I miss coffee shops

Ergonomically, they’re terrible workplaces. It’s hard to concentrate on work there. It’s annoying to have calls there, especially video calls.

But I miss working in those coffee shops. I need to get away from my room. I need to work away from these four walls. I am going nuts here. I will be confined to my 14″ laptop screen but that’s ok.

However, it’s still not safe until my children get vaccinated. What if I bring home the coronavirus? I may be asymptomatic since I already have the vax but I may carry it to infect my largely unvaccinated household.


Now here’s a different kind of missing. This essay by this NYTimes Madrid bureau chief has left me in a turmoil of emotions. I could feel his pain, you know, the kind of pain that hits your stomach when you haven’t eaten for a day or two. The hollowness makes the pain reverberate throughout your entire being. And for the writer, he has been trying to fill that void so it won’t hurt.

Then there’s his mom. Oh the pain of being stranded. I just realized that you can be left stranded all your life and keep waiting for that person who left you stranded to come back and rescue you with whatever boat that he has. But then you know within the deep recesses of your heart he will not come back. And you remain in that same spot for decades. That’s his mom. Tragic.

Why do people believe in fairy tales woven by the people we chose to love? Why do we hold on to flimsy memories when reality has already slapped you in the face that you were taken for a ride? Then we find ourselves standing on the same ground that we should have left long ago.

Why?

Happiness is a choice

Today I watched a contestant in America’s Got Talent who has terminal cancer (last test showed cancer spread now in several vital organs). She said (paraphrasing) that you don’t have to wait until the bad times are gone to be happy. You can choose to be happy. She has 2% survival rate but she said it’s better than zero, and it’s something.

Happiness is a choice. After six months of grief, I choose to be happy in small ways. The camping we did last two days was refreshing and I want to do it again. I found my old self again, the one who climbed mountains and camped. The one who swam in seas. The girl who is happy going to different places. The one who is happy browsing through secondhand book shops. The girl who is happy curling up with a book on a rainy day.

I don’t have to be over this grief to be happy. I can carry it for a long time but I should make sure that I am growing so that grief would not be a big part of me like in Day 1.

Grabbed from Instagram

I have come so far, looking back. It’s still there and I think I have to accept that it won’t go away easily. It’s just forcing me to grow around it, this grief.

The only thing I wrote on my journal on that fateful day. I’ve come so far. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

And I took care of myself. I am finding simple joys in little things. Like adding RAM on my laptop and it’s a skill that none of my girl friends, as far as I know, have. Just like refurbishing furniture and painting walls. Being an all-around domestic goddess.

I’ve been operating on my laptops for quite some time now. Like adding RAM and SSD and attaching disconnected flex cables. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I had been messy when J was still here because I was busy and had been attending to 101 things all at the same time. Now that I’m taking life slowly, I finally got to my old neater self.

Assembling dual monitor swivel arms that I bought from Lazada. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
A much neater and bigger desk space. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

It brings me peace that my workspace is neater now. I hope this would inspire me to be more productive when I get back to work next week.

I’m thinking of going to the onsen in my hometown and have a dip there for 4 hours. Just because.

I choose to be happy.

Where do broken hearts go?

To Lake Caliraya. To camp. And bike. And ride the jetski.

First thing we did after paying was to pitch the tent. The last time I did this was 21 years ago, when my friends and I climbed and camped in Mt. Maculot in Batangas.

Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I brought my Korean portable stove to cook rice. And the grill for tomorrow’s breakfast. But for today’s lunch, it’s grilled chicken that I cooked at the grilling station.

My mom cooking rice. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Chicken inasal. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Of course my mom is not roughing it out. She rented a cabin, a tiny house made of container van.

PHP 4,000 a night. There’s a deck on top and a private bathroom. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Photo by CallMeCreation.com

We’re camping while my mom still has her creature comforts. Win-win. Good that I was able to bring her out of the house after a long house arrest.

And we were able to bike around. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Me, biking to the nearest sari-sari store to buy ice for our cooler. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Relishing the moment the girls are biking. Photo by CallMeCreation.com
And this is us now before going to bed. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

This would have been a good camping experience for the girls if not for the freakingly annoying campers who brought six huge concert speakers, their mixing tables and DJ equipment and had basically boom boomed the day and night away. 🤬

You can check out Kaliraya Surf Kamp and rates and amenities are here.

I get knocked down, but I get up again

Most days I’m fine and can go about my day as an ace journalist (I would like to think that I am) and not mind that gaping hole somewhere in my chest.

But there are days that are just pure basura and those normally are during my period so I attribute basura moments to hormones going haywire. Last week was the worst for the month. I had two nights straight of dreaming about him and the circumstances of the dreams were not as benign as the dreams I had in the past. The recent dreams were really hurtful that left me emotionally incapacitated for days.

So it seems like I haven’t squeezed my grief dry and it seems like it will stay for quite some time. And I shouldn’t run away from it because the more I entertain this delusion that I am already fine, the more the wound hurts deeply. That I was just masking it.

I don’t understand why I am still grieving when I know I shouldn’t long for someone who doesn’t long for me, shouldn’t think about somebody who doesn’t think about me. I don’t know why I am still like this when I already know that I was and would always be on the losing end when I was with him and if I were still with him because he doesn’t love me and will never do because he has moved on. I don’t understand why I’m still hurting when I know life is much freer now that I have one less person to worry about and care for, especially when he is unhappy and I had to make sure things are wrinkle-free for him to make things easier for him, even if he bit my head off. That his worries were my worries, his hurts were my hurts, and his failures were my failures. I don’t understand why I am still sad about everything when I know he didn’t even value me. I know I am better off without him.

I may never figure it out. What I should strive for is to get out of this grief. But it seems like time is the only answer to this because rushing this process is only pulling me two steps back. All my attempts in that direction always end up with me falling flat on the ground. This is just something you can’t snap out of, so it seems.

So for the time being, I should just learn how to survive those garbage days and coast along. So one weekday I just felt like having Korean barbecue and vodka for lunch to make me feel better. Just because I can.

Beef strip-wrapped Enoki mushrooms and beef strips. Because I can. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

And made chocolate chip ice cream in between writing, to make me feel better.

Home-made chocolate chip ice cream. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I thought six months would be enough, that I would snap out of this. It turns out I’m being really hard on myself. So I just have to cut myself some slack and not scold myself for feeling this way.

All in good time. This will soon pass.

Retail therapy

Productivity motivator. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I finally pulled the trigger. I bought myself another Lenovo 23.8″ monitor from Lazada, same as the one I bought from Greenhills as a Christmas gift to myself. But it’s cheaper by around PHP 800 I think. I had been stuck in a rut and hadn’t been productive for a week and I fooled myself into thinking that a bigger second monitor will help me unstuck myself. I’m in some kind of funk that I couldn’t fully understand. Maybe I need to take time off from work for a week.

Yeah, I should take a vacation before I would start buying more random shit online again. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Naughty kitty. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

This cat has been climbing my windows via my muslin curtains and then cross the transom to reach the shelf so she can hang out there. Then she reaches for the stuffed toys below with her paws and throws them down to the bed below.

Then the cats get harassed by the kids… The amount of patience these cats have for their two legged siblings ❤️

Kimchi dressed up in my scarf by the kids. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

And then they would mess up my stuff and claim my chair…

That’s my chair! Photo by CallMeCreation.com

And then I wouldn’t have the heart to disturb their sleep…

Ok, I need to file for a vacation leave for next week or the week after that. I can’t go on like this. I would drive to Caliraya Lake and breathe some fresh air.

It used to be all I want to learn is wisdom, trust, and truth

I read somewhere that you let go of the same person many, many times. At different times, for different reasons. This time I’ve let go of my anger towards J.

I was not bitter because he fell out of love. I was bitter and angry because if he already lost any affection for me, then he should have broken it earlier instead of treating me badly until I got depressed and folded. But no, he used me until he was financially stable so he can finally take off. In the first place, I wasn’t the one who asked him to move in with us. Then he dumped me when he was settled in his own place. That took a huge toll on me mentally. All this time he pretended he loved me because what he was just waiting for was stability for himself. But deep inside he disdains me so much that he didn’t have the decency to break up with me in person. I even had to ask to be told in person. He even didn’t want to give me a last embrace. When I begged for it, he didn’t even hug back…

I knew something was off by the latter half of 2020 but I got gaslighted all the time. I second-guessed myself. But because gaslighting is mental manipulation, the victim loses the ability to trust herself and her judgment. It really confused me. I was a hot mess: here I was trying to keep six people alive by my lonesome during a pandemic, balancing pressures from work and trying to keep my job amid mass layoffs, then he was doing this to me. I had to take my antidepressant to keep me from breaking down.

After he dumped me, I was vacillating between love and anger while trying to pick up the pieces of me, or of what was left of me. I was so angry to the point I regretted so many things, which was contrary to my principle in life of not regretting anything I’ve done. Because I wouldn’t have done things differently. Because I would still have loved him with much intensity and I would have still given my all.

Then one day, just purely by chance, I watched a video of a pastor from Sudan who used to be a hardcore Muslim and hated Christians, and he was willing to kill in the name of religion. Long story short, he said the person whom he tried to kill as a boy had lived and they met again in a Christian convention. The boy who he had thought he had killed had always prayed for him and said he has forgiven him a long time ago.

Something in me struck a chord. Forgiveness.

Because I couldn’t forgive, I couldn’t move on. I couldn’t forgive myself as well. I was harboring this anger as a defense mechanism, as a motivator, as a “f*ck you, J!” statement to him. I was nursing this anger to make me feel better. Which it did not.

After that video, I cried and cried and prayed. And I declared in my prayer:

“J, I forgive you. I am finally releasing you from this anger. I understand now that you did what you did because you didn’t have a choice at that time. You were in a strange country with no options except for going back to your original home country, which was the last thing you will do given that you don’t want to come home to your dad a failure. I release myself from this anger and I am forgiving myself for loving so much that I didn’t even leave anything for myself. I forgive myself for putting you first ahead of my children. I am releasing both of us. I pray that you will be able to find what you seek and may God always guide you and protect you, even if you don’t believe in Him. Amen.

There’s a strange lightness in me after that. I cannot say that I’ve completely healed. It comes slowly and there are moments that strong emotions towards him or over the past still engulf me from time to time. It’s natural to feel sad. It’s ok to miss him sometimes. It’s all right to vacillate between being ok and feeling shitty-I-wanna-cry-it-hurts. It has only been five months.

I held on to that Collective Soul song “Forgiveness” because it holds so much truth in it. And it’s a process. It doesn’t come easy.

It used to be all I want to learn

Was wisdom, trust, and truth

But now all I really want to learn

Is forgiveness for you