Drifting thoughts. Words unspoken.

THE ROLE OF FAITH

Exactly two years today. What can I say, SG? I nearly lost it. Slow clap.

Constant chest discomfort, occasional anxiety attacks and endless churning of thoughts would pretty much sum up this year. I am irrationally scared and jumpy and restless all the time. Imagine walking in to your very first interview - all that numbness, cold sweats, increased heart rate and nausea. It's almost the same, only this time there's no interview. So you're not sure when it's gonna end. Worse, you're not even sure why you feel that way. Most days I can bear it. On some really bad days, surreal as it may sound even to me, I have to seek the aid of an actual happy pill. "Should I talk about this? But who do I talk to?" It is one thing to acknowledge my need for help and another to put someone in such an uncomfortable situation. Also because on some good days, I am so convinced it's really not that serious. If I'm not sure myself how I feel, how else is anyone gonna be convinced I'm not just seeking attention? Am I?

"My life is a blessing to others" has lost its luster. It felt like the validation of my existence solely rests on how much my life is of benefit to others. I desperately needed to feel that I'm a blessing to myself too. Pathetic as it may sound but badminton was the only thing that makes me want to be alive. Then it started to stifle me just the same after having a considerable scroll in my Facebook timeline one time and post after post, almost nothing but badminton. I thought if I have at least one thing to occupy myself with then I'd probably feel better. I thought if I go out there and force myself to socialize then I wouldn't be as dispirited. On the contrary, it drained me even more. Surrounded by people who are though my online friends but were actually just acquaintances in real life made me feel more isolated than included. I was instantly weighed down by the lack - or loss - of close connection with anyone. I've never felt more alone than ever. 2015 paled a hell of a lot in comparison. I kind of knew though that this was bound to happen. Or was it my mindset in the first place that led me here? Chicken and egg. I guess I'll never know. Yet from a third person's point of view, I would think that my life looked perfectly fine. The social media spectacle is indeed one heck of a cunning display.

I lost count of the breakdowns. Well I wasn't really counting. I just knew it has gone overboard when I could no longer contain it that once while at work, I had to hide in the restroom. I even opted to skip work a few times. On one team meeting, my boss was commending me for a job well done and all I could think about is how it doesn't really matter because in that moment, I was trying to conceal my anxiety. For months, I battled (or still battling?) with suicidal ideations. I'm still here so I'm still winning. That's one good thing. It's relatively better now but is this how it's gonna be for the rest of my life? Oh god, how do I fix this? I'm not so sure if the happy pill is working.

I wish there is some good conclusion to this entry. After the past years, I thought by now I would have known better but I still feel helpless and screwed up. It's almost the end of year so at least there's the sound of reset approaching. Don't get me wrong. I'm more than grateful to be here but please, just please give me a rest.

STANDSTILL

My hands would go shaking My whole body would start trembling My heart would either be racing or waning My chest would feel like I was choking From my feet up my back is a numbing feeling Maybe this room's just a little too chilly Is it my poor eyesight or my vision's getting more blurry? And this acid reflux, is it really from coffee? But when the recurrence is almost daily Should I be starting to worry?

RETROSPECT

Take me back To the time when all was perfect Take me back To when the world was weightless

When blue was just a hue And not a kind of mood When it’s just black and white Not grey and quite just right

When needing a break Was from a time that’s great When running and hiding Were all for winning

And like the road not taken, it was the fucks not given that made all the difference.

I have never said “fuck” (in my head at least) in so much succession as much as I did when I read this book. It was oddly satisfying.

My reaction towards this went from “Yep, I completely agree” to “Hold on, you don’t know what you’re saying” to “Okay I hate you but maybe you’re right.”

He tells you you’re wrong about everything and proceeds with saying there really is no “how” to fix it. Why would you start the title of your  book with “the subtle art of” if you’re gonna end up saying there’s no such thing? What a clickbait. Bottomline, he’s saying our happiness, regardless of anything, is completely of our own making. How original. I kind of disagree. I’m just not sure if I’m being objective about it. I might be disagreeing only because I was a bit offended. “…if it feels like it’s you versus the world, chances are it’s really just you versus yourself.” Truth hurts.

He suggests to identify the things you’ll give a fuck about but then drops a line that goes, “I say don’t find yourself. I say never know who you are.” Total mindfuck. What do you want me to do now?

 (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

To be fair, the guy has his points. There were just so much contradictions that at the end, I’m left more confused than before I picked up the book.

These past few months, when people ask me how I’ve been, I would always say, “Buhay pa.” The ambiguity of it will usually make them laugh and steer them away from asking any further. It both relieves me and not that the conversation ends there. Relieved in that I won’t have to awkwardly answer how I’ve really been if I’m going to be honest about it. And anxious maybe of letting the chance to just open up. Funny, what concludes this book is this exact exchange.

“Is everything okay? How are you feeling?” I pause for a moment, still smiling. “Alive. Very alive.”

To not give a fuck, I suppose, is to simply live. Easier said than done but it is what it is. Life will fuck you up and you gotta suck it up. Just because it’s simple doesn’t mean it’s easy. I can almost hear my dad, "Ganon talaga."

*Spoilers*

My Heart & Other Black Holes is the voice inside my head, transcribed and printed.

The sound of defeat rings through in its almost entirety. Yet there is a disturbing stillness. How can peace and loss sound so similar? It can be inspiring in a very twisted sense depending on where hope will be placed in. Which makes this book a double-edged sword. So much was spent on validating the problem but the resolution felt so abrupt and frustratingly simple that it nearly trivialized the entire premise.

I think it can do better than ending with a (romantic) love-conquers-all clichè. I wish Aysel found her life worthy for herself rather than for someone else. Would it be too inconceivable for her to want to live had someone not come into her life? I get it, she doesn’t have to be on her own. But placing her hopes in someone is just another meltdown in waiting. It didn’t help that she created objectives whose successes do not exactly rely on her. What then if those objectives are not met? It’s square one all over again. She’s gonna lose it all over again.

I kind of understand now where people with suicidal ideation are coming from. It’s pointless to ask why. Not exactly because it’s hopeless but because it really can’t be rationalized. That’s the thing, the very root of it is the loss of reason itself. It’s completely ridiculous on a fine day. On a really bad day, it simply makes sense.

“Maybe it’s all relative, not just light and time like Einstein theorized, but everything. Like life can seem awful and unfixable until the universe shifts a little and the observation point is altered, and then suddenly, everything seems more bearable.”