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On sadness and breaking down

It has been a while since I last posted here. I have a teaching demo to be prepared for, but I think I just needed this. 

The boy I loved once told me out of mild exasperation and with subtle accusation, “Lagi ka na lang nagb-breakdown! (You’re always breaking down!)” to refer to my constant season of overthinking and crying. Hearing my reality in his words, I believed that he meant well, and in fact, he was telling the truth. I was always crying. I would get silent and be lost in my thoughts, and the next  I am typing him long messages consisting my (emotional) qualms. It was difficult to be sad and be in love. I am still sorry for entering the relationship as that. I was hoping I could love out of my sadness, that another person could love me out of my insecurities and fears. I was wrong.

I do believe, however, that no one should make you feel guilty of how you feel. No one should make you feel, either consciously or not, that you are harder to love because of the emotions you experience. I was hoping that the boy I loved understood me better and accepted me more in worse conditions. It was too much of a responsibility, maybe, but love is hard work, isn’t it? Still, I am sorry. I still carry the pain with me today. Whenever I would cry I remember that the person I loved did not love me and left me for it. The reason for breaking down then becomes the very act of breaking down. I need people who won’t take it against me, who are not going to try to fix me with their logic and words, but would patiently wait for me. I need people who can show up and stay. Stay. 


It is hard to live a life at peace when you are in an environment where people tend to fake things. For the past few weeks, I see people both at their best and at their worse. I experience their wonderful and lovable sides and watch from the distance how they pin others down with their whispered voices and malign glances. It was hard to be at peace with yourself when you need to deal with these people. I realized how much I hate hypocrisy because I hate myself for it. If it was hypocrisy that I had said I’m always going to love the boy I loved and went angry at him for not fighting for me in the end, then I have hated myself for it.  


I always hate myself for just waiting for something to happen when I know exactly the things I should do. I hate myself for always praying that I develop a closer relationship with my parents and still doing nothing about it. 

The other day, April 23rd, I came from an organization ceremony that lasted the whole night and day. I got home at 10 a.m on the 24th, and with just an hour of sleep, I had to prepare to attend to my part-time job. I was feeling all the physical and emotional exhaustion from everything that has been happening, and I badly wanted someone to know about it. I was sitting right across my mother in our living room and anxiety was sinking in. I wanted to open up to her but I was afraid of not receiving the reaction I needed. Tears started to draw out, and after some time, I just called, “Ma..”

She looked at me, and was baffled that I was crying. Her voice started to rise another pitch higher, which I know she does when she is worried but still gets my heart skipping a beat, as she asked, “Hindi mo na kaya? (You can’t take it anymore?)” There was relief in me as more tears showed up, and my mother said, “Magsabi ka (Tell me)”.  

It was enough that I cried in front of her, and told her my worries and fears. My speech was nowhere perfect, but I knew she understood me. Before I leave for work, she kissed and embraced me, told me to ask my boss for a leave until I finish the semester. I was still crying on my way to work, partially because I am still stuck in this bubble of loneliness and tighter heart contractions, but mainly because I was relieved with that encounter with my mother. It was a small step, but it meant a lot to me. It adds to the many things that keep me going today. 

To you, you probably saw me or heard about me breaking down these past few days and decided to read this, thank you. Even if not, I still appreciate you being here and sticking through this narrative. I pray you would be brave, true, and kind. 


Thank you to my best friend, von medeza, for the wonderful, original photos, and all the love. 

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