because the right choice is to let go

When it rains, it pours.

My recent trip to Albay somehow gave me room to escape from decisions (or indecisions) that haunt me these days. I’m not one to pretend that things are fine when they’re not. I guess my Grade 6 adviser is right to describe me in our annual as “transparent in times of joy and despondency.” These are despondent times for me.

And so I just find solace in listening to what I call “catatonic” music. That’s the good thing about music—it soothes aches without any pretenses. During that 12-hour trip back to Manila, while raindrops were beating hard on the windshield, I fed on songs as I voluntarily let them feed on my pain.

The day before our trip back, I had to learn (again) how to compartmentalize my emotions and my work. It’s not an easy feat. I had to force myself to keep a level head and do what I had to do in Albay—be a photographer and shoot decent photos. I had to stop myself from putting down my camera and just give in to depression. But like my teacher said, I am transparent. I can only hold out for so long.

Perhaps this is one of the most difficult decisions I’ve had to make. I asked for a sign, and I was given “no” for an answer. Just to be sure, I’m asking for another sign, and if it’s another “no”, then it must not really be meant for me. It just hurts to know that for something I’ve wanted, I’m being asked to wait. It’s even harder for me because I can consider myself a “spoiled daughter”—not used to having “no” for an answer.

Maybe not many people would understand why I need to make this decision. Some do, and I greatly appreciate it. In this situation, it’s so easy and so sweet to just say “yes”. That would be an easy road to take, and I would be a hypocrite to say that I’m not tempted to take that road. The goal is at hand, but I have to turn back and walk away from it because there are things that I cannot compromise, lines I cannot cross. When you’re to choose between something you desperately want and your conviction, the decision is never easy. It’s painstaking and shattering, even. What makes it more difficult is when you know the answer—when you know you have to take that other road less traveled.

Again, I have to wait it all out and let the storm pass. I have to tell myself, “When you can’t see His hand, trust His heart.”

As I drowned out all emotions with my iPod’s help and stared blankly at the long, slippery road on the way back to Manila, I couldn’t help but ask: If this is not meant for me, what is? If this isn’t the right time, when is? Because honestly, I’m getting a bit tired. And so as I make the decision to walk away, I just pray that in the future, when I look back at this moment, I can be proud and say it was all worth it. In the meantime, I allow myself to drown in lethargy and fade out.