Working on a Saturday for the second time in the last two weeks.

I think about my to-do's and I just get tired. There's not enough time to accomplish everything and neither is there enough brain to accomplish everything well.

I don't mean to turn this blog into a rant bin but I don't think anyone really wants to listen to my sorry work tales, even my colleagues.

Beach, please.

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"I don't know"

Days like this, I ask myself --- why do I have to endure this? To what end? I'm just really, really tired. Not physically tired, but spiritually and emotionally tired. And I'm really, really thinking of taking my dad's offer to have me rest for a few months and study something, anything that I want to learn. I think I need it for my sanity.

I looked up burnout online, and I do have half of the tell-tale signs. Fuck that.


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They make it sound so simple.

"Love what you do and it will love you back."

Then how come I'm freaking miserable?

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It's true what they say: just when you think you're fine, it just hits you. Again.

Since I have not blogged for quite some time, I re-read some of my posts again and came across one about mom. Couldn't help but cry, loads, at the thought of happier days, of never getting to hear her voice again or see her gestures of approval or that half smile that tells me everything will be ok.

I would give anything for just one hug. Just one more hug.

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Saw Cinderella in a Party Dress but She was Looking for a Nightgown

 

 

And the decades disappear like sinking ships, but we persevere

God gives us hope but we still fear what we don't know

 

The mind is poison
Castles in the sky sit stranded, vandalized
A drawbridge is closin'

 

- A Dustland Fairytale

 

Funny how music can express the feelings we're unable to articulate. Sometimes I feel like I've hit a wall with nowhere to go. Alcohol does not do its job like it used to. I go to work in high spirits, pumped after a vacation, a dose of good news, cyber laughter with friends or just plain self-motivation, but lately the work day ends with me feeling like crying and just defeated. No matter what I do, I can't seem to get out of the slump. And it sucks because I do not only fail in managing people, I also fail in managing myself.

It's when you know you try but you feel like crap. I don't want people to listen to my drama or see my tears and I hope they don't come across this blog (the world is really so digital I can't help but blog instead of write in a diary or something. That's just so outdated).

People like me do not know how to cope with failure. We hold ourselves in high regard that we cannot accept that we fail. That we have to fail and that success is hard work coupled with failure.

The signs are all around. Glaring, even. I want to let go of the baggage and start with a clean slate, and by clean slate, I mean brand new. Like, I don't want a fabulous update to my phone's OS. I want a new phone with nothing in it, where I'll install new apps and store new numbers, make new conversations and playlists. I think I'm tired of this one for so many reasons I can't even zero in on one.

I'm tired of going home feeling like crap or needing a vacation right after getting back from one. My glass is full and overflowing and the floor is flooded.

HASHTAG EMO.


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Saturday

Of all the days of the week, it is on Saturdays that I'll miss you most, Mom. For the past three years or so, Saturday has always been our bonding day because I get to have my turn in taking care of you. On good days, we get to have lunch at a place that you prefer, go around the mall a bit to shop before heading home so that you can rest.

I woke up early today as I've been accustomed to, and when I went out of the room and saw Dad tinkering with his iPad on the dining table, I realized today was unlike our Saturdays because you're not here anymore. I willed myself to fall asleep again so that I won't have to feel the void too much. When Don woke up, he immediately said that he misses you because he looked forward to Saturday mornings at ATC while we wait for you to finish treatment. He, too, feels the emptiness.

We looked for ways to busy ourselves. Dad played golf, Jenna went to work and Don and I had lunch out and saw a movie.

Thank you for enduring the pain over and over to prepare us for this. You are the bravest soldier I know.


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I like friends who, when you tell them you need a moment alone, know enough not to stray too far.

It's true what they say: you'll find out who your real friends are in times of need. I am grateful to be surrounded by a bunch of people who genuinely love and care for me as I grieve the passing away of my mother. These are the people who rushed to my side on the first night of my mother's death even when I told them I'll be fine. These are the people who, without thinking twice, took a 45-minute joyride from the north to have coffee with me at 10 pm on the first night after the burial because they know that's when I'm going to start feeling the brunt. They know me too well. They know me well enough to know that the thought of them nearby would be enough to comfort me.

These are the people who went out of their way to be with me even if I wasn't asking for anything. Even if I couldn't sit with them at the wake, they would be there each night, for 2-4 hours to show support. These are the people who thought less of what a hassle it would be for them to make an extra effort for me. I feel so loved. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Lord, for these people.

On the other hand, there were also some people who I thought would be at my side through most of the ordeal but were not. I had a wrong impression of my value to them. It manifested in the things they said and did and didn't do. The sad thing is, I make an extra effort for these people. I go to them, even if it means driving far away from the south, because I know that they'd need someone to hang with. Someone to be there for them no matter how trivial the conversations turn out. One of them even pointed out that he/she will go if there's beer... Or if there's a new restaurant to try, just to make the trip down south worth it. Really? I'm not needy. This is a rare period in my life and one of the few times when I also want it to be about me, and not just the beer.

You see giant proclamations are all very well, but love and true friendship are louder than words. In my world, expensive, material things easily get trumped by the simple gesture of just. being. here.

And I'm grateful to know how much I matter to most of the people who matter to me.


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Only the Dead Have Seen the End of War

Three nights ago, we laid our mother to rest. There is pain, grief and sadness but at the same time, there is that sense of relief and liberation. Finally, my mom's six-year battle with a terminal illness is over.

It was painfully long and excruciating. There were so many harrowing nights of uncertainty and helplessness, but we were never hopeless for we knew that our mother would never give up without a fight. Before her last hours on earth, our mother faced death five times throughout the six-year ordeal and each time, she emerged triumphant. Wounded and scathed but nonetheless alive.

Mom fought so hard and we knew it was because of us. We knew she wanted to rest. She was going through so much pain that she wanted to die but her resilience betrayed her. It even got to a point that she was apologetic - sorry that she may not survive the next time her heart stopped beating or lungs got congested. But she never gave up until the end.

I couldn't begin to express how I really feel. There's a deep sense of loss, a void that will never be filled. Our home will never be the same. Our family will never be the same. Life will never be the same without mom. But I am comforted by the thought that she is free from pain. It's over. And I'm just grateful for the time we spent with mom. Grateful that she prepared us all for this moment. Grateful that she left us in peace. There's no unfinished business. True to her character, my mom had it all sorted out.

I was able to say sorry for all my misgivings as a daughter. That I will miss her and everything she does for us. That I love her for all her imperfections - for all that she is and for all that she isn't. I couldn't have had a better mom.

I'm grateful for having spent almost thirty years with you, Mom. I am what I am because of you and daddy. When you passed away, you took a part of me with you, but you also left a part of you with me.

It's over, Mommy. You can rest now. It's going to be tough, but we will be ok.

I love you.


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Checking In

It's been four months since I last posted?! Sorry for neglecting you, blog, but I've been too busy doing all sorts of stuff.  Plus, I went to the beach often last year so that was good enough as a form of release.

And it's been 2 months since I last saw sand and sea. Needing the beach again, but for the meantime, I'll write.

But I'll get back to you later.