Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Monday, September 15, 2014
The Day I Almost Reached My Breaking Point
I was crying this morning during the ride to work. I cried because of all different reasons, because of the exhaustion, the helplessness I (still) have every time I'm made - forced - to face the frustrating situations in my family, and then work, and then my dreams, what I want in this life, my future, what I'm expected to do and what I have, need to do, what I'm lacking and what I don't have in me, what I can't do and all the inhibitions and limitations that fence me in.
Suddenly I just cried. The tears held, they didn't fall for the first good 3 to 5 minutes or so. But in the end, they fell. One stream, two. But that was it.
But it was enough.
Strange.
Because I was so fed up at that time, suffocating almost to the point of breaking. For a miserable moment, I felt so incompetent and weak, all hopes crushed down that I felt numb and dumb and forlorn. I became so small; the hurt then doubled or quadrupled because I also felt so unimportant. I was nothing. Someone unremarkable and forgettable.
My thoughts made my own self secluded.
Then it turned into a self-pitying session.
Scary how feelings could become so alive; a breathing, living thing, an unimaginable creature that will drag you under and tear you apart without any mercy.
But stranger more is that, those dark feelings, only this morning so pronounced and profound, have now become something so distant and far away. Leaving a trace, indeed, but so little, barely recognizable. Now that I think about it, perhaps it was because I was crying during the ride, with passing, all changing scenery in front of me. And then behind me. The clouds, the sun was up overhead. It was all moving. People briskly walked to work, cars and public transportation and trucks and motorcycles and bicycles crowded the streets. People picking up their kids from school. Public workers fixing the electricity poles. Vegetable and fruit suppliers dropping goods to a certain seller in the traditional market. The usual, familiar sight, it's what you call daily life.
The ordinariness of it, perhaps, was what had calmed me down a little. Was it in fact a distraction? I don't know what it was exactly, but it made me come to terms with myself faster than I'd imagined I would. One thing I know for sure, it would've turned out differently if I'd cried in a confined room, surrounded by still, unchanging furniture. It would've turned out messy.
And besides, I saw a Greenfields Milk truck passing beside me. The picture of milk, rolling green fields and its tagline "100% Honest Milk: Our Cows Don't Lie" painted on its body made me smile. Well, it was the tagline that made me smile, actually. Really. First smile of the day.
And later, the sadness didn't stay. I may be thinking about it again later when I'm about to sleep at night. But at least, now, I'm feeling fine. Not light, not really free of weights, but just adequately fine.
But that is enough.
Suddenly I just cried. The tears held, they didn't fall for the first good 3 to 5 minutes or so. But in the end, they fell. One stream, two. But that was it.
But it was enough.
Strange.
Because I was so fed up at that time, suffocating almost to the point of breaking. For a miserable moment, I felt so incompetent and weak, all hopes crushed down that I felt numb and dumb and forlorn. I became so small; the hurt then doubled or quadrupled because I also felt so unimportant. I was nothing. Someone unremarkable and forgettable.
My thoughts made my own self secluded.
Then it turned into a self-pitying session.
Scary how feelings could become so alive; a breathing, living thing, an unimaginable creature that will drag you under and tear you apart without any mercy.
But stranger more is that, those dark feelings, only this morning so pronounced and profound, have now become something so distant and far away. Leaving a trace, indeed, but so little, barely recognizable. Now that I think about it, perhaps it was because I was crying during the ride, with passing, all changing scenery in front of me. And then behind me. The clouds, the sun was up overhead. It was all moving. People briskly walked to work, cars and public transportation and trucks and motorcycles and bicycles crowded the streets. People picking up their kids from school. Public workers fixing the electricity poles. Vegetable and fruit suppliers dropping goods to a certain seller in the traditional market. The usual, familiar sight, it's what you call daily life.
The ordinariness of it, perhaps, was what had calmed me down a little. Was it in fact a distraction? I don't know what it was exactly, but it made me come to terms with myself faster than I'd imagined I would. One thing I know for sure, it would've turned out differently if I'd cried in a confined room, surrounded by still, unchanging furniture. It would've turned out messy.
And besides, I saw a Greenfields Milk truck passing beside me. The picture of milk, rolling green fields and its tagline "100% Honest Milk: Our Cows Don't Lie" painted on its body made me smile. Well, it was the tagline that made me smile, actually. Really. First smile of the day.
And later, the sadness didn't stay. I may be thinking about it again later when I'm about to sleep at night. But at least, now, I'm feeling fine. Not light, not really free of weights, but just adequately fine.
But that is enough.
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