Graduate Economics student. Internet addict. Toy collector. Card player. Avid reader. Filipino. Sketches the occasional work or two. May also take photographs. Complicated.
Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, “My daughter got into Yale”
with, “Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.”
Tom Robbins, Still Life with Woodpecker
Today I start rebuilding my body. I have oscillated between periods of high physical activity and agonizing months of being overweight. I have recently been hampered by pain in my lower back and hips. Today I start transitioning into a healthier lifestyle again.
Not for looks, not for function, but for myself.
I had a check-up today. I’m getting X-rays and an EMG (ELECTROMYELOGRAPH) to see the condition of my spine and if there’s any nerve damage. Lifting weights has been prohibited until the results of the tests come out. I have been prescribed the lowest-impact cardio exercise possible: the bike machine. This takes more willpower than my usual gym routine because… it’s boring. But it’s what I have to do.
I have a list of things I need to do:
1. Ride the bike machine everyday.
2. Avoid salty foods and sugary beverages. Sugary beverages are the source of sugar and calories and have little contribution to supplying needed energy for the day, so I’m skipping them. Black coffee, tea and water it is.
3. Listen to my doctor.
Wish me luck and good health. :)
me when i over think things (via stay-impure)