“That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.” Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
After reading this, a particular day from the past came crashing into me, flooding me with a parade of memories.
About 10 months ago, one ordinary day became extraordinary for it changed me and molded me into what I am now. The good, the bad, the best, and the worst, all of that, thanks to that night on the 25th of October, year 2011.
It was a Wednesday.
Five days before that day, I was giddy and feeling like the happiest person on Earth for celebrating my very special birthday with my friends and loved ones. I was so happy I could die. Unlimited smiles and hugs, warm greetings, unexpected gifts… everything seemed perfect.
And then five days later, I literally and figuratively felt like dying. Someone very special to me, left. I let go and he did, too. The heartbreak felt so real that it wasn’t just my heart that is aching, it was my whole body. I felt every ounce of energy being drained from me. It is the kind of pain that you wouldn’t really want to experience again.
Looking back, I was in the point of breakdown then. I’ve been such a gloomy person for days, weeks, months…. I’ve been a cloud to those around me and the mere thought of it is also killing me. I can’t afford to take someone’s sunshine from them, but whenever I feel the pain, I always steal it from those around me. I felt weak, helpless, and hopeless. I’m almost on the brink of wanting to die, but not to the point of thinking how. Suicide is not my thing.
I embraced the pain without even realizing it. I cried every night before I go to sleep and every morning when I wake up. I cried on top of a mountain, on the street, on the train, in the park, in my room, in the bathroom. I cried practically everywhere.
I also came to a point of learning how to pretend to be okay just because the world “asked” for it. I inhaled and exhaled pain. I mourn every morning and I hold on tight to my pillow every night. I did not deny the pain nor reject it, but I suppressed it and it did me no good. It only prolonged the agony.
Together with suppressing pain is suppressing love. I don’t know which is harder to contain. It’s like trying to hold water in your hand, but it’s slipping away, slowly… slowly… and gone. No matter how you try to keep it, water has its own way of releasing itself. So my salvation is through writing letters. I’ve written hundreds of them. Everyday, I’ve been writing my heart’s content and it’s been successful in alleviating the love and pain I’m feeling. It helped in the releasing, but it also helped in containing.
Seems to me like a win-lose trap.
As days pass by, the pain becomes easier to let go. At least that’s what I think.
For now I can say that I’m okay with where I’m at and with what I’m doing: slowly picking up the pieces and trying to live a positive life. It’s been a blur for the past few months and although it’s still somehow sketchy today, I’m trying to focus on other things. Things that would make me happy, not gloomy. Things that would make me trust in life, again. And things that would make me trust in love, again.
The pain made me rethink on life and love. It also gave me a chance to re-examine myself, acknowledge that I’m weak and ask God for guidance and help. I’ve also met true friends along the way. Hence it is only necessary to call it a beautiful kind of pain for not everything goes to waste.
That one day, that Wednesday, is the start and end of my happiness and sadness. That day could just be an ordinary day but it turned out to be not. That day, is my one day.
Given the chance to change the course of things, and the memory to remember everything that happened with my first chance and my second, I probably would just have a bothersome time comparing the two, weighing the pros and cons, having regrets eating me alive. Although I have a few things I want to change, I know God placed me exactly at where He wants me to be.
I know everything happens for a reason but I eventually got tired of finding a reason. Sometimes it’s the least you can do for yourself. Trying so hard won’t fix anything, it might even get things worse.
My belief now is that time has its own time. And love takes time but it’s also not aware of time. So after all the things I’ve been through, I can say that this is still me. I may be bruised, wounded, and scarred, but I’m still alive and breathing. That one day may have forever changed me, but isn’t it wonderful for what seemed to be an ordinary day for others may be a very remarkable one for another?