Warning: Lengthy post. May cause dizziness.

The Decision.
After more than 2 weeks of long talks, overseas calls, thinking AND reflecting, asking myself "what ifs", and lots of good cries, I decided to quit school... for now. I know it's crazy, more like stupid, leaving school 3 months before it officially closes, and 4 months before I get my hands on that diploma.

You see, school was taking over my life, no, scratch that, school was my life. My whole existence depended on how school was going. It was all about school works, school projects and school events. Everything I did was for school. My social life died. Everyone I knew was related to school. School became the center of my whole world. School was the biggest reason of why I existed. And it's not healthy, not phsychologically, not emotionally, not physically. It came to a point where I had to take vitamins, twice a day, for my eyes because my ophthalmologist said my eyes were too stressed. Now, how weird is that? Before I moved back here, I had no idea what stress really was. You know, it was one of those things that you constantly hear about, but don't really know what it is. After a year or two, everyone I know is blaming stress for everything, including those who prescribed me medicines. I became grumpy. I rarely smiled. And my body almost always ached. I did not like who I was becoming. I was so tempted to see and ask someone (and by someone, I mean someone with a doctorate) for happy pills. We have a semi (pseudo)-shrink at school, and obviously, stress was to blame. Stress is the devil. This is when the insomnia started din. (not that I ever slept early in my entire life.)


The Old School And Plans Destroyed.
I used to love going to school. I didn't mind having to wake up at 6.30 in the morning, so I won't be late for the flag ceremony. I didn't mind having to recite the rosary every Wednesday, either. (it was wednesday, right?) But that was back in high school, back when I lived with my Tita and her family, back when I was in the Philippines. I had everything planned. At age 12, I knew what I was going to do right after high school. I knew I was going to attend a good university, study Political Science or Journalism, then go straight to Law school. I was sure I was going to pass the bar on my first attempt with a decent score. I was sure that a good law firm would hire me and would allow me to do pro bono work(s) without making too much stories (and being a pain). I knew exactly what I wanted and I was sure I was going to get it.

But, I moved back here. In our family, (like in many other families, I think), when you're 16, you have no "say" and right when it comes to making/taking decisions. Everyone else can say what they think and want, your titos, titas, and older cousins (and their friends), your parents (and their friends), basically everyone who seems old enough to say something smart, except you. Because when you're 16 all you think about are TV shows, going out, techie stuffs, and superficial things. And they seem to forget that it's your life and future they're talking about.

Now just thinking about school makes my stomach churns. I lost myself and I terribly miss it. These past few years, I did what everyone wanted and expected me to do. I stopped asking (thinking) and started doing. I stopped caring about what I wanted and what I felt. I stopped listening to what my heart really wanted. I killed the me inside me. I became passive.


Not Liking The Bitter Taste.
As far as I can remember, I've been depressed (as in yung totoong depressed talaga) only twice in my entire life. One, was when I (we) lost Papà. And two, was a few months ago (and it's been "on the go" for quite some time), which I'm almost sure has something to do with the first "episode" of my depression.

Pà and I never really spent every single year of my life together (only 11 out of 23), when I was 4 my parents sent me to the Philippines mainly because they wanted me to grow up with Filipino traits. So, no one really expected that I would be devastated. But I was, and I think I still am. There are times when I would just hear myself say, "It's unfair, she's 60 and her parents are still with her... I'm 23 and I already lost my father. It's just not fair. I hate it." And it shocks me, because I'm not like that. I am never really, honestly and fully bitter. Sometimes I scare my own self too. But the thought of not having my own identity, at this age, scares me even more.


Looking Back.
We brought Papà's ashes to the Philippines, he wanted his ashes to be buried with those of his parents, they lived in Bicol for a while. On why they were buried in Bicol, the only thing I can come up with, is because my eldest brother married a Bicolana, and decided to live and work there, and since he takes care of almost everything, well...

Mamma is from Laguna, and that's where I spent 12 long years of my life, while my other siblings either did not have a house to go to or bought a house somewhere else [e.g. one of my sisters married a Batangueño (did I even spell that right?) so their house is situated in Batangas]. Long story short, we spent a week at my Kuya's home. The first day (and night) was spent sleeping, on our stomach, because everyone's butt behind was hurting, imagine flying from Milan to Rome to Hong Kong to Manila plus, more or less, I don't really remember, 8-13 hours of driving from Manila to Bicol [we had to be in Bicol the same night (or early morning of the next day) we arrived, but we were told that we had to wait for the next day, after lunch, for a domestic flight to Bicol]. We only got to see and talked to Kuya on our second day, we were still sleeping when he left for work.

At the wake, a couple of minutes after midnight, Kuya approached me, he looked at me, hugged me tight, said "I can see how devastated you are.", then cried, minutes later, let go. Before we parted, the scene was almost the same, a couple of days before our flight back here, after his convention in Manila, he told his driver to make a stop at Laguna, where Mamma and I were staying, he stayed for lunch and (a super early) merienda. Before he left, right before closing my Lola's house gate, he motioned me to go near him, he gave me a big hug, said "Iingatan mo ang sarili mo doon. 'Wag mong ka-isipin ang Papà. At pag may kailangan ka, kahit ano, tawagan mo lang ako. Walang problema kahit anong oras.", he then started to cry, [and it's great that he didn't care that he was a 40+ year old man, and that while he was crying, I did not shed a tear and was zombielike, and that we were in front of other people he barely or complety did not know (and his driver), it seemed that all he really cared about was that he's an older brother biding his youngest sister goodbye], gave me a big kiss, let go and left wihtout saying another word. And that's exactly what I needed at that time. He saw right through me, and he was the only one, it seems that everyone else has a hard time seeing me as fragile, vulnerable, and emotional.


"Breakdown And Cry, If You Feel You Have To.
Lose Yourself, So You Could Find You Once Again."
I tell half of the people who come to me for "help" that it's okei to be vulnerable and let other people take care of you every once in a while, that some times you just have to let other people take care of you because that's the best thing to do. And I tell the other half that it's okei to lose yourself, if you think it could help you find what you're really looking for, and if it'll lead you back to the real you.

I'm realizing a lot of things lately. And so, I told myself the exact same things.

It came down to me that I should practice what I preach.

For the longest time, it felt (feels) like I'm living the life of someone else. It's so surreal, it's like watching someone else living his life on a television. I'll officially leave school this Wednesday or Thursday (and unofficially, I left last Wednesday). Like what I've said, this is my year, this is the year I'm taking my life back. And so far, so good. I am not as stressful as I used to be, I am again enjoying the little and simple things that I so enjoyed before, and I look happier and relaxed daw. And I intend to start listening to my heart again. =)


So there, ladies and gents, it's out. I am temporarily out of school.

No one from my family knows half of the things I wrote, I mean, all they know is that I left school because, academically, I was having trouble due to my prolonged stay in the Phlippines last year. So, if you know anyone, (or know someone who knows someone, hehe), from my family, please keep quiet. I know for sure that nobody in my family reads my blogs, if they find out about this post it could only mean one thing - someone told them. And since, this blog post has nothing to do about me, being okei with premarital sex, being pro-living together before sigining a marriage contract, and the like, I expect wish not to receive any hate e-mail (or at least, nothing exaggerated), and please do not trash talk about me with your friends because it will reach me, just like how it reached me before. Members of my family, either, have too much problem to think about already that I'd rather not have them worry about mine, or are living so peacefully and I'd like to keep it that way. So let's keep these things between you and me. Thank you. =)

P.S.
No one probably cares about this, or any of the things I blog about for that matter, but blogging about it makes it feel more real. And I need that right now.

P.P.S.
If you know a part-time job that you think I might like or I'm passionate about, give me a ring. And since, I don't really need the job because I'm keeping the part-time job that I already have, I reserve the right to say "No" but will still be very educated and thankful in doing so.

Labels: doing it the soap-opera way, Famiglia, Si Dindin, That's Amore