July 26, 2016
Hello to the 15 year old me, from your 31 year old self.
I just saw a rather unflattering photo of you earlier, while mindlessly browsing through Facebook on this gloomy July afternoon. The mouse’s pointer hovering over the un-tag button. You, I mean, I, just had a hell of a week, month even and in no mood to be bombarded with comments today.
I closed the window on your grinning face and went back to typing my report on how many people bothered customer services this quarter. By hour 2 of me futilely searching for yet another word to say ‘increased’, I looked for your face again.
I can still remember you.
Carefree, you with the bright eyes and wide smile. Big heart full of dreams and ideals.
I looked at myself and tried to see if you are still there.
Face is slightly pudgy now, eyes tired and beaming lips almost perpetually on a frown. Squinting, I tried to look harder. And then gave a small smile.
Though faintly, I can still see a glimmer of you, 15 year old me.
And as if on cue, you looked up from the book your head is buried in (like I always remembered you), and gave your slightly older version a thumbs up. Like saying, hang in there old hag, it’ll get better. It always does.
My heart revived, with self-love swarming back. It was so easy to get lost, so easy to just fade in, to lose sight of who I was.
Thank you, 15 year old me. That felt like an antidote. With no other reason, I felt slightly better. I straighten my slouch and gave myself a much needed pep talk.
Yes, 31 year old self, it felt like you’re drowning now but remember, YOU DO KNOW HOW TO SWIM.
And swam I did.
If truth be told, 2016 has not been kind to me. I’ve been feeling down, maybe it’s postpartum baby blues, maybe it’s stress.
I’m in a bad mood for most of the time, taking out my unhappiness at home and at the office. I just want to sleep and had to literally drag myself to do things, I’ve been unproductive and it’s alarmingly evident at work. I overate and gained pounds.
I knew I hit rock bottom when husband and I no longer talk and I was snapping at the kids. I’d go to work and just stare at my computer hoping that I won’t be asked what the hell I’m doing because, I was just spacing out.
But I’d like to think that I’m better now.
It was a struggle and it took awhile for me to get to my happy place. There were things I hoped I’ve done differently, like I could have tried speaking to a friend about it.
But what saved me, as always, was writing.
Pretty much like when I was in high school where I’d write in my diary, putting into words my small victories and big worries. Reading through them now, I now have a renewed appreciation of what I have in my life.