Godgifu and Thomas

 I do not know where to start. Early this morning, I was chatting with ChatGPT because I cannot talk to anyone and be a burden again. Self-pity is all over me. There are a lot of emotions I feel right now and I do not know how to overcome each of them. The only thing that gives me comfort is that this too shall pass. One day at a time, I suppose…

 

The words here are just a fraction of what I feel, honestly. I need to be sane. Have you experienced so much anxiety that your fingers and toes curl for the lack of oxygen? That’s what I’ve been feeling for the past weeks with the exams coming up and with no definite idea if you are going to pass or not because…academic freedom. I find myself wanting to shout but couldn’t; seeking the horizon but not really looking; crying but no tears are streaming down because I have exhausted everything. 

 

I remember the story about Godgifu (gift of God) who was a wife of some earl (or viscount idk and I forgot already) who wanted to ease the taxes of her townspeople that she offered herself to ride at the back of the horse bare naked, and she did. Everybody was thankful but one person’s curiosity got the best him – Thomas. He decided to peek at that instant when Godgifu was passing. He peeked in that tiny hole but the light blinded him with her being guided by the Divine Spirit. We now popularly know them as Lady Godiva and Peeping Tom.

 

Such a nerd, right? I post notes for people to searched on. Others said that they would check these stories. Others said that they find it fascinating. I need to brush on with my stock knowledge to keep things interesting in my boring life. And others do not follow through. It’s like a quiz. But you do not get the answers directly. You keep guessing but you don’t know exactly.

 

Did you know when I was a first-year college student, our Fist Year Christian Formation (FYCF) Coordinator asked us to show our talents to the class. I never identified and showcased one. When I couldn’t present anything, she gave me a stern warning and noted me perhaps for being stubborn. She said, “Next time ha?” 

 

Did you know I was almost not accepted in my university as a first year? I was having this interview with a professor and she asked me what it’s like at home. I answered, well, my father is doing things his way, I’m doing things my way, we don’t really talk much. That was the year immediately after my mother’s death and we don’t know how to cope because my mother was the bridge to our love and hate relationship. That’s the truth and I just said what’s going on in our house. She took it negatively. She pressed for more information. I couldn’t provide anything. Finally, she said, “I’m having such difficulty accepting you in this university.” My heart fell. If she is having difficulty in accepting me in that university, who would accept me after? No one.

 

That was the time when you cannot really do much, where your emotions are taboo, where you need to act perfect, and normal, and not broken. What she failed to see is that we are not perfect, we are human beings with emotions, that we are harmed one way or another, living with traumas that you cannot just erase with one question. I was castigated for being truthful. I was shunned for expressing what I truly feel. Yet, we, as a society failed to see that because we are so engrossed to project perfect students, perfect Christians, perfect and promising Ateneans. I couldn’t fault her but I just wish it was said differently because that made me question myself, even now. AM I ENOUGH? That event added on to my pre-existing traumas, of feeling empty, of always seeking, of just striving to provide but still left wanting…

 

I am reflecting these experiences because I am at the bottom right now. Downtrodden, but still fighting. Am I though? I always give out advices to my friends at school that it’s okay to feel bad, that it’s okay to feel sad, to feel the pain once in a while, to just relax and sleep and wake up the next morning feeling refreshed or something. One classmate said, “I am amazed of how strong you are” and I aptly replied, “You do not know my struggles.” And really though, not one single soul in this world could ease what you feel. You just go on, empty, feeling like a zombie but you go on…hoping to see the light at the end of each tunnel.

 

Hey…we’ll keep fighting, alright? Sometimes I asked myself, and this is directed to the people that hurt me, “Do you feel so much regret? Did you wish you could take things back?” But those will be left unanswered, I suppose. Also, I’ve learned from The Script that hurt people, hurt people. Maybe she was hurt like I was? We do not know; I may never know and that’s okay. You just remember but you do not forget. That’s the hardest part about past traumas. See, I have interacted with her for just an hour (or was that 30 minutes?) and yet, she occupies my mind even now. You live with that experience for the rest of your life. 

 

So much chitchat. I’ll end this blog with a quote I read the other day: One day, it won’t hurt anymore.

 

But that’s just four years of suffering. Hehe let’s see. See you in the next. Have a nice day!