Year of Epiphanies and Decisions
2020 has been weird for everyone including me. The sense of isolation that forced self-reflection had compelled me to confront my biggest questions. Years of avoiding have finally caught up and I had nowhere to escape. The time has finally come for me to decide.
The year had started on a wrong foot but I had never expected it to warp into such a horrendous one. It started with a heavy and endless rain on the eve of 31st December 2019. Not long after, received news that my students’ homes in have been submerged in water since wee hours in the morning. Not knowing exactly what to do I went down anyway with the other volunteers. Gave some meals and water, hoping that it will provide some aid. Alas, it wasn’t the only time I had to do this.
The flooding came again and again. Heavy rain and poor waste management were to blame. January and February were filled with anxiety every time it rained. 3 live CCTVs’ streams had been my constant companions during these downpours, checking for any signs of raising water.
It all finally cleared up.
When March came, I was glad that we haven’t heard any flooding news for a while. The month seemed poised that it will be a better month. How wrong was I.
Mid March marched along and the first order of lockdown was signed. Confusion and anxiety wafted throughout the city. I felt uncertain and worried but back then I felt some sort of confidence that everything was gonna be fleeting. I just needed to endure this state for a few weeks and maybe a month or so and everything would return to normal. Again, I was wrong.
The isolation extended to a much longer period. At first I didn’t mind or more like I didn’t have the time to mind. Work became crazy, all plans tossed out, new last-minute initiatives pushed in. All was an effort to stay relevant during the pandemic. It really had become blur to me now - all I could remember were the long hours, the stress and the push to just keep going. I was due for a rotation early June and kept looking at the date like a marathoner thinking of the finish line.
The day finally came and I moved on to another department. Contrary to my expectations, I didn’t feel a pang of sadness. What I felt was a huge wave of relief. Finally, an escape from the long hours and dreadful responsibility.
I finally had time to breathe.
The month started slow as expected and I was unwilling to move it faster. I felt like a newcomer again, learning everything. A nice pace of change, a new library of knowledge, new people to get familiar with. It was all pointing to me making the right decision to move. Despite having more time, my mind didn’t wander much. It was just a much deserved and needed break.
July came and I was asked to finally go home. Having avoided months of returning home, I decided to go back to stay for a week during the long weekend, never planning to stay a day longer. However, I was asked to stay and didn’t have much reason to say no. At this point, I didn’t know that it would be a start of a grueling period.
How different could it be, right? Working from home is working from home even if you’re in two different places. You still needed to make the calls. You still needed to work overtime. You still needed to meet deadlines. But they couldn’t be more different.
The first few weeks went without much of a hitch. Or at least I didn’t remember the first few weeks having been horrible. But as the time went on, I felt home was sucking out of my already limited energy. Having to do house chores that I would rather not, having listened to stories that drained my emotions, having to stay truly at home. I had no freedom. I had no escapes. Slowly but surely, I descended into a state of despair.
It might be early September that I started thinking, “It’s okay for me to die”. I was never suicidal and even then never thought about taking my own life. But I was fine if all had to end. Then all this suffering would end.
This feeling continued to haunt me for weeks and months. I was reluctant to find help or share my stories to others. I felt so scrutinised at home and thought that if I did the above they would ask questions that I would rather not entertain. So life went on and my feelings continued to worsen.
It finally came to a breaking point. I had to escape and do something about it. With the weakest of reasons, I finally decided to leave home and back to my apartment.
I had my freedom back; I was able to do what I want to do whenever I want to do it and however I want to do it. It was the best decision that I had made. And one of the first orders of business was to arrange a session with a therapist.
I remembered that first session rather vividly. Not feeling 100% comfortable at my apartment, I decided to have the call at the office. The appointment was at 7 o’clock. I sat alone in one of the interview rooms with paper, a pen, my handphone and earphones. I was nervous and didn’t know what to expect of it all. The call finally came in and I picked up.
It was the first time that I finally was able to share all of the above stories with someone. The first time I could share without feeling that I would be judged. The first time that I truly felt that I would become better eventually. The first time that somebody told me, “It’s not okay to think that it’s okay to die”. The therapist biggest advice was for me to find a purpose.
Till today I still haven’t found that all grandeur purpose. I think my therapist wasn’t a particularly good one but to me it seemed that the real value was to be able to tell my stories to someone without any fear of a backlash. To hear someone else’s impartial perspective to your life was refreshing. And I did come away with one advice that still stuck with me: “Treat yo’self”.
So I did the work. I treated myself, I started cooking again, feeding myself good breakfast. I started reading again, buying books almost indiscriminately. Trying to find some motion and enjoyment from the freedom that I recently earned. But one thing still bugged me, my volunteering commitment.
It was something I never wanted and always felt unsupported. A committee of five felt more like a committee of one. Granted others were still doing their job but I felt lonely and exhausted. It reached a point where I just finally stopped doing anything. Resorting to an excuse that I am moving department at work which was true but we all knew it was an excuse.
This last stressor had finally gone and I could breathe freely again.
This was the moment in months where I felt confident that everything was going to be okay. I still held dearly to it. Gradually, I felt better and better but something was still gnawing at me. Months of reflection and self-work finally brought me to confront questions that up until then I did not dare to answer.
But answered I did.
I finally made the decisions that I knew had been true to my identity for so many years but never wanted to accept. Two facets of my identity that would alienate me from a lot of people, especially my family. But I could deny no longer.
I am an agnostic and a queer.
Fiuh, what a relief! To be able to put the declaration out there to the world. To live honestly without having to think that I need to change. Granted I still had a lot of things to figure out but this felt like a great first step to an amazing journey.
Here’s hoping to a better 2021 and a year where I can live proudly with my decisions.
