It’s been a while since I last tried writing – the post I’ve just published was written months ago. Honestly, I’m starting to feel like I’m new at this, as if I haven’t spent my years constantly battling between my self-doubt and my dream of being an effective writer. It’s not that I didn’t think of, nor craved with such urgency to scribble my thoughts on blank pages, or pour my heart out in letters and words together. Life just keep on getting in the way.
Let me just give a bit of backtrack: Way back in March, I got so engrossed on a school project that I probably spent every waking second thinking of how to debug codes and troubleshoot programs and sensors. I am not exaggerating; lines of codes still penetrate even my dreams. It lasted until May. Without sparing a few moments, another school term has started and I had to focus on our thesis defense, prototype making, and microwave designs. Yes, graduating from a bachelor engineering degree is finally taking its toll.
As if not enough, our family also had to endure threats because of the recent elections. Not to mention, I got so involved in a feud I wasn’t even part of to begin with. And just two weeks ago, a bomb has dropped: my cousin has been diagnosed with acute myloid leukemia. No one is ever ready for such news. Needless to say, I’ve been profoundly tested to my limits – physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.
There came a time over the past months that I felt a stirring in me: like a switch has been turned on. After everything that has happened, the feelings (stress, depression, anxiety) I’ve been bottling has finally caught up with me. But instead of feeling profoundly sad over it – the switched has led me not to feel anything. Don’t get me wrong, I know that deep down I am still mulling over things, yet somehow I find myself functioning as I normally do. Only with the slightest difference: I am tired as I’ve never been before. It’s as if there’s a threshold for all the sadness that I can keep, and once reached, it leaves me with pure nothingness inside. I find myself in a profound void.
Yet, as I’m writing this, I hold on to the one thing that at least keeps me going. And nope, it isn’t pizza nor chocolates (but hey, whoever said they couldn’t help?!) – I hold on to my faith anchored in God. I know it sounds righteous-y, but there’s all to it right now. I hold on to the promise of rest for those who seek His embrace; to the healing that only He can graciously provide; for the strength He continuously showers to the weak; and the hope of joy that can only be found in Him. Yes, I may be tired, sad, and weak as profoundly as I can be but His love, His grace, and His strength is ultimately, completely, PROFOUNDLY bigger than all I can ever be.