The biggest takeaways, I think, for my 26th year (and the first half of 2021 — overlapping save for 6 days), are these: time is weird, but/and you’ll know when you’re ready.
It’s not been a secret how horrible last year was, for everyone. The world came to a halt even as infections increased, and with them, deaths. A day after I turned 26, Nami, my partner in crime for the first few months of the lockdown, passed on. Exactly a month later, I was on the brink of the drop.
Still, the world turned. And in spite of the certainty of all the horrible things, there was also an assuredness that prevailed — friendship (smaller and smaller circles), family, passion, Ellie, the outdoors, the ability of the heart to forgive, the willingness of the heart to open itself up again.
In my 26th year I learned to value those closest to me in a way I had never been able to before. Granted, much of it was out of necessity — lockdowns forcing parse interactions tend to make that happen, but the small company I surrounded myself with gave myself a sense of certitude. Bike rides, hikes, beach trips, inebriated conversations, car rides — these all gave a sense of light, a whisper of hope.
Ellie also came into my life, and how do I even begin my appreciation?
She came at my darkest, when folding my wrist was still painful because of the sting that the wounds left. The day before, I filed my first petition in the Supreme Court, foot in a bandage after having stepped on a rusted nail, right arm (there was no way I would be showing the vaccinator my left arm — weird how ashamed we can get of our decision to want to live, no?) in discomfort because of a tetanus booster shot. We drove all the way to Cavite, my fingers wrung the entire time, waiting in anticipation for Ellie.
She was not what I expected when I saw her for the first time, but I fell in love nonetheless. And I have been falling in love with her everyday since.
Work became much more than something that was a tick off a to-do list, and transitioned into something I became deeply passionate about; and as we saw how severely intertwined everything is, I also saw how intensely I can make an impact. And how much I want to. And it involved the whole gamut of things — climate change, the environment in general, human rights, indigenous peoples, renewable energy, mindfulness, moving meditation, yoga.
In my 26th year I finally learned that forgiving did not necessarily mean reconciliation; that scars heal but trauma can remain, and that nostalgia for what happened before the trauma is valid.
I also learned that despite it all, the resilience of the heart knows no bounds. That it is still capable of loving, and loving deeply, of trying new things and letting new people in, of skipping a beat when the person in whose ribs it is encased is happy again.
Maybe that’s what I’ve been saying all along.
I guess that’s what I am.
Happy again.
And while it is folly and reeks of naiveté, I am looking forward to still being happy. In the face of despair, loss, disarray, and chaos; may I keep finding pockets of light, may I keep seeking people who give me joy, and hope, and certainty, and may I continue to be the same for those who come my way.
It’s been a while, and time is weird, and I’m not sure I’m ready (for anything), but I feel brave enough now to try.
After all, happiness is always worth it.
Happy 27th, self.
Of perpetual finds 