Thursday, February 21, 2008

an episode

On the way home from school yesterday, I drove into the gas station and parked my car in front of one of the pumps. I was feeling lethargic after spending 10 minutes on the nebulizer machine at the clinic earlier, so I asked if Z could help me fill up the tank. She had never done it before, so she said she’ll try. She went and paid for the gas, and came back to get the pump going. But it wouldn’t reset itself when she unhooked the pump head. She did it again and again. The pump attendants kept yelling at the attendant at the cash register telling her to reset the thing. She did a few times already and every time she did she gave the thumbs up meaning that we can go ahead and pump gas. But the damned thing still wouldn’t reset itself. So the attendants asked me to move my car to another pump. But by this time, there was already a huge 15-seater van trundled and parked its huge ass right behind my car, and after seeing all the trouble and stressing situation with the yelling and arguing between the attendants, his stupid face just told me he is not going to budge from that place when I motioned to him to back out a little so I could move my car to the next pump. His understanding came too late because by the time he started to reverse his car, I already didn’t give a shit who I will hit if I drive forward and make a quick swerve into the one way lane back into the gas station next to another unoccupied pump. I was reckless. Irresponsible. Once parked, I switched off the engine and broke down and cried. I didn’t care who saw me as I cupped my face with the sunglasses still on, in both of my hands and cried. My shoulders heaved as I was overcome by enormous sobs. I could hear Z distracting the pump attendant by asking her to get on with the filling up of the tank, when she asked what was wrong with me because she always sees me happy and always cheerful. I know these people. I always talk to them as I fill up my own tank. I would always be joking and smiling and laughing. They have no idea.

Once Z got back in the car, I pulled out of the gas station and drove like a maniac swerving here and there just to get home as quickly as I could. I went straight to my room, changed, washed my face and went to bed. I didn’t wake up till four hours later.

I was not embarrassed. I am way beyond that. But I was sorry for Z being caught in that situation when I really needed that moment of release. I don’t like making her feel uneasy. But I couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by anger and frustration over some of the things I haven’t been able to handle very well these few days.

My asthma came back. The cold air at night and the cold water I have to bathe in in the morning is not helping me. I have the Ventolin Evohaler to help me, but the coughing was getting worse. I have trouble sleeping. It’s been more than two weeks since it started. I finally went to the clinic yesterday.

My cellphone was stolen again. By the same motherf*cker. How do I know? I know. I feel violated. Having to work with him makes it even worse.

I have other very personal things that’s been percolating in my head these few weeks that I am having trouble to overcome. I have no one to talk about them with. I have no way of helping someone very important to me. I couldn’t help when that person is in need. What kind of person does that make me?

I haven’t been sleeping well the past few weeks. All these thoughts haunts me. It makes me feel rotten inside. I can’t shake them off like I normally could with other issues of my life.

Happiness is a choice? Not when some of the things in your life is out of control and each day brings with it more and more proof that you are not worth the life you have and the easiest way out is that Exit on your wrist.

Note to self :

Life is never easy. You know you wouldn’t like it as much if it was, right? This will all come to pass and everything will be all right. In the end, it will always be all right. Everything will fall into place. You do want to be able to look back and be proud, knowing you handled them well, don’t you?

I have an inkling of what’s wrong with me. But that’s all self-diagnosis so far. And although I do have suicidal tendencies, I have enough self-worth to understand that no matter how low I fall, there is always hope for me to climb back up. And I keep coming back. I tell my kids here, suicide is never the answer because I believe in that. I strongly believe in that. I’ll never do it. I hope.

But what’ll happen when work doesn’t cut it anymore? When those who depend on me doesn’t matter anymore? When eternity in hell will not be so bad anymore? When it’s okay for me to give up…What then?

No comments: