Another day without riding the bike today. I wasn’t in the mood yesterday because I had a home massage via Zennya (their therapists are in PPEs so more or less I feel safer). As a reward for a really crappy long weekend due to lack of sleep. Probably it was the tea I’ve been consuming lately that’s been keeping me up until the wee hours.

Today I was too engrossed writing a scoop and then editing in between. Being a workaholic has advantages, especially in times like this. (What is this this, you ask. The this I am pertaining to is my journey to self-healing and forgiveness of myself)

I’ve always been busy, never been bored. My hands always needed something to do, like sewing, writing, paper crafting, reading, reading, reading, and more reading. Even when I was on hospital duty (either my dad or mom required long hospital stays), I always had a cross stitch project with me, tons of books, and notebooks to write on (this was in the late 1990s and early 2000s, before mobile Internet was democratized). Unfortunately, my cross stitch projects remind me that I stayed as a caregiver for a long time that’s why I was able to finish them in one go.

I can’t remember when was this but I think this was when I was in college when my mom, older sister, and I took turns in taking care of my father when stayed in the hospital for three months because he had a diabetic foot wet gangrene that almost cost his leg to be amputated. It required him to stay for that long because he needed to grow back his flesh then they grafted skin from his butt onto his leg to close the open wound. The cross stitch project I was able to finish that time is now hanging over the shelf containing my Totoro collection at the landing of our stairs.

I’ve been sewing face masks since February last year. At first it was due to necessity because there was a huge shortage of face masks because 1) Taal Volcano erupted, scattering ash all around; and 2) COVID. My first attempts were crude because I was just experimenting and I did everything by trial and error. I made the first batch of those for my girls and for him because they were my priority. My regret is that I wasn’t able to hem the seams properly so his masks are still fraying on the inside. I didn’t have pinking shears at that time and I still don’t have now (which reminds me to order from Lazada tonight). I was able to refine my masks only later and I wasn’t able to replace his masks before he dumped me. I only managed to make one improved mask, which I stuffed into his weekend bag the last time he was here at home.

The reason why I continued to sew masks and give away to friends is that it helps ease my anxiety. Imagine the huge burden I had at the height of the lockdown, I was trying to keep six people alive by my lonesome. I had nobody to share that responsibility. Yup, by my lonesome. Upon reflection–which is the only thing that I do whenever I sew because you know, the mind wanders when you sew–yes I carried the weight of the world at that time. I was the head of the household. It took so much gumption and nerves of steel not to freak out at that time. I had to have it together. People were getting depressed left and right; some even died by suicide because it was simply too much. But I could not afford to succumb to depression because I have had five people depending on me.

I am still sewing masks even though I shouldn’t because it encourages my mind to wander while I sew. So what I do is I watch Youtube videos like this below so my mind will not wander.

Because the whole point of making myself busy is to keep me from thinking about him and if I could, I would just want to erase him out of existence.

Now, you may think I’m an 80-year-old granny in a 41-year old body because I’m just sewing myself out of existence. To get myself out of my head, I ride my bike whenever I could. One of my girls asked for a bike and gave me her savings from Christmas presents she received so she can have her own bike. I bought my reporter-friend’s folding bike, which he was contemplating on selling to his TV crew (who in turn refurbish bikes to resell) because he is now very busy with a toddler son and an infant daughter and has no time to ride.

We rode last Sunday together in UP. I had to have training wheels attached to hers because I wasn’t able to teach her properly how to ride a bike. By the looks of it, it will take us a while before I could have the trainers removed.

Hopefully by next month we can have our first dive in six months. I need to book a resort, buy new flippers for the three of us, and have my COVID test. (Ugh! The endless poking on my nostrils!)

So yeah, I’ve been a kickass journo and editor today and will be tomorrow, and the next day, and the following day.

Because I am no one else’s sugar mommy anymore.

(*Oohh yes, the bitterness and anger are dripping from that sentence above. It won’t go away anytime soon*)