by Shirley | Nov 25, 2015 | Life
It seems that this blog has taken on the responsibility of chronicling my almost-daily woes of writing my academic papers and it’s sort of apparent that there shall be more in store pertaining to my dilemmas. Today, as I have initially resolved to continue moving forward with this task (and eventually end it all), it seems my agonies still have the upper hand onto perpetuity. Indeed, it has become so uncomfortable that my anxiety attacks are now getting more frequent by the hour.
Just right now I decided to read all my resources for the nth time but for some strange reason nothing comes to me… again. Perhaps it has something to do with the anxiety now or that my agitation concurrently morphing into something more severe but all I know is that I could not make sense of anything no matter how I try to peruse everything onscreen, let that of touching—yes, touching!—all my borrowed books. It is evident that my body has begun reacting indiscriminately towards anything that has got to do with writing a paper, and all I need is to calm down. Of course, I needed to breathe in and out: the usual prepping up for a more pacified state of mind so as I could breeze my way through the task. Next would be the talking-to-myself mind resuscitation technique whereby I have to incessantly condition my brain through personal locutions worthy enough to be mantras in themselves. I have to talk my way through a task, say, “conversations” that should dissuade me from feeling discouraged so as I may strive to move forward “and win”. If all else fails, my next move would be to spend time away from what triggers all such perturbing sensations: I would stand up, go elsewhere to recline or maybe eat; and this would I engage in for a handful of minutes until such time I’d feel ready enough to face the turbulence of being busy and busier. (more…)
by Shirley | Nov 24, 2015 | Life
Still, here I am, stumped with a paper and I have class tomorrow. Not so much because of that in which I have decided to skip attending for tomorrow’s session but because my brain seems to be so dead tired from thinking and absorbing all the wreckage that is my screwed up paper. And I need to finish yet another due on the same date (November 27, a Friday). So talk about complications.
A meltdown was already apparent last night that my hands were getting clammy and my feet getting cold, with a redoubling of anxiety that water has become bitter to me. Hence I tried to message the nurse-counselor that I have been in correspondence with for sometime now since everything was going haywire, with the knowledge that I could do something unthinkable again like harming myself in a fit of either epilepsy or the bipolar. Inasmuch as I was getting stressed to my core and shaken to my bones, breathing itself has become labourious with my head unable to take in all the amount of information that needs to be processed. I wanted to make sure about why these symptoms were occurring so I resolved to message the counselor on Facebook. I wanted out from the mess. (more…)
by Shirley | Nov 20, 2015 | Life
Actually, I thought I’d be giving up blogging for good because I don’t think I have something good to offer but currently it seems I am seeking it foremost because there are so many things about it that posting on social media may not fulfill. In fact, yes… and a thousand of reasons as to why.
Of course I won’t go so much into the “thousand reasons” for it but on the main points I’ve been considering as to going back to blogging (more so on a free webhost; that would be a different story) is to be more spontaneous in my written accounts of what I feel and do at a particular moment. In the past, I have been decrying losing my writing prowess just because of not being able to use magnanimous terminologies anymore at all so as I could get my message across (I was so used to that in the past, hence my circumlocutory manner of my compositions). Right now, I realised I have been more matter-of-factly, straightforward with less of the grandiose lexicon since–I believe–my brain processes currently detests all of the frills that go along with complications. I am not getting any younger; in truth, 9 more years I’ll be forty. With that, I don’t even think that going in-depth with all the terminologies would ever matter so much, as long as I could get my message across. Damn if the words I use can get redundant that much.
So okay. The reason why I am writing this is because I merely desire to convince myself (and you readers) that writing is not synonymous to metaphysics or that one has to generate an equally sage-like attempt at life’s quandaries in order to type away–scribble, if you will–words. It’s better to let it all out, keep all inhibitions at bay, and meditate on the fact that one’s endeavours at writing can be cathartic in themselves. Actually, as I write this, I am embroiled in a highly frustrating situation that I cannot help but consider venting my thoughts out on social media–which has been a usual praxis of mine except that I have avowed never to do so again. Social media can be very cruel and judgmental, so… it’s best to post all the happy thoughts in there to inspire and not let others’ emotions dig their way into the dumps. In any case, though, I am not saying that all evil must be unleashed through the blogging platform; what I would like to emphasise is that one’s trail of thought can be equally redeeming in the end, whether one would deign post about one’s mishaps or the latest book that had thrilled the senses. There is something about writing a full-length piece about life’s struggles that make melancholia reflective and catharsis, edifying; and all these are priceless.
So, in light of my “blogging comeback” and my current debacles about research and report writing leaving my emotions desecrated enough for not complying on time (hey, I had to deal with a week-long illness that had been equally stressful), I just feel privileged to have a comfort zone of some sort—a place on the world wide web where I am free to recount my own take of the everyday hustle and bustle. In the midst of everything, I know I can always have a refuge of writing my thoughts away such that I may be able to let go of all the frustrations embedded within each passing moment.
Like right now.
And it feels rejuvenating. No doubt about that.
