“Do you ever just write stuff down in a journal, Jeff? One you don’t show people or use to get anything with? A place that’s just for you to sort out the truth?” — Annie, Community S3:E14 Pillows and Blankets
I have been binge-watching the series ‘Community’ ever since it aired on Netflix PH just a week ago. After watching a few episodes I appreciated the profound bits in episodes about wanting to change, to take a shot at something better despite of who you are or where you think you are at life. The content is quirky and outrageous yet subtle with the realities of our thoughts and innermost feelings. With a main theme song that’s poignant and grey, it evokes acceptance recognizing the worst in you yet still embracing the whole of you. I took the opportunity to reflect the shows musings in my own life because I can see that I’m no different from the main characters of the show. I started with sorting out my truths by writing again.
I needed to write. I have to clear my headspace and discern my truths in order to achieve this rare full bliss I know I have tasted from my distant past, from a time when I lived up to my own truths where there was no lying to myself.
I’m a very sensual person and as a result I tend to feel a lot of things. I get overwhelmed most of the time by my thoughts, by the smell and the sound around me, by the taste of the air, buildings I am designing, paintings I see, by the feel of a space, by the expectations of the surroundings, by the noise of awkwardness, and by the consciousness of time. It gets to my head sometimes which petrifies me. I have never fully known how to depend mentally and emotionally on anyone except my mom because she’s just the strongest person I know. After she had undergone brain surgery way back 2016 because of a tumor and then just last year, a battle with breast cancer, her spirits were broken and it faltered. She’s having a hard time recovering mentally and emotionally more than the physicality of it. I had nowhere to run to. The only resolve I thought was to write again just like I used to in my leather-clad journal when I feel like I have no one. Emotions and thoughts are fickle, I am never afraid to feel them but it is important for me not to mistake its ‘whats’ and ‘whys’ for me to understand it better and know where to place them. I’d always hoped that by writing, I would be able to immortalize a sliver of truth and the sheer purity of my thoughts within that space and that time for happenstances that my emotions betray my memory or vice-versa.
It’s day 23 of the nationwide ‘enhanced community quarantine’ here in the Philippines due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Every waking day feels surreal. Time has become somewhat irrelevant without appointments to chase and expectations to meet. I would want to make myself believe that everything is alright and things will soon be back to normal like what my Mom would always tell me (to impart a glimmer of hope during this situation) but bluntly accepting that means ignoring the reality. The past few weeks rendered a lot of changes, and with the way things are now, there’s no going back to the normal that we’ve all known by the end of this pandemic. I’m left with no distraction and compelled to strive for a new normal for myself, something that stems from my own truth, unapologetic, indifferent of exterior judgements, and constant under the sands of time — starting with discerning my own truths.
“Knowing others is wisdom; Knowing the self is enlightenment” — Lao Tzu
I always thought I was good with changes but ever since I left my island home, I’ve never been completely at peace with how things were for me here in the city. I’ve never kept myself together like how I was back home. I found myself wishing to God nonstop to give me back my old self — the enthusiastic, ever optimistic, and fearless little girl I knew I was. It’s kind of silly, but when you’re alone for the first time in the face of the unknown, you cower in fear to the depth and extent of nothingness which is both overwhelming and suffocating. And you’d do anything to rip that black fabric hovering above you hoping to get past it. For every pray I whispered, I felt a step back further to who I believed I was. I never understood why back then. I felt like I’ve never been true to myself since that turning point in my life. I felt like an impostor. However, I’ve learned two truths from that — one, I find it arduous to deal with change, I’m not good at it; two, dealing with change doesn’t work simply by asking God to turn back time to give your old self back. You’re never the same over time. Nor is going back down the road you’ve been to. You’ll find that you lose some paths you’ve taken to where you are at the moment.
With the current pandemic enough to be a worrisome subject alongside my overflowing thoughts about the changes occurring and how I should respond to it right now, I find it hard to cope. I’ve looked it up and found that what I’m experiencing can be called cognitive dissonance, the inconsistency of thoughts, beliefs and attitudes in relation to behaviour and change. Having layers of personal issues, I’ve tried to deny the truths about myself, the good and the bad over the years and covered it up within me like patching paper strips to a ball of papier-mâché thinking that it would make everything about me and around me neutral, devoid of happiness nor sadness. I got overwhelmed of the sensualities of life and longed for numbness. What a fool I was! Today though, I’m putting down the glues and papers. I’ve made a big enough papier-mâché ball to hide some of my worst truths— that I’m lost and confused and hurt and scared — to the point that I can’t even see it myself anymore. This makes it much clear as to why I’ve consciously aspired to be invisible, to disappear in the background, and to be a fly on the wall. I’ve never really aspired to be seen by the world except by those whom I love and those whom I cherish. All of this because I’ve never known or never had the courage to learn how to deal with change. On top of hiding this reality, I made myself believe that I’m better and on track to conquering life like a “fake-it-till-you-make-it” high because these depressions and anxieties are patched up inside the layers of that ball of papier-mâché I make sure no one would find. The fake-it-till-you-make-it high is no bad. A lot of people do it but It doesn’t work for me in the long run. It worked for a while though. I have spent most of my last year faking it. I kept reminding myself in front of my mirror that I’m fine. But donning a fake confidence crumbles in front of circumstances that are supposed to hone your true self. It breaks because it is detached from the core of your conscious self.
I am indeed an impostor. I do care more than what I try to put up in my facade and more than the times I say I don’t. I do care less about what other people think of me, how they see me, their feelings towards me but despite that I still want to front myself to the world stripped of everything but my own truth. I’ve been so numb from too many things the past eight years (ever since I left home) and I was a big scaredy cat. I do want to care about the people around me more not just those whom I love and respect but others who need to be cared for the most. I wanna do that without doubts and reservations in my actions and most importantly with consistency. I hate that just because I gave all my care once to someone and it wasn’t reciprocated, I’d reflect it to the world and stop caring for everyone else. I almost forgot how to care, my younger self wouldn’t have imagined that. This is probably one of the most stupid and tragic thing I have allowed to happen for myself. I wanna go out there and give fucks again — about topics, issues, and causes that are important to me and those that are in line with my morals and my beliefs — no matter what. I wanna go out there and start and try and fail and learn and believe in myself no matter how many cycle I’d have to repeat that until I get to a point where there’s no trying anymore and there’s just this full trust and courage of doing.
I do care about myself, a little bit too much at times that I wouldn’t allow myself to thread a thorny path even if I know it’s necessary for my own personal growth. I’ve realized however that too much self-care up to point where I knowingly dodge the hurtful things that life throws at me is a lack of respect to myself and to life itself. It’s like picking out raisins from a vegetable salad and never being able to taste it. You miss out on the possibility of discovering a new and different taste of the salad with raisins on it. The allegory is funny but in both situations — dodging hurtful things in life and picking out the raisins from the bowl of salad — you miss out on the possibility and learning. It doesn’t mean that we all have to experience and jump right into everything that life has to offer, discerning what is important and vital to the core self is still a key factor. For me, it all comes down to respecting life by making the most out of it and respecting oneself by allowing it to experience the good and the bad life has to offer. I still got a long way to go both in experiencing and understanding the truths of life, but I know that by asserting them and recognizing them, I’m opening a path to freedom, genuine progress and development, and a life fully-lived.
