Stressed

I haven't been blogging a lot since the year started. Funny how one of my plans this year was to increase my blog posts but I found myself unable to do so due to my commitments.

A volunteer project is to end in four days and this month saw me racing against time to contribute as much as I can. When before my laptop was largely ignored in favor of my tablet just so I could read the news online, in April I worked nonstop on days when I came home early from work. There were just too many photos to edit and to upload, too many articles that need to be updated and created. I even allotted one Saturday and Sunday to just stay home and work on backlogs, same as what I am doing now as I type. [I'm taking a break from editing pics!]

Earlier this month I was able visit the light of my life and as soon as I finish all the requirements for the project I'm going to pay her another visit. I haven't been receiving news of her lately and everyday I think about her, stress slowly creeps into my system.

No wonder lately I have been experiencing morning sickness. It's very inconvenient especially when one is not accustomed to taking sick leaves. But what the hell, when you're attacked by it, you have no recourse but to stay in bed and wait until the headache subsides then you decide whether to report for work or not. It just so happens I need to do many things at work, too, since we're on a transition period (at least I think so...). 

And I blame those morning sicknesses to stress.

Not that I'm totally being affected. But you know how much work needs to be done and you can't just sit still and relax. I do that but only to prepare myself for nonstop work after. So my weekends have been allotted lately to just mapping and/or relaxing at home. No adventures for now until I finish all the requirements. Besides, I love what I'm doing, I love seeing my outputs. I love going down memory lane, laughing at the crazy misadventures and... the thought of meeting kindly souls in this materialistic world warms my heart.

And stress. People view stress as something negative. I don't. It's one of the ways to advance human civilization. It pushes one to act, to create a difference when nobody wants to step up to do all the dirty work. It is a means to improve one's self, not just in terms of managing it, but also in terms of making priorities. Ultimately, a healthy dose of stress is needed to keep ideas flowing.

Lately I am engaging in more musical activities than ever. I need music nowadays to relax and to soothe my [just recently broken] heart.

____________________________

More adventures once I finish the project. I miss the mountains and the sea!!!

Warrior

Back in highschool, when I started to attend a Born Again Christian Bible study group despite being a Catholic (an erstwhile devout Catholic whose faith was beginning to crumble), the Pastor told us what type of person we were. He labelled me as a warrior, seeing that I defend my ideas to the end. Back then I couldn't accept that label because I saw myself more as a healer than as a warrior. Reason for this is my dislike for conflict and because I have always assumed a neutral post, never taking sides and being thoroughly objective (as I could) with people.

But now I am beginning to think that he might be right. It wold be doing a great disservice to warriors when we think of them only as bloodthirsty warfreaks. Later on in my life, I learned what being a true warrior is, like a samurai or a knight, defender of the oppressed, voice of the voiceless, a helping hand to the needy, defender of the noble principles of truth and justice. Bit by bit, I saw my life going toward that direction, shedding the ego that once imprisoned me and which almost sent me down the abyss had not the light of my life saved me from that darkness inside of me.

Not that the darkness was completely purged, but I can say that I have come to control it better nowadays, resulting in relatively happier days. Except now that the light of my life is slowly fading down the horizon, the child warrior is at risk to be lost once again. I hope not. Memories will live on and will be the main guide to the shining path. Beautiful memories of warmth, love, affection...

Yesterday I finally did visit her, bringing with her a juicer/ blender because I heard she refused to eat. I was happy when she called me by my name, the name which I so despised since childhood. Still hearing her call my name made me glad. She must be surprised to find my at the doorstep, knowing that I am too busy with many things. That much is true but I know that if I do not savor the remaining time that we have, I will regret it for the rest of my life. I've lived in guilt for almost every single day of my life and it was sheer torture. The best I can do now is to prevent the same thing from happening again.

Yes, I am not afraid to say that I think her time on earth is already running out. Cancer has quickly spread all throughout her body. She will be undergoing her chemotherapy but before that happens, I would want to make sure that her body is ready for it. Yet the way I see it now, it cannot stand chemotherapy. 

But I want to hope for a miracle. I've changed my name hoping to be a miracle unto others. I want to at least be a miracle to the light of my life. I still pray for courage and strength. God knows how hard I pray these days.

Now I understood another aspect of being a warrior. The warrior fights for a loved one, she fights even knowing that there is little chance in winning. She fights because she knows the value of what she's fighting for.

______________________

I have pledged to seriously save money and stop traveling for now, just to ensure that I will have the necessary resources to keep the chemotherapy sessions going. I have been on the lookout for sidelines, too, for additional income. I have my own dreams but those can wait. 

How Do I Fight for You?

Seldom do I miss people. Ever since I realized that the "easy come, easy go" habit of people, I stopped trying to force myself in the lives of others, preferring instead to just leave everything to the fates.

Yet you, who have been with me until that tragic day last month, you whose hands nurtured me, whose arms rocked me to sleep back in those days when I was but an innocent babe, thoughts of you make it hard for me to focus on things I am working on. Not that I am complaining; those memories of you are very much welcome because you will forever live in my whole being.

Only it hurts so much when memories come crashing. Like what happened today when I suddenly found myself unable to control my tears. The constricting pain in my chest reminded me of my own fragility as I reflected on my interactions with you on your last few days with us.

I am a coward after all. I hate it when people describe me as courageous. They just see a false facade of me when in fact, deep inside, I am too afraid of losing a loved one, so much so that I would distance myself before I lose myself. Everything has a limit and I have always been careful to mark boundaries and make sure that this is as far as I can go.

Lately I have been thinking if you were also thinking of me. It's been two weeks and I still haven't found the courage to face you. Sooner though I will. I MUST. They say you didn't want to eat. I wouldn't know how to convince you. I know your pain and often I would hear you pray to God to take you in His loving arms. I know I would have prayed for the same thing if something becomes unbearable, like my teenage years full of angst and frustrations and hurts and all the rejection, the betrayals, those feelings of emptiness, of meaninglessness, those struggles both interior and exterior that never seem to end... But you stood with me through it all as I went through that painful phase in my life.

Now that my life has relatively stablized, it's my turn to return the favor. Except the circumstances are different. You are locked inside a weak shell of deteriorating physicality whereas my battles raged from the inside, psychological wars that your love conquered. Tell me now, how do I heal when all I could do was tell you to eat. It makes me so hopeless and so useless, when from way back I decided I would give you a comfortable life in your old age. Except all that was mere talk because I found myself wanting in courage against the powers that be.

And this guilt is eating me from the inside. Every single day I have to live with the thought that I couldn't do a single thing for the person who so lived me and in the end, I regress back to my former crybaby self. It's so easy to help a person who is also helping himself, but to help a person who refuses, it's difficult.

I am sorry I am not as strong as you would have wanted me to be.

When you find the light of your life, do you simply let go? I'd like to fight for you, just as you have fought for me. Except that I have been accumulating useless knowledge and skills, and failed to learn how to do this. 

This is perhaps the harshest lesson on life I will ever have.