"Go back to what triggered you to be in this kind of feeling."
I wrote how much I love my work more than any other being. I was also wary to think that if I settled down, would my partner be understanding of my work – how much I am so into it and committed to it, possibly more committed to work than to my partner.
Eventually, I realized that I don't love work anymore. It became too much, cruel and overwhelming. It made me into a person that is mean, lifeless and full of hatred. Too tired, too exhausted, too much. It is already one thing about me that I bottled things, and it was another fight to let it all come out.
Because I do not know any Iron Maiden (and alike) songs to scream it out, I listened to Baek Ji-Young's Like Being Hit by a Bullet to break the tears out of me. Every day I woke up, go to work and I dreaded each hour passed. Every day I feel like jumping off the cliff. I look forward to coming home. I forced myself to drop and rest. I could not go all the way anymore. I don't care. I want to die.
I keep saying and thinking those things. And I know that's not who I am at that moment. Each time when I realized I have already crossed the bridge, I was full of relief. I never want to look back, I keep walking away from it. But I know it will come back around the next cycle because I have to deal with it, yet again.
It made me realized that it has been awhile I do things that I used to do. The bru coffee and rawa thosai across the street. Reading my favourite websites. Going to my favourite playground. Stalking the old boyfriends' tweets and posted pictures. Writing to escape. It made me realized that the things I hated – going to the dentist, my investment classes – became the things that I thought of staying in for a much longer time. I feel happier there. I like the smell of hospitals whenever I visit someone or having my own follow ups and long to be installed for a couple of days.
I actually have those feelings. It was actually calming and comforting.
And despite all the craziness, there's this lust of keeping it balanced. Fighting the demon inside me, ignoring it, not feeding it – with new strangers. Threw myself into the more unknowns. Not that it is bad, but I could have got myself into trouble. The most terrifying thing I did was flying to another country and seeing him for the first time.
It was not that terrifying, really. It was a sublime feeling to get away from it all even for a day. The plane ride, the travelling alone, the lavish hotel, the handsome man waiting for me. It was enough, I felt contented, enough and happy. I had enough affections, kisses and perpetually in his arms throughout the night. I did not even get the waist cramps – that terrible, stabbing pains I get sometimes in the early morning, waking me up from my sleep.
I was yearning for him to be in my arms at one time, I wanted to feel him in that way. For now, we are about just being present for each other.
I still have good days. A lot of people made the effort for me. I actually felt happier.
I do tell people how I feel, my despair, my my sadness as to not bottling it up. I hope this helps (me). And I keep going too. I fix as much as I can. I am not like what I used to be anymore – stellar and exceeding expectations in my work. I am tired out, burned to crisp. I sometimes see the fear in my mother's eyes observing my conditions day by day.
With all these craziness, the crying in the car, the isolating myself in the toilet, in the gym – I am still very blessed. I have not lost anything. I still have a job, a comfortable and familiar shelter, a mother, a more understanding albeit more eye-rolling relationship with my father, a closer gap with my brothers, new (boy)friends, les chats and everything else I hold dear.
I have only lost myself. I hope this is the last break up. I hope I triumphed this.
