The rut

I was up a minute earlier, listening to the silence of the room and the roaring of my breath against my pillow. I waited and watched as my phone finally buzzed and lit, its mechanical voice chanting the time, 'it's 6:45am'. over and over again. I closed my eyes tight, beckoning myself to go back to sleep, but there's a heaviness in my chest that keeps me from sleeping or from doing anything at all.

I was awake, but I was numb.

It's 8 am. My eyes were sore from scrolling through Twitter and Instagram. My throat was itching to scream, but I held my tongue. 

It's 12 noon. I'm on the road. I have to put the mask on before anyone sees the cracks underneath.

It's 9pm. I peeled it off, kicked my shoes and sunk into bed until I wake up a minute earlier than my alarm again.


I was on a downward spiral, the bottom curve of the U, and stuck on a rut.

I stopped writing, reading and playing my ukulele, these things I love with with all my heart.

I was grasping for something in the dark, anything to help me swim up the surface of this ocean. Instead, I found myself, the one with bad temper but had no strength to get angry, the one who felt so much pain but had no strength to cry, and the one who felt alone but had no strength to speak to anyone.

Everyday, I felt writhing hands squeeze my heart and I would gasp for air but careful not to scream. I would turn to food and alcohol and cooping up myself up in my room so nobody else could see.

I was ashamed to admit I was sad. 

I was ashamed to admit that I wasn't as strong as I thought I was.

One day, I was in so much pain that I thought of seeking help. Anyone to talk to, anyone who could possibly not shun me after hearing what a rut I have become.

But I held it back, until another month passes. I told myself I was able to push past it in the past, why can't I do it now?

I treaded on until it starts affecting my work. I felt dread whenever the first day of the work week comes. I procrastinated. I missed deadlines. I was falling in a dark hole.

I kept reminding myself how blessed I was to be even working in Japan, that l love my job and I've searched all my life something as fulfilling as this. I used this as my life jacket. I clung on it until it snapped.

I was being drifted by my misery, being sunk by this heavy and dark sadness. I didn't even had the strength to hate myself more than I hated myself before.

This was my winter. This was drought. This was my flood.

I allowed the wolves to feast on me. I allowed myself to be weak & fragile. I allowed myself to disappoint myself.

Maybe I needed that. Maybe it was the only way to kick me out of my rut. In this world which celebrates happiness and optimism and shuns sadness and loneliness. Maybe its my reminder of my humanity and that I can be sad when I felt like it and I can be lonely when I felt like it.

And maybe I am allowed that. 

P.S. And if a friend tells you he or she feels sad, open your heart and your arms to that person. Don't tell him or her to get over it. All you need to do is hug that person and tell him or her that you'll be there no matter what.

That's how my sister saved me :)