Where did my voice go?
This hit me last Sunday, August 28, as I sat inside the Ballroom
1 of Raffles Hotel in Makati City, listening to authors young and old featured
in the session “Stranger than Fiction: How Real Life Shapes Stories” of The
Philippine Writers and Readers Festival 2016.
I couldn’t have wished to be in any other room that day. I
was put there for a reason.
Because as the authors explained how they write to express
themselves—be it in poetry, essay, chick lit, etc.—I came to the realization
that I had stopped writing for myself.
It might sound selfish but no. Opening up had become
so difficult for me now.
To think that when I started blogging back in college, I was
always so carefree and feisty. I would write whatever it was that I felt and
post it for the world (wide web) to read—or not read. It did not matter. What
mattered was that I have released my thoughts and emotions through written
word.
And then I graduated and entered the real world—ha! Talk
about cliché.
But you’d probably tell me: “You are a writer. What’s the matter?”
Correct. I was a lifestyle reporter for the oldest newspaper
in the country. To finish Journalism was one thing, but to actually practice it
was another. I was living the dream.
For five years, I enjoyed everything. Every little bit of
it, I am grateful for. The hardships, the teachings and trainings, the people I
met along the way.
But in journalism, I was always telling the stories of others. I devoted my all to it: time,
energy, creativity.
That was when I lost my voice. That was when I have kept
myself to myself.
So read me now as I bare myself and reclaim my voice.
Last week, I bumped into one of my favorite columnists. She
told me afterwards, “You are always so positive.”
True and false.
For those who have known me long enough to actually know me,
I am generally a happy and optimistic person. But because I have already formed
this image to the public, I sometimes portray this image just for show.
Because in the past year, I have gone through some of the darkest
days of my life.
Still, I would show up smiling and laughing. Don’t get me
wrong, if I acted as such, then I meant it. It’s just that I very seldom and
shortly reveal that defeated part of me.
I would just cry at night, and then manage to be better in
the morning.
But what was the cause of all of this, clearly there must be
something?
Back-to-back heartaches. Whoa!!! Viola!!! O yeah.
Nagulat ka ba? Sana naman! I would get disappointed if
not.
Kidding aside, I had thankfully managed to pick my heart back
in place. Unfortunately though, a tinge of paranoia was left. Sometimes, I get
scared and confused as shit. Such restless heart, indeed.
That’s just the way it is now. My only resolve is that happiness
is a choice. And I will still choose to be happy like I have always been.
***
Hopefully, in my next essay, I would be talking about
something more meaningful than sugarcoats and heartbeats. Like how it’s so
difficult to live but so easy to get judged as a woman in the Filipino society?
#Soon.
