I am glad to be able to get up from bed alive this morning. I am thankful to get to this point, considering what I go through each day.
Am I happy and contented with my life so far? To be honest, no -- I wish it could be something much better.
But what good is regret? For the most part, I choose to live in the now. I know my life is wanting in so many respects, but if I focused on the things I don't have, I'd end up wallowing in self-pity. I choose to focus on what I have instead.
As I look back at the more than five decades of my existence, I can say for certain that my life has been rich in another way, which is a great consolation. While it's true that I have not been rich in the conventional way -- being happily married with kids, with a successful career, and so on -- I have become rich in experiences, in the breadth and scope of knowledge I have accumulated, and the many unseen benefits of both, which is largely about appreciating life in all its splendor. If only in this regard, I have been blessed much indeed.
On top of this, if I take into account all the answered prayers to all my past supplications, it would be much too ungrateful for me to complain.
My life now is a far cry from what it used to be, but I have chosen this path of coming back home from the big city, and I don't regret that choice.
It used to be that my typical week in Manila was characterized by novelty. It meant watching a movie, preferably a well-regarded one or an arthouse film, or watching a play, always with friends, of course, going to somewhere I haven't been, whther alone or with company, buying a new book and/or magazine and reading it, eating something new, listening to new music artists, and having other activities that were a form of entertainment and discovery to me. Watching concerts was rare, but I had that, too, from time to time.
Now, it's the opposite. I have practically become the ascetic or the monk, or worse, a recluse due to my illness. I am constantly torn between accepting and 'fighting' my mysterious anxiety and phobias -- which until now I couldn't figure out, and this part of my struggle is straight out of a Haruki Murakami or worse Franz Kafka novel. If there's someone who wanted a way out of it, that would be me.
Nevertheless, like I said, I don't feel like I miss my life in the city so much. I would welcome the occasional treats and jaunts in the outside world (I mean, the world outside my comfort zone of home and workplace), but I don't exactly yearn for them like when I was younger.
Any dose of novelty I needed was more than enough anyway -- they are just one finger-tap away in my smart phone.
My state of mind now is more like that of a senior citizen, I would say, which is funny, but true. Since I am a survivor and a make-lemonade-when-life-throws-you-a-lemon type of guy, I take this incredible challenge as an opportunity to suffer for God, to atone for my sins at least, if not for others, "to fill up what's lacking in Christ's sacrifice," to put it Biblically. (I have never fully understood this passage.) If this means doing purgatory here on earth, then at least that's good news. After all, I have had my fair share of life's wonderful treats. How many more do I need? Furthermore, on top of so many stories of answered prayers, I even had an experience or two of miracles. As journalist and long-time survivor of stroke, Margie Quimpo Espino or her husband (of Philippine Daily Inquirer), was quoted as saying, "How many miracles do we need?"
Sometimes, it still saddens me that I am unable to do many of the things that used to be second nature to me, but I guess I need to constantly remind myself not to dwell on what is lacking or missing.
I am particularly thankful that I can still hold down a job and I am still able to write and enjoy the process. And I am able to write about a lot of things because I had varied experiences, and naturally I have a wide scope of topics that I can confidently handle. Looking back, I have been able to live my life despite the limiting circumstances I had to face (material poverty and the personal issues you wouldn't believe), and this is the time of mining it for material.
At 54, I still pray for healing, but I also pray for strength and wisdom in how to continue my journey in this atypical life at this point, because it is quite an extra-challenge for anyone to have.
May God have mercy on me and favor me further with blessings I don't deserve as proof of his fatherly love for me.
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