My body is still battling with this weird internal clock of mine. I had trouble sleeping last night that at 6 am today I was still awake. I decided to go downstairs and tackle long-forgotten chores. I stored our Christmas decor in that closet under the stairs but I had to take out a lot of crap before I can shove it in. The crap got brought outside our gate for the dumpster divers. Then I cooked rice and steamed mantou before finally I was tired enough to fall asleep at past 7 am.
Woke up at 10 and cooked lunch.
Photo by CallMeCreation.com
After lunch I slept again until almost 5 pm.
I feel like a vampire. I don’t know if this is long-Covid, withdrawal symptoms from my alprazolam that my shrink is weaning me off from, or anxiety because of my blog entry yesterday. My body is so messed up right now.
Because I am basically a zombie today, I decided not to cook dinner. I ordered pizza from Yellow Cab.
Photo by CallMeCreation.com Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Good thing I was too sleepy or else I would have gone to SM Marikina and would have shopped. I already see a pattern here. Whenever I get upset, I wanted to shop for crap. Some kind of serotonin boost, to make me feel better about myself. Because I was feeling sorry for myself yesterday, remembering how loathed I was/am.
The thing here is I shouldn’t be seeking sources of serotonin boosters because I have another medication for that (escitalopram) that balances this out.
Staying cooped up really makes things worse.
It’s a wonder that one person/trauma can really affect one’s life, no? It’s so fucked up that I want to scold myself for being so weak like that. It’s so unfair too. What did I do to deserve this?
Photo of an 80-year-old man named Narding Floro who was arrested after he allegedly stole mangoes from his neighbor. (PIO Asingan via The STAR)
Here they arrest a grandpa for allegedly stealing mangoes that he thought was still within their property.
The elderly man identified as Narding “Lolo Narding” Floro told the authorities that he only picked the mangoes because he thought it was part of their property, according to the report of the public information office of Asingan town in Pangasinan.
And yet they have to arrest any of the Marcoses who were convicted of various crimes to humanity. I want to give up on this country and leave but I couldn’t. There are those like this grandpa that needed to be heard.
I just received a Twitter direct message from a professor seeking my help (and other journalists in Southeast Asia) seeking publicity because Thailand (or government-linked entities in Thailand) had doxxed and hacked into all his family’s devices because his university did not like where his research was going. Even now that he is no longer in Thailand, his devices and all his electronic footprints were still being monitored and hacked. He claims expats and Bangkok-based journalists will not speak out (“they are obviously protecting lifestyle” he says) on his behalf.
This just highlights people’s need for their voices to be heard through journalists. This guy even went out to seek journalists outside Thailand, a country that isn’t really known to have a free press, being under military rule for so many years.
Even though I cover a different beat, my reputation as a journalist gives me credence to whatever issue I can raise or whatever I write–when I am fighting for the truth and against the injustices experienced by my countrymen. I can easily shift to covering such things when I’m no longer tied. Or whatever.
I don’t know what I’m trying to drive at…
What I’m trying to say is, I want to stay here in this fucked up country. Because of the reason above.
So I think I would have to be ready to give up the promotion if they force me to transfer to Singapore.
I also cannot really raise two children alone without my support system. Simple children’s illnesses will become domestic and professional disasters because I will be by my lonesome. And my company insurance doesn’t cover family. Foreigners in Singapore have to fork out huge sums if not insured because they’re not covered by the national insurance system of Singapore. A single visit to the clinic can set you back SGD 100 (my colleague said) and my kids are asthmatic, so it may have to cost more than that.
I’m on tenterhooks right now. I’m still waiting for that Call. It’s keeping me from moving forward with my personal plans.
I miss having coffee conversations. After an event/coverage, my journo friends and I usually work in some coffee shop in Makati or Ortigas. In-between typing our stories are conversations that can be mundane or these can be mature talks about life.
It has been a long time since I’ve had that. I miss it.
Everybody’s sick right now. Friends are posting their Covid-positive results on FB or are counting the days they would be out of quarantine. So it’s very scary to venture out right now. After my bout with Covid last year… Nope. I can’t even go out to the neighborhood Bo’s Coffee to change scenery to write. I’ve had another excruciating afternoon polishing a story I did with our new hire. I think I need better mental stimulation other than reading news.
I think I’ll cheer myself up by buying flowers tomorrow and set up a working space outside our front door so I won’t be too cooped up. I’ve been having conversations with my cats lately 🤦🏻♀️
Writing a longish article today was super laborious that it felt like giving birth. I wanted to crack my head on the table just to get things going.
And I have three more articles to go. Why I’m in a rut like this again?! 🤦🏻♀️
I need to go out.
Where will I go? Yesterday we logged 37k new cases. People around my apartment are coughing. My other neighbors caught the omicron bug.
I need to drive tomorrow. Writer’s block again.
Earlier tonight I was able to open my Shutterfly account, which is a repository of all my digital photos in the early 2000s. And I saw these:
My sister just called him Baby so the name stuck. He was our cat who stayed with my dad in his room when he died in his sleep. He didn’t leave my dad until my brother came. He was such a beautiful cat. A week after my dad was cremated, this cat just ran away.
He reminds me of my fat cat, Kimchi, who currently has an infection on her right eye (see the pink rims?). It’s such a labor of love catching her and restraining her so that we can give her eye drops at least twice a day. She’s such a grumpy cat.
My colleague’s little girl died today. Her organs were failing and then she just gave up. Our fundraising is still ongoing as he still couldn’t pay the entire hospital bill. I said I will give him the funds by end of the week after our fundraising is over. As he was speaking to me he broke down, he let out a raw cry of pure anguish that you cannot just describe properly. He says he is overwhelmed with grief and at the same time gratitude to people he even doesn’t know who are helping him.
I told him, you know, we are parents, too.
He is also crying because he has soooooooo many regrets.
I was chatting with the girl’s mom this morning (we had been chatting throughout the years) and she told me:
I told my friends before that I am just a woman appliance. For years, I ignored my needs, and I felt like if I am low maintenance (tough and not needy), I am easier to love. Before, I thought I was a superwoman. I did most (if not all) of the house chores, childrearing, while working full time (work from home). But then it dawned on me, I also have needs. That’s why I hired 2-3 nannies with shifts. My stress disappeared, my shouting. For the past 3 years I was happy because I have efficient helpers with me for child-rearing.My children made me realize that I’m more than an appliance. I am thankful that I felt that with my little girl even if she is almost (a) non-verbal (autistic child).
The background here is that my colleague cheated on the little girl’s mom (wife) by having an affair and a child with a very young journo (what’s with young female journos??? because they’re gullible?). The only reason why they haven’t separated physically yet is because the little girl needed to see her dad regularly since instability is difficult for a child under the spectrum. But the (ex)-spouses aren’t on good terms. As I said before, we in our circle/trade organization know everybody’s business; we’re nosy like that. That’s why we’re journos; news spread fast. That’s why everyone knows about J, that other journo girl, and me even though I haven’t spoken about it.
Anyway, I know where the mom is coming from, feeling like a woman appliance. I know exactly how she felt and what she went through. I thought doing all those things for J and being tough and not needy would make him love me more. I ignored my needs. But I was wrong. She was wrong. We cannot make them love us if they don’t and if they just see us as human appliances. Someone useful.
I told her I completely understand her as I’ve been through that twice.
I said her little girl wants to go to Palawan with her now (they couldn’t do that before because they always had to be near a hospital for her sporadic seizures). This is her little girl’s way to make it possible for the her (mom), the little girl, and the little brother to go to Palawan. I told her take little girl’s favorite stuffed toy and take pictures/selfies in the places the three of them will go to, the trips that they will have. Make an Instagram account of that so we can see.
She said:
Yes will do that. I’ll just take a rest. Thank u again, CallMeCreation. I really love talking to you, for some weird reason it feels like you’re my sister.
I told her, “I am because we are bound by the same suffering and our love for our children. Take a rest. You still have a long journey ahead of you.”
As I said before, our children are the only ones who have given us unconditional love. No ifs and buts. Even if we smell like the kitchen and we look like shit, they still love us just because. We are their world. As parents, we would give our lives for them and if we lose them, it’s like we also have died with them. And as King Theoden in Lord of the Rings said, no parent deserves to bury their child.
Good night, little angel. Look after your mom and little brother. Oh, your dad, too.
