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!

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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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