What a blog title! How are we all doing? Who am I talking to? A lot has happened since I wrote on this blog. I got married and I’m pregnant with our first baby. I’ve put aside cooking and photography for now, instead I’ve been busy taking everything as easy as I possibly could. Haha. More on that in a few.
Tomorrow, the 29th, is Papa’s second death anniversary. A week ago I have finally returned to Bislig to sell Papa’s house. It’s been a long time coming and letting go of that house has been both bittersweet and relieving. In the two years that the pandemic has prevented me from coming home, thinking of that house has become a heavy burden, a reminder of things that I should have finished doing a long time ago. It’s also a reminder of Papa. However, as time goes by, there’s really no point in delaying the inevitable. I’ve lived so far from that house, and I have come to terms that whatever I do or whatever that house stood for, it won’t bring back my father in any way, shape, or form. This is the part of literally letting go, and it feels good to do so.
These days, I face a new set of things. For one, I’m pregnant. I let that sink in. I’m 18 weeks along as we speak. The first few months were brutal. I didn’t expect pregnancy to really be that physically demanding especially in the first stages. In January, I have lost all will to move. I found myself lying in bed, wondering if I have imagined this absolute lack of energy, fearing I might be in this situation forever and ever. I stare at the ceiling, feeling all the feelings and not wanting to move an inch. The only thing I could surmise to do was read. My mother, my sisters, and my mom friends all told me it’ll all get better soon come the second trimester. And they were right. Thank God, they were right!
Except for my growing belly and constant state of bloat, I feel relatively okay (fingers crossed). I have regained some energy. I don’t find fragrant smells as repulsive as I did early this year. My feet are firmly on the ground without feeling like I’m aboard a rocky boat on a stormy day. I cry less often. I take more regular baths now, thank God. But I worry. I constantly worry if my baby is okay, if what I’m eating is okay (because I eat whatever tbh), if the ongoing and upcoming tests would come back okay. I realized now that from here on out, I will be in a constant state of worry, and I better get used to comforting myself and surrendering to things that I cannot control. Good luck with that.
And speaking of things that I worry about, I have re-acquainted myself with politics. That’s an understatement, really. This coming elections, I will vote for the first time (yes, the very first time). These are the moments when I wish my father was still alive. We would have so much to talk about, especially now that I have regained some form of care from years of shameful apathy. Is it any good for my mental health? Not really sure. All I know is it has made me think and ponder on the past and the present, the things that connect and divide us, and how we often forget that most of us all want the same thing—a better life for us and our children. I’ve attempted to write loosely about my thoughts on the current political climate, but I have yet to finish anything worth sharing and not just another gratuitous rant because, frankly, we don’t need any more of those these days.
The best I could do right now is educate myself and flex more empathetic muscles. It’s disconcerting to continue living these days—with the war, the absolute disregard of history, rising oil prices, fake news, and impending climate doom—but as this blog title says…