After living too much in the now, I’ve realized that certain things remain constant–this blog being one of them. I stopped writing here for a little over a year because I felt stifled by the jobs I took. Many of the stories I accumulated along the way didn’t lend to a public audience, not yet anyway. It escapes me now but once, I’d read somewhere that the essence of our trips only reveal themselves to us in hindsight and after some time has passed.
In a way that describes the urgency to which I suddenly feel excited to return to this space, to write anew.
In the period that I was away, I had suffered a mild depression. I didn’t have the heart to confirm if it was clinical but I knew it was serious because my weight began to fluctuate so drastically. Physically, I’m now a shell of my former self but I have not conceded defeat. I will eat my former weight back and there will be curves again, I tell you.
Late last year, I had also done a lot of travelling and moving about in strange places that held bloody histories. Part of the sadness was in having to carry around heavy narratives without any real place to put them. The uncertainty around employment also took a huge toll on me.
All of these anxieties were purged come 2016 after spending the first day of the year on a day trip to Mt. Pulag to accompany a friend launch her book. The sight of mountain ranges bathed in partial sunlight but simultaneously being showered on felt like a reprieve. In front of one of Pulag’s seven lakes, I vowed to give myself as much time as I needed to heal and I remember how poignant it was to look back just as we were scurrying off to the car, to see the fog rolling in and covering the lake. It felt like the place came alive, embraced me, and said, “Ok, off you go. Secret’s safe with me.”
That day trip did me wonders. It firmed my resolve to hike up a few summits with a team of guys searching for a water source. We camped for what would have cumulatively been two and a half weeks or so. I saw an incredible lot of vistas on the longest walk of my life and whatever providence was at work then is the same one that keeps me afloat today.
So I’m beginning again–like I’m wont to and writing here, in the safest place I know.