Always asking
This is another one of my drafts from a few years back. I'm slowly letting them fly out into the world as I slowly heal and come to terms with the life that my decisions have brought me.
(Back in 2022, I went back to music school and got in the Music Composition program. However, it was short-lived. I couldn't go through the final requirement for that semester in my piano class. This was written a little bit after the end of that semester. I did not make it through my piano jury. I did not go back the next semester. )
Sigh. I have no thoughtful titles in mind every time I come here and try to put words together that hopefully would make sense. Half the time I don’t know what to say, or if there’s anything worth telling.
But, why write when you have nothing to say at all? Right?
Then, again, asking me that question is like telling me to stop thinking at all.
And, I CANNOT just stop thinking at all.
I spend my days right now always asking (oop title drop lol) what I really want out of this life, and what I want in my future.
What do I want in my future?
What do I see in my future?
What is success?
What is success to me?
What do I want to accomplish?
Is there anything I want to achieve so badly?
If there’s anything I truly want to see in my future, it is the freedom of how I spend my time. To just, be.
I’ve slowly tried not to solve every little thing in my head and just let my thoughts flow, trying not to tether them to take permanent residence in my head. Somehow it helps with the anxiety of thinking about the future.
At the same time, it’s hard to fight everything my parents told me growing up. There is so much unlearning that I need to do, so much of my self-worth that I have to protect. I guess I can’t blame them because that’s all they knew, that’s all they were also taught (or maybe lacked), but it doesn’t mean it’s also what I ONLY need to know.
(Context: I was fighting with their expectations in my head that I needed a degree. That that’s the only way you can succeed in life. One reason why I went back to school.)
The world is ever-changing and moving at a fast pace. You have to keep up; otherwise, you will be left behind and become obsolete—irrelevant.
The trick is to keep an open mind. Or, so they say.
But, there’s also this:
The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it. — Terry Pratchett
How do you know which ones are worth absorbing, and which ones are absolute trash?
Trial and error?
(I have a tendency to converse with my own mind while I’m writing. So it feels like there are gaps here sometimes, and things that maybe doesn’t make sense to readers. This is just how I hash out my thoughts. )
The more you grow up the more you’re resistant to change and to adapt. It’s always, ay tigulang naman gud na sya pasagdii na lang, even if it costs your self-esteem and mental health.
(Context: I… do not remember the context. Hahahaha! But I know this was about my father. Would I be gaslighting myself if I said he was just being a father and did not exactly verbally abuse me and my siblings growing up? Until now though. That’s why I don’t talk to him anymore. And it’s always, “Just ignore what he says, he’s getting old. Don’t let it get to you.”
Each time I think of these recurring issues in my head, the more I get this nagging feeling that maybe it’s a trauma I’ve never healed from.
Omg, trauma. Sounds serious. Sounds intense.
But, you look okay though. Maybe you’re just overthinking it.
Some might say.
Is it?
Am I really just overthinking it?
A colleague of mine turned faculty in music school, once told me that I am such a perfectionist.
Am I?
Maybe?
Maybe not in all things, because, omg, look at this writing, such horrible grammar, and punctuation. And, the lack of coherence? Horrendous.
But, whatever.
Anyway.
It did make me think about the last music work I needed to turn in the last time. I went with it with such big expectations, and I feel like I really could have done it well, had I not been so unnecessarily fussy with how to start it.
It didn’t help that I was also already so anxious about my piano jury. Nothing else would register in my brain. I felt it just shutting down, too overwhelmed, and just refused everything all together.
I hope I am overreacting, but it really did.
I’m still not sure if it was an anxiety attack or a panic attack, but it manifested in my condition as well physically. Throw in my “trauma” from my previous piano failures. Like, damn, talk about a double down.
“Ikaw man gud Misty, kay perfectionist man gud ka. Nah, kung ma down ka ana, ma-depress, na sad ka, muundang na sad ka. Prankahan gyud tika.”
Those words kept ringing in my head. Damn.
Did I prove him right?
Fuck, I failed again.
I truly thought I was brave enough for this again—that I tried. I really did.
God knows how much I have to fight through my anxiety every piano lesson, practice, and most especially for the piano recital.
I did have some fun, which was nice, too. Met some truly good kids as well, whom I am rooting for.
But, what do I do, if the bad overcomes all the fun and nice?
Is this truly beyond my capability?
Or am I just weak-willed?
(Or maybe I didn’t really want it enough. What do I want?)