Holy Week

Posted on March 25, 2016


Because sometimes Holy Week isn’t just about long weekends and traditions which came from around 300 years of colonial rule.

Good Friday. I type this post as I suffer from ulcer, eating truffles that my grandma brought from Canada while listening to “Moon River” over and over again. There’s something about chocolates and 1960’s orchestral movie soundtracks that just gets me worked up.

Despite being the non-religious person that I am, I guess you can say that I’ve had my share of a little spirituality this week. I don’t know, there’s something about this week that made me feel like an entirely different person. Do you know that feeling? It’s ominous at the same time calming. I can’t explain it. It feels like some part of me has drifted away. I can’t say if I like it or not.

Or maybe it’s just the ulcer. But I digress.

I cried again this Monday in a shameful display of emotions. I hate crying. I hate crying by myself. I hate crying in front of others. I hate crying while trying to force myself to stop crying. And yet I lost control again and cried. It sucks.

Sometimes I think my emotions just hate me so much that they just have to do this from time to time, pushing away the people I want to get close to. It’s annoying. It’s just making me believe all over again that I will never be a lovable person. How can anyone love me when even my internal system hates me?

Anyway, what happened last Monday/Tuesday was pretty much this: I cried and bared a bit too much of my deepest feelings in front of coworkers/friends. There, I said it. I can’t help it, it’s getting harder for me to handle. Anxiety is forcing me to pile up my problems in my brain like Jenga. It’s getting really harder for me to distract myself and be the normal, happy person I wanted to believe that I am. You see, I’ve always been the type of person that does not let things go until they are solved. I get really frustrated if I don’t get the answers. That’s the problem: my life is a huge jigsaw puzzle and some asshole keeps taking the pieces.

It’s hard to pretend. I’m tired of pretending. And out of pretending so much, I just burst. Boom. Like some defective time bomb. Defective. That’s me.

After this incident, I don’t think people will see me the same way again. I hate opening up because sometimes I do it a bit too much and things always end up never being the same. I just burst. You know, like a water balloon. I can’t reiterate this point enough, as you might have seen in my previous posts. It’s a struggle, it really is.

I’m really trying to make myself better because I know I will never be lovable if I continue being this way. To everyone I’ve probably hurt, I’m sorry. To everyone still not sick of me for some unfathomable reason, thank you. To everyone that did, I understand and I wish you all the best. Defective as I am, I care. A lot.

Right now, I think my mood has stabilized. I’m reaching out to people more and I haven’t smoked in five days I think. Sad girls smoke a lot, they say. It’s true.

As for anxiety? Eeeeehhh….getting there. I’m trying not to overthink myself to death. I just laugh it all away, I guess. I’m normal again. I think I’m normal again, if I ever was.

So I guess the point I wanted to make with this sidewinder of a post is this: I’m getting better. They say a lie told over and over again will eventually become a truth, and I’m really hoping that is the case with me. I don’t even know or care if I’m happy or not, I just want to have that sense of calm and acceptance over things I cannot control – and things I will never be. I don’t know if my life will ever be as good as this Friday, or as holy as this week. I just want to know that I’m finally learning how to be happy.