I remembered this song a couple of nights ago, lying in bed and feeling exactly that: idle with despair.
It has come down to this. That once again I question the purpose for and value of me being where I am. That the regrets I've been keeping at bay are suddenly creeping up. I had never been so desperate and internally out of control sitting at Starbucks sipping java chip, as I did early this week. I wanted to throw the chairs all over. It didn't help that the movement around me indicated the ever constant and steady: people walking hurriedly to work, that guy routinely ordering ham and cheese croissant like he does evey morning at 830, girl with uber straight hair and delicate face holding her morning cigarette. It's as though everything was working perfectly, except me. Of course inside these people, something else may be lurking, a criminal, or some insanity raring to burst out on that sunny-rainy morning. I hardly think so though. At that moment, it certainly felt like I was the only one helplessly struggling against the current, trapped in my little box full of mental toxin.
I'm clearly not stable. But hey, I've never been.
So what's the problem? The problem is What If. What if I hadn't taken on this job that I have now, and continued with my project work instead? What if I had spent my summer preparing for the board instead of, well, not preparing for the board and missing my chance to take it? What if I had stayed strictly on track instead of deviating from "the plan"? What if I had followed my heart and sought adventure and uncertainty, instead of falling back to what I thought was safe and familiar? Which turned out to be the opposite, by the way. What if everything was different?
Well, what if? I'm actually tired of asking this question, knowing that any response of any variation all boils down to "wala na akong magagawa, nangyari na" and "ang tigas kasi ng ulo ko."
And because matigas ang ulo ko, I've been igniting brain cells to bits overthinking the petty. I'm writing here when should be sleeping, thinking about the what ifs and their possible impacts on my future. The question moves to What Would Happen Then? and What Now? My head is running from Past to Future and back again at breakneck speed, spinning and falling at every turn.I am foolishly welcoming a head-on collision with the unstoppable and undeniable - time. Time has actually become a hazy concept, except for the very clear recollections of my personal mistakes and missteps. Time. You can never go back. You can never redo or undo. What did Rhea use to say, after everything fell to pieces? Don't look back. No regrets.
Regret is a nasty word. Regret clings to you like a leech, poisoning you little by little. It's a monster. Up until this point I have had a couple or so regrets: that I allowed myself to "fall in love" with a guy who ultimately broke my heart, that I didn't take Math seriously (I'm serious), and well, I can't think of anything else. In retrospect, of course, I wouldn't have changed a damned thing. Because getting hurt taught me a ton of things, like being a better partner and waiting for the right guy. Because being crappy at Math made me realize what I really wanted to do (and I'm not as bad at it as college made me out to be, promise! I actually like it, which is to say I appreciate the concept, just not the computations haha).
Anyway, looking back years after, I find that I have no regrets after all. Cliche as it may sound, those things in the past have made me a better person. Right up until the second half of this year at least.
Does this mean that the churning feeling in my tummy today will, years from now, be just a happy, nostalgic thought? Probably. Does this stop me from being miserable today? Hell no.
"You worry too much," says Mark. Yes, yes I do. I'm a worrywart. The worst, praning kind. And I've run out of good paintrushes so I can't paint to calm my nerves, much less save my remaining threads of sanity.
So I sing.
Hands (Jewel)
If I could tell the world just one thing It would be that we're all ok
And not to worry because worry is wasteful and useless in times like these
I will not be made useless
I won't be idle with despair
I will gather myself around my faith for light does the darkness most fear
My hands are small, I know, but they're not yours they are my own
but they're not yours they are my own
and I am never broken
Poverty stole your golden shoes but it didn't steal your laughter
And heartache came to visit me but i knew it wasn't ever after
We will fight, not out of spite for someone must stand up for what's right
cause where there's a man who has no voice there ours shall go singing
In the end only kindness matters
In the end only kindness matters
I will get down on my knees and I will pray
I will get down on my knees and I will pray
I will get down on my knees and I will pray
My hands are small, I know, but they're not yours they are my own
but they're not yours they are my own
and I am never broken
My hands are small, i know, but they're not yours they are my own
but they're not yours they are my own
and I am never broken
We are never broken
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's mind
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's heart
We are God's eyes
God's hands
God's eyes
God's hands
We are God's hands
God's hands
We are God's hands
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