I sat inside my hospital room, oblivious to the on-going activities that permeate the walls, the safe walls where I exist for the time being. For the longest time, I had been proud of myself for being able to manage my manic-depressive episodes. In fact, one of the reasons why I was able to hurdle the pain of losing my Mother was because of psychotherapy and cognitive-behavioral therapy.
This time, the battle is for my dream.
And I could not reconcile the events that surround me to my intentions and motivations, which is to finish my Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology. Perhaps, the universe is telling me one thing.
A few weeks ago, I received a comment, though indirectly, from my ageist Gen Z classmate, of how I was already old, but still I’m taking PE. I did not mind him, yes it’s a he. Because it was his first offense. But no matter how I’ve been trying to console myself that perhaps, he has a different worldview than I have, I felt a deep lingering pain. My deeply rooted rejection issues seeped through the surface.
For one, I was rejected as a child by my grandfather. There was a time when I tried to take my grandfather’s hand when I was in fifth grade, to “mano po” and he tapped my hand away. He’s already in paradise but the incident stayed with me and for as long as I could remember, it was traumatic as child.
Second, my classmates in grade school, when I transferred from Fundamental Christian Academy in Davao del Norte to Millan Elementary School in Guimaras, tried to make stories about me, and bullied me “mean girls” style because that person was the used-to-be first honors in class, and when I transferred, I was awarded the top spot in the class, plus a whole lot more of extra-curricular activities.
Third, when I was studying in the seminary, I got bullied for spending so much time in the library that I was called “library boy”. As a Red Cross Youth volunteer, who would administer first aid to sprained ankles of my school mates, I got called, instead of my name, a slew of other names that did not sit right with me. My intention was just to help. Why did I have to endure the name-calling and the bullying? Plus my motivation for spending so much time in the library was to learn, and to read.
The most recent discrimination and bullying that I encountered was because of my age. They probably felt unsafe that a 36-year old has gone back from the real world and is now interacting with college-aged kids. Am I a zombie? Do I look like a zombie? I mean, I have skincare routines that I religiously practice. And I also can afford facial treatment at Skinetics. Why should my age hinder me from getting my bachelor’s degree?
In my own perspective, the reason why I was hurt with the ageist comment was because in my own understanding, I was just working towards attaining my goal of earning my Bachelor’s Degree, for lack of a better word, for the validation that I so deserve from the community that I am a member of. I have already finished my Associate in Arts degree, and for others, it’s not enough because the reality of the situation is that the world needs your Bachelor’s Degree in order for your achievements to be validated.
So, I was working towards that validation.
Add to the fact that, for the longest time, I’ve held the dream of pursuing a degree in Psychology in order for me to be of service to my community. As a person diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I know how it is to have mental health issues. Mental health problems are systemic, deeply-rooted within a system that discards illnesses that are not seen, and that are labelled as “nag-iinarte lang” or as “mind over matter” illnesses.
But no, mental health matters. The brain is connected to the body, and they work hand in hand. So, if the brain is sick, then the sickness would manifest in the body.
I’m thankful that I went here at West Visayas State University Medical Center because I was treated like a grown up when I talked to the resident at the Triage Area, and informed him about my suicidal ideation, and the resurfacing of my deeply-rooted rejection issues.
At the moment, I feel calm and at peace with the very existence that I have. But there is still that compulsion to end everything because I could not see far beyond the pain that I am feeling at the moment. Yet, I’m taking everything one day at a time.
I’m not sure what I would do after I would be discharged from the hospital. But I am going to continue to revolt and to slay boxes that I am being put in. And that needs to happen only if I stay alive.
For now, I exist in the whole cycle of my being. I exist because I choose to. And between death and life, I exist in the dash line. I exist in the perimeters. I exist in the sidelines.
For now, I will just exist.
The Prodigal Kid 