. There were no text messages to delete or chats to regret. A relationship status change was not necessary which meant that no questions were asked. No questions will ever be asked. There are no pictures of us up on the Internet that have to be taken down. There was nothing. There is nothing.

So what was that all about? If nothing took place and there was no relationship, what should I be feeling right now? If this was the usual break up scenario, you'd see me walking around like a zombie for days and I'd be listening to The Script. Yet this is not the usual, normal break up. This is not a break up. I did not lose anything, but I feel that I left something behind. Mixed and messed up feelings that should not even be felt are strangling my soul. Fuck. I need to wake up from this bad dream.

As I try my best to piece together some answer that will make myself believe that this was worth it, a friend suddenly opens up to me to share her own story that began with nothing and ends with nothing also. And she asks me for advice while I sit here not knowing what to say or how to deal with her heartache. Her questions remind me of my own situation. My answers to her questions are answers that I need to get into my brain and be convinced by. I don't have the guts to tell her that I can't even follow my own advice. I abruptly stopped replying to her because the emotions that came along with the conversation were too much to handle. I wish her the best though. And i give myself applause for being such a good liar.

I began and will end now with nothing.

Divorce Just Happens

A friend brought a book with pages full of questions with her to our church's youth overnight. We all took turns reading a question out loud and answering them. If you could have your own club, what would you name it and what music would you play? Would you help a friend cheat for an exam? If you were in a party and saw someone you wanted to ask out, how would you get the person's attention? The questions got more and more ridiculous until the last question was asked. What would you say to anyone who was going through a divorce?

The person who had to answer the  question was one of our youth group leaders. Of course, her answer was a mile long and several feet deep, yet it prompted several members of the group to react, to share and to give their own take on divorce. Some had parents who were going through it. Another was a child who had to deal with a father who was unfaithful. And one just wanted to know when to stop praying for her mother and father to reconcile. They said that as the child, you never stop praying and you never stop hoping for that reconciliation. And their stories about wanting their parents to get back together went on and on and on. Someone made a comment that the topic was so close to home. Well, this topic is what makes my home. If divorce (or annulment) destroyed the families of my friends, divorce (or annulment) gave me a mother and a father plus two ancient half brothers. 

Am not sure when I realized that my ancient older brothers were my mom's children from her first marriage. Maybe I found out when I had to talk to my ancient older brothers' father on the phone. Or maybe I found out when I realized I would only see my second ancient older brother only during big family reunions. Actually, am pretty sure my first ancient older brother who lived with us for a few years shared some family gossip with me. All I know is that my ancient older brothers and I belonged to the same mom, but we had different dads.
 
And I sat there thinking about my own messed up family and how we've all learned to deal with the divorce (or annulment) in our own crazy way. Some of us have learned to deal with it better than the others. But have dealt with it and continue to deal with it. My dad has a way of detaching himself from everything that has to do with my mom's divorce. When she talks about it, he just shuts up. Maybe he thinks that just because the law says the marriage never happened, he can pretend it never took place. My mom still has open wounds from that divorce (annulment) that will never fully heal. I know she cries about it and still feels its heavy weight. The first ancient older brother has pain we all know about but will never comprehend entirely. The second ancient older brother seems to have let his pain fuel his desire to have a beautiful family. And I may not feel all their pain, but their pain has affected my views on life and marriage.

I thought about how one ancient brother wished for mom and their father to reconcile and how the other ancient brother did not. Thought about all those times mom wished the second ancient older brother also lived with her when he was growing up. Recalled those moments when one ancient older brother would call my dad Papito and the other one called him Uncle. Looked back on those times my mom begged God to please change one ancient older brother's mind about marriage and children. Recalled all those times I would have to explain why our last names did not match. Thought about how my dad loves his wife's children even if they are not his own. Tried to feel the regret my mom is undergoing for having a divorce (annulment) and also her happiness that she is free from that marriage. 

Their talk went on and on and on as I tried to make myself disappear in the mess of blanketss and a pillow. Because what can someone say to a person who is going through a divorce? What can someone say to a child whose parents are divorcing? What can someone say to a child who has a parent who has gone through a divorce and has re-married? What can someone say? What can someone really say? Nothing. You can talk and talk and talk, but that may mean nothing because each situation is different and because there will never be a right or a wrong divorce (annulment). You can pray and pray that reconciliation takes place, but sometimes God does not listen to prayers like those. You can question and beg, but sometimes there are no answers. Sometimes divorce (annulment) just happens. Sometimes divorce (annulment) it is meant to be.

So I came back from that overnight depressed as ever.

 

 

Expectation. Reality.

Expectation: Parents will want to spend time with me on the weekend since we rarely see each other during the week.
Reality: Parents pick me up from my brother's house and hurry home because they have other things to do. When we get home, they do their thing and I do my thing. The next day, as a family, we spend so much time in church. By the time we have the day to ourselves, we're all tired and I have to go back to my brother's house. So much for wanting to spend time with them.

Expectation: Church is a place where people are welcoming and loving and oh so awesome.
Reality: I have never felt so alone in my whole life!  It has been more than one freaking year and I still am surrounded by strangers every Sunday. I have gone out of my way to make friends, but they stick to their little world. Impossible.

Expectation: Friends will be there for you and with you.
Reality: They will be there for you when they have the time and energy. They will be with you only if you live close to each other. Schedules get busy. Money gets tight. Life happens. You get through problems on your own.

Expectation: Childhood friends will be friends forever and ever.
Reality: Shit happens! You end up acting civil when you see each other in parties, bump into each other at the mall or accidentally 'like' their status or photo on Facebook.

Expectation: College is an awesome experience that I will enjoy and treasure for the rest of my life.
Reality:  As soon as I make it to college, I cannot wait to run out of the college building. The only thing that keeps me motivated to go through with college is the knowledge that my parents will disown me if I do not graduate. Cannot wait to get this over with. Seriously.

Expectation: Media Production is the most awesome course ever!
Reality: Media Production is the most awesome. All we ever do is stay up late shooting videos, editing videos, doing voice overs, making PSA's, watching movies, writing scripts and doing all that crap. Our diet consists of coffee and fast-food. Our brains are working even when we're sleeping. 

Expectation: Bookstores will have all the books I want when I want them.
Reality: Walked to around all the malls in Makati looking for a certain book I have been wanting to buy. Wasted around one hour running all around and asking those people in the bookstore if they had that certain book. They did not have the book The Fault in Our Stars. Never really thought that the day would come when a bookstore would disappoint me. 
 
Expectation: Professors will teach me things I need to know.
Reality: Professors have me searching for answers to random questions they ask. Most of the time, they teach me 10% of the things I will need for the future. Sheesh.

Expectation: Community will be more awesome during its fourth season.
Reality: No one is really sure how they feel about the first episode or the fourth season. The plot is so screwed up. The characters are not themselves. It's too weird. It's too different. It's new.

Expectation: Writing will be easy! Writing will make me famous! Writing will be my profession!
Reality: Writing is not that easy. Writing will not make me famous. Writing may not be my profession. Writing may not even be for me at all.  

Expectation: I will be out of college by the time I am twenty years old.
Reality: Got into college when I was seventeen years old because I took grade seven. And then transferred into another college. So now, I will be out of college by the time I am twenty-two. I hate this thing called time. 

Expectation: Love. Love. Love.
Reality: Friend-zoned.  
  

Conversation

The conversation began with him asking me a loaded question.

'Are you happy for me?' he asked.

My mind froze for a few seconds. In those few seconds, I had thought of an answer which was not exactly the truth but which was not exactly a lie either. It was somewhere in between truth and falseness. Maybe you can say that I gave that answer to try to convince myself that I actually believed in the words that came out of my mouth. In fact, I believed in the words of The Click Five song that goes, 'If I say it like I mean it then maybe I'll believe it like it's true.' Screw that belief.

'Am courting her already!' he exclaimed.

I had dreaded the time that sentence would leave his lips. And it had finally happened. My whole face was smiling, but something in me was scowling the biggest scowl which no one would ever see because I would never show them. And then that sinking feeling came over me. At that time, I refused to admit that it was regret, but I think that that was exactly what it was: Regret. It was regret in its purest and undiluted form. It was regret because he had asked me out before and I casually turned him down.

It was the most perfect form of jealousy which could make a person plan evil plans and think evil thoughts. It was the jealousy that had so many questions. Who was this girl that could just make him so brave to ask her out? What was so great about her anyway? When the hell did this all start? Why did I not see this coming? So how did this all happen? Please. I need details.

It was blame. It was the worst kind of blame because I had no one else to accuse except myself. I knew exactly what my friends would say when I finally mustered the courage to say that he and I would never end up together. They would say, 'Why did you not tell him that you liked him?' It would always be my fault. And I would just have to live with the fact that I was the one to be blamed. What a shitty feeling.

'So Anna, you gotta be happy for me!'

How can I be happy for him while he is fooling around with some girl and all I want to do is keep him to myself? Those people who say that they are happy as long as the person they love is happy are just fooling themselves! You can only be happy if you share in the person's happiness. I did not. While he was happy, I was plain angry. So maybe it is true when they say that a person's happiness is always at the expense of another person.

I had a choice. I could say that I was so happy that he finally was courting her just to end the disheartening conversation. Or I could say that I was not happy at all for him which would eventually lead to him asking why. Thus prolonging the conversation on a topic I hated. Both answers were true. Both answers were false. Both answers were doubtful.

'Yeah, am happy for you!' I answered.

That was the end of the conversation.

Thanks!

 I just want to say thanks.

I want to show my gratitude to all those people who have not been there for me when I needed them the most. They were either too busy with school, homework,  their boyfriend or girlfriend, their dead pet or some random crap of an excuse. Other times, those people were not busy at all but just found a reason to be busy as soon as I said, 'Hey, I really need to cry right now. Care to listen?' Their reasons ranged from hilarious to downright outrageous sometimes. More often than not, I did not give a damn to point out that I knew they were lying to my face. I mean, why bother? Why force them to listen to my random vents and rants anyway?

So I thank you for allowing me to experience crying myself to sleep which just happens to be so overrated. Oh yes, I have also tried running out of a classroom and into a toilet just to cry because I knew no one for one whole semester. (Fine, I knew exactly one person.) I have climbed up on the roof of the house which overlooks a major highway and with tears streaming down my face, I yelled into the street which contained cars whose windows were shut tight. The hilarious thing was, you may not have heard my cry, but you saw it and did nothing.

Let me remind you of those times when we actually met up, but you never gave me time to bring up what was bothering me. Yes, you kept asking me and begging me to tell you how my life was. I could not even get my sentence finished for you kept butting in with a story about your sisters, how to make awesome tasting cupcakes, explanations of why your band is hot and on and on and on. So for so many long hours, I shut up and listened to you and your own travails. Not that I was unhappy listening to your triumphs and failures, but once in a blue moon, could you by any chance listen to mine?

Thank you for making me look like a good friend. They say that in any kind of relationship, there is always someone who does more than the other. Well, sometimes can you be that someone who does more than the other? It's getting really tiring to always pay for your food, check your essays for class, go all the way to where you live while you never come out to where I am staying and just going the extra mile. It seems that without the effort I have been putting into this messed up relationship of ours, it would just crumble and fall. Maybe one day I should let it. 

And yet I also recognize the fact that you have made me stronger. Without all the crap you have been giving me, you made me realize that the saying, 'No man is an island' may actually be false in some ways. You made me come to the realization that I do not need you or anyone else to survive. I do not need a person to see me cry, hear me cry, dry my tears and pat my back while saying, 'You'll make it through this really horrible professor you have in class.' Because of you, the little things have stopped bothering me so much. I have become my own person who does not necessarily depend on other people for her own happiness. I have found out that I do not need to vent to others so that my own problems can be solved. I can do it by myself.

Also, you made me find friends in low places. I found people I did not think would be there for me when I needed someone terribly. I never thought I would be friends with a person who did not enjoy the things I enjoyed, but I am friends with a person like that. Your never being there provoked me to seek out new people and new adventures that would not have happened if you did not always abandon me. I have learned a little more Filipino (Tagalog) by interacting more with people who are not so fluent in english. I have gone around Manila by taking public transportation which would not have happened if you were around. Thank you for making this happen!

So although I thought I needed you during my hard times, I was wrong. The only thing I needed was for you to walk in and out of my life in order for things to fall into place. I just had to lack some people in my life for more people to come along, not to fill the void but to make the void look so small that it did not matter any more. 

And for all of the consequences, good and bad, that our friendship caused, I thank you. 

Under Construction

Ada woke her daddy up one morning saying, 'Daddy, my smile is under construction!'

And what a weird kind of construction it is! In the span of about two months, she has lost five to six teeth. (Yes, I am too lazy to stand up and ask Ada exactly how many teeth she lost.) Is that even normal? Losing that many teeth in a short period of time? Who cares. She looks funny. She looks cute. She looks like a Halloween pumpkin. She looks like someone who needs fake teeth. She looks like she has a hard time eating without teeth. She looks like me when I was seven years old my guy friend boxed my tooth off. She looks like she is growing up.

For kids, growing up is when they lose teeth, get taller, gain weight or lose weight. They make friends and enemies. They get into stupid fights over pens and paper and books. They start throwing away clothes that do not fit them or they pass their clothes on to their younger brother or sister. They say that people stop growing when they hit a certain age. Eighteen? Nineteen? Twenty? Twenty-one? I really need to get my facts straight next time. But for now, just know that people stop growing when they reach *insert age here.* Wait. Do we really stop growing?

I know I have not gotten any taller since I was nine years old. My weight plays around with the numbers and goes from a hundred pounds to my fat weight which is a hundred ten pounds. My feet have stopped growing. Thank God! I can still wear some of my rotten clothes from high school. So I think it is safe to assume that no matter what medicine I take I will never get taller. I can try to go on a diet, but I will never go back to what I used to weigh in grade school. And it does not matter what kind of shoes I use because my feet will not shrink. Shoot. Yes, I stopped growing. On the other hand, I know that I still am growing.

Expanding. Unfinished. Work in progress. I know this whenever I have had a hard day in school and I just want to forget all about it by drowning myself in chips. I feel this when my dad asks, 'How come you only got a one point five in this subject?' I hear this when people around me laud me when I do something they deem interesting. I perceive this when I see people's questioning looks when I fail or do not exert enough effort. I notice this when I start to doubt myself, my abilities and my beliefs. I get it a lot when my mom reminds me that every decision has a consequence, when my brother asks me how my day is, when my sister in law grants me some wisdom and when the three little kids prank me. I get it. I get it, okay?

In truth, we all are under some sort of construction for as long as we are alive. We may never grow taller or get thinner, but we are all under this force that makes us develop. Hopefully we develop for the better. The only problem with this force that pushes us to grow is that no one really sees it while it is happening. They only notice the output of the growing when a long period of time has already passed. By then, it is already too late for them to either take back what they said or add on to what they have already spoken. And so during that long period of time of developing and growing and wandering around, the person begins to let the noise of the world affect their ideas of themselves. They entertain ideas that they are not good enough, they will never be able to write or nothing good will ever come out of their life. 

The thing is, the person on the journey knows that he is getting to where he is supposed to be, but those around him do not. And that is when those random people judge and criticize and say dumb things. And that is also when the person asks, 'Am I really supposed to be a writer? Can I really get through this horrible professor? Will I ever learn how to commute?' Yet it is also those doubts that force the person to exert so much effort to get to his goal or be the person he wants to be to prove others wrong. For if no one doubts and they all just believe, nothing has to be proven and the person never grows. Such confusing thoughts!

When I came home this afternoon, Ada greeted me with her odd smile. I looked at her and thought, 'Heck, if I have the opportunity to get a tattoo one day, I will make her words permanent on my skin.' I do not really care if other people have those words on their bodies already. But I just need those words somewhere where I can see it always. That way it will serve as a constant prompting that I am not finished. The people around me are also unfinished. We all are. And we are trying hard to finish up ourselves. We are under construction.