Deposition

15 June 2013

One of the most rejuvenating days breaking my depression streak is this day. Actual strife has reached me and buoyed me out from the quicksand of the victim mindset.

Waking up twice in a morning and not staring at the wall before eight, the call hour for work, is progress. Struggle against self was not absent but I was deviating from the path of apathy and self-induced craziness. It was something.

Other than that, I was to read slides today. I was actually energetic and excited to go to work and discuss the NTD Forum with Dr. Mimi. She arrived but she was toned down. The truth on her impending defection is a surprise I didn’t want to experience.

It would all be too much harder for the team if I were to stay. I was not providing them with invaluable support. I was an annoying redundancy and we were all better off if I were gone. I was taking work on an insane level it was getting difficult for me to not think of it. My desire for excellence and growth has gone to unhealthy depths I cannot deliver at all. Consternation was making me fidgety and prone to errors. Here in the workplace, mistakes were extravagant commodities paid dearly with the chilling mix of shame, guilt, self-pity and self- doubt. This is getting unhealthy for all the parties involved, my direct salary provider - ACT, the convenor, June, Paul and our research associates. I was a difficult person because I was not being myself around them. I can’t act myself with any of them around. The response they illicit from me is shrinking and avoiding. My best was not at all deemed acceptable. My eyes have seen and I have proven that I am not yet ready for this job no matter how much I desire to do well in it.

Kuya Garell was a comforting companion. His humble wisdom debunked what I supposed he was. This was the type of mistakes I was free to take, the ones I’m glad I was wrong about. We were packing stool collection sets for the parasitological monitoring in Cavite. As a break from reading slides, I came into the CPH office to help him. When we had nothing more to do, I followed up on the NTD Forum invitees. Ms. Anne, the CPH AO, was no help. Ma’am Ellen confirmed Dr. Claveria as the PSP president and CM AO’s comrade, who she was having a lively discussion with, advised me to contact PMA. Then I was back to RFR where LH and I had a very open and free chat. After talking to LH, the TRB staff who recently transferred to RFR, I was enlightened on what I should do next. LH gave me insight I never was sure I could come up with. She was able to surmise that I wanted my efforts to translate to immediate outputs like homework or school projects. Also was introduced to Ms. Vien, knew Sir Manuel, got Sir Mike’s number, as well as knew Ms. Sharie.

There were too much slides for me to read and they would not give in to being convinced about cooperating. The stool samples on the Kato-Katz preparations were either caked and cracked or swathed in mold.

My mind was again reeling, I had to leave though I was shaken that I seem to have lost the access card. My mind’s no longer cooperating I know I need a break, even from thinking why I was so out of my league that I forget something as trivial but important as the access card. I went home though my sense of responsibility calls to me to not stop unless I was finished. These five months were enough to teach me not to subject my mind to drudging labor.

By asking Sam to go to Robinson’s to search for Ate Grace’s wedding gift, I was seeing new light on what’s happening to me. If not for the very commendable salesman at Rob’s on the aromatherapy candle section who was not intrusive but providing helpful assistance; the shock on the accumulated electric bill amounting to a whooping PhP 14,000 and its consequential stress-relief walk with Sam in Baywalk where we encountered a man  who though he was so hungry as he says and his looks confirm, still managed to advise us about the safety in our roving despite rebuffing his pleas to purchase a rose for PhP 20; and our hand in hand prayer in the living room couch and before the closed wood doors of Malate church, I wouldn’t sleep a peacefully contented sleep, a breather from my escapist death to the world .

God has claimed me back. He found me once more. I hear Him now.