the price of honesty...
I have not written any blog entry or anything personal for that
matter in the last year or so. I could say that after my son was born,
he occupied all my waking hours, and I would not be lying, but that is
not the real reason why I stopped writing. For one, I suffered the
dreaded postpartum depression and I did not know how to deal with it. I
denied it for months. I kept asking myself why I became too lazy to
engage my mind in anything other than changing nappies. Of course there
was the occasional burst of energy that enabled me to accomplish some
things in my job, but mostly, I have had to drag myself out of bed every
morning and force myself to go to work. I knew I needed help but there
was no help anywhere. I called my doctor but other than a pill that was
supposed to put smiles on my face, she was not really of any help. I did
not take the pill as it was contraindicated with breastfeeding so I
really do not know if the pill would have helped me had I taken it.
Looking back, the depression did not really start after my son was born. It started from the series of unfortunate losses that happened in my life.
Sometimes, I choose to prepare my teaching outlines and contents 36-48 hours before the event because I am afraid of the 'process' that I have to go through before I teach. I cannot recall a time when I happily looked at a passage and happily went deeper into the study of it without getting quite depressed and tearful along the process. Therefore, I choose to feel the pain or discomfort for a maximum of 48-hours only because I fear that I would most probably give in to it if I allow myself to feel it longer than that.
I am not a funny person. I do not know how to. I think I got that from my mother. I remember how my dad used to try to make her laugh, but instead, she'd get so irritated, you do not want to be in the room. As for me, I can only be funny when I am sarcastic. Somehow, most of the people who ask me to speak know this about me. Therefore, when I am asked to speak about something, it is usually a topic that is meant to make people look deeper inside their hearts and a lot of times, I cannot find too many humorous anecdotes to say.
Tonight is one of those times when I feel very sad about and within myself for reasons that are unclear to me. For one, I am a diabetic both in body and soul. If my surgeries took months to heal, wounds in my soul and in my heart take much longer. A lot of times, I find that the things I thought I have already surrendered and accepted are the very things that are still holding me captive. I have learned to be so good at ignoring and avoiding and burying that I am slowly losing the discernment to know when I am really healed in one thing or I just buried it in the sand.Writing this note is just the first step in the process of admission. Me, admitting that I do have a problem.
I used to hate the expression "Trabaho lang, walang personalan" because I feel that it is devoid of anything that makes co-workers work together with mutual trust and respect. For some reason, I am now living it to its most basic meaning. I do not know when I started to live it. Okay, maybe I do but that is not the point. As much as I hated that expression, somehow, now I feel that it is my anchor. Without conducting my life within those bounds, I feel that I am going to fall apart. Maybe I should fall apart and start all over again. I even thought about doing all of my responsibilities really fast so that I can move on to an entirely different career. And here I am talking about responsibilities when I used to not look at them that way before. I question my decision 15 years ago when I made a commitment to this ministry. I no longer have the joy I used to have knowing that the Lord called me into this ministry among all the other people He could have called. All these questioning and uncertainties were a consequence of past wounds that were not properly dealt with. Only because of my wounded heart. A wound that is slowly eating at the joy I have in living for my God by serving my people.
Some people think I have a good imagination, and sometimes I believe them--but mostly because I believe that I can imagine a problem into being... maybe it is the other way around, maybe I imagine that I believe my problems are just a product of my imagination. Who knows? I myself am stumped.
The only bright part of my day is my son and his smiles and his laughter. With Xami, lahat personalan, walang trabaho lang! And that is the way I conduct my work and my relationships. Now that it bit me in the behind, I do not know what to do with myself.
Why am I even still here? Why am I even writing? Why am I even teaching? Why? Why? Why?
Honestly, why?
Some of us are blind!
Someone asked me what I think is the worst time of my life. No contest! The year 2010 is the worst. Yes, I lost a pregnancy in 2008. I almost lost my life twice that year as well due to a blood infection caused by acute UTI that happened simultaneously with a hemorrhagic fever. I lost another baby in 2009 but 2010 beats them all. 2010, I lost my grandma in January-- a grandma whose stories I was going to write; then in March I lost my grandfather, then in June, I lost my Dad.... and somewhere in between those months of losses, I lost one set of parents... even if they were only parent-figures. For some reason, that was the loss that hurts worst of all... it hurts too much because they are still there but you know that you can no longer go back to how things were in the past. Now, I just wish it never was, therefore my regret in making that decision 15 years ago about coming to this place.
I feel that this wound will never heal, no matter what anyone does. They said forgiveness heals all wounds, but for this diabetic, the wound will stay until the flesh rots and sloughs off by itself.
Yet tomorrow is another day, who knows what tomorrow will bring? I might wake up one day all healed and happy. Maybe.
Looking back, the depression did not really start after my son was born. It started from the series of unfortunate losses that happened in my life.
Sometimes, I choose to prepare my teaching outlines and contents 36-48 hours before the event because I am afraid of the 'process' that I have to go through before I teach. I cannot recall a time when I happily looked at a passage and happily went deeper into the study of it without getting quite depressed and tearful along the process. Therefore, I choose to feel the pain or discomfort for a maximum of 48-hours only because I fear that I would most probably give in to it if I allow myself to feel it longer than that.
I am not a funny person. I do not know how to. I think I got that from my mother. I remember how my dad used to try to make her laugh, but instead, she'd get so irritated, you do not want to be in the room. As for me, I can only be funny when I am sarcastic. Somehow, most of the people who ask me to speak know this about me. Therefore, when I am asked to speak about something, it is usually a topic that is meant to make people look deeper inside their hearts and a lot of times, I cannot find too many humorous anecdotes to say.
Tonight is one of those times when I feel very sad about and within myself for reasons that are unclear to me. For one, I am a diabetic both in body and soul. If my surgeries took months to heal, wounds in my soul and in my heart take much longer. A lot of times, I find that the things I thought I have already surrendered and accepted are the very things that are still holding me captive. I have learned to be so good at ignoring and avoiding and burying that I am slowly losing the discernment to know when I am really healed in one thing or I just buried it in the sand.Writing this note is just the first step in the process of admission. Me, admitting that I do have a problem.
I used to hate the expression "Trabaho lang, walang personalan" because I feel that it is devoid of anything that makes co-workers work together with mutual trust and respect. For some reason, I am now living it to its most basic meaning. I do not know when I started to live it. Okay, maybe I do but that is not the point. As much as I hated that expression, somehow, now I feel that it is my anchor. Without conducting my life within those bounds, I feel that I am going to fall apart. Maybe I should fall apart and start all over again. I even thought about doing all of my responsibilities really fast so that I can move on to an entirely different career. And here I am talking about responsibilities when I used to not look at them that way before. I question my decision 15 years ago when I made a commitment to this ministry. I no longer have the joy I used to have knowing that the Lord called me into this ministry among all the other people He could have called. All these questioning and uncertainties were a consequence of past wounds that were not properly dealt with. Only because of my wounded heart. A wound that is slowly eating at the joy I have in living for my God by serving my people.
Some people think I have a good imagination, and sometimes I believe them--but mostly because I believe that I can imagine a problem into being... maybe it is the other way around, maybe I imagine that I believe my problems are just a product of my imagination. Who knows? I myself am stumped.
The only bright part of my day is my son and his smiles and his laughter. With Xami, lahat personalan, walang trabaho lang! And that is the way I conduct my work and my relationships. Now that it bit me in the behind, I do not know what to do with myself.
Why am I even still here? Why am I even writing? Why am I even teaching? Why? Why? Why?
Honestly, why?
Some of us are blind!
Someone asked me what I think is the worst time of my life. No contest! The year 2010 is the worst. Yes, I lost a pregnancy in 2008. I almost lost my life twice that year as well due to a blood infection caused by acute UTI that happened simultaneously with a hemorrhagic fever. I lost another baby in 2009 but 2010 beats them all. 2010, I lost my grandma in January-- a grandma whose stories I was going to write; then in March I lost my grandfather, then in June, I lost my Dad.... and somewhere in between those months of losses, I lost one set of parents... even if they were only parent-figures. For some reason, that was the loss that hurts worst of all... it hurts too much because they are still there but you know that you can no longer go back to how things were in the past. Now, I just wish it never was, therefore my regret in making that decision 15 years ago about coming to this place.
I feel that this wound will never heal, no matter what anyone does. They said forgiveness heals all wounds, but for this diabetic, the wound will stay until the flesh rots and sloughs off by itself.
Yet tomorrow is another day, who knows what tomorrow will bring? I might wake up one day all healed and happy. Maybe.
Comments
stay in faith.
I haven't been here in a long time, and I only read your comment now. Thank you very much for your encouraging words. Indeed, we strong women heal and prevail. :-)