Everything is new again

Didn’t some song say, “endings are just beginnings?”

In 2010, I went through what my aunt called a ‘midlife crisis’–precipitated perhaps by my bout with clinical depression. I’m not sure which came first; it’s like the proverbial question about the chicken and the egg, I suppose. Many bad things happened then: I quit my job, quit almost all of my professional and personal relationships, and I almost killed myself, among others.

But the past year has been kind to me. I was able to go back to school and almost complete my Master’s degree in Public Health (just one itty-bitty course to go). I made amends to the people who were important to me for the way I behaved towards them when I was un-well (some bridges I left broken–they weren’t worth saving). And I made new friends in school and at work (something that I thought I had un-learned to do).

Career-wise, though, I felt adrift. I wasn’t sure I could just go back to my former work, because I felt my survival was life’s signal that I needed to make changes in that aspect of my life. My writing was the next obvious choice. So I pursued it. Circumstances seemed to validate my theory. My stories and poems got published again. In no time I found myself training under the country’s top screenwriter, in preparation for a writing job in the country’s top broadcasting company.

So I allowed myself to drift towards that direction, like a leaf on a stream. It felt like (because on hindsight, it really was) a fresh start. But I wasn’t the wide-eyed young man that I was more than 15 years ago. Not anymore. Though everything seemed new, nothing felt fresh. I was fortunate to be in a happy workplace but I didn’t feel happy. I enjoyed instant gratification, but I couldn’t stand doing something that in the long term will prove meaningless.

I have deep respect for those who can thrive in this milieu; but it’s not for me. It took me a while to figure it out but good thing I managed to extricate myself from it.

With the new month, came a new opportunity. To go back to ‘where I felt I really belonged’. Doing what I do best for my community. I’m just fortunate for being able to do all of these, traipsing around, finding a beat I could dance to, going off-tangents, before settling down. And then, everything is new once again.

wish me luck!

wish me luck!


About the pensive poet

development worker. kasuyo. bugtong na anak. retired drag queen. kalaguyo. kaibigan. future carpenter, bread-maker, or bar-tender. feeling manunulat at makata. borderline obsessive-compulsive. control freak. book worm. isnabero. mahiyain. astang cineaste. aspiring photographer.

Posted on April 5, 2013, in journal and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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