Old and fresh wounds have opened up and as expected, I had trouble sleeping despite taking alprazolam. I hate this. I thought I’m done with this. I thought I’m mending. I thought I’m going to be alright. I thought wrong.

I’m still so, so far. A little thank you sends so many bitter memories and feelings. I’m like this broken vase that keeps cracking, breaking, and repairing itself with little bits and pieces of whatever could be salvaged.

I hope I’m not a zombie by Monday since Asian markets will be back again. Inflation concerns are creeping up. I should be alert and scoop up FMETF when it dips. I have US-East Asia de-SPAC stories to write. I have a lot of things to write 🤦🏻‍♀️

I want a huge dose of Vitamin sea now but I have to be careful. I checked with Blue Ribbon yesterday if my reservation for last year is still intact; they said it’s there and I just have to tell them when I will have the 4D-3N reservation. Probably we’ll go there when the winds are kinder and the diving sites are much pleasant. I would have to buy the doughnut and diving buoy. I should buy those fins meant for free dives, too. How about underwater camera???

By June probably we can go to Bohol (if resorts are already operating) or Moalboal for the sardine run. The girls suggested Palawan for my solo trip to refresh me. They know everything that’s why they are rallying behind me.

Do the things that I love to banish this pain. Do the things that make me ME and not feel small when others seem to lead shinier lives. I’m not like that. I like contemplative activities, as well as the outdoors, but I also like creating a home. I like taking care of others. K said he misses my cooking so I said we’ll have barbeque outside my apartment with other friends. Just no talk of his sexcapades with his one-night-stand boylets or else my neighbors will be scandalized.

I finished one panel. Two panels more for the girls’ bedroom. Then I will tackle the curtains for the living room.

Later today or tomorrow when I’m feeling much better, I will tackle the container garden. Seeing flowers make me happy. I like working with my hands, be it cooking, gardening or crafting. But I also like having battle of wits with CEOs for mental calisthenics. Putting a lot of platitudes on a social media profile only makes one look shallow. I’d rather have cerebral swordfights with these guys and earn their respect. During my last interview, the CEO of a firm abroad told me he enjoyed our conversation because I get it.

Hmm, maybe I should have a side gig interviewing people on TV. I can probably pitch…

I will get through this. One day there will be no more pain. I will look back when I’m 60 and say, yeah, I’ve lived a good life: raised my kids, have good friends, did the things I love and not chase shallowness and illusions. And yeah, libraries have the books I wrote.

One day, no more pain. Oh God, it hurts right now.

It’s 5:39 am. It seems like meeting daylight is a regular thing for me now.

I’ve come to hate the night. What used to be a time that offers rest and tranquility is now a time of chaos and restlessness. I can’t take alprazolam again because it’s a controlled substance, therefore, addictive. For goodness’ sake, it’s a tranquilizer!

When will this end? Haven’t I carried this cross long enough? I wish I could snap my fingers and boom–it’s gone. No, it doesn’t work that way.

I’m trying. I’m really trying.

If loving unconditionally means long-term suffering like this, then I no longer choose to love like that ever. I am really swearing off this thing called love. It’s just for my girls and the cats, that’s it. God, I can’t take this anymore.