Ooh. She's a rebel.
I went on a strike against myself the past week or so.
I refused to acknowledge the sadness, guilt, bitterness and joy that came my way. I denied them to myself.
“Ha! I won’t even write and process feelings”, I told myself last weekend.
I was swimming with emotions and I didn’t want them. It seemed like I was addicted with feelings so I told myself this is like going to rehab. I am better than all these feelings, I thought.
I was being a brat to my own self.
I didn’t put sunscreen the whole week. Hmpf! Eh ano kung pumangit balat ko?
I ate cake the whole week. Hmpf. Eh ano ngayon kung magka-Diabetes ako?
I slept late. Hmpf. Eh ano ngayon kung ma-late ako?
And today, I know it did not made me any better.
I acknowledged all the feelings I was repressing for days in the past hour and now I feel much better. Alcohol might’ve helped a bit.
I realized that Namjoon is not proud. I’m not loving myself.
In the last letter Ian gave me, he wrote “I see you trying to heal. I’m rooting for you. Don’t quit”. He gave that to me almost a year before his death, but I thank whatever compelled him to write that.
I was bitter and resentful when I first read those words, but I now find encouragement in them.
Living in this pandemic in this country is still *sigh*. Surviving each day is an achievement in itself. Helping other people is a feat. I’ve ran out of words of comfort, of words that can somehow give hope.
Thankfully, I don’t have to rely on myself alone for words. For hope.