The past few days have been rough. This is why I haven’t blogged recently. I was supposed to post every two days, but life caught up to me and punched me in the solar plexus. A powerhouse, that punch.
I’ve been mercurial since the end of 2016 and thought nothing of it. I was unemployed, I’m basically a hermit, and I don’t have any social activities unless they’re family related. So being moody was kind of expected. I’m an introvert – always was one, so I didn’t have any need to put myself out there unless it was necessary. [This may or may not be faulty logic, but I’ll figure it out soon enough, I presume.]
Then I started feeling a bit out of it in certain times of the day. Kind of like I was in a haze but everyone around me’s just doing fine. Thought nothing of it until I started thinking of harming myself.
So, short and short of it: went to a psychiatrist, got diagnosed with depression, told to take meds and come back every two weeks.
If you’re worried about me, know that I am fine. I don’t really feel oppressed or diminished or anything substantially depressing. I just feel tired and numb all the time. And like death is a joke, one I have cracked regularly for the past couple of weeks.
I will try and update this blog. I do still have the Brutalist architecture series going, as well as the motivational quotes series. This is not the last you’ll see of me, that’s for sure.
So much of my life is about chasing goals. When I was in primary school, all I wanted was to graduate valedictorian and make my parents proud. When I was in high school, I wanted to be valedictorian too, so I worked and worked until I got the title and the opportunity to study in the most prestigious university in the Philippines. When I finished four years in said university, all I wanted to do was find a job that made me happy and financially well-off. I got those things, really, but I worked too hard that I got burned out. By 25 I was having heart palpitations at 3am and paralysis over everything I try to put my hands on.
Surely, I was successful, but it cost me my health and happiness that the success seemed hollow, like I got a medal made out of plastic.
Now, I’m 26, employed in the family business but not doing anything, really, but lucky enough to have my family with me to support me in whatever it is that I do. I’m not 100% unfortunate. I tried applying for a job earlier this month and got two prospects, and I was hired, except they disqualified me when they found out I was already employed in the family business. It wasn’t about my qualifications; it was about the circumstances I had that stopped me from starting right back on my career. I cried to my mom about it, but she told me she was disappointed, not because of my career trajectory, but because I let such a small problem break me down. And she was right; plenty of people would love to be unemployed but financially secure, and here I am, crying over my privilege.
That’s going to have to stop now. I’ve started bullet journaling to track my activities. I’ve set up steps to achieve certain goals, measurable ones I can do daily without hurting me. I’ve started writing again, something I didn’t think I can do again when I resigned from the job that almost killed me.
It’s a good life. I just need to convince myself that it is and to keep moving forward. I just need to have faith and believe.