Inside the confines of these four walls, I struggle to put myself to sleep.
I cannot wrap my head around this..This is all too much to take. And you know what's worse? That you are actually buying this. We've had so much progress. And with just a snap of a finger, all this happiness that we've tried so hard to build comes tumbling down.
No. I can't take it. I have tried my darned best to get you out of that pit that has trapped you and kept you in the darkness for so long. I have given all the strength inside me so you will have the courage to finally take a step in the right direction. And yet...
It breaks my heart. I want to speak my mind, to tell you what I really think but I guess you would just end up with the conclusion that I'm just like the others. But I'm not. And you should be the first one to know that. You were never alone all these years, never abandoned. You pushed people away, these people who truly love you, so you can live the life you think you wanted.
I love you. I truly do. That's why I can't bear to see you make a fool of yourself and commit the same mistake of trusting the person who broke your faith in the first place.
I need to believe in you again. I need to see that wisdom and reason that attracted me to you in the first place.
Only you can fix this. Choose happiness and for your sake, WALK AWAY.
CHANGING MY WORLD, ONE MISTAKE AT A TIME.
Showing posts with label issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label issues. Show all posts
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Why I Need Therapy
There are days when I am just overflowing with happiness, with creative juices, with the zest for life.
There are days, though, when I just feel like curling into a ball, crying myself to sleep, and wishing never to wake up.
Compared to other people, I have no major issues to speak of. I had a great childhood, I've no angst, and I am not at war with the world. And yet, I choose to pick my scabs so I can bleed, so I can remind myself that I am still alive, albeit, bordering the line of just existing.
It's not that I am not a happy person. I am. I would also like to believe that I have a talent in making other people happy. I am a firecracker, so they say. Never losing energy, always laughing, always in high spirit.
...until something bursts my bubble.
It could be a song that reminds me of my ex. It could be the weather that prevents me from going out with friends, holding me immobile and glued to my bed. It could be the sight of happy couples or carefree children.
To simplify things, I am a self-confessed, non-clinically diagnosed manic-depressive.
For some time, I thought that I was cured of this disorder (for more or less 5 years). But something triggered it and I don't think I need to name it.
You may be thinking that it's only because I was recently heartbroken that I'm swinging from happiness to depression in a snap of a finger.
FALSE.
I've always been a kindred soul since I can remember. I was that kid who listened intently to sad songs, feeling hopeless for a heartbreak that has not yet arrived. I was that teenager who wrote poetries and short stories to a love unknown. I was that 20-year old fresh graduate who stared at the ceiling endlessly at night thinking my life was not how it was supposed to be. And now, I am a twentysomething career woman who works 12 hours a day and drowns 2 hours a night at the thought of ending up alone.
What is important to note, however, is that I am not dishonest with myself. I never pretend to be happy when I'm not.I never incurred the habit of lying, not even to myself. If anyone would ask me if I was fine, I need not come up with a verbal response. They just need to see me, my eyes, and the way I slumped in my chair uncomfortably, and they would automatically know. I am that transparent.
And tonight, I am once again spiralling into the bottomless pit of self-destruction. Of hate. of Anger. Of helplessness and hopelessness. Forgetting how far I've come along. Forgetting the overflowing love I've been receiving.
But only for tonight. Or until this weather clears up.
Because that's the beauty of a self-confessed, non-clinically diagnosed manic-depressive. You always know that things will be better and that you will be happy again.
Until the next bubble bursting.
There are days, though, when I just feel like curling into a ball, crying myself to sleep, and wishing never to wake up.
Compared to other people, I have no major issues to speak of. I had a great childhood, I've no angst, and I am not at war with the world. And yet, I choose to pick my scabs so I can bleed, so I can remind myself that I am still alive, albeit, bordering the line of just existing.
It's not that I am not a happy person. I am. I would also like to believe that I have a talent in making other people happy. I am a firecracker, so they say. Never losing energy, always laughing, always in high spirit.
...until something bursts my bubble.
It could be a song that reminds me of my ex. It could be the weather that prevents me from going out with friends, holding me immobile and glued to my bed. It could be the sight of happy couples or carefree children.
To simplify things, I am a self-confessed, non-clinically diagnosed manic-depressive.
For some time, I thought that I was cured of this disorder (for more or less 5 years). But something triggered it and I don't think I need to name it.
You may be thinking that it's only because I was recently heartbroken that I'm swinging from happiness to depression in a snap of a finger.
FALSE.
I've always been a kindred soul since I can remember. I was that kid who listened intently to sad songs, feeling hopeless for a heartbreak that has not yet arrived. I was that teenager who wrote poetries and short stories to a love unknown. I was that 20-year old fresh graduate who stared at the ceiling endlessly at night thinking my life was not how it was supposed to be. And now, I am a twentysomething career woman who works 12 hours a day and drowns 2 hours a night at the thought of ending up alone.
What is important to note, however, is that I am not dishonest with myself. I never pretend to be happy when I'm not.I never incurred the habit of lying, not even to myself. If anyone would ask me if I was fine, I need not come up with a verbal response. They just need to see me, my eyes, and the way I slumped in my chair uncomfortably, and they would automatically know. I am that transparent.
And tonight, I am once again spiralling into the bottomless pit of self-destruction. Of hate. of Anger. Of helplessness and hopelessness. Forgetting how far I've come along. Forgetting the overflowing love I've been receiving.
But only for tonight. Or until this weather clears up.
Because that's the beauty of a self-confessed, non-clinically diagnosed manic-depressive. You always know that things will be better and that you will be happy again.
Until the next bubble bursting.
Saturday, October 08, 2011
An Apple A Day Keeps the Bad Vibes Away
It is a sad day as the genius known at Steve Jobs died a few months after shocking the world with his resignation from Apple. It was such a short, yet worthwhile existence on earth. Most of my background on Mr. Jobs came from MTB who knew him like a mentor, if not an old friend. I would remember the look of admiration from MTB’s face as he animatedly talked about the struggles, successes and strength that defined Mr. Jobs. Knowing how few men MTB admires (and having full support and belief in MTB’s choice of heroes) I had an automatic liking for the guy despite my lack of interest in anything related to technology.
Mr. Jobs was an example of how monumental a man with a purpose can accomplish. He changed the way people identify with something as innocuous as an APPLE— from a fruit to a city to, as Steve Jobs ingeniously molded the world to see, the symbol of our generation.
I don’t know how other people’s lives were affected by Mr. Jobs's brilliance—I don’t want to pretend that I know him more than I actually do. So let me just tell how he changed my life and that is by making my music, the type that can seldom be heard anywhere else, available to me 24/7. If you are an avid reader of my blog, you would know that one passion I am actually cognizant of is MUSIC. Everything that ever matters to me has a song that would remind me of that memory. Whether it’s the time when my cousins and I got stranded somewhere in Katipunan (Cold Summer Nights) back in the early 90’s, or summers spent in my aunt’s house (10 summers worth of Silverchair songs, Smashing Pumpkins, PNE, and other bands that exposed me to rock, grunge, indie music), my friendship with my high school friends (Deep Inside of You, Shimmer), college nights and school pains (J. Lo songs, Aimee Mann, and songs wondering what life is beyond the confines of college), Perk squad whoas and woes (Coldplay, Aint no Mountain High Enough, Fame, Total Eclipse of the Night), the first time I fell in love (Soraya, How Sweet it is and other happy singsong songs that I can no longer remember), the time when I was searching, pining, and finding the love of my life (Beatles, Orange and Lemons, 747, Dashboard, Kaytagal, Kailan, Built to Last, etc) and recently, my greatest heartbreak (Adele, The Script, Sara Bareilles, Sugarfree and almost all songs that MTB and I discussed, fought over, talked about and sang for 6 years)---- All these moments, whether they are magical, tragic or painful, have a soundtrack. To make the long story short, I have compiled phases and phrases of my life in a 32 gigabyte time capsule that is my iPod.
I cannot think of anything as ubiquitous during my tumultuous days than my trusty Ipod. Not that my friends are not there for me, they are. But in stillness of the night, during the pregnant moment between midnight and dawn when I feel most vulnerable, it is the melodramatic sound coming from my ipod that lulls me to sleep. It is the hum of Mumford and Sons that lifted my heart from despair, the solemn strumming of Switchfoot's guitar that rhythmically sways with my words of prayers to the Lord, and the poetry of Sara Bareilles that speaks what my tongue cannot verbalize. Listening to my iPod is a like caching the memories and feelings of a 27 year adventure, readily available when I need to heal and see how far I’ve gone.
I may not know Steve Jobs as well as the others or the details of how he changed the world. All I do know is how he changed my world, one mp3 at a time.
Thank you, Mr. Jobs, and may you rest in peace.
Mr. Jobs was an example of how monumental a man with a purpose can accomplish. He changed the way people identify with something as innocuous as an APPLE— from a fruit to a city to, as Steve Jobs ingeniously molded the world to see, the symbol of our generation.
I don’t know how other people’s lives were affected by Mr. Jobs's brilliance—I don’t want to pretend that I know him more than I actually do. So let me just tell how he changed my life and that is by making my music, the type that can seldom be heard anywhere else, available to me 24/7. If you are an avid reader of my blog, you would know that one passion I am actually cognizant of is MUSIC. Everything that ever matters to me has a song that would remind me of that memory. Whether it’s the time when my cousins and I got stranded somewhere in Katipunan (Cold Summer Nights) back in the early 90’s, or summers spent in my aunt’s house (10 summers worth of Silverchair songs, Smashing Pumpkins, PNE, and other bands that exposed me to rock, grunge, indie music), my friendship with my high school friends (Deep Inside of You, Shimmer), college nights and school pains (J. Lo songs, Aimee Mann, and songs wondering what life is beyond the confines of college), Perk squad whoas and woes (Coldplay, Aint no Mountain High Enough, Fame, Total Eclipse of the Night), the first time I fell in love (Soraya, How Sweet it is and other happy singsong songs that I can no longer remember), the time when I was searching, pining, and finding the love of my life (Beatles, Orange and Lemons, 747, Dashboard, Kaytagal, Kailan, Built to Last, etc) and recently, my greatest heartbreak (Adele, The Script, Sara Bareilles, Sugarfree and almost all songs that MTB and I discussed, fought over, talked about and sang for 6 years)---- All these moments, whether they are magical, tragic or painful, have a soundtrack. To make the long story short, I have compiled phases and phrases of my life in a 32 gigabyte time capsule that is my iPod.
I cannot think of anything as ubiquitous during my tumultuous days than my trusty Ipod. Not that my friends are not there for me, they are. But in stillness of the night, during the pregnant moment between midnight and dawn when I feel most vulnerable, it is the melodramatic sound coming from my ipod that lulls me to sleep. It is the hum of Mumford and Sons that lifted my heart from despair, the solemn strumming of Switchfoot's guitar that rhythmically sways with my words of prayers to the Lord, and the poetry of Sara Bareilles that speaks what my tongue cannot verbalize. Listening to my iPod is a like caching the memories and feelings of a 27 year adventure, readily available when I need to heal and see how far I’ve gone.
I may not know Steve Jobs as well as the others or the details of how he changed the world. All I do know is how he changed my world, one mp3 at a time.
Thank you, Mr. Jobs, and may you rest in peace.