I cry. I break down.
I read. I write. I pray. I run. I escape.
I breathe. I dream. I smile. I laugh. I live.
Yes, it was therapeutic. My healing process is. I felt the rush.
This is my now. This is me now. I picked pixie dust, kissed my morning dew, danced in the rain, and chased my rainbows.
Time heals. Indeed, I must admit.
I wept in sorrow.
I drifted apart.
I broke down.
I was lost.
I was numb.
I was in denial.
I was a total mess.
The pain was unbearable. My spirit was shattered. And today, I can proudly say, I was strong enough to surpass it all. I was strong enough to get back up and start again. I was kissing the ground, yet, I managed to stand up. This time, I took the wheel.
And this was my JOYRIDE…
Reading, in silence and in my own solitude, is a form of therapy. Books are my sweetest escape. I read and re-read Paulo Coelho.
VERONIKA DECIDES TO DIE.
“She had always spent her life waiting for something.”
“Veronika assumed an ironic air, smiled, turned and moved off so that no one would notice that her eyes were filling with tears.”
“What once seemed to her as a paradise, gradually turned out into hell.”
“No one should ever ask themselves that: why am I unhappy? The question carries within it the virus that will destroy everything. If we ask that question, it means we want to find out what makes us happy. If what makes us happy is different from what we have now, then we must either change once and for all or stay as we are, feeling even more unhappy.”
“..there is nothing worse than the feeling that no one cares whether we exist or not, that no one is interested in what we have to say about life, and that the world can continue turning without our awkward presence.”
Writing is a form of therapy. The freedom to write the rushes of thoughts gives me a different kind of joy. The kind of happiness writing has given me eradicate my sorrows, and as I scribble what I feel inside, as I let my emotions out. I speak the truth. Simply put, emotions do not lie. I scribble the silent murmurs of my heart.
Random thoughts. Random emotional outbursts. And at random, I just write. Hours of writing is my sweet escape.
Then I discovered the joy of running. Joining my first ever fun run has made me appreciate the rush of adventure. THE MILLENNIUM RUN FOR WOMEN’S HEALTH, 6th of November 2011.
I was excited. I was sick for weeks before the event. I had to rush myself to the ER a week before. Still, I get on my feet, went to my regular morning jog with friends. While everyone jogs, I walked. I took on my ipod, played my running playlist, walked my way through Upper McKinley Hill in Taguig. I ran. I walked. I was happy. The physical pain went unnoticed. I was just happy.
Woke up with raindrop’s patter on my rooftop. For a while, I was saddened thinking I won’t be able to run that day.
I did it. I survived it. I was happy.
I didn’t run to win. I just feel the joy of running. It was then that I had the time to have a peaceful conversation with my inner thoughts. It was then that I made a lot of realizations. In running, you do not run to escape, rather you run to move forward. And in my sweet escape, I run to meditate. I run to heal. I run to feel better.
I escape to a world of discoveries. I embraced life as it comes. Friends showed me what a beautiful world there is. I just needed to go out there to witness it, to live it. And there was I, starting to live the world I have forgotten. There was I, seeing the world I haven’t seen.
I dream. I smile. I laugh. I live.
Indeed, I survived it all.