It is good that it rained. For one, the water shortage may already be a problem of the past and it trapped me here in my room the whole day. I have never felt so much peace in me the past few days than now. That is why I am here indulging yet again in self-stories I have been known of. It has been eons since my last post here in this blog and that so many things had happened in between documented supposedly here in this repository, journal of this fledgling lawyer. No one is visiting me now I must say for the stats have dropped and the few followers might have resented eavesdropping for novelty has passed away and monotony has sunk in the travails of this challenged lawyer.
I have been lucky to visit the United States last month and has not yet chronicled my travel except for a collection of photos of the places I visited I uploaded in my Facebook page. Some of my friends have been nagging me that I put some story in them. But challenged as I am right now in putting my thoughts into words, I cannot say anything to capture the milieu that surrounds me except maybe of the common excuse of a brainless man that is becoming speechless. My almost one month stay in the US was a blessing from God which have resulted to such thoughts as telling myself I am ready to die. It was very hard to believe that I got through one of the most generous scholarships on earth in one of the most renowned educational institutions. Be that as it may, I must accept that dreams do come true and that I must be happy all the time. I did become happy especially that I was able to meet and live with, even for a short while, one of the most special persons in my life right now that is Mom Lydia and Mike. I met Lydia through my other blog, Thirty Thousand Fishes, and was knocked out by this feeling of familiarity and homeliness through her insightful comments of my posts written during the tumultuous period of my Bar review. If I have to believe in reincarnation and the interplay of the cosmos, I must say that I met Lydia in one of the periods of my past life and that she could have been a parent, a sibling, or a best friend. There was this magical feeling when we first met at the Oregon airport together with his husband Mike that I never felt that they were strangers to me but rather that I have missed them for so long and that I am very happy to see them again. I never told Lydia that I cried to myself when I went passed the immigration and could no longer see them from afar when they accompanied me to the airport on my way back home. It may be a while again to see them and only God knows when.
I really had to struggle not only of jetlag but of depression when I went back home. I had relapse of the abdominal pains I have been suffering from for a very long time and it had worsened that I have to force myself to see a doctor. I was so worried that I have focused so much on the pain and the feeling of nearness with death. I have never confided this thing to anyone except to myself, to a very special friend and to Lydia in an email a week ago telling her what I truly feel and that I am very much worried of my health and that I thought I have cancer. When I read her email I broke in tears right then and there in front of my computer reading love and compassion brought to me from miles away. I would always tell Lydia in my email that I love her; that no one really knows me, my thoughts, my aches and pains, my love quarrels with the world except her and that I will always be relieved of them after reading her response.
I have a personality disorder. The truth of the matter is that even before I became a lawyer, I already had to grapple with it in law school, in dealing with a problematic job, and the most challenging periods in my life, the consequences of a dysfunctional family and the death of my grandmother three years ago. I would always ask myself before why can’t I manage the stresses of work now considering that I managed to live with it before. And I would always dwell on that million dollar question and would always fail myself answering it. It is only now that I am beginning to let myself accept the fact that the truth is that I never overcame stress and that I was in denial all the time.
I went to see the results of the tests last Saturday. They were all normal. I was able to find a good doctor who was very patient in being the sounding board of this anxiety. He appeased me and explained that what I am feeling now may be a functional problem and that it is not organic. He would then explain to me that there is no need to undergo further tests right now or a leave from work. I told him that if there is one thing I am happy about is that he did not tell me that I will die soon. The doctor smiled. He knew I think through his eyes that here is a man in his young age who is too much concerned with death when he has the world to live. I had to thank the doctor for all his concern and for prescribing me anti-depressant which he mentioned during my first visit.
If you will ask me if I love my profession right now, I must say I will have second thoughts in answering yes. I must say that the fire burning in me, the passion in me is slowly settling down. To you who believed in my capabilities and that I would become a great defender someday, the drama is here to stay not in the courtroom or any legal battle but it my unending personal struggle. It came to a point where I became too much burdened that there’s no room left for another. I will not dare to indulge in jus cogens or literary thieves for dinner. I dreamt of being a hero, but reneged on it unconsciously and subsumed myself to a tragic one. I hope and pray that I can find myself with renewed strength and vigor in the process. For the meantime, I will just be here avoiding the unreal.
Writing is Hard to Love (Confessions of a Composition Junkie) - Philbert Dy’s tweet made me think a bit. See, there’s something about “loving writing.” Ten years ago, I’d probably say that Mr. Dy is right. After all, I ...
2 months ago