I found myself in a very precarious state of mind the other day. Recently, I’ve been thinking about the things I’ve missed over the years while I was in the dark. Among those was having a family. Or, at the very least, what a “family” is to me: being with someone for an extended period of time. A lover. A soulmate, if I was so inclined to use that them. I did believe in such things when I was younger – destiny, fate, soulmate – that sort of thing. The things that are beyond our control.
And then I got jaded. I became a cynic. Whether the depression had a hand in it, I can’t say for sure. But, as it has become my credo recently, “it is what it is.”
I can’t help but wonder “what if,” though. Hence the previous post about the timeline adjustment. And as for that precarious state of mind? I was in a reunion of sorts. A friend of mine from back in the day, Arianne, extended to me an invitation for her son’s first birthday party. Those who were in attendance, aside from her family – mother, siblings, aunts and uncles, husband, – and other close friends, our college friends were also there. The usual sort. Saki and her family, Marsha and her boyfriend + unborn child, Crystal. Each has made a family of their own. Marsha’s on her second child. Saki has two. Crystal’s leaning towards having one already. And Arianne, of course, has one.
I’ll be honest, one of the reasons why the what ifs that day gave me a minor anxiety attack (didn’t need a Xanax, thankfully. I was already sleepless and groggy) was that Arianne was someone that I had strong feelings for. One of the few that I’ve ever invested parts of my heart to. Many many parts. But I digress. I’m over the heartbreak from the olden days. I’m over the feelings. The feelings are gone. Non-existent. I’m truly happy for her that she’s found her soulmate. They met on a plane, for crying out loud. If that’s not fate, then I don’t know what is.
Anyway, I couldn’t help rethinking, and this is because my mind is much clearer now and very different, that perhaps on another life, the father could be me. Or I could be in attendance with a fiancée. I could be in attendance with a wife and a baby. I could be in attendance as a (sometime*) happily married man with a wife at home taking care of a sick toddler. *let’s be serious here, odds are that a happy marriage is an alien concept in my life
I was jealous of the people around me. I was jealous of where they are in life. Because I should have been there already. Or could have, rather, had I sought treatment a lifetime ago. I’m an exceptionally late bloomer and there are times when it gets me anxious. Thinking about it makes me want to rush everything, every aspect of my life – my career, my romantic life, my passions, the things in my mental bucket list, the beauty I could create, etc. – that I forget the one thing I promised myself when the meds settled in: to enjoy life for once.
I’ve made a mental list of all the things that puts a dent on this new life of mine. The negative outcomes that I didn’t foresee when I sought treatment.
Things like how people will start thinking that I’m not the same person they knew because I’m starting to remove the sheets of depression over my whole being. Who I was before, I’d like to think that that wasn’t really me. That wasn’t my ideal version of me. And everyone around me has gotten to know that person, has gotten to believe that I was indeed that person. They’ve gotten used to that person. And when I do something quote unquote uncharacteristic, they’d say that I’ve changed. They’d say that I’m different.
Things like how my mind sees the darkness differently. This is a rather dangerous line of thought, but I’ve wondered if I can fully harness the darkness this time. Yeah, that’s gonna lead me down further into insanity.
Everything’s so different now. And I’m terrified. I’m better now. A different person from who I was, and the things that terrify me are equally different. That’s while some of the things that once terrified me still creeps up on me from time to time.
New terrors. New demons. A new kind of shadows.
I should’ve planned for this.
In other less depressing news…
I made a list of my dream jobs about ten years ago. One of those could finally happen this year, if the universe ever manages to throw me a bone on that one.
Dream Job No. 2 – Music writer
I’m one of the freelance photographers for the website When In Manila. I haven’t really done anything for them as I haven’t found an assignment on the WIM Google Groups that I fancy. To paraphrase an expression, “photograph what you know.” Most of the photo jobs there are for food or product reviews and launches. A few weeks ago, I saw something online that aligned with my interests. It was a concert poster for the 3D Danao Dancel Dumas anniversary concert on the 19th that I bought a ticket for, and among the media sponsors is When In Manila. I did not know that when I bought the ticket. Anyway, to make a long story short, I posted in the WIM Facebook Group if someone was already going to cover it. There was no one yet, so I took the initiative and volunteered for the assignment. Both writeup and photos. I’ll be getting a ticket and an all access pass. For free, obviously.
I’ll have to submit the article 24 hours after the event, though. It’s doable since I’m already familiar with the players and the history of 3D. In fact, I already have a mental draft of the article. What worries me, however, is that my writing style doesn’t jive with the standards When In Manila has set in place. It’s gonna be my first “journalistic” piece, after all. But I’m up to the task.
That could be the beginning of my career as a music writer.
I’ve always maintained that I can’t do both photography and being a musician. I still stand by that fact. Songwriting requires a much different discipline. You’re not only writing songs. You’re creating music and you’re living that music.
Being a photographer and writer? That I can do. That’s within my capabilities. I’m already living in my writing, even in the fictional ones. I’m already living in the photos that I take. Creating words and creating photographs flow easy for me.
Am I giving up the musician life altogether? Not really, no. I’ll still do the occasional gigs here and there when it’s for a special occasion. But as a career? As a way of life? That’s a life that I was only supposed to live in for a short period of time. It was the universe’s way of bringing back the passions I thought I’d lost.
I have a gig lined up on the 13th. It’s a tribute event for the TV show One Tree Hill. When I was asked to perform, I didn’t know that fact so I said no. When I discovered what it was for, I said yes. Fuck, I had to say yes because…well…that’s for a different blog entry.
I have tons of blog entries to write. I hope I could get them down on digital paper before they fade away.