Random Thoughts into Words

I’ve been putting off writing this for hours, and I know that the longer I procrastinate on getting this out of my head and into words, I’m going to have a terrible, miserable week, and I don’t want that, so here goes:

I didn’t have plans beyond becoming a teacher, and now that I am one, the idea of making further life plans scares the sh*t out of me because I know there are a bunch of stuff that can go wrong, and the fact that I am not in control of a lot of things, or at least it feels like I’m not, makes me want to crawl out of my skin and just be someone else. Who, I have no idea, but then, I know I shouldn’t feel that in the first place. I should be proud of who I am, because it has taken me 27 years to become this person: a work in progress, sure, but at least a working progress.

I keep telling my self that what I have now, what I get to do and experience and live out is pretty much what I want to do and experience and live out. Because if it wasn’t, then I need to do something about it, and I can. For the most part. There are others that would require me to be more patient, to do more, to do try more. To put myself out there, where it’s scary and uncertain and crazy and terrifyingly scary because anything can happen. Absolutely anything.

To be completely honest, I know where this overthinking-about-my-life-once-again is coming: tomorrow marks the first year anniversary of the day I recieved my thank-you-for-your-services-but-you-are-no-longer-needed-here letter from SPCM. And even if I have — truthfully and totally — gotten over my resentment over that, the hurt is still there, and most especially, the doubts. That moment, that event made me question a lot of stuff about my life, and I have been questioning my existence for a really long time before that, but it just got crazier because I lost something I thought was a sure thing. Again.

First it was my dad. His death altered the direction of my life. He and mom promised that one day we will all be together in one house, and I’d get to have my own room, and he’ll drive me and Boji to school everyday. I can remember my drawings of our house. Unfortunately, I can also remember the day we were informed of his passing, and it’s more vivid than my drawings. My daddy issues is a part of me that I have learned to accept and in part, embrace, because really, I missed out a lot of stuff, and the worst part is, there’s no one to put the blame on. I admit, a part of me has found to rationalize it and blame my mother, but then, to be fair, that’s mostly rooted on my mommy issues (i.e. stuff I used to blog about a lot on my old-now-deleted blog). The thing was, as a kid, I was so sure I’ll have a happy family because I trusted my parents when they told me we will, but when that didn’t pan out… I guess that was the beginning of my mistrust on plans and promises.

I still had hope though. I did what I could do in school. I made the most of it. In retrospect, high school was tough, but when I was living through it, I was able to hide from how difficult it was. I was the loner no one wanted to be with, junior and senior year. Well, most of senior year. The latter months, some of my blockmates took pity on me, I guess. I was with them, but I don’t think I was really part of their group (or squad, as teenagers now refer to them). Truth be told, I was never really a squad person. I mostly keep a small group of non-clingy friends, ones who I can hang out with from time to time, but never really, like have to keep tabs on. Which is both great and sad, depending on how you choose to look at it. I’ve long since accepted this unique trait of mine, so it’s really a non-issue.

My need for commendation is, though. The second time I lost something that I was really sure I’d get was when I didn’t get in the top five performing teachers award in OLOPSC. That moment, when they called the fifth and last person to get the award (and the 10K incentive!) and it wasn’t my name, but the PERSON RIGHT BEHIND ME and everyone was looking at me and gauging my reaction because EVERYONE THOUGHT IT WAS ME who’d get it for sure so everyone was asking ME what happened not knowing that I WAS ASKING THE SAME THING IN MY HEAD and all I wanted to do was WALK OUT OF THAT GYMNASIUM AND CRY because I knew I deserved that award but I guess I didn’t. And then after, everyone was still asking me what happened and all I could do was smile sadly, like an idiot, because I couldn’t hide the fact that I was also very disappointed and pissed and angry and hurt and mad… and I couldn’t say it out loud, because I couldn’t.

So I left. A year later. My grandparents told me last summer, when I told them that I was leaving SPCM, that it hurt THEM when I left OLOPSC without “consulting” them. I tried to explain why I left, but I don’t think they heard me. I doubt if they were listening. I love my family, truly I do, but I don’t think any of us are good listeners. Not to each other, anyway.

I have learned that when you expect something, you’re putting yourself in grave danger of getting hurt and disappointed. I have also learned never to take things for granted. But most of all, I learned that putting yourself out there requires a great amount of willpower, discipline and most importantly, humility.

It took three life-altering events for me to learn that. I don’t regret leaving OLOPSC because it was time for me to get out of my comfort zone (and since I am an alumna, I was pretty comfortable there). I don’t regret accepting my termination from SPCM because as much as it hurt to leave, it was also time to go back home. I don’t regret my time in Angelicum either, because I learned a lot about myself here, about what I really want and what I really need.

I think this is the best time to make a plan for my life, because everything’s clearer now. It’s still scary. It’s very scary. But I’m planning for something great and awesome and epic, and if they don’t turn out that way, well, at least I lived life on my terms. Freedom is something I would never ever take for granted.

SO WHAT DO I WANT WITH MY LIFE?

Well, off the top of my head, I want to fall in love. I want to meet someone great and fun and witty and exciting and a positive influence on me, because Lord knows I need more of those in my life. I want to spend time with this person and get to know him. I want to be known, completely and unapologetically. I want to be kissed on my lips for the first time, to be hugged so tightly I’d lose my breath for a couple of seconds, to be wooed with a romantic, picnic by the beach, with a bonfire and a guitar and the stars shining brightly above us. I want to be connected to a person. I want to be someone’s Person.

I know to get all that and more, I’d have to put myself out there and go on dates. As the saying goes, you have to kiss a couple of frogs to find a prince, which is completely cliche. I don’t plan to take it literally because I want to save my first ever kiss for my first love. I’m holding on to the belief that my Brandon IS out there, somewhere. Waiting.

The romantic in me can’t help it.

What else… Well, I want to teach for the rest of my life, but more importantly, I want to help shape the next teachers in our country. I want to teach future teachers. This is an adjustment from my first plan when I became a teacher: to have my own school. I think this is still a possibility. I’m just shelving it for later.

My current plan is to gain more experience teaching in the high school level and then take my Masters’ Degree and move up to the tertiary level. Easier said than done, as always, but it can be done. To be honest, my hopes for my career have better chances than my those for my love life because this one doesn’t terrify me as much as the latter. It’s different when your emotions are involved.

Anyway, I also want to travel. Swim with the jellyfishes in Palau. Twirl in Time Square, NYC. Join the street dancers in Rio. Fly. Ride as many rollercoasters as I can. Live by the beach. Bike around Europe with a backpack in tow. See the rest of the Philippines. I also want write a novel and get it published. I want to do volunteer work for something meaningful. I want to get out and do something unexpected and great and good.

I want to be a good person. I want to be an inspiration. I want to be remembered.

I don’t know how writing all these will change my life. I hope it’s a start. It has helped, to put all of these thoughts into words. It always had. But I know it’s not enough. I know I need to do the work. I am willing to.

I will.

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