“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”
JUNE 3, 2013, 9:32 PM
I lost it today.
My friend called me because after weeks of endless pursuit, the med school where we both applied to finally agreed to accept her as a student. It was the first day of classes and she told me that perhaps it wasn’t too late yet and that maybe there was still an available slot for me. I was in the middle of my Basic Life Support Training in Red Cross, already getting over the fact that I failed to get into that school, and starting my life’s “Plan B”, which included updating my BLS, Standard First Aid and IV Therapy training, renewing my license and PNA membership and applying for jobs. But I took it as a sign. I thought to myself, maybe the reason why I was a few blocks away from that school, on this day, was so I could easily go there and ask for a second shot. So, thinking I’d get lucky, I rushed to the school. I walked fast through the entrance, head down, and avoiding eye contact. I was saving all the courage and kapal ng mukha I had left for my conversation with the dean. I asked to see her. The lady who entertained me got my last name and told me to wait while she sees what she can do. My heart was already racing and thoughts of what I was going to tell her ran through my head. How was I going to convince her? After what felt like ages, the lady who I’m assuming was the dean’s secretary, came back to me and told me that the dean was very busy and had no time to entertain me. And that, unfortunately, there was nothing more they could do because they officially closed the enrollment at 12 noon that day. I was practically begging her to let me speak to the dean (because I was pretty sure that what I was going to say would convince her to accept me). But again she said there was nothing more she could do. I pleaded for the third time and got an “I’m sorry,” for the third time. So I gave up and went back to training, defeated.
Maybe it was the afternoon heat. Maybe it was fact that I only ordered one cup of rice for lunch. Or maybe it was because I sprinted back to Red Cross being already late for the afternoon session. But whatever it was, it made me really weary. Just too friggin’ exhausted. To top it all off, I still think about him and in the worst timing (I was also in the middle of a relationship crisis). Obsessing over what I did wrong and what I could have done instead and trying to convince myself that no matter how hard I tried, if the relationship was bound to fail, it would fail. That’s what I was telling myself. After the training, I wasn’t in the mood for anything. The mall was too crowded so I decided to go home. My feet and heart however, had other plans.
I saw this church in Legarda and walked inside supposedly to offer a short prayer. But, because I was feeling crappy, I ended up crying. I cried (silently, of course); just sobs with icky snot and tears running down my face. Yes it was that ugly. I couldn’t bare it anymore. I was too paralyzed to do anything. I just wanted to surrender it all to Him because it was too much. I was tired of being tired. All I wanted was to stop wasting time, energy, tears, sweat and sanity over things I didn’t have the power to change. I know my worries weren’t as big as others, but I really didn’t care. I was in a very dark place and I could not find that silver lining they spoke of.
So I cried like shit and I didn’t care about what the other church-goers were thinking. I surrendered and I knew He was just there, waiting, like He always had. He was sitting there waiting for me to need Him again, to seek Him again. I was the prodigal daughter. I was the child who always ran away and I would always come back to Him when I’ve fallen and hurt myself badly. And he’d heal my cuts and bruises and fix everything that was broken. And I would say sorry every time, for forgetting Him or for taking Him for granted; and He would never care, because no matter what, He will always love me. I didn’t apologize this time, not because I wasn’t sorry, but because there was no need for apologies. I just asked Him to take care of me and help me get through this. “Ikaw na po muna yung bahala, kasi pagod na po ako. Salamat po.” That was all I can utter. I finished my prayer and left the church.
I talked to a close friend. I fought tears on the jeepney ride back home. And I called my mother and told her the continuation of my med school frustrations. The conversation made me feel better. My mom’s a gem.
At this moment, the only thing I am certain of is that, whatever is happening to me, I am never alone. I am blessed with the love from so many people. God never allows me to be alone. And I am grateful for the good friends and the best mother. I am also grateful for the failures and rejections because no matter how hurtful they get, no matter how much they break you at a certain moment, they never fully destroy you. Instead you walk out from it with a few scars, sometimes, really thick ones. Scars that are unique to you. Scars that shape and define you as a person. At the end of the day, all I still have is gratitude. I will never stop being grateful.
How we got hurt is not important. How much we got hurt doesn’t matter as well. It’s what you do with the pain that counts. If it destroys you, then okay, game over, brother. But, if it made you stronger, be grateful.
I am tired, because it’s a quarter after 11PM and my eyes are puffy. Tomorrow I will be performing CPR to a dummy and I need strength and sleep for that. I am tired but I can see brighter days ahead of me. This is it. It’s the dark before the dawn. And I need to wake up early to see the sunshine.
Goodnight.
The Thought Cube 