It was on January 30, 2011 that I was at the lowest point of my life.
It was the death of my first and long-time relationship. I was devastated, destroyed, hopeless. I wanted to get hit by a car the next day. But I made it across the street unscathed, and it disturbed me that I would think of such a thing.
And so it began - the battle against myself.
I consciously pulled myself out of that hell hole which was a slow and painful process. On a lot of days, I took two steps backward after making so much progress. I struggled with so many unanswered questions and bottled-up anger that gave me sleepless nights. I kept beating myself up for what happened in the past. I thought it was going to be an endless pattern of circles.
But things changed sooner than I thought because I decided to change them myself.
I found the days stretched out before me, vacant time that I didn’t have the privilege of spending my own way for the longest time.
I told myself, Now is the time to be the person I’ve always wanted to be. No more crying. I’m taking back my life.
I made it a point to keep busy and do the things I’ve always wanted to do. I was reading again. I took writing more seriously. I took photography lessons. I went out with friends, sang out loud more often, drank alcohol, laughed a lot more, dyed my hair, bought tons of new clothes, met new people and most of all, had countless long conversations.
For the first time, I was putting myself out there. I was talking, opening myself up even to people I just met. In a way, I transformed (insert Transformers sound effects here). I just felt.. different.
The weird thing was, I’ve always known who I was but for some reason people saw a different version of me, a Pseudo self as John Kim would put it. I’ve been hiding all this time. I’ve put so many layers on that stripping down was.. liberating. Each new experience, each conversation sent those layers falling to the floor.
I realized though I may be damaged, it didn’t mean I was unhappy or empty. There were times when I deliberately put up walls but someone was always there to break them down. I found reasons to smile even though inside I was in turmoil. Suddenly, songs were not just lyrics and rhythm - they spoke to me, like a decoded message. Defying Gravity (yes you, Lea Michele and Chris Colfer) was on repeat most days, along with Fighter, Complain and Science and Faith. Emotions were not bleak and gray - they were intense and bright that came in reds, pinks, yellows and sometimes midnight blues.
There are days when I would be on such a high that I get the running-around-screaming-at-the-top-of-my-lungs feeling. There are also days when I feel the loneliness gnawing at me. And it’s okay, you know? I have come to love both parts - the yin and the yang, the light and the dark. One can’t exist without the other.
I had my own share of those things they call A-ha! moments, moments when you feel like the world just whispered one of its secrets to you and you see pages of your past flipping madly in your mind where those secrets fit.
A very good example: the paradox of being ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.
I have always believed in having dreams and ideas and once I get one in my head, I work on it. I know I can do anything I put my mind to. And in this sense, I am extraordinary. On the other hand, I am just human. I am bound to make mistakes because I don’t know what’s going to happen next. More importantly, there is a higher power that operates beyond my comprehension. I am ordinary.
To finally grasp this caused something like mental shifts - a cohesion - that’s both exhilarating and dizzying. After fitting the loose pieces together, there was room for more. It’s a feeling I will never get tired of.
I waited for a sort of alarm to go off on the exact anniversary date. A jolt, a siren sounding, fireworks. Anything. Silly, I know. And when I told myself there wasn’t going to be any, I contented myself with spending a quiet night at home. I sat on the couch, watched TV, played with my dog. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it’s in the ordinary that I find comfort and stay grounded as I deal with more changes.
Honestly, change has always unnerved me. I avoided it when I could because I wanted the security of the familiar. But I learned that we should welcome the new no matter how scary it appears and that the familiar doesn’t always stay meaningful.
A year later.. I never thought it would be like this after just one year. The memories of the past year are so strong and vivid, unlike the ones before that which are now in black and white. I’m no longer waging war against the person in the mirror. Yes, I still second-guess her sometimes. I’m my own interrogator. But I think that’s healthy, you know? I have come to love her more than ever and swore to never compromise herself again.
Life isn’t perfect but it’s just my kind of imperfection.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Here’s to courage, hope and most of all, love.
