The night in our home is still the night I always have ever since I knew that the world is a revolving piece of land and water. I can hear the soft murmurs of the still-awake neighbors. I can hear the beating of my heart--loud and clear as if it wants to leave my chest and beats in a different body. Sometimes, I think that no matter how much you gain from the world, how much salary you acquire in your pocket or how many titles that's been added to your name, a home will always be a place where you're just you. You're just that five year old kid who wants to sleep and rest. You are nothing in your own home. And yet you are everything you could ever be.
Every now and then, I think it's vital that we should always take time to go back home. It is a special time to be who we are. And we are what we are in silence. We are what we are when no one's watching. When we can lie in our bed and listen to our heart and search our own thoughts. Once in a while, it is healthy to shut up and listen to the silence of our own being, so that we may find what it is that we're looking for.
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Thursday, April 14, 2016
A LETTER TO THE MAN WHO VERBALLY ABUSES ME TODAY
I must have known it before I approached you.
I should have known who you are from the very moment I looked into your eyes and I should have warned myself.
But I didn't.
I was, in the first place, never believe that I am capable of such attitude.
They always say that nursing is about compassion. That not everyone can possess it and not everyone are called to be a nurse. But compassion can't be taught in any nursing school, nor can it be acquired overnight. It is a virtue that grows from seeing people suffer. From realizing that we are mortals and we are somehow limited by our flesh. It's like a seed that takes nourishment in placing one's feet in another shoe. When you see people suffer and you feel that tingling sensation in your heart, when you look them into the eyes and see through their souls and hear them ask for help---you knew deep inside that you become compassionate.
That's what I have when I approached and greet you. That's what I have when I introduced myself to you.
Earlier this afternoon, I asked you of your maintenance medications. If you have brought some from home your hospital charges can be lessen. Nursing is holistic; if I will care about your physique, I will also care for your finances. Maybe there's something wrong about my inquiries that you told me you are only a patient and I supposed to take care of where on earth I will get your medication. I said yes, I then have to provide you what you need from our pharmacy. I let you be for an hour and came back with an intravenous needs and fluid. I explained in soft voice that I will carry out a doctor's order of having you hydrated. I asked again for your cooperation, of what your dominant hand is so I will be able to provide you as much comfort as such procedure allowed by havinv the access line on your opposite hand. There must have been a word from me again that you didn't like because you called me incompetent of not knowing which hand is the best to use. I said yes, then we'll have to settle for your left hand. I began explaining to you what to expect, as I do the procedure. I told you there will be a small pain when the needle punctured the site and that you need to breath and relax and never hold back your arm. As I began, I soothe you with words like "okay po, itutusok ka na, hinga lang po malalim" (okay then, I'll pierce the skin now, just take a deep breath). But the moment I pierced through your vein you took away your arm and said in a voice that can be heard well by the patient across you "gaga ka ba, ang sakit ah" (damn you, it hurts). I have to admit that you took me off guard. Never in my life did someone spoke to me that way along with accusing, hateful eyes. Never have I known such hostility. I began to ask myself mentally where the steps in "Starting Intravenous Fluid" did I go wrong. I am not in a hurry. You know I have not approached you in short breaths and with glancing wristwatch attitude. Before I can answer you, you told me again that I am incompetent and that I've hurt you. You added it by informing me that you are a professor and you gain masteral in a field I missed to hear what and that I've hurt you and that I'm incompetent. "Putangina nurse naman to, tanga" I should be damn because the other patients heared you clear that they started to look at me like I am someone who is really incompetent and uncompassionate. I have to tell you I might never forget that last 3 minutes I am there, standing beside your hospital bed, not even considering of depending myself because after all, you are the patient. You have an illness. I am the nurse. I am the healthy one. I shut my mouth and look at you helplessly, asking how did I end up like I deserve such cruel, cruel words. In the end, all I said was that I'll make sure the resident doctor on duty will be the one to start the intravenous fluid. I apologized. Thank the heavens I at least remember to apologized.
But for what? What does my apology stand for? I really want to know the reason why you humiliated me that way. And if you would maybe you could spare me the feeling of having spit out hurtful words to a stranger like me. I wonder if you felt good, believing that I am a creature below you. That because you have gained power in your profession it has somehow given you the right to make people feel as if they are worthless beings. How many of us did you ever treat this way?
I don't know you personally and you don't know me too. But is it enough reason to hurl hurtful words? That because our paths will never crossed again once you've been discharge you at least have to show me how powerful you think you are?
I always believed that the world is still a wonderful place despite the likes of you. That there are still good people out there. But you made me doubt it now. Maybe the world I live in are full of you--- snakes, wearing human skin.
And yes. Despite everything you did to me, I think you do managed to show me a lesson. You have taught me that the likes of you makes this world filthy and that is why we're here. We are here, the ones who stays gentle in the midst of cruelty, to make this world still a better place. We are here to show the likes of you that no matter how high you think of yourself, with that attitude of yours, you are still and always will be beneath us. You taught me to stay kind. That kindness is power. That kindness will always triumph.
I am writing this to you, even though I know you wouldn't read it, so that you'll somehow feel forgiven. Yes, you hurt me deeply and I forgiven you. You wouldn't know you hurt me in the first place but I am, forgiving you. And I have forgiven myself, maybe for allowing you to hurt me. For writing this. For telling the world that they can hurt me and yet I will still be kind, gentle and forgiving.
I do hope you will have a good life ahead, bastard.
AJ, 2016
I should have known who you are from the very moment I looked into your eyes and I should have warned myself.
But I didn't.
I was, in the first place, never believe that I am capable of such attitude.
They always say that nursing is about compassion. That not everyone can possess it and not everyone are called to be a nurse. But compassion can't be taught in any nursing school, nor can it be acquired overnight. It is a virtue that grows from seeing people suffer. From realizing that we are mortals and we are somehow limited by our flesh. It's like a seed that takes nourishment in placing one's feet in another shoe. When you see people suffer and you feel that tingling sensation in your heart, when you look them into the eyes and see through their souls and hear them ask for help---you knew deep inside that you become compassionate.
That's what I have when I approached and greet you. That's what I have when I introduced myself to you.
Earlier this afternoon, I asked you of your maintenance medications. If you have brought some from home your hospital charges can be lessen. Nursing is holistic; if I will care about your physique, I will also care for your finances. Maybe there's something wrong about my inquiries that you told me you are only a patient and I supposed to take care of where on earth I will get your medication. I said yes, I then have to provide you what you need from our pharmacy. I let you be for an hour and came back with an intravenous needs and fluid. I explained in soft voice that I will carry out a doctor's order of having you hydrated. I asked again for your cooperation, of what your dominant hand is so I will be able to provide you as much comfort as such procedure allowed by havinv the access line on your opposite hand. There must have been a word from me again that you didn't like because you called me incompetent of not knowing which hand is the best to use. I said yes, then we'll have to settle for your left hand. I began explaining to you what to expect, as I do the procedure. I told you there will be a small pain when the needle punctured the site and that you need to breath and relax and never hold back your arm. As I began, I soothe you with words like "okay po, itutusok ka na, hinga lang po malalim" (okay then, I'll pierce the skin now, just take a deep breath). But the moment I pierced through your vein you took away your arm and said in a voice that can be heard well by the patient across you "gaga ka ba, ang sakit ah" (damn you, it hurts). I have to admit that you took me off guard. Never in my life did someone spoke to me that way along with accusing, hateful eyes. Never have I known such hostility. I began to ask myself mentally where the steps in "Starting Intravenous Fluid" did I go wrong. I am not in a hurry. You know I have not approached you in short breaths and with glancing wristwatch attitude. Before I can answer you, you told me again that I am incompetent and that I've hurt you. You added it by informing me that you are a professor and you gain masteral in a field I missed to hear what and that I've hurt you and that I'm incompetent. "Putangina nurse naman to, tanga" I should be damn because the other patients heared you clear that they started to look at me like I am someone who is really incompetent and uncompassionate. I have to tell you I might never forget that last 3 minutes I am there, standing beside your hospital bed, not even considering of depending myself because after all, you are the patient. You have an illness. I am the nurse. I am the healthy one. I shut my mouth and look at you helplessly, asking how did I end up like I deserve such cruel, cruel words. In the end, all I said was that I'll make sure the resident doctor on duty will be the one to start the intravenous fluid. I apologized. Thank the heavens I at least remember to apologized.
But for what? What does my apology stand for? I really want to know the reason why you humiliated me that way. And if you would maybe you could spare me the feeling of having spit out hurtful words to a stranger like me. I wonder if you felt good, believing that I am a creature below you. That because you have gained power in your profession it has somehow given you the right to make people feel as if they are worthless beings. How many of us did you ever treat this way?
I don't know you personally and you don't know me too. But is it enough reason to hurl hurtful words? That because our paths will never crossed again once you've been discharge you at least have to show me how powerful you think you are?
I always believed that the world is still a wonderful place despite the likes of you. That there are still good people out there. But you made me doubt it now. Maybe the world I live in are full of you--- snakes, wearing human skin.
And yes. Despite everything you did to me, I think you do managed to show me a lesson. You have taught me that the likes of you makes this world filthy and that is why we're here. We are here, the ones who stays gentle in the midst of cruelty, to make this world still a better place. We are here to show the likes of you that no matter how high you think of yourself, with that attitude of yours, you are still and always will be beneath us. You taught me to stay kind. That kindness is power. That kindness will always triumph.
I am writing this to you, even though I know you wouldn't read it, so that you'll somehow feel forgiven. Yes, you hurt me deeply and I forgiven you. You wouldn't know you hurt me in the first place but I am, forgiving you. And I have forgiven myself, maybe for allowing you to hurt me. For writing this. For telling the world that they can hurt me and yet I will still be kind, gentle and forgiving.
I do hope you will have a good life ahead, bastard.
AJ, 2016
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
ALL TOO WELL
Do you remember the night
When our dreams take flight
You and I were stars
Across the night time sky
Do you remember the days
When we stand side by side
You must have been the sun
For you shine so bright
Do you remember the moments
Of our laughs and cries
Maybe its only echoes now
Maybe the wind blows them behind
The memory of you is vivid
I remember you well
They may forgotten by now
They never know you yes
Do not fear my love
You have a home here
You are everything to me
You still color my world red
Things may change
The sun may rise west
But my soul is tied up in yours
Nothing sure will change
Happy 18th birthday, Aay.
When our dreams take flight
You and I were stars
Across the night time sky
Do you remember the days
When we stand side by side
You must have been the sun
For you shine so bright
Do you remember the moments
Of our laughs and cries
Maybe its only echoes now
Maybe the wind blows them behind
The memory of you is vivid
I remember you well
They may forgotten by now
They never know you yes
Do not fear my love
You have a home here
You are everything to me
You still color my world red
Things may change
The sun may rise west
But my soul is tied up in yours
Nothing sure will change
Happy 18th birthday, Aay.
Monday, February 29, 2016
READING IS LIFE
I visited one of the nearest bookstores to my dormitory this afternoon. It has been ages since I last went to a bookstore in hope that I'll find something worthwhile to read. I admit that my work as a nurse kept me from reading for a year now. I was mostly exhausted from all the physical strain it brought me and whatever little time I have, I use so I could sleep.
But today, visiting that bookstore had brought me back to where I came from. And I came from between the pages of the books I used to love as a child. I came from all the characters I accompany as they set off in their adventures. I felt ashamed that I forgotten what it feels like to go sit beside my favorite authors while listening to their stories. I took them for granted. I might be reading then, but I am not listening. I have forgotten who I really am. I have forgotten how beautiful and heartbreaking words are.
I understand now why journals are important. One day, I might forget what I felt and realized today. That's human nature, we change. We forget. But not if I write down this very moment. This very feelings I am feeling now. It wouldn't fade or go to waste. That is the beauty of words and stories.
Thank you for reminding me to write. Thank you for teaching me to read.
But today, visiting that bookstore had brought me back to where I came from. And I came from between the pages of the books I used to love as a child. I came from all the characters I accompany as they set off in their adventures. I felt ashamed that I forgotten what it feels like to go sit beside my favorite authors while listening to their stories. I took them for granted. I might be reading then, but I am not listening. I have forgotten who I really am. I have forgotten how beautiful and heartbreaking words are.
I understand now why journals are important. One day, I might forget what I felt and realized today. That's human nature, we change. We forget. But not if I write down this very moment. This very feelings I am feeling now. It wouldn't fade or go to waste. That is the beauty of words and stories.
Thank you for reminding me to write. Thank you for teaching me to read.
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
THE ENVIOUS DENIAL
I might deny it some other time but for once, I feel like admitting it.
Yes. I envy people.
I envy my friends for having friends that last. Mine doesn't. Its either we lost touch or have grown apart. Who wouldn't want someone they could count as years go by? While they keep realizing how lucky they are to have one another, I am here, decided that I couldn't trust anyone. I want to, but I've received far many reasons that proves there is no one left to rely on but myself.
I envy the complete family picture my friends in social media post every now and then. Those smiles. Those small difference everyone notices as years been added in each frame. The frozen photo of laughters and embraces. How happy it might be if I have a selfie of my family just like the one my childhood friend has... Special occasions every year only reminds of what I lost before. Never will my family be complete again. Not in this lifetime. I wish there will be social medias and cameras in afterlife too. Maybe there, I wouldn't have to envy anyone again.
While I spent my days in fulfilling my lifelong dream of being a writer, my friends are either getting married or having their first born child. I envy them for finding their partners. I envy them for experiencing love in that kind of way. I doubt someone on their right mind will ever like someone like me.I knew it. I knew I'll end up alone. Maybe I'll start saving so I can afford a good nursing home when I grow old.
I know that the world isn't fair. How can others have all while here I am, never getting any. I wish that the world will show me a little kindness out of all that I have given out for it. But I'm reminded that "the world isn't a wish granting factory" (John Green) Maybe the fairness it knows is how it gives more to some and denies even the little to others. I just happened to be in the denied part.
Yes. I envy people.
I envy my friends for having friends that last. Mine doesn't. Its either we lost touch or have grown apart. Who wouldn't want someone they could count as years go by? While they keep realizing how lucky they are to have one another, I am here, decided that I couldn't trust anyone. I want to, but I've received far many reasons that proves there is no one left to rely on but myself.
I envy the complete family picture my friends in social media post every now and then. Those smiles. Those small difference everyone notices as years been added in each frame. The frozen photo of laughters and embraces. How happy it might be if I have a selfie of my family just like the one my childhood friend has... Special occasions every year only reminds of what I lost before. Never will my family be complete again. Not in this lifetime. I wish there will be social medias and cameras in afterlife too. Maybe there, I wouldn't have to envy anyone again.
While I spent my days in fulfilling my lifelong dream of being a writer, my friends are either getting married or having their first born child. I envy them for finding their partners. I envy them for experiencing love in that kind of way. I doubt someone on their right mind will ever like someone like me.I knew it. I knew I'll end up alone. Maybe I'll start saving so I can afford a good nursing home when I grow old.
I know that the world isn't fair. How can others have all while here I am, never getting any. I wish that the world will show me a little kindness out of all that I have given out for it. But I'm reminded that "the world isn't a wish granting factory" (John Green) Maybe the fairness it knows is how it gives more to some and denies even the little to others. I just happened to be in the denied part.
Monday, July 27, 2015
THE SILENCE
The most memorable Dan Brown's quote for me came from his Digital Fortress; "They say that all things became clear in the face of death," and ironically in my profession, I have witness quite many deaths this past days than I ever had while watching the evening news.
I have been there, face to face with a person whose heart beats for the last time. It was like they've gone from being someone to... I'm not sure. It's as if they become someone else when they die. This reminds me of my sister back to the moment the operating nurses brought her out, wrapped in a green blanket from head to toe. I remember tearing a part of it away, because... I'm not sure why either. All I know during that moment is if her face is wrapped with a blanket, how the hell will she breathe through that. And I saw her face. With bloody nose, eyelids close for forever, pupils that won't dilate... (Ughh. This is hard for me to write down, you know) Then, I remember the distant feeling I have while looking down on "that" lifeless body. I remember asking myself who the hell is that because it couldn't possibly be my sister. My sister was warm, alive, cunning and laughing days ago but "that" thing, "THAT" THING, doesn't have its chest rise up and down. It's like she became someone else. Someone who looks like my sister but isn't really my sister.
I wonder what are the things that became clear in the face of death? Who are we when we die? What become of us?
Will we still be able to be who we know ourselves to be on the other side? Who we become in there? I wonder now.
But no one knows.
I don't even know.
What happens when we die is one of life's greatest mystery. We are not allowed to have a glimpse of it. The dead stay silent... and all we could do is wait.
I have been there, face to face with a person whose heart beats for the last time. It was like they've gone from being someone to... I'm not sure. It's as if they become someone else when they die. This reminds me of my sister back to the moment the operating nurses brought her out, wrapped in a green blanket from head to toe. I remember tearing a part of it away, because... I'm not sure why either. All I know during that moment is if her face is wrapped with a blanket, how the hell will she breathe through that. And I saw her face. With bloody nose, eyelids close for forever, pupils that won't dilate... (Ughh. This is hard for me to write down, you know) Then, I remember the distant feeling I have while looking down on "that" lifeless body. I remember asking myself who the hell is that because it couldn't possibly be my sister. My sister was warm, alive, cunning and laughing days ago but "that" thing, "THAT" THING, doesn't have its chest rise up and down. It's like she became someone else. Someone who looks like my sister but isn't really my sister.
I wonder what are the things that became clear in the face of death? Who are we when we die? What become of us?
Will we still be able to be who we know ourselves to be on the other side? Who we become in there? I wonder now.
But no one knows.
I don't even know.
What happens when we die is one of life's greatest mystery. We are not allowed to have a glimpse of it. The dead stay silent... and all we could do is wait.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
TWENTY THREE
"The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die."
-Juliette Lewis
I turned twenty three years old today.
While everyone around my age were having the best times of their life, here I am, alone in my room, contemplating the things that makes me who I am at this moment.
And what did I become after all these years?
Well, let's start by sayng that I become a registered professional, working in one of the most recognized institution in the Philippines. People say that I'm the lucky one. After all, not everyone on my age gets to earn as much as I do. I'm getting to blend in the society. I guess, people are starting to recognized my existence. I've got to make new friends... those of benefits and those who can only smile at me. I'm not boasting or anything because I don't think this is something I could boast... actually, this is something my parents could boast. They worked hard to make a person out of me. It's their sacrifices that makes me what they want their child to be.
But as being me... who wants to have their life planned out for them?
I know what I can boast.
I'm already twenty three and the previous year had been my year. I found myself and decided to live in it. I wrote and wrote and I find my own infinity. I want to become a writer and all of me shouts of it. Writing and creating worlds and characters makes me alive and breathing. That was the "me" I am searching all my life. And I knew that I was born for it.
I've been through a lot. There are times when I would ask myself if I can keep standing through the storms. But at the end of the day, the storms always calm down, leaving me fiercer and firmer on my ground. I quit the game of making people like me. Somehow, what they say about me doesn't bother me anymore. I've learned to own myself.
Like what I'm always saying, I don't know what tomorrow brings me. But I do know that I will always be that girl from a long time ago. I will always believe in magic. I will always believe that despite everything, the world isn't really an awful place. I've learned to accept that I will grow old, but I don't have to grow up.
I guess it's a happy birthday to me then :)
-Juliette Lewis
I turned twenty three years old today.
While everyone around my age were having the best times of their life, here I am, alone in my room, contemplating the things that makes me who I am at this moment.
And what did I become after all these years?
Well, let's start by sayng that I become a registered professional, working in one of the most recognized institution in the Philippines. People say that I'm the lucky one. After all, not everyone on my age gets to earn as much as I do. I'm getting to blend in the society. I guess, people are starting to recognized my existence. I've got to make new friends... those of benefits and those who can only smile at me. I'm not boasting or anything because I don't think this is something I could boast... actually, this is something my parents could boast. They worked hard to make a person out of me. It's their sacrifices that makes me what they want their child to be.
But as being me... who wants to have their life planned out for them?
I know what I can boast.
I'm already twenty three and the previous year had been my year. I found myself and decided to live in it. I wrote and wrote and I find my own infinity. I want to become a writer and all of me shouts of it. Writing and creating worlds and characters makes me alive and breathing. That was the "me" I am searching all my life. And I knew that I was born for it.
I've been through a lot. There are times when I would ask myself if I can keep standing through the storms. But at the end of the day, the storms always calm down, leaving me fiercer and firmer on my ground. I quit the game of making people like me. Somehow, what they say about me doesn't bother me anymore. I've learned to own myself.
Like what I'm always saying, I don't know what tomorrow brings me. But I do know that I will always be that girl from a long time ago. I will always believe in magic. I will always believe that despite everything, the world isn't really an awful place. I've learned to accept that I will grow old, but I don't have to grow up.
I guess it's a happy birthday to me then :)
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