I honestly thought it was just 2022 that sped by, but apparently, as evidenced by this now resurrected blog, the last five years also somehow just slipped by without my noticing it. I do have sporadic documentation of what transpired throughout the years: in my journals, in attempted curated social media feeds, in poorly managed photo folders, in letters and postcards sent and received, and in whatever else is folded, rolled up, shoved deep, and un/intentionally archived in the mess of my life’s spaces. I still need to hand it to 2022 for being the year that chewed me up and spit me out so I could ultimately understand how time is truly just a concept of the human mind. We count days, fill calendars, chase deadlines, snooze alarms, and wish for extra hours every single day, only to wake up feeling rundown by the exhaustion of having done so much while at the same time feeling like nothing significant actually happened at all.
I think this is what they mean by not really being in the moment. And this year’s first entry is an embarrassing but very liberating admission of the things I didn’t get right in the past year(s) about time and its gifts because I was too busy trying to make my schedule work, so much so that I had to allocate time slots for moments to remind myself to live. But isn’t that useful enough and isn’t that how it’s actually supposed to be done? If you have to bookmark in your calendar a time to feel alive, then you need to re-evaluate what being alive actually means.
On Christmas morning, I woke up thinking “Oh, it’s Christmas today but it just feels like any other day.” No sadness, no joy, no relief, no regrets. Just a moment of sitting on the bed and taking in the first few hours of morning light, finally able to notice what morning feels like instead of thinking about what morning schedule needs to be accomplished. That’s when the longing for days past sunk in. I longed for the feeling of waking up knowing I turned another year older and being proud of having survived, at the very least. I longed for the euphoria of seeing the blast of confetti and fireworks timed perfectly to music, music that I painstakingly curated as part of a lifelong dream. I yearned for that satisfying exhale that came with the sense of fulfillment after completing something, anything — a sense of fulfillment that welled up from deep within, unencumbered by the judgement, expectations, stipulations, and manipulations of those who find fulfillment in seeing others unfulfilled.
I first thought it quite pitiful, to be thirty-five and still be grasping for things that can make you feel feelings and to still struggle to be unbothered by people who really shouldn’t matter. An uncanny recurrence only because it seems somebody (me) hasn’t been really paying attention to life’s lessons these past years. Voila, in that Christmas morning that didn’t feel like Christmas at all, the Universe sent me a present by dropping clues on how to navigate living better in 2023, and it came with the thought, “Well then, I could just celebrate and conjure the Christmas feeling on any other morning of the year if I really wanted to.”
And conjure that feeling, we shall, and celebrate with the right people, we will.
There’s a schedule to follow and then there’s a flow and rhythm to life one must ride and guide. Making a schedule work will be inevitable because, at the end of the day, it’s not a fantasy – it’s adulthood with bills and a retirement fund to build. But being alive is not confined to the 35-box grid of a month, and your schedule should come second only to the rhythm and flow of how you live from sun-up to sundown. Live with intent. Start thinking about how you want to spend all the hours of your day instead of filling up your 24-hour cycles as mere time slots. Mark the milestones that should be celebrated and not just the milestones dictated on a calendar. Instead of collecting a list of things to do, re/discover what to feel in a range of different moments across all your days.
As for the people to share your time with, know the difference between those who will give you a seat at the table based on the list of things you’ve accomplished versus those who will hold space for you even when you fail at completing all the things that need accomplishing. It sounds easy to distinguish, but it’s really harder than it seems. And that’s why you must allow yourself to fail sometimes. Because that’s when you’ll see them start walking away when you are unable to do what they expect of you. Stay with those who will stay with you, make space for those who will do all they can to make sure you never feel alone.
Moments to feel alive and people to live life and feel alive with. I honestly wish I could enumerate many other things because, really, a LOT happened in 2022. But no matter how hard I try, these are the only two things I’m hyper-focusing on to make room for this coming year. Because what have I truly lost, if not the sense of feeling like I’m truly living and the connections I thought were real but apparently were not? Puwes, babawi tayo.
Throughout 2022, and actually the past five years since 2017, I’ve tried so hard to keep myself from falling off the tracks and just keep trudging ahead despite all my loose screws. I’d like to think I’ve walked quite far, marched so hard, ran so fast, and crawled even when I should have just laid down and given up. And now, I don’t want to just keep journeying only to seek relief from exhaustion in the end. I want to stop feeling like I’m losing my life to the journey. Now, I want to feel more alive with every step.
Badass Delights 