Waiting

Cat waiting for her two-legged sister to come back. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Last night I had been chatting with an ex-colleague for hours while we were holding a vigil for another ex-colleague who was about to expire.

Basically we waiting for the expected and praying for his eternal peace. He got severe Covid and while in the hospital, it was discovered he had terminal liver cancer. After he was off the tubes, he was allowed to go home for palliative care. Then we were told by his family that we can send him voice messages. I wrote about this a few days ago.

So last night this ex-colleague, A, and I were talking about him. We also talked about how we got so tired fighting for what we believed in, for what is right, which our sick friend and colleague, N, did all his life. He died last night while we were talking about him.

We all cared so much for an industry that did not love us back, that we were so passionate about our profession but we got burned so many times. There was so much corruption and abuse.

So it’s about time that we should start to live our lives, she said. Start preparing for retirement. She told me I was one of the few very good and clean journalists whom she wanted to stand out and do more great things but the system is so rotten that she understands why I turned my back on it. I told her I went to the extreme end; at least my niche is unapologetic about serving the corporate big machine and no pretense that this kind of journalism is the crusading kind. That it is upfront about being all about making money for our audience. That’s why I can be emotionally detached from it. Just bring my skills and produce good stories and that’s it. It was no longer about saving the world.

Every now and then I still do take up the cudgels, when the messiah syndrome comes knocking. One day I can go back to it. In another form. In some way or another.

A and I were talking about retiring into our small homes, growing our own food, living sustainably away from the city. She will go home to Mindanao while I am still figuring out where I want to go. My girls and I could end up in my hometown, or near the sea, or in Hyogo Prefecture, or outside Utrecht, or somewhere.

I’m no longer trying to reach the highest level in the ladder nor chasing accolades and titles…But I haven’t really been chasing them in the first place. I only felt pressured to do so when J came into my life because it was what he was chasing after. It was the time I questioned myself, what was I doing with my life? Why am I just stuck as a journalist when I can be doing something in the finance world?

Then when he dumped me, I began to question again what was really my core? What is my essence? What do I want to do for the rest of my life?

Peace. I want peace and contentment. I want to live a life, my life, and not chase somebody else’s dream for them.

So I am working towards that goal now. I don’t know how but I know I will get there.

Every now and then it does occur to me that I can pivot and do what my other ex-colleagues are doing now. My ex-boss in HK (also came from here, we were in the same circle when she was still here in the country) is now a managing director in an advisory firm, which I can do as well if I devote more years into this company to reach some milestones to fatten up my resume. Another friend who also came from a hardcore journalism background is now doing partnership deals for a fintech company. Which I think I can also do.

Now the question is, do I want to do it? Let’s see what the wind may bring. All I know is I want peace and to live my life. To have time to stop and smell the roses.

And write.

I am waiting.

When things are meant for me, they just fall on my lap. Let’s see what happens.

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.

Biting the bullet

Mini sinks. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I went to Wilcon Home Depot after work to buy tiles, tile adhesive, and grout. I am finally biting the bullet and I’m going to have the bathroom floor re-tiled.

Why did it take me this long (almost 3 years)? Because having the bathroom re-tiled means four days of unusable bathroom (for showering) and that would piss off J so much and I would not hear the end of his complaints. Now that he’s no longer here, I can finally do this. I can devote more time to supervising the work since I have more free time now. When we were still together, 70% of my time was devoted to J, attending to his needs, especially when he was still in AirBnBs: driving back and forth, eating out, running errands for him/with him, doing chores, and keeping him company until dawn. When I’m not yet in his condo, he would be asking, “When/what time are you coming over?”

When he was here in the apartment, I had to make sure the disturbance to him was minimal. Any home repairs or improvement must be worked around his schedule.

That’s why when he suggested to have a sink and have another exhaust fan installed in the bathroom, I couldn’t commit because that also entails tile change. I needed to figure out the logistics and was determining whether my EQ can take the complaints that will surely come my way because he would not be able to shower in the bathroom for four days or do number 1 and 2 uncomfortably. The noise–the hammering to chip away the tiles–would also drive him mad. I was running the numbers in my head if I can afford to make him stay in a hotel while the bathroom is being fixed.

But then there were more immediate things that needed my attention like fixing the car. Then I had to drive him to where he wanted to go whenever he was having cabin fever. Before Covid, I also needed to be in the field for work while I ferry him to his meetings. Then every weekend we always had to do something or go somewhere.

I never came around to tackling the bathroom.

So now as part of my loving myself program, I’m going to indulge in a better bathroom, even if this apartment is not mine/I don’t have equity in it. If I can only fit a Japanese soaking tub in there, I would. I don’t like the tub in my mom’s house, the western style tub that wastes too much water. The hotels or ryokan I pick for my travels in Japan had to be 1) within walking distance of a train station or 2) have an in-house onsen or a deep soaking tub.

Bette Midler’s soaking tub. Photo by Architectural Digest.

So once I start building my cottage, I’m definitely going to install a very good water heater and a Japanese soaking tub.

This blog entry looks like it’s just a story about a bathroom. But it’s more of an example of how I accommodated J in my life. That he was a huge chunk of my life for 2.5 years.

Just keep swimming

As Dory the Blue Tang in Finding Nemo said, you just keep swimming. When shit hits the fan, just keep swimming. When the sky collapses on you, just keep swimming. Because you need to live. Because the world will not stop.

So to keep me from dwelling on the past, I just have to keep busy. Use my hands, occupy my brain, prevent myself from thinking.

Growing food from food scraps and seedlings. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I revived my derelict container garden that is growing vegetables from food scraps and seedlings.

Growing lettuce seedlings. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I had been recycling egg crates, Coke bottles, and milk cartons to grow vegetables. Because they require more work, I embraced recycling to the hilt. To keep me occupied.

My sad bird of paradise. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I neglected this bird of paradise the past month–because you know, I was hardly a nurturing creature that time. Good thing it didn’t completely die. Just half of its leaves dried out; good thing there’s a new leaf bud there and the sucker below isn’t completely dead and hollowed out.

Breakfast. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I still get to cook on weekends. Weekday is just packed and I don’t have the strength to do it since I try to bike to UP every other day. Need to keep fit and lose weight. A lot of weight. To prove to the world I am so worth it and he is a fucking idiot. I may no longer be young but I am still so worth it.

So I just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. I need to drown out memories.

Meet my new partner

Early evening fruit shake trip. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

It folds. I have no trouble shoving it at the back of my car. I can bring it with me anywhere.

We will have more adventures in the coming days. I’m creating new memories by myself with this new partner.

I think I’m fine with that because that’s the future I’m going to carve out for myself.

Picking up the pieces

Changing muffler. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I am now starting to accomplish things that I’ve put in the backburner for so long. I’ve changed the 15-year-old muffler with a new one and had the diesel engine calibrated. No more smoke belching. I will soon have some things fixed like autodoor locks and alarm and then new body repair and paint (my 🤷🏻‍♀️ brother stuck stickers on it that I couldn’t get rid of). The guy who worked on my engine said my car’s longevity is good, it’s one of the most fuel efficient cars out there, therefore, don’t let go of it.

I have a long pipeline of leads to work on.

I’m gonna schedule my cats’ surgeries soon after bloodwork.

I’m soon gonna have my osteoma removed. Just need to file medical leave. Then to chiropractor for back pain.

I will be buying myself later this week a folding bike that I can take with me on trips. I sold his mountain bike and deposited the proceeds to his account. One glaring thing that reminds me of him everyday will soon be gone. Some more to go. I just don’t know how to send it back to him.

I bought myself a bird of paradise plant from Mt. Makiling in my hometown. I will be picking up gardening again as vegetable prices have shot up. Hopefully they will be ready for harvest during the hot dry summer months.

I need to keep busy. Need to be tired. Need to be blank by night. Sleep still eludes me.