Many have asked me why…
“Why did you leave the University of Asia and the Pacific?”
“Why did you come back to Daet?”
“Why did you stop studying?” and,
“Why do you look so grossly fat?” So many whys…
It would be very easy for me to lie even if my moral compass points at the other direction. But everybody lies anyway and quite frankly, I have had enough with explaining myself especially to the number of people who only ask for the sake of gossip - the same people who created the rumor that I pushed my dad down the stairs, that I have a child and the worst, that I have lost my sanity.
People are amazing. They are very creative and imaginative. It is incredible how people can construct something out of nothing. It is pure genius or rather, it is god-like especially after the “creation” when they judge you like they can see and know who you are.
I think it is obvious at this juncture of this paper that I hold enormous grudges against quite a few people. And it is not because they ask questions but because they make questionable statements. Although it is not my main point, it cannot be helped that I make mention of the strong feelings I have for these people; for as I ponder and reflect upon the emotional aspect of my personality, I am reminded of the past five years of my life that has ultimately defined me.
I left my former university and the wealthy future that they would have offered me, I went back home and stopped studying for two years all because I wanted to. Some people think that it is a shallow reason. “Why should anyone give up the chance for success?” Heck, the reason why they think that I have lost my sanity is because I have given up the chance of a lifetime in one of the most prestigious and the most expensive college in the country. But is it really that shallow?
Yes, I wanted all those things to happen. It was my choice but the very root of that want, that choice is nothing less than my emotions – my humanity.
If you really think about it, aren’t all the actions of every single person motivated by emotions? Hate and anger drive us to hurt people; while happiness and joy inspire us to do good and to do right by others. And if you think about it even deeper, isn’t what makes us human our emotions? These emotions stir us to do unbelievable, extraordinary acts – acts that go beyond our selves, acts that make us proud and some that we regret… Perhaps, I have made a mistake but I do not regret it.
I was depressed. I did not adjust well to the kind of people in that university – rich prejudicial spoiled young men and women who were immature and self-absorbed. And although, there were a couple of people who did not fit that profile, they too felt like an outcast in that very small world. It was hard to fit in. I was not allowed to be myself and I not only say this because I felt it but also because the moments that I tried to show the real me to my so-called friends in that university I was demeaned.
By my second semester in college, my period suddenly stopped coming. At first it was convenient. Having a scholarship to keep, 27 units, hard-pressed projects, papers and presentations, and keeping up with my classmates socially and academically, not having a period was one hardship less in my life. But of course, consequences were inevitable. After several months, I had myself checked by a gynecologist and I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome a.k.a PCOS. I am incapable of ovulating… Incapable of having a baby… What’s worse is that because of it I have become so unattractively grossly overweight making it even harder to socialize. I cannot explain the feeling when one says to your face, “Ay! Si Rhoda… naiwan sa kusina.” or “Buti naman hindi kumukupos ang gulong ng bike mo.” and let me not forget the whispers and the giggles as I pass by.
But even though I did not feel like myself in that school and even though I was not well, I stayed because the truth is a part of me loved being there. I loved my professors. I learned a lot from them. I saw the world in a different light because of them and most of them liked me too like Sir Antonio, my Rizal teacher who is a Palanca Awardee; Dr. Fajardo, my Theater teacher who is a nominee to be a National Artist; all three of my literature teachers; my mentors and Fr. Perez, the Spanish priest who teaches Theology and my spiritual guidance counselor. I think they liked me because I was eager to learn and I was. Being in that school, I had a good excuse to ask my father for money to go to museums, theatrical plays and ballets that I enjoyed and miss. That part of the UAP culture is the only part that I miss and it sure was not enough to keep me there long especially after the great tragedy in my life.
My mother died.
She died three years ago exactly a week after my 18th birthday. A month before that my parents came to Manila. They told me that my mother was ill so she was just on leave to have herself checked and to recuperate. My mom said that I should not worry, she’ll be fine. I told her that she should have just retired from being a teacher because it is wearing her out but she did not want to. She loved teaching so much. After a couple of weeks, they told me that my mom has cancer but they still said she was going to be okay.
She was going to be okay…” I still linger upon those words.
Truth was I was not aware of the gravity of the situation. No one told me she was dying. They did not want me to know. They thought it was going to affect my studies badly. But I found it out myself by accident.
On my birthday, Friday, September 22nd of 2006 I went to the Kidney Center where my mother was staying. I wanted to spend my debut with my family. So there we were – just my father, my mother and I. No parties. No cakes. All we had was sinabawan from the cafeteria. But it was okay. All I really wanted was to be with my mom and I told her that she should not give up because I do not know what I am going to do without her. She was my sanctuary. She was my greatest teacher, my best friend… my everything. She was my reason.
So I slept that night beside her and on the morning as I pretended to sleep, the nurse checked up on my mom, asked my father what stage of cancer was she at and was told that she was at stage four. I was shocked. I did not know what to do. I was scared and angry at the same time. I kept asking myself, “why did I not notice?” But even then I did not realize that she was dying or maybe it is better say that I did not want to accept that she was dying. I kept thinking there is still hope. I was hoping for a miracle. But eventually you realize that miracles are miracles themselves. They hardly ever happen. So she died a week after and after that I was slowly dying with her.
It is an understatement to say that I did not take my mother’s death well. I did not take it at all. I blamed myself. I hated myself. But I tried my best to move on. On the other hand, the world was not helping me do that. My dad can be such a jerk who cares more about my studies so I can make money for him than what I felt about my mother’s death and just what I felt in general. He even told me once, “Wala na tayong magagawa. Patay na si mama mo at minolestiya ka ng taxi driver. Ano ba ang gusto mong gawin ko?” Maybe it is his way of defending his heart. I know that he hurts too.
And yes, I was sexually harassed by a taxi driver almost a month after my mother’s death. By some luck, I was able to get out of there before the worst happens. That time is a time that I buried in the very depths of my memory. I do not want to ever remember. And buried with that memory is a part of my heart that has grown tired of people. So tired that for some time I had thought of putting that heart at ease permanently. It is funny how I used to laugh at the ignorant people who take their own life only to realize that I am also one of those ignorant people.
I took two years off in search of myself, to find my reason to live in a distasteful world and you know what I found? I found nothing.
The world is what it is and I am no one else but me. There is no one to find. There is no better or worse person. There is only me and what I make of myself in this world. Why should I care about the people who judge me without knowing the truth? Why should I listen to everybody else but not me? Why should I feel miserable for a choice that has made me happy?
I have only one life and I choose to live by my heart… by my feelings… by my emotions… by me.
