Untangling Chains

I decided to start psychotherapy when I admitted to myself that I was an alcoholic. Three years ago, I could not go through a day without a drink. It began with a glass of nightly wine. Then I started drinking a lot more on nights-out. Introverted me suddenly wanted to attend social gatherings so that I would have an acceptable reason to drink more.

Eventually, I found a reason to get a buzz every time. I had lunches with a mojito. Then I had breakfasts with mimosas. And my nighttime drinking in solitude got worse. From a glass a night, I eventually worked my way up to half to a whole bottle of red wine. I said I needed the wine to sleep. But eventually the half bottle wasn’t making me drowsy so I amped up my consumption until I would be spinning and ready to collapse in bed.

There was a time that there wouldn't be a week's worth of
Facebook posts that didn't have me holding a drink. (This is
me with a lunchtime mojito.)

Two years ago, I knew I was in trouble. My liver was dying but, more than that, I felt that I was drinking because I wanted to numb my emotions and thoughts. And, as I got worse, I realized that I was subconsciously trying to kill myself. 

I found her accidentally, my psychiatrist. She shared an office at the hospital with my son’s developmental pediatrician. While I was in the hospital for my son’s regular checkup, I decided to book an appointment with Dr. S on a whim. I figured, "what was there to lose? How could I even get worse than I was already? It was worth a try and, if she wasn’t good, I could always find another. "

My first visit was a bit of a disappointment. I really wanted to stay away from meds to solve my problems but after my hour-long appointment where I gave a briefer on my alcoholism and depression, she did just that. Mood-stabilizer, was what she called it. To me it was just a drug that I feared would simply replace the alcohol. But I took them anyway, just to see what would happen.

After two weeks, I was convinced that I needed them. I was crying less and was functioning better. But my drinking continued. 

For the first three months, my monthly therapy sessions were uneventful. I would whine about my life and tell stories from my childhood. Nothing ground-breaking was happening to me. I was as alcoholic as ever and I now had meds to add to my list of emotional crutches.

At around six months, things started to happen. But only after I began to be more honest about what I was really going through in life. I wasn’t optimistic about her suggestions, though. “Keep yourself busy,” she said. “Indulge in your crafts. Continue with your regular workouts.” What really stuck with me during that time, though, was when she said that I should build a “parallel life.” One where I was happy, doing things I wanted, taking care of myself. An escape from my daily worries. 

It sounded dumb, really. I already had alcohol, meds, cigarettes, now she was telling me to do more things to escape my reality?! I was seeing her to help me deal with my reality, not avoid it. But I followed her anyway and kept seeing her monthly for, what really only seemed like, chit-chat. 

Oh, but what all that chit-chat did! After a year of seeing her, as she got to know me better, as I began to trust her, as I continued to pursue my passions, I started to develop a sense of self. I began to realize who I was underneath all the crap and what I really wanted in life. That’s when the alcoholism stopped. By forcing me to do seemingly psychologically-irrelevant tasks like painting, sewing and exercise, I was weakening my dependence on drinks as a crutch. 

"Surrender" 2018

Costume sewn for a friend

Ran my second NY Half Marathon in
March 2019

The meds were still a crutch but a medically-necessary one. Without the meds to help stabilize my emotions, I would not have had the lengthier moments of sanity that helped me think deeply about my issues without crying and falling into the vortex of depression. Healthy self-realizations happened when I was stable and sane and the meds helped pave way for me to have those quiet moments in my head. 

Finally, after much dissection and introspection, I was able to clearly identify my problems. And, with the strengthening of my inner voice, I was then able to find ways to solve them. I started to make plans. I began to set boundaries. I started feeling like I was finally living for me, not to force myself to fit into societal or religious norms. I may have changed but people around me haven’t and they have to learn to deal with the new me if they want me in their lives. This might sound selfish to most, but I realized that I have one life to live and I will try my darnest to stay true to myself. 

Last week, as I laboriously worked for hours on untangling a bunch of chain necklaces that I haven’t touched in a decade, I stopped myself to write a note on my phone. “Untangling chains,” I typed. Because that is what psychotherapy is helping me with. Everything within me was a mess, a mishmash of past hurts and current problems that all did not allow my true self to come out. I slowly have to unravel the knots and twists to see through the jumble but I’m getting there with patience. 

My mental and emotional chains are more
numerous and intertwined but I'm getting there.

This is not the happy ending. In fact, it is just the beginning of more years of struggle. Until the chains are truly apart from each other, they weigh me down and I won’t be totally free to be truly me. When I can live as me and be oblivious to the way the world sees me without harming them, that is when the journey is complete. This is the happy ending I hope I find before I die. 

Getting a high without alcohol

Finding peace slowly

Courage

Sometimes courage is not about bungee-jumping, rock climbing or even sky diving. Sometimes, it is the subtle push you give yourself to leap into the unknown. 

I am traveling to Siem Reap in a few days, alone. I’ve never traveled on my own as a tourist. I am doing this to prepare myself for the more distant trip to Budapest in September. Why this need to travel alone? Because, like many things I’ve been pushing myself to do lately, it is a fear that I have to overcome. 

I want to know how it feels to be in a foreign place where you, alone, are the master of your trip. Wake up when you want, go wherever you want to go, skip touring if you’re lazy or even dare to deviate from the usual tours. My past trips were always planned by others- from accommodations, itineraries, budgets. In Siem Reap, it’s all on me (but first, someone please define “budget” 😛 ).

Siem Reap is major for me. I am not only trying to be brave in order to face unfamiliar experiences. I also need courage to face peoples’ opinions of me; from the father of my children, my friends, my parents. 

“Sama ako (Let me go with you),” someone would say. “Ang lungkot naman. Mag-isa ka lang? (How sad. You'll be all alone?)” another would chime in. Of course there are those, too, that second-guess my intentions. Because, what kind of middle-aged Filipina mother travels on her own anyway? Is she searching for new connections and friendships?

At this point, as I near 50, I don’t give a f*ck. It’s an art I’m trying to master. I know the truth. I know my intentions. I love my children and that love guides me in all that I do. I want my children to see a strong mother who joined half marathons in her late 40s and learned to rock climb. Someone who dared to be true to herself without concern for what society says. 

My second NY Half Marathon

Conquering my fear of heights

Which brings me to my next adventure. The next major event that will require me to muster all the courage I have within. I am migrating to the US once again.  Many will say, “wow, ang sarap naman! (wow, that will be so much fun!).” Or, “that will be a better life for you. You’re so lucky.” Right now, all I feel is fear. 

I am not familiar with that life anymore. I left California in 2008 a different person- obese, lacking self-love and an identity. I was a mother and wife who followed the pack. That was all I knew. That was all I wanted.

Days before I moved back to Manila in 2008

So much has changed in almost 11 years. Aside from a 60-pound weight loss, I became me. The woman I didn’t know I could be. Someone with an identity so strong that she protects it fiercely from anyone who dares change it. Someone who loves her friends but craves for solitude just as much. Someone who can’t last long without the happy hormones of her workouts. Someone who admits that, though this is a nice level of self-awareness to settle in, there is much more to learn and a tremendous amount of growth that is still possible. 

And so, much more than Siem Reap, Budapest, and the fear of heights, I now face this new unknown. Will I be happy in America? Will I lose my sense of self again because I will have to reinvent myself to function best as a mother? Will I have to amp up my anti-depression meds? Hahaha! 

It is a move I have to do. For my children’s sake. And, no matter how badly I will miss the person I have become in the last few years, there is no higher passion in my heart than to be the best mother. This is all I have that defeats my doubts and fears. 

I cry now as I fear the inevitability of losing a part of the “new me” in America. The person I’ve worked so hard to become. The one that I had to fight for for years. We’ll see. It’s just the next step for me. My biggest adventure (for now). Hopefully, a big chunk of the new me remains. To do this, I will fight fiercely and be brave. 

Taking another leap into the unknown

My psychiatrist said it best last month. “The biggest sign of mental health is the ability to embrace the ambiguous.” I guess I am sane now. 💗 

"Ambiguous" by Niña Defensor with my self-made
strength and empowerment bracelet

Budapest

It all started after I ran a half marathon in San Francisco and crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. The emotions I felt when I first stepped onto the bridge were overwhelming and inexplicable. I could not understand why, though I loved this bridge immensely, my chest was overflowing with happiness and the joy was making me teary-eyed.
  

Emotional before I crossed the GGB

That feeling of elation remained (still does) with me. I wondered, what if I set out to run over bridges for as long as physically-possible? So I started to Google “most beautiful bridges in the world.” Among those bridges, I looked for half marathons that passed said structures. That’s how Budapest came up. 

Budapest’s Chain Bridge, merely 200 meters, but gorgeous. Of course the capital of Hungary isn’t an eyesore either so I said, why not? But I couldn’t commit just yet. There were so many things going against the plan. 

The Szechenyi Chain Bridge
(source: travelbe.weebly.com on Pinterest)

The biggest obstacle of all was fear. I have never traveled alone to an unfamiliar destination, so the fear was intense. This thought prevented me from taking any further steps for more than two months. I shelved the bridge mission indefinitely.

Then, one at a time, things would remind me of Budapest. First was George Ezra’s song, “Budapest,” one of my recent favorites. Only after the bridge mission did I even notice the title of the song. It doesn’t even talk about the city! 

Being part of a family of Avengers fanatics, I made it a point to watch Endgame on its first day out. “We’re a long way from Budapest,” Hawkeye tells Natasha as they flew through space. I smiled at the reference as I sat through the movie alone.

Last week, my daughter, G who lives in California, shut me out of my Spotify playlist unknowingly while she played her music. I was forced to play my songs on Youtube. And there it was. Not even a song title, just text in the beginning of Ellie Goulding’s video for (another of my favorites) “Close to Me”- BUDAPEST, HUNGARY. It was the setting of the video’s storyline.

                                  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajN57m_OSpY

That was it. I was going to Budapest. I was no longer going to be afraid. 

But then, another hurdle. How could I go to Hungary in September when I have to watch the kids in California? Unless… our dearest yaya Ting got her US visa approved and she could take care of the kids for a week while I’m gone. Only then would I be able to commence the bridge mission.

This obstacle to my plans was almost impossible to overcome. Having been denied a visa six months ago, the chances of her being granted one now was remote. The consul would obviously scrutinize her application deeper. S/he would ask tougher questions. Ting and I both went to the US Embassy early this week with no expectations. We knew that an approval was a stretch.

“Bahala na ang Diyos; Kung para sa yo, sa yo (It’s up to God; if it’s meant for you, it will be yours),” I repeatedly reassured Ting (and myself). And then…

Synchronicity! Yes, of all the consuls, we got the sweetest man who wanted to give us another chance; even if both Ting and I both fumbled through our answers. (Or maybe it was my charm? 😜 ) 

My psychiatrist is a huge Carl Jung fan. And,  although she didn’t mention Jung last month when I visited her, it is interesting to note that it was Jung who coined the term “synchronicity.”

Source: Wikipedia

Budapest is the result of synchronicity. It is a product of the aligning of events and coincidences. 

Yay! Registered!

Call it vibration, manifestation, destiny, God’s work. Things happen to us as they should. They are either steps to a more meaningful endpoint or are lessons to be learned on our way to self-awareness. The Budapest journey taught me that- to surrender and let go. Kung para sa yo, sa yo. 

"Synchronicity" by Niña Defensor with a Labradorite bracelet