“Geena, don’t fool yourself. Mom and I are perplexed that you have been doing fine and have remained strong despite the most recent crunch you’ve undergone. Other people in your situation could have lost their will to hold on. Where do you think you get your strength? It could only come from God. Not from your own inner core nor from your deep roots everyone believes stems from being our Dad’s daughter. You only have God to give thanks to. So you got to go back to praying and believing.”
Words of reminder; sudden powerful pronouncements from my elder sister during our last conversation on the phone. I understand the longevity of her marital state – her highly religious parents-in-law being the chief reason — has turned her into a devout believer.
But this isn’t a post about my atheistic tendencies nor lack of faith thereof as I already stated my “spiritual” convictions in a previous post.
Her impressions about my resources for survival has got me meditating conscientiously, though, I’ve felt the need to record here what has gone through my mind since then.
In spite of my solid external layer, I am practically no different to a baby when dealing with pain. I am not that durable. Deep inside, I get scared. There are times when I simply want to curl up in bed and sleep for days. . . How debilitating it is to call to mind that the people I can’t live without aren’t in my future any more.
Yet there’s this truth prevailing within me which continues to be the deciding factor for as long as I can remember: I am afraid to die. . . leaving me no choice but to go on.
Having revealed that, there’s also a lot left l intend to enjoy in life. I remember a renowned Filipino artist who once defended his sense of solitariness by saying he simply finds a host of things to savor in this world without the presence of many people around. I was like “yes yes, exactly my own sentiments.” Reading, writing, listening to music, watching movies, walking, dancing, thinking matters through while observing life, my love for animals, the beauty of nature, and a whole abundance of this world’s pleasures; they all continue to provide me joy and dedication.
In point of fact, given enough sleep, I can be invincible.
Most others can’t walk the earth without the constant attendance or approval or reassurance of their family and friends and strangers even — and they get commended for that. The likes of me are adjudged odd and have been lambasted. But I can’t not be true to who I am and what I’m made of. The consolation of turning to the online world which eventually confirmed that my kind is not so rare proved helpful. It’s comforting to perceive I am not alone.
That I”ve always been my own (very) best friend since time immemorial aids in my capacity to normally function for several months since my son has left.
I’ve learned to divide my life by eras because there are things we can’t have room for any more; things that no longer fit; things that now merely belong to our past.
I still feel blessed. I have my occupations together with (I hope and believe) my good health, as well as two or three remaining goals and dreams I’ve yet to fulfill. The absence of unnecessary emotions to trap me — emotions which carry the repercussion of losing my serenity or lead me to a certain level of destruction — has been a blessing, too.
Back to my sister’s question: Where do I get my strength? Honestly, I am not sure. Or maybe I just don’t know.
It could be that another poignant truth I’ve gotten wind of is time indeed sprints on and snatches away everything in its rush. And my time may be running out. Such awareness keeps me carving out my present with a fair sense of purpose. It’s only mandatory to push myself to tread through this life even though its destination is undefined; Without dwelling too much upon our mangled world; without that lingering gaze across the embers of my reality.
So probably I get my strength from the faith that there remain lovely days ahead.
Sometimes, it’s the only way.
Bohemian Sentiments 