10-25-14

Disclaimer: This write-up is lifted from the poem of Kait Rokowski “A Good Day”.

IMG_20141025_174515

The past four days I’ve attended a conference,

got lost with statistics, but I met new people,

talked with the “big” names in the academe,

and sat with a pretty lady who finds my voice “conversant” in English (I was blushing when she said this).

Last night, I was looking for a dress to wear,

got frustrated so I pulled all my clothes out,

had a hard time choosing between black and brown,

I ended choosing the brown one.

And I learned a new way of wearing a scarf “kimono style”.

Today, I woke up late at around 9,

forgot to drink water after waking up,

I just lazed around, slept some more and read a book.

Got up to dress myself up,

I felt pretty.

I didn’t forget to buy my sister a paper lace for her cake,

went to the bank to withdraw,

walked down the street with my chin up and back straight,

rode a tryke and a bus and motorcycle.

I went to Pili to host an event,

looked for my mother (she was gorgeous in her dress).

She was delighted when she saw me finally there.

I showed up.

I didn’t do it for the church (maybe a little) but for my mother,

I hope I am being a good Christian for loving my mother more.

I was surprised seeing familiar faces,

old women I was with in our church,

it pains me seeing they’re all with grey hairs and wrinkled hands.

I hope to grow old with grace too just like them.

Old ladies kept on hugging me and kissing my cheek,

I felt smothered but I let them,

felt good seeing people seeing me again.

I went home,

rode again a bus,

bought food because I forgot to eat the whole day.

Adrenaline pumping made me survived the day.

I ate, felt full and tired,

called my sister to check whether mother and my nieces arrived safely (they did).

I fell asleep,

and when I woke up I was surprised with the quiet.

I can only hear the tapping of my keyboard, the swirling of the fan and my heartbeat.

The quiet feels good.

I talked to my boyfriend already and apologized for being silly,

I’m lucky to have him.

I would be scared if I lose him just because of pride and because I’m petty.

He virtually hugged me.

Today was a good day.

Yeah.

I showed up, and didn’t disappoint my mother,

went outside and run errands.

I boarded public transpo,

and now I’m writing again.

For a long time, I was plagued with anxiety,

I was constantly on edge and felt breaking,

I wasn’t able to do these simple things.

People thought I am lazy (maybe I am), or anti-social, or no fun,

but actually I was hiding.

Hiding because sometimes the fear seems so big and I can’t breathe.

But today, I did this little things.

Things, maybe for you sounds mundane and banal,

but for me they meant a lot.

I did something for my self today.

I’m proud of myself.

Bet my therapist will be proud of me too.

Ah, today was a good day.