Monday, August 13, 2012

Moving and leaving everything behind

You can find me here: Blinking Lights

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Pancakes and Bacon



At times like the one I am enjoying at the moment, I take comfort in everything that I could. Dinner? Here.


New bed. Finally got around to ditching the old thing that blanketed my memory. And a new cabinet to de-clutter with which I plan to "The Avengers" (read: assemble) come morning.



I'm one of those people who take comfort in mess which says a lot about my life. I've said time and time again that a clean head needs a clean bed. But, a mess to others is order to me. Fascinating it is that I'd rather leave things where I know I can easily access it, without any mind of how other people would find their way through the whole thing. My life, my world, my rules.

***

Blood test tomorrow morning. I rarely use my company HMO and the one time I desperately need it, my illness is not covered. Life. Let's all move to London or Canada, shall we?

***

I started getting involved with make up again. I know it will definitely take some time getting used to because yesterday, after laboring for minutes to get the perfect cat eyes, I scratched my eyelids and smudged the whole beauty of it in less than four hours. Today, after blending pink and green, the same crap happened. My hands have a mind of their own. We know that already.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Sumbungera not Sabungera

I'm not a fighter and I'm sorry but the next time you screw up, I'm going to tell my Mum and Pop and brothers on you. This little mean girl means it.

Thursday, August 09, 2012

OMMG!

Oh my, merciful God! Look! Yesterday, I blogged about trying to figure out what to start and to stop doing in my life.


Thank you.

Survival of the fittest


When the doctor asked me how I was able to endure almost three years at my job without seeking help, I replied that I may be in the same company with the same position but I do not have the same responsibilities. Moreover, a major (salute!) difference was not having my girls anymore. With all due respect to the people I hang with these days, I don't have a stable support group anymore. I know you are all mature enough to understand that this statement is in no way undermining your capacity to be a good friend. We all have that group of people who knows us inside out, who without a word uttered can comfort us with merely a look.

Charles Darwin's theory never applied to me, or at least not in a very long time. I survived because I have the best friends a bipolar girl can ever wish for. Whenever I was stressed at my first job, my high school friends, students still at the time, would meet me for coffee or drinks at the end of the day. Whenever I was stressed at this job, the mean girls, regardless if payday was a handful of days away, would meet me for coffee and cigs at the end of the day, or even in the middle of the day. I miss that. If one is looking for a perfect example of nostalgia, then here it is.

The past few months, I have been bothered with the idea that perhaps I was never fit to work in the kind of environment I deal with everyday. I can only wonder why I like working there so much. Partly because I was consumed with the promise that it is not just a job but the first step to a long-term career. Partly because when I joined the team, I told myself this would be the last time I'd ever be an employee. Partly because I easily get bored and challenges are fun for me - plausible challenges, mind you. Impossible is nothing is just some slogan by Adidas. Show me the face of the employee who exceeds in all the departmental metrics and I'd admit I made a mistake and had stressed myself out for nothing.

Would managing my disorder through medication be a better solution than managing my life the natural way - through a less stressful lifestyle and through traveling? Would I ever have the same support system I had?

I would eternally be grateful, Loiza, Julz, Mitzi, Joyce, Trins, Barbs and Bella. I am the fittest of all because of you.

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Measure your life how?


Measure your life in love - the single line in Rent that I chose to live by upon watching the musical. The sad truth is, as with every other mantra, it is easier to say than to do.

Spending the last few days pondering about what I need to start and stop doing, I have come to the realization that as much as I tried to convince myself and everyone that I measure my life in love, I don't. I measure my life in work and achievements. Lately, my life has come to its worst - I've been measuring my life in money. No wonder this is the lowest I've become. Here's the story as I see it.

Whenever I look back, I go visit one of many blogs that I started, maintained and ultimately, abandoned over the years. Yes, they are filled with heartaches. There is so much heartache in what I've written that one can easily deduce that I am addicted to drama and self-inflicted pain. Relationships are the main course in this life of mine; it is under the spotlight. But when one takes a closer look, between the lines, you'll see that the heartaches are only for my entertainment and humor. I have always managed to trudge on during and after every failed relationship or attempt at one. I seldom wrote about what doesn't need to be written and that would be the joyous times. I have never been one to find pleasure in bragging.

The last time I was this low, I was in between jobs. My first job of 2.5 years failed to provide me the promise that I shall be successful professionally. I was 21. I learned to accept that it was my fault - my own negligence to the blessing of having a decent job despite not having a college degree - that led me to that predicament. Application after application for a similar position was followed by rejection after rejection. I did all that my low self-esteem could to recover by working at a call center. I thought, "Who am I kidding? I don't have the credentials. Nobody would look at my resume twice again." Guess what. Six years later, I still feel the same.

A few months after my failure, I met who I thought was the love of my life. I wanted to do so much more than answer calls but he taught me that answering calls is not just that but a job that would pay the rent and help us build our future together. I ended up working for the two of us for the most part of the relationship but I couldn't complain. For once in my life, I could see a future for myself... with him. I worked harder, albeit in a call center, because I wanted to earn more for the life that we would share. Perhaps that wasn't what God or my Palm or the Universe wanted for me because the relationship eventually ended. The most incredible part was that first quarter of 2010 during our break-up limbo, I became the top performer at work. No, love wasn't my fuel. It was the drive to be the best.

I found a new anchor - something to convince myself that I am living and not merely surviving. I traveled full time and worked part of the time. Every cent that I could shell out was spent for going places, mainly to beaches. I was happy. Really? Beats me. All I know is, the feeling of hopelessness and the urge to die was not as strong as it was a week ago.

Everything went downhill after a year and a half. The desire for and the possibility of a promotion became smaller and smaller due to my trust to the people I work for being directly proportional to. I started earning less. The metrics our performance were measured on became impossible to exceed. I could not travel anymore. One would think that with my track record, someone would listen to my woes but my criticism fell on deaf ears. "This is a business we're running, not some bipolar kid's support group", was what I heard instead of the flowery words. Facts started becoming euphemisms and euphemisms became facts. Despite my efforts to stay alive, I feel like I am already dead. Thus, here I am with the conclusion that I have not been measuring my life in love, for others, for life, for my work and for myself.

I want to go back to that - to that little girl filled with hope and confidence and determination. I want to be able to measure my life in love. I do. I just need to figure out how to.

Tuesday, August 07, 2012

My Vacation

PJs. Toast. Cappuccino. Ruffles Cheddar & Sour Cream. The Notebook. Abilify. Epival. Absence of a direction in life.

Yeap, I'm living it, alright.  Envy me much?

I'll be seeing you.

PS. I need a Xanor for what Game of Nerds is doing to me. Where are my damn 50 coins???

So this is better

No more tummyaches! And I woke up happy today. Not overly ecstatic but definitely definitely not hating the fact that I woke up. I actually truthfully feel better.

To everyone hating the fact that I am not in the office and calling this a grand vacation, boo you. Once again, I hope you never have to deal with so much anger and sadness that breathing alone would be such a huge painful task and you'd be obsessed with the idea that death would be the only escape. If and when I get back on my feet, I'd face your cruel judgmental remarks with a smile because I would be able to manage my emotions better. You'd be left with your hateful disposition that no one ought to  be relieved from the hell we all live in. And give yourself a pat on the back for being well enough to handle stress like a normal person unlike me with a genetic predisposition to jump from one mood to another.

I never asked for special treatment like a certain pregnant lady I know. A little compassion is all.

Manila Weather

As of 2:13 PM 08/07, the Philippine President has ordered suspension of work at both government and private sectors across Metro Manila today. All JPMC Manila operations are suspended until 9:00AM 08/08. Please contact your manager for further confirmation.

Jah bless us all.

Monday, August 06, 2012

Game of Nerds!!!

Let's rock.

From the chest to the stomach

I felt it yesterday and I've just proven it now. Abilify gives me tummyaches. That's something I definitely need to bring up on my next meeting with the shrink. She did say Abilify is just for now, until we can take me out of my depression. My tummy is aching oh so fucking badly as I type so that would be all for now.