I’m Going Through Changes…

I should feel sorry for myself right now, really. To say that 2010 is an unfortunately bad year for me is an understatement.

Let me tick off some of the things that happened to me for the past few months. One, I got my heart broken so bad I don’t know if I’ll ever recover completely. Two, I’ve been estranged from my family since August. This is something I’d rather not discuss. Three, some dickhead made me realize how vulnerable I really am when it comes to intimacy and made me commit the most cruel deeds I ever did on the male ego .

I’ve morphed into somebody I hardly recognize anymore. I’ve always been strong, yes, but I was never brutal and heartless. Rules of the game changed when several people managed to make a major mess of my life since 2007. Suddenly, it made no sense to hold back my dark side. I saw no reason to bestow mercy on people who don’t deserve it. I realized there’s no point in holding yourself back from wishing somebody dead.

Yes, you. You know who you are. I still pray for your untimely demise. I’d give anything to see you floating on the Pasig River, or sprawled naked on some gutter and beaten to unrecognizable pulp.  If you only know how much I still detest the very idea of your continued existence, you’ll hire someone to start your car every morning. Always keep that in mind. The best birthday gift would be your severed head on my desk and the knowledge that you have suffered so much from your ordeal.

I transformed into somebody I never thought I’d become – a woman enclosed in an impenetrable shell, telling people off just because she can, without a smidgen of guilt. I closed, no, slammed doors left and right, double-locked and barricaded them from the inside.  I became a self-centered woman who doesn’t give a flying fuck about anyone but herself. I’ve become one of the most self-serving individuals I know, and coming from me, that’s saying much. It’s my way or the highway, and anyone who agrees otherwise will have to bear the ugly consequences. I became obsessed and relentless in keeping score; anyone stupid enough to mess with me will experience hell and damnation.

I became the person I swore I’ll never be. But you know what? I don’t feel sorry about it. In fact, I’m totally unapologetic. Whatever changes I went through is totally justified. I’ve been stupid enough to let some undeserving people enter my life and wreak havoc on my pure intentions and loving heart. I extracted my revenge and caused considerable damage on their lives and yet… I feel good about it. Not because I’ve become hopelessly evil, but because for the first time in so many years, I’ve learned how to fight back for the sake of my dignity. I’ve learned that although martyrdom runs in my family, I’m simply not meant to join their ranks. Being a doormat is not my destiny, if I’m inclined to believe in such things.

Despite all the roadblocks that life have dealt me for the past few years, the boss upstairs compensated for it by giving me one of the best things that a human being could have – unbelievable resiliency. A lesser woman would have crumbled already with all this emotional shit. A lesser woman would be sitting on a shrink’s couch right now and boo-hooing her eyes out. A lesser woman would have drank herself to stupor and screw the first available man just to take a break from the unbearable loneliness. Hell, a lesser woman would have drawn a gun and blasted her brains out.

I didn’t do any of these things.  Shrinks are too expensive; I’ll leave them to those people who spilled their issues on Oprah and Tyra’s couches. And I’m too much of an OC to let my brains spill out on the floor and create a totally grotesque mess. Imagine how many bottles of Lysol it would need to remove the bits and pieces completely, never mind that someone else will actually do the cleaning.

No, thank you. Whatever pressures I have can be dealt with by getting drunk on Red Horse with the company of my few but very reliable and trustworthy friends.

I made some major life adjustments. I’ve stopped the compulsive screwing. This is perhaps one of the most surprising things I’ve done in years. To the disappointment of this blog’s few fans, I went on a sexual sabbatical a couple of months ago, and I’ll stay on it for as long as it takes. Why, you ask. Back then, I was always at the mercy of my insatiable needs. I became a slave to my sex drive; its wish was my command. I had no qualms about screwing till kingdom come and the day after that. Don’t get me wrong, I still love sex, but ever since my issues came at boiling point, I couldn’t gain satisfaction in the bedroom. It doesn’t help that the last few ones I’ve slept with were practically worthless in the sack. One couldn’t sustain his erection long enough to finish even just one round and the other is a poster boy for premature ejaculation. These episodes of bad sex were enough to convince me to put on a chastity belt for the time being and wait for that someone who will have the ability to rouse me from my sexual and emotional hibernation.

I have already accepted that I have to be alone for the time being. I badly need a break. I’ve seen too much, experienced so much. I’ve totally lived my 20s to the brink. The sex, alcohol, and rock n’roll lifestyle – I was its faithful disciple for years.  I did things that “normal” women wouldn’t even contemplate doing. I was an outlaw who prefer to live on the edge. Predictably, I paid a heavy price for my rebellious outlook in life. “Normal” men wouldn’t take me seriously because I was hopelessly imprisoned in their Madonna-Whore complex. I could never be the sweet, respectable girl they can take home to their mommas, never mind that I’m probably ten times more intelligent and fascinating than the women they chose to take seriously. For them, I was too bold, too brash, too sexual, too independent and intelligent for my own good…too much. It took months of contemplation and countless bottles of Red Horse to realize that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with me and I was just mixing up with the wrong kind of men. I was like a bully taking on someone not equal to my size.

It was a tough 29 years alright, but no, I don’t feel sorry for myself. Self-pity is not in my vocabulary. It never will be. Obviously, I have issues but I’ve learned how to look at my life with sardonic amusement. It’s a trait I’ll always thank the high heavens for. It may be a hopeless cliché, but I’ve learned how to live my life one day at a time. I’ve managed to shrug off some of my omnipresent pessimism and believe that although my future is still uncertain, it doesn’t mean that nothing fantastic could come out of it. I’ve learned how to love myself better by instantly eliminating things that contain even just a hint of bullshit.  I’ve walked out on people who didn’t have my best interests at heart and royally gave them the finger. I simply refuse to be a victim, and this hard-earned conviction is probably the best gift I can give myself after all these years.

I can’t be destroyed. The boss made me realize that just in time for my birthday.