Linggo, Nobyembre 16, 2014
Like a Dream
I was organizing some photos and I found this old one. It was taken more than five years ago and it feels like it was only a dream. I once told my husband during an intimate conversation that even though our past experiences happened in our lives, they seem to appear like they are something we do not own in the present. I think, I was talking about happy memories when I said that. Maybe it was because of my restless mindset that evening when we were talking about the pleasant events that turned our lives into what my husband described as "spectacular" compared to the lives of most people we know. My mind was wandering during our recollection of places we've seen, things we've done, people we've met, and yet, I cannot access the emotion attached to them. They only seem like scenes from a movie or a play I once saw. It felt like I was there but was only watching. Is it because I'm not there anymore? Or is it because when I was there, I was thinking too much of the future?
Back then, I had a job I could only dream of. I was a pastry cook, working alone for the pastry department of a three star hotel from five in the morning, eight hours a day, six days a week. It was too fantastic for me to believe because I had no formal training, not even a single pastry arts class. I was an unschooled baker, who had watched Food Network shows while looking after my babies. Yes, I tried my hand on a few recipes but that was it. I was just lucky because the hotel's kitchen would be losing their pastry chef very soon and was desperate to get a replacement. I applied for a position as a pastry chef assistant, thinking I would be learning from someone I will assist, but it turned out, after my one week of training, I would be left alone to handle the demands of the hotel's buffet restaurant, lounge, and banquet halls. I've never felt so alive.
My shift ended at one. Instead of feeling tired, I was energized. I was so pumped up that I still get to go to the gym three to four times a week after work, cook meals at home, and take care of my young boys when it was my husband's turn to go to work. We managed our schedule very well. We had dinner together every night, even if it's as late as 9pm. We were nailing our work-life balance!
However, I was still very young then, and because we left the Philippines prematurely, I had some unfinished business. I did not get my degree. I used to be very good in school and it was on top of my priorities, in fact, it felt like it defined a great deal of who I was. In my mind, I was still trapped. Even though my depressive episodes were rare during this time, they were almost always about the what-if's. Even though I was thriving, I still felt like I was missing out on a lot of things and I thought that my life would have been better if we never left.
Some things did not work out so we ended up going home. This time I went into a downward spiral and was clinically depressed. I was full of regrets, this time, I was trapped in the past. Despite this mental condition, I was able to make good decisions with my husband's support. We designed our lives based on our philosophy and family values. I was able to graduate, and we built a decent business that provides enough to raise happy children without the daily eight-hour grind.
Life would have been ideal and can continue being "spectacular" but my mind remained restless and my emotions unstable. Writing this somehow makes me question, is this all about not grasping the concept of time? When my life was happening in the past, I had what if's and was stuck thinking about the future. When I was in what I thought was a more ideal future, I was wishing I could go back in time and dwelling in regrets. With some common sense, I'm realizing that my problem is not being in the present. So how would I deal with it? I don't know yet, but I can start to find out. Now.
Martes, Nobyembre 11, 2014
Another Beginning
I intend to use this space as a container of my thoughts. My thoughts about things that run around in my head, robbing me of precious amount of sleep. I want to write freely, without any themes and with less inhibitions. I need this place to retire from all the things that bother me, inspire me, ignite something inside me, but would need some time to incubate so that I can decide if they are simply thoughts brought about by mania or depression.
See, I was recently diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. This unknown path is pretty scary and I just need a place to pour all my mind when I have to. I intentionally created this blog to become a sanctuary of my emotions, which may be irrational, because most of the time, they are too heavy to carry. Well, I think you can blame me for some of the weight. For one, I can't seem to let them go completely. Since I can't do both carrying and letting go, maybe I would get some relief by writing them down. It's sort of like renting a storage space, but only for thoughts instead of things. Just like those people who can't throw some stuff away yet, I needed to put my thoughts away in order for me to lighten up my baggage and enjoy my journey.
I want to try writing as one of my daily rituals. I believe in its power to massage my soul whenever I would feel battered inside. I believe that it can be my anchor when I am restless or lost. I believe that by writing, I can see myself whenever I start to fade.
See, I was recently diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. This unknown path is pretty scary and I just need a place to pour all my mind when I have to. I intentionally created this blog to become a sanctuary of my emotions, which may be irrational, because most of the time, they are too heavy to carry. Well, I think you can blame me for some of the weight. For one, I can't seem to let them go completely. Since I can't do both carrying and letting go, maybe I would get some relief by writing them down. It's sort of like renting a storage space, but only for thoughts instead of things. Just like those people who can't throw some stuff away yet, I needed to put my thoughts away in order for me to lighten up my baggage and enjoy my journey.
I want to try writing as one of my daily rituals. I believe in its power to massage my soul whenever I would feel battered inside. I believe that it can be my anchor when I am restless or lost. I believe that by writing, I can see myself whenever I start to fade.
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