Tag Archives: down the memory lane

So I was kickass at work today

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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.

This is for a face mask project I’m doing for a friend. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

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.

My 20″ wheel folding bike and my daughter’s 16″ wheel folding bike. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

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*)

Letting it out

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Sunset over Laguna de Bay. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

The urge to get out was so strong that I endured one hour of driving just to see this sunset (and a little bit of bicycling) in Eastridge yesterday. During last year’s Lunar new year holiday, we went to have lunch at Balaw-balaw in Angono, went to see the Petroglyphs, Morong Church, and then the Tanay Lighthouse until the sun had set.

I promised myself that I will show the girls this place and will watch the sunset with them here. Which we did yesterday.

The last time I was here trying to appreciate the sunset, he didn’t pay attention to it, to me, or to our surroundings. It was as if he didn’t want to be there with me and just wanted to ride his bike and be done with it. He didn’t talk to me. He only did talk to me when he wanted to buy the orchid being sold along the main road in Eastridge.

I want to bury those memories. I am supplanting it with better ones that didn’t stab me like a thousand knives.

I’m letting this all out so I don’t suffer in silence. I wanted to tell the world about this but of course I can’t. Where is the dignity in that? Unlike some of my friends in social media, I don’t air my dirty linen in public. But I’m looking for ways how to air this out because keeping it all in is killing me.

That sunset was so beautiful and yet fleeting. It only lasted about 10 to 15 mins then we were enveloped by darkness. It was like that episode in my life.

The best revenge is to live my life to the fullest. To be better than I was when I was with him. To be a kickass journalist. To be a better photographer. To be a better homemaker and parent. To be a better human being.

The clock doesn’t move backwards, so I shouldn’t.

Never struggle to chase love, affection, or attention. If it isn’t given freely by another person, it isn’t worth having.

Unknown

Accept the impermanence

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Just a brief stop before the Special Services Brigade came to call me out and told me not to linger. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I got this from a Youtube video, paraphrased:

Love is not just about the person. It is about the shared time, space, and memories of two people meshed together. Accept the impermanence, cherish the moments that may be our last. Enjoy it.

So no, I will not erase the memories because I said before, if I would be given a chance to go back in time, I will do it over and over, with no regrets. I think I have no regrets. I would just have to suffer the memories until the scars hurt no more.

There is beauty in impermanence, like the sakura. It only blooms for a short time and you hold on to it until it fades away. While it’s there, you enjoy it because you know it will soon be gone and it’s the memory of the sakura that you hold, that stays with you.

I did ask myself several times before, how long will this stay like this? Because he was very impulsive like Clementine in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and I told him that several times that his impulsiveness is sometimes his undoing. He comes and goes. I did write several times in the past, asked myself how long will I be able to hold on to him before he goes away again because I knew he will be bored. I think my only error in this entire story is that I deluded myself into thinking that he will stay even though I knew in the deep recesses of my mind he won’t.

Bittersweet

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National Science Complex, UP Diliman. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

This is the first time I’ve been here for months. We used to have our daily walks here during the lockdown. Most of the time it was just the two of us here. We walked around past Math, Chem (where we rescued the cats), around the observatory. We used to see sheep roaming around and sometimes when we passed by them, we could smell the stench of those animals.

Another angle. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

It was at this same hour we would be having those walks. To have a bit of “fresh” air. We used to watch the birds flit from branches. There were colorful birds that hopped on the grass, enjoying the absence of humans. Dogs past Math used to bark at us savagely. We still used to hold hands then… Before everything went south. Or was he pretending then because he didn’t have a choice since he was stuck because of the lockdown?

And if I would erase memories, I would be conflicted about erasing those memories here in Science Complex. Just like Joel in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, he suddenly didn’t want those memories erased. But the process has begun to wipe out Clementine.

How do we live with memories? I don’t know… I have this uncanny ability of wiping out memories. I have done it many times, especially when it hurt so bad. My cousin and my sis-in-law had to remind me of a very important but painful memory that was the biggest warning sign that I shouldn’t have gotten married 13 years ago. It was completely blocked out of my mind; I had no recollection of it but they told it was real and that it happened.

In the movie Eternal Sunshine, the one doing the erasing is a laboratory. In real life, I am the Lacuna Inc, I can do it on my own. The question is, do I want everything wiped out?

Erasing memories

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Studies about memories suggest that false memories can be implanted. What I am doing right now is I’m doing the reverse. I am erasing memories, especially the painful ones, by supplanting it with new ones until the original memory fades away.

Marikina River park. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

The last time I was at the Marikina River Park was so painful. He wanted to bike and I served as a chauffer. During the entire time, he didn’t want to talk to me, hold my hand or anything. He just wanted to ride his bike, be over and done with it. I felt so abandoned and lonely. I was confused why I felt that way.

Then later that night in his condo, while I was cleaning, he was testy, like he couldn’t wait to get rid of me. I asked him why was he treating me that way. He probably felt guilty so he tried to console me. But it was hollow. Driving home, I felt really sad and lonely. I knew something was really wrong. Later that week we broke up.

Marikina River Park. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I am now erasing that memory of Marikina River Park. It was just too painful. Like I didn’t amount to anything.

I will supplant it with memories of me and my girls. Today we just went there to do just that.

If only I could do that to every painful memory I have of him. Which was quite a lot.

Come to think of it, it’s quite unfair that I get to suffer like this while he is happy and free when I was the one who sacrificed the world for us. For him.

I wish I could do an Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and just erase memories. To the point that he never existed. To spare me of this anger and pain. I hope I won’t be like Joel in the movie, who fought to keep the memories and the pain rather than lose them while the erasing process was being done.

Maybe it’s better to have memories of having loved but in pain than not have loved at all? I don’t know. Come back to me in 10 years and ask me that again.

Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Wala Nang Tao Sa Sta Filomena

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I had been singing this haunting song to my twins when I put them to sleep since the day I brought them home from the hospital until tonight. Yeah, I know it’s not a good lullaby but it’s the only song I could think of that I couldn’t sing without my entire being shredded into little pieces and stuffed into each note that comes out of my vocal chords.

I got to know this song through Patatag‘s Nagbabagang Lupa album, which my parents brought home one day. It was rare that my parents could buy tapes then because money was really tight so it was a novelty for us to have a tape of any musical genre at home. That tape was played to death on our lone radio/cassette player that sat on top of our mala-cabinet black and white TV.

I think my youngest sister and I had our first heartbreak with that album. I remember that same sister crying after hearing “Tano” because “kawawa naman sya.” I was six years old and my sister was five. The country was about to see its first mass uprising to get rid of a dictator. The housewife of a murdered senator was about to run for president.

Fast-forward, my parents again brought home another tape but this time it was by Joey Ayala, his first album. I discovered he was the composer of the song that has haunted my sleep for so long.

I saved bits of my small weekly allowance to buy his succeeding albums. I was in grade school that time. Later on I fell in love with “Walang Hanggang Paalam.” (That’s for another future blog entry.)

Anyway, the Patatag’s rendition was the one that got stuck in my head for 30 years. It was painful and at the same time beautiful. Joey Ayala’s song was so visual and yet deep. It was a song told from the point of view of a bird, seeing the desolation caused by war. A village caught in the middle of gunfire.

Well at least that was my interpretation when I was in high school and college. I have yet to Google its real meaning or the circumstances surrounding that song.

Years later, I had a gig writing for a series of 2-minute spots about child soldiers for RMN. Dong Abay was one of the musicians working on the series. We spent an afternoon or two figuring out how to incorporate the revised lyrics of “Pen pen de sarapen” with granadas and armalites and my script into 2-minute spots (In the end we used one of his original songs for some of the spots instead).

I was too shy to chat with him about Patatag then. I was also probably starstruck (hey, he was one-half of Yano of my highschool and college years!) and all I managed was “Yeah, I’ll email you my script.”

A decade later, I got to work with AR Sabangan when we were doing investigative stories for InterAksyon. I learned that she was part of the Nagbabagang Lupa album and she was the one who recruited Dong Abay and Grace Nono to join Patatag. Parang, whoa, my youth revisited (sorry, AR, alam mo namang malaki tanda mo sa kin hehehe).

One hazy night (well, hazy because my head was already cloudy with all the stuff we had been doing for our investigative gig), we were able to go down the Patatag memory lane, allowing me to ask her about some of the lyrics of the songs that played on a loop in my head for 30 years.

And I told her that Wala Nang Tao sa Sta Filomena is one of my favorites and their rendition is the one I could never forget.

I hope this song will be remembered by my kids as something that their mother had sung to them while they slept. A song that would remind them that all is not well in other parts of this country. I just hope when they grow up, there won’t be any Sta Filomenas anymore.