By: Gilda Francesca G. Flores
I have always prided myself on being busy.
Being busy and around the clock gave me a sense of fulfillment only I can describe, and not even time nor emotions can take that away from me.
Suddenly, there came days wherein I refused to wake up, clean my room, or even eat a proper meal. These refusals suddenly became routine and it took me a while to regain my sense of control.
In those moments, when everything went spiraling down, I could only play the fool’s game of making long lists. I felt I needed to accomplish them at a certain timeline. Or perhaps the illusion of trying to stay positive, when in fact, I just had to be honest with myself–I needed time to breathe.
Before, when people asked me how I managed my time, I would have an automated answer. I would describe my carefully curated trackers and planners, and I would also place emphasis on how occupied my day was going to be. Our reality seems nicer when we are mobile, when we take steps and use them as a measure of our worth and potential, but it is all cinematic.
My credits should have been rolling by now, but I have been too busy to even look back and acknowledge how far I have come. When there were scenes I did not like, or when I was daunted by disappointments, drama, and excuses, I simply did not know how to operate.
When we let things run its course without any reflection nor accountability, we will only see our shortcomings in the end.
I tried to break free from everything. I could not pinpoint what “everything” was, but I knew exactly what to change and detach from. These shifts and decisions were not just difficult, but heartbreaking, because it felt like everything I believed in were all lies I threw carelessly to the wind in order to justify the person I was before.
I was tempted to make the bounce back as pretty as the hustle before the latter had befallen. And I did, because anything seemed possible in 15-second videos and planned photos. But the essence of the person in those videos and photos was not captured in its entirety, so I ended up losing myself more.
In our respective attempts to make the most out of everything, we often remind ourselves that struggles are a part of it, but we only account for what tears us apart, what we refuse to happen. When we fail to acknowledge what is best for us–taking a break, walking away when respect is no longer present, or healing our inner child–we take part in our misery and forget recovery does not have to stem from a bad place. It can be part of our routines, too.
Good night.
How wonderful does that sound?
THE BARRISTER 