Project U

We are stars made of stars. And if you're a little New-Age-y like me, you're a star whose fate is in the stars...
...what happens when your stars die?

Hello, I am "Lilith". I'm back because I never should have left, ever. I never should have left my LiveJournal and Blogdrive blogs. I'm back because I know who I am by keeping a journal. I'm back because I find pieces of who I am from my old entries. I'm back because I met an awesome woman in her forties who I aspire to be, who pushed me to revive the old me.

I have lost myself throughout the years. Unfortunately, when I found the love of my life, I had to give myself up... I forgot who I am. I don't know who I am anymore, or I'm not sure. I don't even know what to do.

Who am I?

You won't find out who you are by thinking about it, but by actively making your life better. How do you know where to start when you have too many things to do and you don't know where to begin?

I make a list at work.

Where am I now? What is going on? What are my deliverables, who is the person in charge, what's the deadline and the status?

I think my life needs that right now.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

1. Family

Mom is done with her chemotherapy. It's been almost a year. I was crushed a few weeks ago when she told me that her oncologist said that the effectivity of chemo lasts for just two years. I don't know if she noticed a change in my expression when she told me that, but I felt... what was it? A rush of heat go up my chest from my stomach? I think remnants of that sensation reached my face. Some mothers can tell how you really feel behind a heavily-cemented expression... I can only pray that I've become so good at displaying a tough, positive exterior that it gets troubling because people think I'm okay.

I'm not okay. It's been almost a year since mom started chemo. The possibility of metasteses will go up two years after day one.

How is she? Is she okay? She said it so casually that I can't tell if she is learning to accept her situation. Once, before she told me this, she used the word 'terminal' to refer to her condition. It bothered me, but I brushed it off and thought she was just being pessismistic or did not want to have high expectations for her survival. I honestly believe she will crush this cancer and overcome it and age as I have always imagined her to be... together with dad... but I wonder if she's just handling things one day at a time, attending to day-to-day concerns as usual, until whatever happens, happens. I hated that thought. I hated that things have become lax at home... and that I am responsible for it, as well. 

I was the leader: I had the best plans that will help her recover fast. I led activities that not only helped her get healthy, but made her happy and brought our family closer, as well. Unfortunately, dad was just not into it. He's was too into himself and his own concerns that he could barely be bothered about his wife's health. I've learned long ago to accept that he doesn't love mom the way he should, but I had a bit of hope when mom was diagnosed.

Apparently, the crying and worrying and getting sick over mom's condition wasn't really for mom, but for himself. Who's going to take care of him? Who will stay by his side through thick and GODDAMNFUCKINGTHIN? He knows there's a huge possibility I would go the other way if he and I were left alone because he knows just how difficult of a person he is. He knows I wouldn't put up with his attitude. I love him no matter what, no matter how he is--but now, I'd like to make it clear that I have a love-hate relationship with dad. He treats mom so badly, it's unforgivable. He's unapologetic and yet he years for pity. Indeed, he is pitiful... but there's a whole side of him I just can't accept.

Dad's sick, too. He is afraid of getting checked because he knows he would lose it if the doctor tells him he has something terrible. Mom's condition was a shock; unexpected. He can't stop thinking that the same thing can happen to him.

Has our family bonded more since mom was diagnosed? A little. We still get on each other's nerves, we still scream at each other. Well... mom and dad do. It's like nothing happened. Whenever I'm around, I try to neutralize (WHAT. NOPE.) things by taking mom's side and yelling at my dad (YES. WRONG.) but when mom's on her own, I just wonder how much damage my dad does to her health. He's done so much, but he's in denial... so he keeps going.

Do I know a possible solution to help bond our family? Yes. Can I fix my parents' relationship? No.

Dad will always treat mom as a punching bag and a stressball. He will always find her annoying. I will always be angry that mom will never leave him, because I have tried to convince her so many times and even told her I had been dreaming about it since I was ten... but no. She never will.

All I can try to do is make sure he will never be her cause of demise!

2. Health

I may have fixed my bowel problems, but I am feeling all sorts of wrong somewhere in my abdominal area. I first felt discomfort the same month mom was diagnosed, but I brushed it off, thinking my body was having sympathetics... symptoms (?!) similar to mom's. I ignored it, and it didn't bother me until mid-year.

I experienced some pain after relieving myself. The pain was inconsistent, but it was always after I went to the bathroom. I got sick, got cured, had lab tests and everything was clear. The pain stopped.

The discomfort is apparent this month. I also had a few episodes of the same after-urinating pain and it lasted for a few minutes. At one point, I had to sleep it off so it would go away. I think I can feel a bulge inside my abdomen. I have a feeling I have stones... where and what kind, I'll have to find out when I see an OB.

I'm not okay.

3. Career

My third job redundated me because they can't afford my talent fee. Hmph! Eff you, too. It's okay, I was handling a dying brand... even though I had such good memories with that brand. Mom and I bonded over it and it's what got me into a particular Asian cuisine. Oh, well. I was thankful to get an invitation from an international company belonging to the same industry as my second and third jobs. The position was higher, the pay was higher, the people from my department are amazing and the brands somehow had a budget to spend initiatives on. Most people were difficult, though, especially our internal clients... but that's just how it is.

I won't lie, the job is difficult. It takes someone who is really in love with her field to stay as long as she can within the company. And, since it isn't family-friendly, and my family really needs me at the moment, I resigned after just 2 months. Initially, and on my first month, too, I brought that up with my boss. She declined and asked me to give it another chance by splitting time between work and my mom. I did... and stayed for another month. It didn't work, and now I have health complications, too. I end my contract with them next month... now I'm troubled for my career path.

I'm Miss Starts-Something-and-Never-Finishes-it. I've always been... well, since high school. Fuck high school, man, seriously. So much trauma from high school and college fucked me up and turned me into who I am, now. It's hard to accept who you are if you don't like who you are. I'm everywhere and nowhere. Mostly nowhere. Mostly a nobody. Nothing.

Now I'm looking into freelancing. I want to write and do voiceovers on the side. Here we go again. Because I don't have connections, and my skills need honing, and how fucking old am I? I feel demotivated about even starting somewhere. That's what always gets me down. Here's how I've always handled my career:

"I'll never be as good as _____."
"I'm not that good."
"She is better than I am."
"I wish I could be as good as _____."
"My skills aren't enough."
"I'm not as skilled/experienced."
"It's so hard."
"I'm trying hard, but am still not as good."
"It's a long way ahead and others my age/who are younger are more advanced than I am. It's useless, I'll just stop here and go with the flow."

Mom and dad told me I had a defeatist attitude ever since I was little. They didn't know where I got that from, because they couldn't think of anyone who was like that. When they asked me to do something, I would take a look at it and say I couldn't do it - e.g. climbing a wall, etc.

I fell out of love with my current field and, strangely, even when it's fucking annoying, I'm okay with it. At least I know it wasn't something anyone forced on me. I wasn't pressured to take all the fields I took since I graduated. I think that I am, at the moment, undergoing trial-and-error (bad for someone in their mid-twenties due to the increasingly demanding, aggressive and harsh world we live in!) career-wise and I'm taking baby steps to find myself in this regard. There's no other way but to do so, so I shouldn't really get mad about it, no matter how frustrating it really is. If I keep making the same mistakes (not exactly mistakes since it's T&E), I'll always be unhappy.

Who was I before all the pressure started? I was a writer and an artist. I was interested in sketching, speaking and writing. What were my favorite subjects in school? Retracing steps would probably help, so I'll do that.

I continued getting interesting interview invitations from good companies since I started at my current job but I knew I couldn't commit to a similar position after this. God knows I would have continued practicing my current profession if my previous employer didn't kick me out just because they were poor. If I had received the right kind of attention and training, I would have been great. I would have matured in this industry.

Alas, God has other plans for me.

4. Love

I broke up with Miles* when I started at my new job and I think we're currently at the process of patching things up. It really takes both parties to do so, because we've been going back and forth, switching roles all the time. We're both naturally terrible to each other, but one always gives way to the other. We just never happened to gentlemen at the same time... until now. I think.

Before all this, I felt slightly lost, but tried to look at the good side of things. I wanted to go wild. I wanted to mess around with strangers I'll never meet again. I wanted to be bad. I wanted to date, meet new people, pretend I have a vice or two... or four. I found myself talking to Jesse*. I don't know how things escalated that fast, but within weeks were... dating, or in some sort of exclusive mutual understanding. That was days after I left Miles. I was transparent with him, and I thought he understood my situation. Although I had always been interested in my relationship with him in another universe, or another time, I knew somehow it could never be on mine. We attempted that... we failed. 

Although it wasn't my fault, it was made to look like I fucked things up. Typical Jesse, actually. He blows up out of nowhere and you just can't figure out what sets him off. I thought he had finally grown out of that attitude. It is now clear to me that that's his nature... just as mine is I am unforgiving, and Miles is he's just uninterested, and dad's is he just thinks of himself/he's selfish. Jesse just finds a way to get pissed or upset at the strangest things. And he gets so, very, passionately upset.

He dumped me because I wanted to be selfless. I was thinking of his feelings, of his heart. I didn't want to hurt him. I wanted to do the right thing.

I hadn't gotten over my six-year relationship to my ex-fiance, and I had problems left and right. I told him I was broken, I told him if I wanted to deserve him, I had to be whole, and since he said we should take it easy, that I should slow the shit down, that WHOA MUHFUCKR I should step the fuck back for a sec, then he shouldn't be talking about getting me to move to where he is and living under one roof and marrying me. It freaked me out--yes, strange, those things usually don't! It did.

I also didn't like the way he played hard to get, like Hugh* did when he got at me and manipulated me. I now realize I do these things to Miles... all the time. Getting a dose of your own medicine never goes well... at first. If it teaches you a lesson, it's worth it.

I've become quite the optimist. I have to be... for my loved ones.

Uh, going back... after the dumping, I focused on work and other things, and when I finally tried to reach out to Jesse again, he made a snarky comment about how I "just didn't feel like talking to him" two weeks after our last conversation. I figured that he obviously ignored me on purpose. I was disgusted, but since I wasn't trying to chase him the way he wanted, I decided to slow down even more. I figured he wanted to be chased, and I didn't want to. I wasn't going to give him that because what he did to me made him unworthy. I saw Hugh in him and I was correct to never chase the guy.

A few years down the road, and if he changes into a better man (like Hugh) and I happen to be single, I might.

Well, because Hugh changed. He's less of an asshole, though still freaky/creepy, and getting less and less genuinely interested in me. Probably happens when you slowly realize you'll never really end up with the person you're in love with.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is why two people who used to have romantic feelings for each other can never truly be just friends, except in special situations.

In my case, men will only stay interested in you as long as they can get you. If all you want to be is friends with them, no matter how many times they swear they have your back even when you don't end up with them...

...it's horseshit.

5. Friendship

I'm also trying to trace my friendship traumas to find ways to fix it. One of the reasons I'm introverted at the moment might be the shallow, selfish people I am surrounded with everyday since high school. I've always had trust issues and I never get to keep good friends for a long time. I also barely see or hang out with the ones I'm close with... and they're what, one, two people from high school?

It's a problem because I long for companionship. Gross, did I really say that? Lilith v.23.0 wouldn't even dare mention her weaknesses! Then again, I'm the latest, upgraded version! I am better!

Acknowledging your demons is a good thing. You have to find out next, however, how to deal with them. All my personal issues are interrelated, so I need to fix them one by one. My desire for relationships with friends that run deep would affect my personality, my drive, my mood, my passion. I could be more successful, more confident, see more of the world, save those who need saving, cry less, be happier if I had more and better genuine relationships with friends. 

I don't know where to start here; I think it all begins with myself. I think the current reason why I repel people (which is the problem) is that they don't give a shit about me. They don't give a shit because they're not interested in my shit. They're not interested because my shit is all negative. My shit is negative because I'm just generally sad. Because nothing really great happens in my life. Because I am demotivated. Because of my past traumas.

An ex-boss said you will have an AHA! moment and figure out how to go about things when you run out of answers to the question "WHY?". That's what I think I should do to fix my bullshit.

6. Self

I need to figure out who I am, and what I need to do. Funny how fateful meetings with blessings in disguise (hello, close friend (would you let me call you that?) who I hung out with overnight just weeks ago, and 40-something inspiring writer/artist/biker I just met!) trigger you to do something big: I'd like to call it PROJECT U (U as in you, and U as a Southeast Asian word meaning 'to progress') in my case. 

When I find out what I want to do and do what I want to do in life, I'll be better. When I'm better, I can project better to other people (Miles, or, realistically, potential partners out there; relatives and loved ones; myself) and gain genuine friends. 

Unfortunately, gaining friends and partners means grabbing their attention the way an effective advertisement does (via interest). I guess I just have to accept that humans will always be selfish and unconsciously consider this question: "what's in it for me?" before they even commit (be friends with, go out with, buy, spend time, effort, etc. on) to something/someone. 

Fortunately, there are people like me who know this, and we can help others realize this, too. I think the end goal here is, when all is well with me, to help and save people in any way I can.


Wish me luck in this new project. Help me, God. Help me, Universe.


Lilith

--

*Code name/s

February 14, 15, and 22.

Today is Valentine's Day, 2015.

I have stayed for almost a year at my job. That, I consider an accomplishment, as it's been so hard to look for a good job you like, much less tolerate. To be honest, things are still confusing where I work because of the company transition. So many people are laid off and so many leave on their own too. The rest are on their toes. It seems only top management can really keep their head together--they know they're almost indispensable.

I feel mostly disrespected at my job. Yes, the people are approachable and you can ask for their help and they will help you most of the time. However, I feel like second class. Actually, in the eyes of the higher ranking employees, I feel like garbage. Sometimes I feel like I'm being treated and viewed as garbage, too. I don't really blame them for thinking that way; this isn't Agency life. This isn't PR. I feel demoralized here (it was much worse in my second job, though). People like to powertrip sometimes and put so much importance on the power of their positions. I can't do much about it; I'm seen as small fry. I know I'm not the only... "small fry", but I'm the only affected one. I know I'm not what they think I am; I can do so much more. Now I realize I'd rather be trusted too much, be given hard projects because they believe in me and because they know that despite how hard it can be, I can do it... than not be given challenging (not even the super easy ones) tasks because I'm considered "too junior".

Today is Sunday, February 15, 2015.

Anyway, I've had the most wonderful holidays for the longest time and today I am glad that I did. Miles* spent Christmas and New Year's Day with me and met most of the relatives important to me. Grandma really liked him and this time I'm sure she's sincere about it and not just being polite. We've had a few nasty issues when he was here that made me reconsider my relationship with him. I was so scared and I still am, but I'm just playing things by ear for now.

When we went to Boracay with my parents last January, he proposed to be while we were out sunset sailing. I've never loved an island before and I've never loved the thought of a vacation as much as I did after Boracay. We had so much fun, despite the island beingless than perfect. I had such high expectations that they weren't completely met; haha. Nonetheless, I loved it there. Nobody cared what you did or wore or who you were with... except us. We had started playing a game where we tried to identify golddigging women who were with foreign men. I'm pretty sure that we were identified as such sometimes... but I'm fine just knowing they had to take a good long stare or a second look because they weren't sure.

Now, looking forward, my parents and I plan to visit Miles' family in Florida in November. That was 10 months from when we considered it. At the moment, my dad is still not over it and freaked out a lot when we announced the engagement. I felt so bad for him; he was drinking and crying to my mom and I wish I could comfort him and instead make him see how it's actually such a good thing. He knows it is; he just didn't want me to be away from them—it's one of the things he hates the most. I'm sure mom was sad, I was finally at “that level” and ready to leave the nest. However, she was also taking it fine, so I'm confident she will be good for dad whenever I leave. I wish he would be happier that I will start a better life even when I don't see them physically everyday, because I'm finally starting to build my future with decisions that will make it significantly brighter and better.

I was looking forward to all that. There's actually more to what's been happening recently, but right now, the most pressing matter than stirred us around was the news Dad and I found out on Valentine's day, 2015. After showing signs of sickness for about 4 months, dad brought Mom to the hospital to be confined. On Valentine's day, I was scheduled to stay with Mom at the hospital. Dad was updating me on the procedure they were going to do and was telling me to hurry and come over. I was scared and hoped they didn't find anything, but hope slapped me in the face. They did find something, and it was bad. Dad took it... badly. So did I. No details on that.

All I can say is I hope the pain she's feeling will just go away... but we still have around a couple of days for the test results. For now, all she can do is bear with the pain, gas filling up her stomach. She can't eat or drink yet, so it's uncomfortable for her. But Dad and I have been doing our best to make her as comfortable as possible. We spoiled her with love and attention and support, with all our might. I haven't stopped and I never will. Once all three of us get through this, Dad and I will take care of her; we'll all take good care of each other from now on.

I stayed with her all day at the hospital yesterday and she was exhausted because the pain went on and on all day and it was such bad pain. I wish I could just take all of the pain at least; something, anything bad on her body that's been making her miserable so she can go back to being healthy and happy. That's all I want. I know I would be so scared of the pain and I wouldn't be able to take it, but anything's better than seeing my dearest loved ones in pain.

When Dad arrived late at night, he took over and I felt like I turned to mush from staying perfectly solid all day... and was glad I could somehow recharge or share the job with him so that we can preserve our energy and work together in giving them to Mom. But that night while I was sleeping/trying to sleep I heard things and I felt lost again. I knew I needed to be stronger, I am training myself, because it's not just for Mom but Dad too. They need me, and I need them. We will be drawing strength from each other so the set-up for now is for Dad and I to be strong, gather strength from one another and offer each other strength; then getting additional strength from our other loved ones.

Dad and I took a quick run to the house to grab a few more things and had time to talk on the way back. It was because my head was hurting so bad. I wasn't tired; even though I haven't been eating properly and sleeping. It was all the... feelings that have physically found their way up to my head. I was feeling faint and like I was about to burst after Dad and I left Grandma's house; so then I let it out on him. When he let it out, too, I was the first to stop to make him snap out of it. There were things he spoke about that reached out to me with the way he said them; we talked about each other's fears and hopes and dreams and I guided him towards planning for our next steps to keep him grounded. It was hard for me and I expected he would be the one taking charge but I managed to make him take charge with me. That's a good start.

I've been reaching out to friends and my close family members for words of strength because I don't know when the shock will leave me. But whenever I'm with Mom somehow I find strength and somehow I remain sturdy because I want her to trust me completely and rely on me. And somehow, I think she does. I now just need Dad to do the same, to be able to command the bad stuff inside her to get up and leave her alone forever.

I also talked to Dad about fixing my relationship with my half-sister. This time, for some reason, I was okay with it. I had always been against doing anything that has to do with her, but something about my dad's words was convincing this time.

It's February 22, 2015.

All throughout the day of February 16, my mom was in pain. Her stomach was so much bigger than the past couple of days and it scared us, because the stomach could burst. We waited in pain 'til noon because she was scheduled for operation in the afternoon of the 17^th. We went through so much and we were terrified over and over again because her stomach felt like it was going to burse and dark colored liquid was coming out of her stomach through her NGT. When she hugged my dad and I and told us to take care of each other, I wanted to pass out. I had been in contact with all of my relatives, including those in the UK and the US, and my cousin got in touch with her brothers and whoever she could get a hold of to donate blood to my mom. My cousin rushed here with his girlfriend and my aunt and uncle came along—thank God. Mom needed blood transfusion before going under the knife and the fact that we weren't getting any blood really kept us on our toes.

The doctor at the blood extraction laboratory was being a real demon as well. He wasn't accommodating, refused to take my cousin's blood because, according to him, it should be taken in the morning (it was morning...). My cousin got so pissed his blood pressure went up, and he got disqualified as a donor. My mom found out and panicked and told us to call this politician connected with the Red Cross. Thank God he woke up from the text. He responded quickly and my cousin drove to the RC to get three bags of blood.

When the surgeon arrived on the 17^th, he cancelled everything he had that day for my mom's stat operation. Dad and I were still scared because her red blood cells and albumin levels were still low and it was dangerous for her to undergo operation. We prayed hard and when my other relatives came, we were somehow consoled a little. My grandma was also there—she was so calm and awesome to look at. Her face was bright; and despite knowing what she now knows, she had a pleasant and peaceful demeanor about her. Before my mom went into the OR, I told her to focus on what she wanted to do in the future—to pick one thing she was looking forward to and hold on to it. I was talking about my future daughter. I told her to imagine a baby she was going to take care of.

When she went in, my dad started bawling again. I wish he would someday be brave enough to get a hold of himself... but I know how he feels, and I feel so bad about how scared he is. We went back into mom's room with my relatives and gathered there while we waited for the operation to end. My relatives were forcing me to sleep; I haven't had any because I needed to get my mom through days and nights of intense pain. I didn't mind at all and I wanted to; I wanted her to stay strong until we get to the next steps. When I look back on all of that now, I realize my dad was a bigger mess than I am... or mom. He's been all over the place and needs me just as much as my mom does. They basically share the same level of pain and illness; just showing it differently.

After over five hours, we got a call from the OR. They asked dad to come down. He immediately asked me to go along, and one of my Aunts offered to escort us as well. She knew. I'm so glad she and my other relatives knew my dad and I were at our lowest low and stayed with us. I cried so hard when they showed us the mass. I didn't look. I couldn't. I was scared of it. It was huge... no wonder my mom was in such pain. He said it looked malignant and the stage looks about 2-3. My heart broke for the thousandth time... I thought I was going to die. I was so afraid... to be honest I still am, and I think I always will be. I feel like I was running out of people, of things to hold on to. Especially hope. Yes, she was going to be okay... but what is the extent of that?

She was back in the room after staying at the recovery room for about 2 hours. My relatives went home after the operation. I was so grateful to them and I will forever be... they were such a powerful bunch... especially my grandma. She was inspiring. She lighted up the room.

I ran to anyone and everyone who sat and listened to me. I made a new friend; a girl I went to college with for four years but was never close with. All the while, they—but especially my new girl friend (Zoe*) and a guy friend (Ray*), both into their faith and draw strength from it—told me that God will save us. Call me a hypocrite for being so into modern, radical, New Age-y spirituality because now I am more Christian than anything else. I don't want to call myself that, though. I still feel New Age, but I am working on getting closer to God again and trusting Him with everything I have. I really felt that He was the one who got us through the operation, and the pain before that. While we are waiting for the histopath results on the 24^th, I have to believe that my mom is cured. She is healed. And that no matter what the future brings, God will provide and good will prevail.

Zoe went to the hospital to visit me the day after mom's operation. I thought it was really sweet and I felt so embarassed she went all the way here to see me. She brought two friends with her, both of those friends go to this assembly for a morning prayer near the hospital where mom's confined at. They invited me to go afterwards, which I would love to do, if only the place was more accessible. They were such strong women. They were going through things as well but they had the strength to pass on some energy to me... and it made me question why they were doing it. What do they get from it? Why would they pray over me? They were meeting me for the first time. How can they smile despite the heavy shit they were going through?

I always lose grip on what's important, every now and then—and that's my faith in God. I held on to Him, gave it all up to Him right before mom's operation—but it wasn't giving up. It was only then that my mom was relieved. I thought I had been lifting everything up to God before then, but I haven't been. The truth is, I was still relying on my own energy and power, and my loved ones'. Not God. I need to keep doing that, because I know that God wants me to. For some reason, despite how bad I can be as a person, I found a way to shamelessly cling to Him. I just knew He had already forgiven me and that He will take care of things. That's something my dad needs to work on—he feels so unworthy; he feels punished. He is afraid because he feels this is karma workin against him. Perhaps it is; but never mind that... what's more important at the moment is for him to accept himself, forgive himself and love and appreciate himself so that he would understand that God will be there for him. He needs to trust in God so that he can lift the weight off his shoulders and help me and mom get through this big challenge.

Learning that the sickness started more than 10 years ago and understanding exactly what caused it broke me again. Mom now explained in detail how she felt at the time (her world ended) and I don't know how I could've handled it. I would've ran away... but she stayed because of me. I keep on looking back on so many things that could've saved her, that could've made things different. There were so many instances and it drives me crazy knowing if only one of us pushed harder, things wouldn't end up this way. I am so obsessed with processes and looking back on what went wrong and what could've been done and it gives me headaches because obviously it can't be undone and redone. But now, I know what to do... at least for myself... if I can still save myself.

Keep doing what I'm doing and not change. At the first definite sign of danger, run. Don't stay. Don't look back. I won't regret that I am not sick. Nothing is worth it if you yourself aren't happy. Other people's happiness aren't your happiness—never. Your happiness is yours. If you are as happy as the people you love, then that is happiness. But you need to put yourself first—it isn't selfish—if you love your loved ones. How can you love others when you don't love yourself? How can you take care of other people if you don't take care of yourself? How can you make others happy if you're not happy? The truth is, you can't. Virtually, yes. But it's not real. It's not real if, while you're doing it, you're destroying yourself.

This happened and we can't turn back time to undo it, so we just have to face it and fight. Right now, we are still very broken inside, but mom, dad and I need to work from the inside out (starting with ourselves) to beat this thing. God will guide us every step of the way, and our loved ones will always be beside us, helping us. But real power will come from within. I believe that.

It pained me a lot when, at one point, I got upset because an aunt told us what she felt about the mass that was taken out of mom. Mom and dad saw me get upset and were crushed! Their BPs went all the way up and it felt as if, if I gave up, they will too. Now, I know. I can never give up. The reason they kept hanging on was because I was the conduit of all the energies we were receiving from all directions, including God. It put a lot of pressure on me, but now I have accepted the responsibility. I also mustn't let it bother me or stress me out. I was doing well; I impressed my parents. For the first time, I pleasantly surprised them with something I didn't know I had—strength. They suddenly believed I was capable of anything... their daughter, who didn't go after extracurricular activities, didn't get good grades even when she tried, didn't even try to be an achiever in anything... who did most things half-assed or halfheartedly or halfway and then just left them...

Yeah, they are right. I'm fucking useless in so many things. But now that I found out I have something strong, something special that not a lot of people have, I feel empowered. I just need to work on accepting myself more, probably, and trusting in God more. Yeah, I'm scared. Yeah, we're all broken. There are more bumps ahead and it won't be a breeze going through all this. But we have God. No matter what, we will fight. All of us. God is with us... we'll beat this thing. No matter what, she will fight. And she will win. I already know it. Victory is ours.

-Lilith

Lilith: warming up to my blog

When I was single, I had all sorts of art-related activities to keep my mind busy; distracted. Although, even then, I didn't constantly write poetry or draw, and I had little drive to take those talents seriously, I was always occupied (or preoccupied). Now that I am getting in touch with my old self, I remember how it felt like, about five or six years back. I always had a melancholic air about me... which disappear every time I was having fun with good friends or my close cousins and relatives. It was a lot easier to understand who I was, what type of person I was, back then, I think. Although I wasn't as open as I am now, I didn't confuse people so much before.

I still give people wrong impressions now. Just different ones. Much better ones, I guess? I don't really know. But I was attuned to myself a long time ago. After dating Miles* for a while, I forgot to look into myself; to converse with myself. I used to literally, silently speak with myself. 

"What the hell, Lilith? Did you really just say that? Ugh, yeah, I know, what was embarrassing, can we just forget about it? Listen to some music, that should help you forget! Right, I'll do that."

My older blogs even had comical portions that featured the three parts of my consciousness arguing/conversing. It's funny, and I could write endlessly, and with my eyes closed; I think, because I was so aware of my thoughts and feelings. I realize how raw my blogs could have been years ago when I religiously maintained them.

I've always been lonely, and I think this is the very first time I'll admit that. On here, an anonymous blog, too! I wonder why it's so hard to preserve friendships. It may be because it's hard to find friends that I actually like. There's always something that puts me off. I have friends that are so like me, yet their vast knowledge or their busy schedules or their fast-paced lifestyle kind of makes me want to take a step back. Sometimes, they really do matter to me, but I am just another random face to them. I've also been used by "friends" numerous times. These aren't even "friends". Jesus, I'm this old, and I still have trouble keeping company. What the fuck.

I have friends that are true soulmates, but distance and priorities keep me apart from them. I'm still happy we try to get in touch and we miss each other. I'm not sure how to take the changes in our lives, though. However, the fact that we remain friends despite the separation makes me feel warm inside. 

I know I can't depend on them, though; and they probably think the same about me. I'm not sure. The thing is, though, they're doing better than I am, and they're fine. I'm not, and that doesn't make me feel like a worthy friend. I feel like I got stuck (pushed back, rather?) in the past after the "big incident" with Miles. 

Blogging, writing, listening to music, watching films and series, reading, drawing, et cetera: these always kept me busy back then. I sometimes felt like I was forcing myself to do these things, and honestly, I don't go out enough. I think we've established that the reason for this is because all my real friends have moved on and it's difficult to find new quality friends (also: especially because I have left two jobs and didn't get to connect properly) nowadays. 

Despite having an active mind, I was constantly drawn to sad and gloomy emotions, situations, people, things... I think this really is where art comes in. I was so pensive. I wrote beautifully about the most insignificant things. I paid attention to very significant life issues and write extensively, intelligently about them. I was so gloomy, yet I was ten times funnier. How was that possible? How am I so boring now that I am more open, more vocal, less shy, more assertive and confident? How strange is that?

Ah. Of course. I gave all of this up for one person: Miles.

I used to hang out with my close college friends after school. But you know what they say: love is a drug. I got addicted to it. First, it was JC*--and a number of guys I was talking with, too, at the time. I was so into the fact that they might be into me; I guess it was because I needed a simulation of a relationship or dating (in order to write about it?). I wasn't ready to date anyone, mainly because I haven't found anyone who was that worth it, but I wanted to write about love and pain, and the beauty of sadness/loneliness that comes with it. I was so into art, so into love, I was basically in love with everything around me. Everything meant something, and I would write about it. Every small incident was a story. Everything inspired me. I was constantly daydreaming.

When Miles and I started getting more steady, I would hurry home, or wake up hours before I really should. I'd match my sleeping schedule with his so I could spend more time with him. I spent too much time with him and put him above everything. I'd rather stay home and speak with him that go out with friends or family. It was all about him. And somehow, I believed he put a lot of effort in making it about me, too.

But now that I look at everything--at us--from the very beginning to now--all those years--I realize that he only really had time for me because his schedule permitted it. If he had the option to speak with me while he was out doing something, he'd do it. But I really am... just an inconsistent part of his schedule. Everything--work, his health, his friends and family--else in his life goes first. I am just... something he squeezes into his sched. 

Meanwhile, I--

Picture this. I am working on seven projects on a big table: it looks organized, busy. Miles walks over-- "Hi, Lilith. Ugh, I'm so hungry."

In a matter of two seconds, I've swept all my papers from the table with my right arm, and grabbed prepared meals from under the now clean table, so we could eat together. 

Yeah, that's how I treat him. I'm never prepared for anything else in my life but him. 

I wonder why it hurts me that our goals are changing for the worse (for our relationship). You'd think by now that our plans are now more in sync, because we're getting older and more and more eligible for settling down. When he was red, I was blue. So I worked hard in considering being red. Now that I'm closer to being red, he decides he's going to be blue. Yes, I know people change, but why are things turning out this way? If I knew this was going to happen, that he was going to consider a future for himself without me, I would've just ignored him five years ago. I would have never let this relationship happen. 

The reason why I stopped going out, socializing, taking care of myself, doing art, BLOGGING, is because everything had become him. He had become everyone, and everything to me. My diary, too. Now that he's not around, I feel so uneasy... naked, even. Because I have nothing, no one. Before I realized it, he had become my world. I used to promise myself never to let that happen... with anyone. It isn't worth it. Well, I guess I taught myself a lesson well. I just learned it the hard way. This is something I will someday teach my daughter... at least there's that. Someone will benefit from this pain someday. It's okay.

My blog used to be.... mostly my everything. I wrote about my feelings, every single insignificant occurrence in my life. I stopped because I had him. I told him everything. He knew everything. And what do you know, he doesn't really tell me everything. What's the point?

Blogging feels alien to me when I first start writing after stopping for a long time. I think I should warm up to it again, because it helps... somehow. Crying and drinking and watching shallow movies have started to lose their effect on me. They just wear me out and make me uglier.

I wish I would never stop blogging. I don't think I have to commit to this a hundred percent, like I used to, with my past journals... but I hope I keep this one alive. I know it will keep me sane.


Lilith

--

*Code name/s

Lilith: the love mess, the work complication and the murky future

The future is either blurry or clear. When it's clear, it's fucking crystal. When it's blurry... fuck, it isn't. I'm fucking blind and can't see a thing.

Congratulations to me. I will have my three-month anniversary at work this month. I made it (?!). Heh. Here's the thing: three of my friends, who are from the same department, already left. One was asked to resign, the other two left. Two of them are my teammates... two of them have the same position as mine. In other words, besides the fact that I am the only one working under my boss, I'm the only junior professional in the department.

The set-up at work has been shifty. The original agreement was that I report to my boss, along with two marketing peers--we handle different properties of the company. We report to our respective outlets in order to monitor operations and to constantly find opportunities for marketing activities; as well as build relationships with people relevant to the outlet. Upper Management decided to call everyone back into the main office and make everybody report there, and not the outlets. It seems they don't feel like we are accomplishing anything outside of the office (false, we accomplish a lot when we are at our outlets).

About a week later, UM gathered all the marketing people and those from other relevant departments into one group and gave the integrated team a name. We lost our bosses; we now attend to requests from any boss and we don't handle just one property. Around... another week later, we gained our bosses back! But... we still have special projects when any other boss requests for it and it has been assigned to us.

After my friends left (with a bang!), some of us from the "new team" (plus another department) were gathered for a meeting with someone from UM. We talked about the problematic outlets and were instructed to pick one, as we will be reporting there from now on--to improve sales, customer count, average checks, etc. We are to stay in that outlet until everything gets better. We are to come up with marketing ideas and to monitor operations, sales, etc. etc., to make sure that the restaurants/stores would stop losing.

(The main office is way up north. The outlet I'm originally assigned to is in the middle of Metro Manila. I love down south... and the new outlet I've been assigned to is way, way down south.

It's been declared that the "new team" will be having meetings twice a week--this'll be held at the main office. That means I'll have to report up north for the meeting, and leave for the south afterwards. Take note: I don't have a car. I take trains and buses and shit. It's basically a 2-hour travel time, considering the terrible traffic all over Manila.

It baffles me that in first world countries, you can travel for miles, from city to city and it'll only take your two hours. Metro Manila shouldn't be that big... but it can take you up to 5 hours traveling around if traffic is really fucked up. That's how shitty it is here. Holy shit.

My bags are packed. I just need money to get out of here... seriously.

Anyway.) As usual, the UM person did not believe in my abilities and did not hold back in showing it. The UMP has been up a lot of people's asses for reasons we wish we'd understand... and apparently is the reason for the quick turnovers in the company. If I did not like my own boss I would've already found myself a new job a month ago and left. However, I started looking yesterday... nothing good in the market, really, but I'm going to actively look now while I still have some spare time (and offset hours to use).

I am not having a very hard time coming up with ideas--there are a number of them, but I'm not sure they're feasible. Thank God, honestly, that there haven't been any meetings this week yet. Apparently, the ideas have to be presented as a proposal with a supporting budget. I've been asking for help from... well... "relevant" people and they give me short answers that help, but not much. I can't keep guessing; if I fuck up everything will backfire.

I wish my boss would get a better job offer somewhere else... and that her partner would also get a nice job somewhere else... so I'll feel free to go anytime. I used to be able to explain why I can't leave my boss (I have a great boss--intelligent, talented, nurturing, protective, considerate, supportive... and I am greatly needed after my teammates left), but now, I really don't know. It feels like I'm staying because I want to be a good support system--and that is fine because I don't feel like I'm being used. 

I did warn my boss, though, that if my pride gets pissed on (because it's been trampled upon tons of times by that UM person. But hey, I'm still here because I'm tough [I think? Or I just need the job and can't leave!] and I don't want to leave my Commander-in-chief. 

I didn't see all this coming.

Miles* and I have found a way to fix ourselves; and because of our work/life conditions we decided to get married as soon as possible to make things easier for us. It was actually my idea, because the distance and the stress makes everything unbearable. I believed that living under one roof would be beneficial to both of us because I believed that having each other would help. I believed the distance did make us colder, and that if we closed that distance, things would get better.

How many times did I ask to break up with him in the past couple of months, and actually meant it?

Whoops, did I really mean it, because why do we still talk every now and then, and why do we start acting like nothing happened after every fight, after every "I-am-so-done-with-this"?

I think I've reached the end of the line, and have been lingering because I couldn't accept it yet. I think we've been over for a while and I refuse to realize it. 

I've lost every member of my support group. Mom and dad aren't counted, because I can't really bother them for that... they are permanently my first and last line of defense, but they just have too much on their plate. Holy fuck, I'm about to cry again, and for a strange reason this time: I can't take all this right now. I really need to curl up and disappear.

He promises not to yell, not to be impatient, to be respectful, to avoid being rude and mean, and breaks those same promises within the same hour. He promises to do something and only does it for a week, then forgets about it. I have to explain why I am short and snappy every single time I am, even when I've explained why a thousand times (too much stress). He does not try to take it easy on me or understand me. 

He will say the same damn things, but I can assure you my actions are justified... and most of his aren't--he is rude to me only because he hates me. He doesn't want to be understanding, he doesn't care about supporting, comforting, and showing he cares for me, especially publicly. I tell him everything I need because it's easier, than expecting him to know everything...... and he doesn't give them to me. He refuses to, he gives excuses and always has reasons, he forgets.

He is not romantic or sweet anymore. I asked for that, because I can be like that if only he can promise to be good to me. Nope. Never mind.

He doesn't exert extra effort for me anymore. No, Miles, staying up isn't extra effort. It's routine. We both do that.

Extra effort is doing something out of the ordinary every now and then. NOT RARELY. It's how you keep a relationship alive.

But no. Never mind.


God, give me the strength to move on from this if it really isn't meant to be. Give me the opportunity to grab so I can move forward and up in life. 



Lilith

--

*Code name/s

ATYT: Malicious blood relatives

Remember: when dealing with these types of people, recite the Miranda warning in your head. In this case, you are extorted by your human need for safety and security to remain silent, because EVERYTHING you say or do will be used against you for no particular reason.

I wonder if we are all related to someone who plants seeds of hate towards their own relatives, no matter how young or old, whether or not they have met, or no matter what the frequency of their interaction, for their own entertainment.

I also wonder where they get that attitude from. Was it the way they were brought up, is it in their blood to HATE HATE HATE HAPPY LUCKY AMAZING RELATIVES MUST BRING THEM DOWN THEY CAN’T BE THAT PERFECT

Is it their culture? Does it even have anything to do with them being relatives? Maybe they are just really spiteful people that have too much time on their hands. Or they are too insecure and unhappy with their lives that they can’t stand seeing other people happy... whether they’re blood-related or not.

I am unfortunately related to such relatives. I’m telling you, it’s not just one or two of them, they’re a large group. They’re basically a small community (I’m from a large family), with only one or two people that are genuinely nice, who I believe I can trust.

Fortunately, I have a bigger support group consisting of relatives as well. They are the complete opposite of Team Negatron: they congratulate you for your achievements, have got your back all the way, pray for your success and happiness, are pleased when they hear about your accomplishments, really, truly care about you, are affected when you are faced with misfortune, appreciate and love your company, oh, I could go on...

They’re another story (a better one, too), so let’s stick with the cancerous team. They want nothing but to make up stories behind your back, twist your words no matter how innocent they are (thus you can never trust them and must keep in mind that they are just professional ass-kissers), just to make things intriguing and interesting, they gossip A LOT, do not appreciate beauty, take advantage of your kindness, do not consider your convenience, are insecure and dangerously envious, Jesus, this could’ve been a shorter paragraph if I just enumerated the Seven Deadly Sins.

I always try to piece together everything I know about each and every one of these relatives to figure out what could have made them so nasty.

I get it: they don’t have the best childhoods. However, when you are over 21, you are responsible for your own actions and decisions—my mother always told me that. There is no excuse for bad behavior.

Why did they choose to be so negative? No wonder they get seriously ill when they’re ill. I’m talking about deadly diseases that they harvest within themselves out of so much hatred and butthurt.

Here’s how I deal with this sad bunch of garbagemouths:

1.     Avoidance. If they are my friends, followers, or whatever in any social media account, I make sure everything is private. Otherwise, I just don’t connect with them on there. I’m the same way offline, for my own (and other loved ones’) safety. These people get bored of their lives that they just need a little something about you to spice everything up with carefully-crafted intrigues. I keep any form of exposure to a minimum as much as I can—this is a must. Not to mention it usually works, and I am usually at peace, until...

2.     Acting professionally. My dad, being a good guy who believes in the saying ‘blood is thicker than water’, cares about these people no matter how troublesome they are. (But let me tell you one thing: good guy dad has been screwed over and over again by these people in many ways that no human being deserved. Dad’s forgiveness level: Jesus, because I’m pretty sure Team Negatron members are Judas’ descendants.)

To respect dad, we sometimes meet these people, typically during somebody’s birthday or holidays. I don’t ignore them—I greet them with hugs and kisses or fist pumps and ask them how they’ve been. I talk with them, albeit cautiously. I don’t act fake smiles or act excited around them, because I am not, but I try to be pleasant.

When they have questions, I give short answers, and avoid sharing feelings because of their habits to twist words and make you look bad. The key is to use all your positive energy to shield yourself from further scrutiny... or you can always act busy with your smartphone.

Sometimes, they will intentionally start badmouthing other people, usually somebody you know, in front of you. There are times they will want you to be their audience. I immediately hold a hand up and let them know I am not interested in such negative things, especially if it’s their victim’s business. I show them I’m not into sticking my nose into every goddamn thing, not at all. The stubborn ones just keep going and even solicit an opinion on the insignificant matter (whatshisface got somebody pregnant and now he’s broke, whatsherface is being a rebellious teenager) but I politely tell them that it’s none of my fucking concern, so I don’t want to hear it. It’s just the right thing to do.

3.     Acting smarter than you think you’ll ever be. This one’s pretty easy if you’re a smooth talker. If you’re not, well, shit. Run away or something. Pretend to have diarrhea, I guess. What I do is I try to give intelligent opinions or answers whenever I am engaged into conversation. They will still call you ugly and make fun of your mannerisms (as if they don’t have any) behind your back to other people you know, but at least they can’t call you stupid. I’ve learned this kind of the hard way. Good news is, they’re stuck in the past, thinking I’m still ignorant and sheltered, but they can’t be more wrong. I’m done being bothered by that.

4.     Being fiercely happy. If you can emit a light, do so at all times. Especially in pictures, because you try not to see these people too often. I can’t do that, though, so I just take many happy pictures. These evil witches will do everything to find some dirt about you so they will approach the people closest to you—friends, other good relatives, your parents. I used to hate having pictures taken, but I now welcome it, knowing that those little shits will never see me cry or frown or anything. I’m happily buying groceries with my mom! I’m happily having dinner with my parents at this restaurant! I’m happily catching up with my good friend! We love each other so much, we’re hugging! They’ll hate me more for it and they’ll be pushed to find some garbage about me harder, but they’re so butthurt that I really don’t give a crap.

5.     Forgetting. Believe it or not, unless somebody talks about them, those evil relatives are basically nonexistent to me—no shit. I will never forget the year that I forgot I had this one relative—know how I remembered her? She made up some story about how I was lesbian and had a girlfriend (she also used to tell my dad I was suicidal... which I’ve never been, LMAO) and told my dad (unfortunately, even when he’s a generally nice guy, dad doesn’t seem to always be ready to give his best daughter the benefit of the doubt), and the misunderstanding, in turn, alarmed him. Thankfully, we have Mrs. Otrera, who will never in a million years believe that I could kill an ant. An exaggeration, but you know what I mean.
I don’t mind having the notion that about half of my relatives don’t exist. There’s a reason I’ve never been close with that lot, and that I spent the most awesome time with a bigger, better set of relatives—it’s because I wasn’t meant to be a bad fruit. No matter how much those shitheads insist that I’ve always been a rotten kid and I will grow up to be nothing, even they know that those are wishful thinking.

Doesn’t this make me sound like an asshole? It probably does, but I’ll never be as bad as they are. If they were the tiniest bit nicer, I’d be a fucking saint. A cherub, even. They’ve tried to make my parents’ lives hard, hated on my mom and I for no reason other than we’re better, more sincere people than they ever will be... or that we’re simply different from them. We don’t have so much hatred in our hearts. We try to see the best in people, even when it’s hard to, sometimes.

I only have one message for those nasty relatives: take care of yourself—a black heart will kill you.

Lilith