Itchy Wounds

I can't believe it still hurts. That one particular injury still hurts like hell. I remember how hard I cried and how long I stayed down; how much help I tried to get and all the things I had to do just to get rid of the pain. Lo and behold, it still hurts.

I understand it takes time to heal broken body parts and some kind of therapy is involved. I exercised the weak muscle caged within my chest many times. In fact, I even tried to carve in more injuries and wounds just to mask that throbbing pain but it still hurts the most.

I don't even know how to use it anymore. Its useless and I just want to pull it out of my chest and just stop trying to fix it. I need a new heart. Someone please give me a new heart.

What I Deserve

040609 12:08am

I have never had to prove myself when I was younger because I have achieved academic excellence at a young age and have shown artistic talent, an early feat that I consider now as my burning stake.

The high expectations or the anticipation of my failure is probably due to the same standards I have set on myself. Smart. Strong. Proud. My innate sensitivity and fragility that only those close to me have well observed are inconceivable precisely because I have pushed myself to achieve beyond what is asked of me, be it in school, extra-curricular service and presentations in general.

Although more forgivable than criticism, it is the lack of forgiveness itself that I reflect on this holy week and on my son's 5th birthday. And for those who I have known to know m feelings best, it is with humility that I succumb to my own family's mercilessness. And for those who take time to read my thoughts, I hope that this much explains the truth of my heart in spite of how lightly I appear to handle it.

I am sorry I have failed you all. If Mio is a failure at all--him growing up to be an ordinary shy boy who loves robots, vegetables, drums, draws me love letters, remembers heroes, history, math and have shown reluctance to a father because I was enough. Why is it that since five years past I have had to endure endless criticism on my character? I know I should be more grateful that you have all accepted me and welcomed Mio with so much "love" but if I am going to have to be the center of ridicule each and every time I try hard to reach out and make up for the heartaches that I have caused, then your love is no different from any of the men I have introduced and you so despise because you break my heart each and every time.

I know we were built to be so judgmental and we find it amusing that we are so, but it hurts to realize that I am not amused, rather I am ashamed already. Why should I be let down when I am no different from our uncles and cousins who have children out of wedlock or cousins who have married because of early pregnancies only to fail at marriage? All these at one point are struggles and all of have strived to correct our mistakes, be better people amidst our circumstances and I was never ashamed of any of these loved ones. Is it because my character is strong and resilient or should you call it reckless and unsophisticated? Is this why I have to endure what we all actually deserve? Me, on behalf of all the shame that we have in this family?

I never thought that my uncles or deserved to be ridiculed or that my cousins had to concern themselves of what we would say about them, not just because they were older than me. But why do I remain to be a disappointment? Have I not been a good relative? Have I not made you proud at one point in my life? Ever? Have I not been tirelessly trying so hard to be a good mother? Do I even have to prove myself to you of all people at all? I am thankful that in spite of how you all really feel about my slip, you all love my son. But I really hope someday I can earn your respect even if I am not old enough to because with all this pain, I just might to last long enough to actually be old to deserve it.

I really think I do though. Remember me form when I was little and how you adored my because of my good grades or my humor; remember how I carry our name to be associated with talent every time you read of or watch me; remember me when I was the sweet bunso or when I volunteer to do as much as I can just to make up for a mistake I did not cause on you in the first place and just try to love and respect me again if you ever have at all.

Let me tell you that as much as you hope for me to find a man only so the  world can reverse the shame I have cast on our name, it begins with me. Not from another man and so no, I do not need to be with anyone if that is the only valid reason why I should want one. Or maybe it should start with you. I am not pitiful because I am a single mom. I am not irresponsible all my life because some idiot got me pregnant. I am not stupid because I choose to take risks. I am not proud to have to prove I can be a mother on my own but it is something I do because I know I have to raise a child and live up to a family like you. Some strangers even find it to be an achievement, what I have done so far. Don't you realize though that the only approval I need from the world is yours because you guys matter the most?

Faith in Love

Where do I draw the will to have faith in love, Lord? You? If I must find You within my heart, how come it feels broken and shattered everytime I try to reach deep into it? Why does it feel like that in spite of the strength of my spirit?

I cannot bear sitting across a love I had lost and the betrayal staring straight at me no matter how long ago it was. I simply cannot. Not because I am weak or intolerant but simply because I do not deserve that presence before me unless it was a mutual apology or them begging for my mercy.

There is a difference between missing people and simply remembering them. The former is something I keep in your heart. The latter is one that stays in my memory and no more than that.

Since neither can be called love then, now or ever--there is no faith recluse of that. But the memory of it is the only thing close to how I believe love is and can be. Then perhaps, the kind of faith I seek is beyond what I have known in my life and have yet to find somewhere else beyond my broken heart.

Tell me where love is so I can pu my faith where it should be.

Of Vertebrates and Invertebrates

Mio opened his back-to-school week with a rockin' report on mammals (yes, nursery students study science like they were in grade 4). I tried to simplify his report with a simple script he amazingly memorized overnight that went something like "dogs, cats and hamsters are mammals that live in a farm.... the giraffe is the tallest mammal, the cheetah is the fastest mammal..." yada yada yada.

This week they moved on to more in depth topics like the diets of mammals and the different kinds of mammals. To my surprise, he comes home with new stock knowledge --

Mio : Mom I like vertebrates because they're animals that have backbones and hearts.
Mom : What animals are vertebrates then?
Mio : Lions and cats. And people Mom!
Mom : Ok... so what are invertebrates?
Mio : hmmmm..... maybe turtles and snakes.

No wonder Mio doesn't want to have a daddy ;p invertebrate kasi.

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Sorry, I've been dying to say it out loud to Mio so I decided to humor everyone else and just blog what was at the back of my head throughout that witty conversation with my son. :T

Manufactured Feelings

According to real close friends, the last time they saw me in love was back in 2001.
Regardless who I've been with in the span of eight years, it seemed I was only fooling myself.

The first time though that I was happy for no reason but myself was just last year, 2008.
Happiness, so I've learned, "is free when you lose your mind" or simply just a state of mind.

All that drama was just that. Drama. The feelings were more like reactions. Over-reacting at that.

One of my best friends was ranting earlier that she hated feeling guilty of all the feelings.
This friend of mine, like most of them were built to be rational and mind-driven.

I told her, 'but how come guilt seemed to be the only feeling that involved reason or conscience?" When you THINK about it, most feelings are just that.

Anger was mostly made up of selfish irrational physical expressions;
Sadness can be brought about by the most natural things like PMS or something that everyone's entitled to once in awhile;
Happiness is mostly a burst of adrenaline brought about by the simplest things for no particular reason.

Guilt is a feeling you cannot reproduce or demand of someone. I just realized that now as I'm typing. Interesting... It is a thought that only a higher kind of knowing can push from inside. Its the most genuine form of gut feeling.

Pain is another feeling altogether. I have yet to understand how it transpires but I know it too well to know that it doesn't equate to frustration, annoyance or disappointment. Not even anger. It just hurts. Its not a gut feeling. But it resonates all over your senses. That's quite a feeling.

Ironically, I'm smiling at the thought of knowing all these about feelings. Truly, mind is way over matter.

Its pointless but I had to write them down anyway. Perhaps you can create some feelings out of this. Either way, its elating to realize that imagining these complex human traits can be mind blowing. The mind and the heart working together. That's a start.

The Wonder That is Mio

I've been spending a lot of time with Mio for the past months since the absence of a yaya. I a complaining in some ways because its just not possible to accomplish work, make money and do the household chores let alone minding your child's business all at the same time.

But in the midst of a chaotic non-existent co-parenting scheme and post-depression, I must say that the rewards are truly marvelous.

The irony is that I'd have to reach a peak of annoyance before the blessings become more apparent.

For instance, one morning while cramming to check my email and waking up on the wrong side of the bed (not to mention a messy house), I pick on Mio for the most trivial things related to him. "Why are your toys makalat?" "Why are your crocs there, where are you suppose to place them? Put them in your shoe rack!" And you know what my adorable son replied to my bickering?

"Thanks for reminding me, Mom."

In between doing the grocery, buying tools to fix furniture in the house, taking and fetching Mio from school, doing bank errands and attending meetings in the office.... (phew! Even typing it left me short of breath!) Mio squeals at me "I'm annoyed now Mom! Coz I'm tired!" So impatient me asks impatient boy, "so what do you want Mom to do, can't you see Mom's having a hard time too?"

"I just want to lie down and embrace you Mom. Come on lets go home na to the condo." And as soon as we rode the cab, he positions himself to lie on my lap with matching kiss pa on my leg.

While working on the computer he'd usually do his own thing beside me. He'd try to be rowdy sometimes, getting my attention by tickling or pronouncing words in odd vowels--one rowdy playtime he accidentally dropped a huge toy on my already injured toe and I ignore him completely. My son stoops down to kiss my toe and says, "sorry Mom. I kissed it so the owie will go away."

And just now, home from doing the grocery and sitting on the floor after washing the dishes, I notice a toy by my perfume shelf (its a small fetish of mine, it even has a plate in the middle where the current favorite and a candle rests) and ask him annoyingly "what is that candy container doing there?"

"It's for you Mom. Its a surprise. I was supposed to put it while you're sleeping."

He meant he wanted to put a marble on my plate while I sleep. You see, my son thinks I like some of his marbles because I lazily placed one on the plate when I found a piece lying on the floor. :T

And finally, yesterday while I took a nap in between cleaning house, I woke up in a sudden blackout only to realize that my son's nose was centimeters away from my face. He wanted to kiss me while I was asleep.

How can you not fall in love with my son, right?

Transitions

this didn't make it to the Mendiola article deadline but I hope my relatives still find it to be a good read. Theme of last year's annual reunion article was Beginnings and Transitions so I thought this might be apt:

How I Lived Through My Firsts

by JAYPHEN MENDIOLA

I think by now you would know of how much I've grown—as a person, as a relative more attached, grateful and closer to most of you, as a daughter, sister and even as a career person. My transition to all this was not smooth but it happened in full grace, all at the right time.

Moving out was one of my proactive efforts to contribute to my growth as a mother and in Mio's crucial childhood. As much as it pains my parents I know that I have to beg, borrow or steal to fully navigate the ins and outs of this blessing bestowed upon me.

It wasn't all pain and suffering, you see. I'm way too blessed to even begin feeling api in any way whatsoever. And it all starts with being grateful and appreciating the things I've had all this time.

I begin to wonder how I should start pondering on firsts and beginnings as my contribution and I can't help wonder how my writing could be of help or amusement to my family.

It isn't much of a bother to realize that “whoops! my blog has probably spoken well enough for me. Too much in fact.” Bu then again, I ought to stick to the theme.

On Being a Mom

I always say that when I got pregnant, I had no idea of how it was gonna be like and how I'd make it. But it was as if Mother Mary was praying over me overnight and the next thing I knew, I woke up and had the wisdom of a mother (or for all you know, my Mom was probably praying over me while I sleep!)

There's no good way of putting it but to start on the right foot.

Most of the Moms in our family probably learn it the hard way but who doesn't? It was difficult to imagine having to raise a child on my own but it was probably the happiest days of my life.

Seriously. My whole pregnancy, I fondly recall to be exactly that. What with all three baby showers and being spoiled by the Areneo (not a typo! teehee) was way too overwhelming. But I'm not saying any of you should go through that. (Ako unang sasapak sa pamangkin na tutulad sakin!)

The first time i held Mio, I felt scared that I didn't feel anything miraculous. I was scared that “what if they handed me the wrong baby? Did anyone see this infant come out of me?! Anybody?!” There was an uncertainty that only faith can reassure me of.

I guess the point where motherhood begins, is when you leave it all up to faith.

You trust that your child will grow up to be a good person because you cannot hope for anything less and all you can do is make sure that you do not compromise what he can have and learn; you have faith that you are led in the right path with your best intentions laid out for the world to notice so that you can provide for him everyday; you fear that if anything happens to you, your child will lose the only thing that holds him down to the ground.

If there's anything a first hand experience would move me to say, its that being a mom is nothing comparable to any task you can claim. And you begin to accept that your own parents were right. And you regret that you never were able to treat them right.

So hopefully through this writing, all children in our family will reaffirm, if not begin, to appreciate our parents who have gone ahead of us and those who are still with us. Its never too late for parents to get that from us. And besides, its not like we can repay them for anything they've done for us in the first place.

On Moving Out

Its the most stupid thing I've ever done.

So if you can stay in your parents house, stay there! For as long as possible!

It was a thought I had in my head that I never had the resources or the time to entertain until I put Mio in the decision-making. We walked past our building from the office when he noticed the place and asked me, “is that our condo Mom?”

I had never lived anywhere else besides Filinvest 2. Unlike my siblings, I never had to live in a dorm. I woke up everyday at my Mom's embrace while she drags me to the banyo with my timba filled with hot water; I came home to dinner and the cats surrounding the table with matching pasalubong from Dad; I had my siblings to turn to to wrap my books or drive me to the clubhouse for anything and all my friends were a stone throw away from my house.

But being a single parents didn't make it easy in spite of the fact that I know my child is safe and well taken cared of. I had to work twice as hard enough to make money that usually two people do. And it didn't help that the nature of my work was lugging around a metallic make up case or a maleta of clothes and shoes for a shoot. When I couldn't get away with using the company car (which is mostly the case especially for rackets) I had to take the cab which costs at least P250 one way. It also wasn't helpful that no matter how early I start working, I end late and all I can do is lie down for an hour, take a bath and kiss Mio goodbye (or the other way around).

This isn't how Mio should be raised. My parents were doing a fine job at disciplining him and spoiling him simultaneously (go figure) but that's the point. They were doing it and I wasn't. I didn't want to be the resentful single mom who would one day spat at her son for working her ass off everyday and grow old not knowing her own son. I didn't want Mio to resent me for working hard. I owe it to Mio to be happy, that's what I always say. And moving out would explain so much about who his Mom is and what she does. And cuts down the time we spent apart.

Moving out too has taught me so many things in a span of six months. There is a reason why the norm begin in a cycle of two individuals meeting, falling in love, getting married, building a home and having children. Because it is ridiculously difficult having to build a home and work at the same time all by yourself! Ridiculous! If I wasn't built to be open about most things, I still wouldn't have a ref and plates and pots and pans I literally asked for (do not do this yourself, not recommended for anybody, ok?)

It was hard to run a household. Period. Budgeting, planning the grocery, bothering about every spec of dust, making sure my son is fed well and safe.... the first week, I wanted to crawl back to my parents' bedside and cry because it felt like I was a rat living in a condo. I felt so poor and alone until I was ready to present Mio with a decent home and put him in the nearby school.

But to see Mio enjoying every second I am home for lunch, for dinner or to take him to school and fetch him—or even the fact that he now understands what work I do and that I have to leave when I have to (because most of the time I work from the house instead) is worth every hardship it took to build this semi-home away from home. He is more confident and he likes a lot of my friends now and I am sure that he knows his Mommy loves him, he respects me as the head of the house and I can put my foot down and tell him how things are done in our house. That's enough for me to live on now.

On My First Heartache

I have come to realize was indeed painful. As I grew older, actually just recently, I've come to decifer the difference of disappointment and frustration over pain.

My first heartache was masked under a naïve perception of love. It was a throbbing kind of pain from the inside, screaming its way out and shattering everything that felt good inside. It stays there until the memory of how it was inflicted on you blurs in your mind. And then once in awhile, you are reminded of the pain because you are now stronger and hopefully wiser once you remember.

Know the difference of a heartache from frustration. As any stubborn Mendiola would know, it really takes a lot of scolding to realize what's good for you or not. My first heartache was silly and nothing compared to the last, but each time it hurts, it comes in waves that just take me by surprise. One I wouldn't want for any of my nieces or children to realize.

Stay close to those who really love you. It takes awhile or a really big blow to decifer who will be there—like when I got pregnant and each time I cry over a boy. But it is well worth it. And let me tell you that it is during these times that you know you only have a few (thankfully our clan is made of at least 80 people, so few for us means a lot already).

If there's a crisis that takes you back to your first heartache, look further beyond and you'll see that no heartache feels greater than the warmth and the joy of having a family for you. Go back to the first Christmas morning you remember. That's a thought I'd like to hold on to.

So the firsts and the lasts in our lives may be less cause for a celebration but the life we live together—I've come to learn, is worth everything to be thankful for.