Life won't wait.

At past 3am I have finished two romantic movies. Both on love and life.

I spend twelve hours at work, come home, spend some more hours working mails in between, and then watch a movie. Life,that is mine.

"Sometimes, life doesn't turn out the way you plan it," said Sandra Bullock in While You Were Sleeping. For someone who just got married and now living away from the hubby to work abroad, life isn't near as the newlywed planned it.

And so in the middle of the report I was doing for my meeting later this morning, I re-think about life again. Most people would just say you can't have everything you want. I have come to realize though that I can't have all that I want, but I can choose the things that matter.

I kill my precious time worrying about the insignificant. The death of my dad has thought me that everything can change at a snap of a finger. It's terrible that I seem to have forgotten about it.  I go around like a headless chicken, not knowing where to go. Like a robot who does things -- the trivial kind.

In the middle of this desert I am reminded of the uncertainties, of life's impermanence.

Life won't wait for me. Time goes on. I must get my life back.

Secretly I pray for life to wait for me, even just for a little. February, wait for me. 

Burnout

WARNING:

This will be full of rants so if you don't need any negativity, stay away. And I wont even say please.

Today was exhausting. And I would normally avoid using the word "literally" due to its redundancy, but what the heck, it is fitting.

My body has not yet fully recovered and it's as if the world has forgotten that I have made my plea to be excused from this -- the earliest possible time. Isn't health a valid reason to go? Try drinking four medicines per day and tell me how that feels?

I wanted to scream at the top of my voice. I wanted this world to stop. I want to be alone. I want an escape. I want my body to cooperate. I want it to be okay.

So dear Universe, please cooperate. Because a few more months, and I will burst. For real.

What dreams are made of?

Someone asked me to take a piece of paper and write down my dreams and goals. He said I couldn't decide so hastily now, my future is at stake.

And so I did.

I was surprised at how easily I wrote the following without hesitations:

1. Become a good wife
2. Become a mother
3. Become a business woman/start freelancing, using the talents God gave me
4. Build a house for my family
5. To serve God as husband and wife

And I stopped there. Here I am, miles away from my husband, at the peak of my career, writing about things which cannot be done in Qatar.

Years ago, I told Mama that I'm not gonna get married. I'm just gonna bear a child (say wut?) and be a career woman. I thought then that success = office career and money. But ask me again today, and hear a different answer. Amazing how experience, age and wisdom changed me. Praise God.

The above are goals that challenges myself -- dreams that are beyond my comfort zone. But they bring a smile to my heart now...

To bond with my husband and not just to clients.
To be called a mother and not just a manager.
To have a place called my home, and not an accommodation.
To really call the shots -- to successes and failures of my business
To have a balance of both family and work.
And most importantly, to serve God with my brother-husband

I am scared to the core. I have always been so sure about myself, until the last few weeks. My life has changed since the day I said I do, and okay, the health scare. I am no longer the star of my show. I'm learning to be selfless. I fear the uncertainties, of the future that I am trading in place of what I have now. Of course I worry about money, career, the opportunities. But this is what love did to me. It allowed me to take risks, to trust, and to believe the many things the Lord has in stored for me, my husband, and soon our family. For the nth time, I shall be threading an unknown path, but like the previous experiences, I was never alone. Because God has my back, plus factor pa that I have the best Pakner.

Dreams are made of simple things that glorifies God. Here's to praying mine makes Him smile again.

Musing of a Hypertensive Diabetic 30 years old

"What could be a more serious disease? It could be cancer. But even that can be cured nowadays," said someone.

How dare you. How dare you think my hypertension and diabetes as petty. How dare you tell me that it's only about will power. How dare you tell me not to tell my mom or my husband about my condition, because prayer won't help. How dare you.

Angry, I was more than angry.

Few weeks ago, less than a month of being married, I found out I have Hypertension II and Diabetes II. On top of that my cholesterol and triglyceride are also very high. And I found out about it when I arrived back in Doha early this month.

When you are 30 and recently married, alone in a foreign country, surprised with that news, the world becomes a little bit smaller. Well at least thats what I felt. I was angry, depressed and desperate. Could be in denial too.

Memories of Papa came rushing in...and I was scared. Happy snapshots of my wedding day, and the anticipation of possibly conceiving this month came to mind, only to be replaced by the question 'what happens next?'

What happens next? What to do? I do not have an answer yet. I do not even have the energy for anything now. And prayer, is something that I have to go back to. I'm sorry Papa God. Please give me time.

For now, take away my anger please.

Ps. I know really the answer to 'what's next?' I am jusy quite slow to getting back on track. Bear with me.

Looking through my Papa's eyes

Last 16 April, my family commemorated my father's two years death anniversary. As a busy OFW, I planned to go to church and failed. My mom and sister visited him at the cemetery, while I ended up lighting a candle for him at the back of my house.

As I await for the candles to burn out, I traveled to my last memories of Papa. You see, I will not be in Qatar if not for him. While he was not so keen about me going abroad since what I have in the Philippines is really not bad, he supported my impulsive job hunt by giving me leads. And when finally I had an offer with the company I now work for, he was the one who read the contract and reviewed my offer. He said ok, and I was ok. Three days before he died, I told him that I will not work abroad anymore. I was just waiting for my work visa then. Lying in the ICU bed, he opposed the plan and promised to wait for the day that I return after my two years contract. He promised that we will still tour the Philippines and eventually abroad together. It was the first broken promise of him that I can remember, and I will be forever brokenhearted.

But now he is gone. And I am, like how we was before he retired, an OFW. Suddenly, everything made more sense now. What he sacrificed to make me, Mama and my sister's life comfortable is more real. It is shameful that while I appreciated everything then, it is only now that I completely understood what his sacrifice meant--his whole life.

I am single, and this past two years is the only time I felt that I really worked so hard. I was never into expensive things or gadgets, nor bags and clothes. But I would admit that to a certain extent I still feel that what I have is never enough. And so I thought of Papa. He used to go home yearly to us with big balikbayan boxes. We always had the latest toys and gadgets, the latest appliance, which my mom never uses. I struggle completing two balikbayan boxes! How did he do that? I can only imagine.

Sometimes, at the verge of despair, I wanted to just pack my bags and go. The stress can be so much. And when I do that, I confidently say that I have nothing to lose. I can just go, pay for my bond, and go back to the Philippines. I think of the times that maybe my Papa felt the same. But unlike me, he can never just go back home, as he has bigger responsibilities -- house mortgage, school, food etc etc... I go back to the time when I was big enough to understand that he was having a hard time with his boss, I listened to his whines, but witnessed how he sustained, and painstakingly finished the contract. He did it, for us.

I remembered that day I had to bring myself to the hospital here in Doha. Alone. I told myself to be brave because I had no one to look after me. I wondered how many times Papa fell sick and we were not there to take care of him. I bite into my chocolate everyday thinking that this was how Papa got his diabetes, and then stopped my sweet cravings just for a day of two. I think of the time Papa calls us once a week and writes to us consistently while I send a message to Mama once a week as well despite Viber. Shameful.

I am writing this blog at my favorite coffee place. Today is Papa's birthday and I decided to celebrate it. Here in this corner nook I fight the tears as everything seemed to be still unreal. Papa has taught me lessons and it is more meaningful today. He was my example of strength, faith, and of selfless love. I am proud to have gotten from him my simple ways of living, and I hope to be generous like him too.

Papa, while I know that things will never be the same again, I will continue seeing the world through your eyes, ensuring to live the life that you have always wanted me to have. I will go to the places we plan to go together, and the person you have raised me to be. Mama, Candy and I will always bring honor to your name. And while I will change my last name soon to the man I believe is so much like you, I will always be a Camingawan and my kids will be raised like one.

The barista in this coffee shop sings a song which coincidentally captures this moment. Happy birthday Papa. I love you with all my heart.

"Sa bawat pag-ikot ng ating buhay
May oras kailangan na maghiwalay
Puso'y lumaban man walang magagawa
Saan ka, kailan ka, muling mahahagkan
Magkulang man sa atin itong sandali
Alam ko na tayo'y magkikitang muli
Hangga't may umaga pa na haharapin
Ikaw lang ang mamahalin..."

Dear Kuya Barista, please stop singing the song na. Iiyak na ko ng bongga. Bow.

And it all came back to me.

It's amazing how songs can bring back memories and emotions. Today at work, I (almost) watched a student sing "I don't want to miss a thing" by Aerosmith. Upon finding about her song choice I worried that I might lose it.

And I did.

Blame it to that movie Armageddon. That tear jerker flick never fails to make me cry 'til now. That same song, is the song my sister and I sang for my Papa's eulogy. At that time, we felt the lyrics were made for us and captured our feelings for our dad. Today, I relived the pain, the love and the journey. It felt so real and fresh as if it just happened yesterday.

And so the loser that I am now, ran away from the music and found myself writing my gut out.

In a few months time I will become a wife. Since my fiance is a musician, I requested my bridal walk to be the same song. It is my way to honor my dad, who will never see me wear that off white dress. I will never hear him complain about how long it takes for women to dress up. I will never hear him bully my mom about her make up. Or go to me and say that I'm like a "bella" with my red lipstick. I will never get a chance to see his nod of approval or his shy smile that always says, "I'm proud of you Ate." I will never get a chance to have my Papa walk me down the aisle.

Yes, he may be watching over me and smiling that day. But it is never the same. Never the same.

On the day of the wedding, I pray for the strength to hold it together.Ironic how my big day can be the happiest and well, 2nd to saddest, day of my life.

I pray for the day when the tears will stop flowing when I hear that song. For now, let me just take my time to mourn.

Join me shall you?