My first job after college was as exhausting and mentally-draining as the one I have today. Whereas I am thankful for every single gift I have, I also do not lie about getting in the phase of burnout. People knew about that.
Having health issues has not had escaped my life since I could remember. Up to this day, I still have not lived past these struggles. Yes, I fight every single day to keep my body well but despite the effort, I fail. If efforts aren’t enough then what is?
I honestly do not know.
This kind of rundown that has plagued me lately drove me to reconsider several options which I may have to dig seriously. I have learned to like my job but I am pulled at the other end of the string by seemingly forgotten dreams that still make its way to rekindle my love for another art, for another universe besides the fast-paced corporate world. In a time when it is my body that now demands this issue to be addressed, I cannot anymore for any reason validate an alibi why I can’t make up my mind.
Nine years ago, I was in the same dilemma. I was made to choose between career and health. I choose to stay alive. The months following that decision was the hardest to reckon while the reality of being jobless slowly kicked in. Barely three months later, I settled into another nook doing not what my profession demands of me but something I loved doing. It was a work that incorporates my love for reading and books and still be able to earn for myself a decent sum.
Had I said yes and not left that first job, I probably wouldn’t be here today showcasing my incompetence in decision-making. Had I acquiesced to the persuasion of my kind boss, I probably would have been dead by now. And I am not exaggerating.
That incident in November of 2006 that left my roommates panic-stricken for a few hours, it could have ended a true tragedy. Until today, I apologize for what I have made them to feel. If only I knew how exhaustion should be dealt at that time, I could have prevented that remarkably hilarious and shameful incident. But it was a serious call that neither my mind nor body was able to contain… Over-fatigued for a few months already and I ended up forgetting I was still alive.
That feel of a warm hand touching my forehead while everyone was screaming my name which I did not hear, was the only evidence that I was still alive. While I was unconscious, that touch made me realize one thing. You are only alive as long as you are able to feel. Whilst in that state, I didn’t hear anything despite all the chaos, the screaming and the crying, the ramming on the wall, on the door by everyone who were able to witness my apparent downfall. It was the only tangible thing that told me I was not dead yet.
I am thankful I made the right choice of setting my physical body free at that time. Today, I am bound to set another freedom-fight. No to being a Hitler to your own health.
Perhaps, I need another sabbatical to reconsider the path I may have to lead from here on…