First of all, you might have noticed that I’m missing out on a couple of regulars this week.
I’m basically a hermit right now. I have been ill since last weekend.
A Life Lately post is supposed to be published yesterday, but I prioritize my deadlines for my job ahead of this blog, which have and always been created for the sole purpose of self-expression and a go-to therapy for all the many forms of self-inflicted agonies I’m sure every writer experience at some point in their career. As Maya Angelou once said, there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you, or, in this case, multiple drafts that hold potential to become great stories, thus deserving tremendous attention and care.
Thing is, they all depend on my dedication as a lifelong writer.
Think Like A Man
I learned that time flies, that no matter how hard you try to plan everything and optimize accordingly, you will never catch up.
I’m the youngest in the family, and day by day it’s getting easier for me to see that my mom, dad, and brothers are aging quickly.
Before I know it, a wrinkle or scar that’s never there before suddenly appears and stays where it appeared permanently. Days to the grave are counting and eventually you remember that your own life is bound to end someday.
The thought digs the deepest holes in my heart, which is too deep to be conceived by anyone beyond my closest relations and particularly because I’ve thought too much about death at one point in the past and filled those months of considerable length on suicidal thoughts.
Although these past few months I’ve met a couple of girls whom I’ve never imagined in my life would have thought the same way, or overthink that much. Which I feel blessed about. You know who you are.
But time is so limited in our fast-paced lives, and the guilt I’ve been holding back neglecting my most important ones just keeps building up towards the Mount Everest’s summit, or some high-rise Dubai skyscraper, or perhaps something even higher.
Midway this week when I took a day off from work my dad came home early, which rarely happens, to check up on me and found out I didn’t take my antibiotics.
The funny thing is, I haven’t been ill for the longest time I can remember. Even if I catch the common cold, it’ll probably only last, at most, for about 4 days.
So that’s a clear sign that something’s wrong, right?
It’s soon that I realized, even though I’m deeply committed to a thriving career in writing, I don’t want to compromise every fiber of my self and every nanosecond of my life throwing myself into the art. Yes, art only thrives within the confinements of daily routine, but let me tell you a secret about the life of a reporter: I cannot promise anything. My days are unpredictable, and I am forced to have no routine …
Unless I establish one.
Suddenly every tiny little detail you tend to sweat about doesn’t seem to matter anymore. My biggest mistake is to neglect my most important ones, the ones that are going to be there for the rest of my life, out of the picture until I finish my responsibilities … which is a never-ending process anyway.
Unless I fit family time into my planner, I will never have the time to be with them.
In the end, to be with those I love is enough. Far more than enough.
Plus I don’t have to feel guilty for not taking my antibiotics.
Act Like A Lady
That snippet of wisdom also applies to my love life.
Since Stanley’s still in Europe, I’ve got the opportunity to gain some perspective.
I’ve always followed the feministic principle that if a couple desires to grow together in the long run, each individual has to grow individually.
The growing-individually part is the problem.
Even though now I’ve improved so much since the early days of our relationship, I still have that tendency to assume that everything that happens to me and in my life is within my responsibility, including the negative ones that he and I may share with each other so that we can lessen each others’ burden.
I always feel guilty for two things: a) I know I can control how I respond to every situation, but when I go on autopilot, i.e. negative response, I punish myself, and b) Even if I don’t respond negatively, I perceive negative things and I bottle it all up with a happy package, then I would release it all to Stanley if the subject comes up. Or, when I did went on autopilot and after I punished myself, I push him away because I don’t feel deserving.
Oh, what a shitload amount of self-pity there, right?
So imagine how a full week of being sick and not eating my meds on time has caused the disconnect between us. I feel guilty for every effin’ thing and I just want to continue being a hermit.
He has no idea how much dreams I’ve bottled up as much as the garbage I’ve loaded up either until I realize them through my actions, which is as of right now inaction because I have no time for everything …
Or a limited perception that she has no time for everything because she doesn’t give herself a chance to step back and look at the big picture.
Which is what she’s doing right now, monthly, on Life Lately.
I’ll allow The Princeton Review to do the explanation for what a day in the life of a reporter looks like.
Look Like A Girl
Recently, I learned that the skin renews itself every 28 days, and we are epidermal-wise all new every 7 years.
Looking at an ageless skin from this angle, it’s safe to say that you can technically change yourself.
With the increasing interest in neuroplasticity, I’ve been loading up an ample depth of optimism to change for the better.
Everything is dedicated to my loved ones and to make them proud for having me.
Work Like a Horse
Before I go on, let’s take a look at where my spirit has led me, as I’m making my miles, for the past 8 weeks:
Actually, I kind of knew part of the reason why I got sick was because I loaded myself with chocolates and crackers to sustain me through finishing off each piece some weeks ago.
I know, I know, it’s unhealthy.
But I slept for about three to four hours on those weeknights, and my amygdala was doubly craving the extra doses of comfort food.
Two weeks later and I’m facing my consequences. The crazy amount of processed foods, in addition to steady streams of stress, overthinking, and anxiety, did me harm.
In all my efforts to catch up with Father Time, the white rabbit inside me always sacrifices those precious hours of a full night’s sleep, as well as the missing menstrual periods again.
Meaning I have too much testosterone and cortisol in my bloodstream.
So it’s been great to chill down a bit at work this week (even though I’m still crafting my pieces at home), stop thinking and planning about everything, and gain some perspective on my long-term vision, just to determine what are my real priorities … for fear that if tomorrow I suddenly turn 40, I don’t have the good-quality fruits I wish to reap, which can only come if I did with all my diligence to sow quality seeds today, while I’m still in my 20s.
I realize this is my formative years, and I’ve still got time to clarify my life plan before the phase of consolidation arrives in my thriving 30s.
This is the time to create assets, not time-wasters.
Let’s hope I get well real soon.