Context: Whatever is below is part of a piece I wrote as my roommate was dozing off in the neighbouring bed, with the night light switched on. I was caught up in my feelings and I knew that writing something (anything at all) would help grounding myself a tad more. Being infected with COVID and engaging in a lot of solitary activities gave me plenty of revelations about my purpose and what I hoped to do for myself, on top of what I know better than to continue pursuing. Here’s to reflection being second nature & making space for unsafe but necessary choices.
Here we go:
As I write this, or more of type this out, I have been in the same room for 4 days. I don’t recall much of the past 4 days, because so much of it was spent languishing and doing mindless things to pass the time.
Today, was the day I was the most lucid, and I felt most like me. I haven’t spent the bulk of this time in isolation, but it still feels like I have because I’ve found that we don’t talk as much as we did on the first 2 days when we were thrown together by some twisted fate of governmental processes to ensure we don’t die on each other’s watch. These past 2 days, we spent so much time doing whatever we wanted to do, so I did plenty of napping and talking to friends or loved ones over video call or via message. I also spent some time reading, which I always bemoaned not having sufficient time doing whenever I am healthy, but I also struggled with concentrating. Time flies, and yet it trudges along like it is dragging itself through a swamp. I don’t really know what to make of it anymore.
The time I have had also gave me plenty of time to think about what I do want for myself post bond, and while I still have very concrete answers, being away from work and feeling the irk when I am tasked with doing work-related tasks when I clearly want nothing to do with work and yet still find myself running back… is unhealthy, to say the least. What a sad sight, to be so disillusioned by something that’s occupied my headspace for the past 6 years, from the time I was a teacher in training and learning about everything that’d supposedly help me with teaching, to being a teacher and realizing that I wanted to do anything else with my life after my bond obligations were over. I find it kind of tragic, and yet I find it so liberating to know that whatever I do choose to do after May 2022, it is solely on my onus to decide how I want to forge my path.
I have waited so long, and in the waiting, I hope I have done whatever I can to prepare myself for the shock of stepping out of the bubble I’ve lived in for the past 6 years. It may be a step of trepidation, for it is an uncertain world filled with dangers unfathomable to the everyday person who’s been sheltered as one can be in an ever-evolving global pandemic. “I’ll never learn if I never leap, I’ll always yearn if I never speak.” How apt that Adele should sing this line as I am talking about stepping out, despite the fear and excitement. There is joy and excitement, but there’s also a certain bittersweetness in leaving behind everything I know for sure had my back for so long. In knowing that leaving would also be making space for what I know feels right for me. Staying would be selfish, no matter how safe it will feel. The safety no longer calls to me, and it has hardly kept me in place these years. I only stayed out of responsibility and a need to be accountable to myself and my younger self’s decisions.
I do often find myself ruminating and winding round in circles as I explore different thought patterns to figure out where I could be headed, but i… don’t really go anywhere. I know I tire easily of thinking, but it really is my only solace sometimes. I love thinking, I love how it lends me clarity while I chide it for clouding my mind. I enjoy the duality of thoughts being metaphysical and yet lending it as much power as I do, allowing it to reflect in my reality in ways I think not everyone else would allow their thoughts to. Thinking has always been such a personal process, that I never found a need to finetune it, because it makes sense enough as it does. It is personal, it is objective, but mostly it is subjective because I tie so much of my thought processes to my emotions. My emotions are also the ones running the show occasionally, so I don’t really know better than to … let them be. Once in a while, I do run in to pull them back, sometimes.
Sometimes, I let my thoughts wander to places that I know I can afford to allow the light of day to reach it, at least once in a while. Not all the time, for that’ll be too dangerous and I would struggle to tame them. Demons can come out to play, but they can never be out for too long. Everyone comes with their set of demons, and to expect them to fully rein in their demons… is too much to ask for. It is very much a personal pursuit, a journey that one has to undertake if they’re ready. If one isn’t ready, it wouldn’t work well, and the demons will just trample all over them anyway. Rogue demons aren’t a bad thing, rogue demons are merely demons in their natural form. I wouldn’t say my demons are rogue, I find that they’re occasionally cuddly when I do give them enough attention and love from time to time. I can live with them, but I don’t necessarily know how to reduce their power sometimes, so I give in, and I cry, and I break down. It’s all okay, it really is.
There is some fear, but the fear can slowly give way to hope and confidence that in the unknown, we can make space for learning and exploration. That gives me so much hope, sometimes it is the only thing that keeps me going. I’ll be okay. Baby steps, future you will hold your hand as younger you will hug you tight on the nights you’re screaming and crying. You’re never alone, your angels are here. It’ll be alright.
