One friend I have is sufferring from a broken heart, no not literally; but, she was cheated on.

I have been absorbing her sadness - listening and reading her countless pain even when it’s all become “routinary.”

The funny thing is though she doesn’t know, that I suffer from loneliness. So I end up going to my best friend to re-absorb me whenever this other friend lashes out her sadness through me. Does that make sense?

Psychology has taught me one thing - always yield towards a positive goal.

And that has given me purpose. Purpose that I never thought I’d have. If only others could see a positve light, then we’d all get through depression and sadness.

Easier said than done, yes. But nobody can heal anyone if the person doesn’t want healing.

My friend is too grounded. Imprisoned by depression and sadness.

And that makes me sad.

I am at a point in my life where every little thing is starting to become routinary.

The people.

The activities.

The choices.

The decisions.

The destinations.

The goals.

And there is nothing wrong with that.

*Specifically, as a Psychology Major

▪ Never in my life was I ever happy with a score of 65/100 in a quiz or in an exam. I struggled academically, big time. I always had this generalized thought or idea that I was the only one struggling, but it was the only thing that kept me going. It was my driving force to keep studying even when exhaustion took place.

▪ Will, I needed a lot of will-power to keep waking up every morning and go to school. There was one day where I woke up at 7:45am, and I cried. A whole lot. It was my first time missing a class. I came home at around 1am that time because of extracurricular, and apparently I never felt my 3 different alarms. I was so disappointed in myself that time.

▪ Speaking of extracurricular - it was the one that exhausted the heck outta me. You sit in a class from 7:30am until 7pm (most times until 9pm because of make-up classes) and then extracurricular would take over from 9pm until who-knows-when. My weekends were for extracurriculars too. Even break/lunch time.

▪ Mentally and physically, my first semester was very draining. There were a lot of self-doubts. I cried in a chapel numerous times asking myself and God if being a doctor was for me. I ended up questioning if I could survive it - “it” meaning just the first semester. I wasn’t ever confident that I could even get to second semester.

▪ As a Psychology major, I felt like a fish trying to compete in a jungle. I felt too stupid for med school. I struggled just to keep up with Biology, MedTech, Pharmacy, RadTech, Nutrition, Nursing (..etc.) majors. Every science terms were gibberish. Seriously, everything I learned in Psychology became much more complex in Med school. A simple “fight or flight response” as an answer isn’t going to cut it anymore.

▪ However, I was able to pass everything this first semester. I literally cried when I saw my grades.

▪ I think I’m ready for 2018! I will become a doctor. I will. I will. I will.

It is to serve the Filipino people.

That’s what’s keeping me in med school at the moment. I feel like I owe the Filipino community.

Volunteer work, not the money, is what I’m looking forward to once I get my MD in the Philippines. USMLE will be my second priority.

As of now, I am glad to be a dual citizen of the US and the Philippines because it’s giving me the privilege to become a doctor of both countries.

But whooosaaahhh for now. I still have to survive first year of med school.

Lol.

#finalsweekiscoming

It’s crazy in there.

Too many discrepancies among what, how, and why of things.

Then, it leads me to believing that bad things occur because we are bound for greater things. Does that make sense?

We must fall in order to rise. We must cry in order to relieve. We must break in order to heal.

The process sucks ballssss. No denying that. However, I’d still like to believe that I am bound for greater things.

That in the long run? I get to be somebody I’d be happy to show the world.

Yeah. This is the discrepancy between my ideal-self and real-self. But, hey, I’m still hopeful. You can count on me on that one.

So, superego, I’m letting you take over from here on out.

Disclaimer: to whoever is reading this, understand that this is from my personal standpoint. Not yours. But mine.

It. Was (and still is). Difficult.

It hasn’t sunked in yet (probably?) that I am currently in school striving to be a doctor.

One Doctor lecturer asked the class – “why do you study for your exams?” Honestly, I am part of the 100% students who answered “to pass.”

Shame, he said.

“You should be studying for your exams to be a great doctor.”

I get him, you know. In life, there is no blue, orange, red, etc. There is always black and white. Life and death. It’s either a yes or a no. Right?

But in my first month.. my psyche is currently and slowly being deflated by the fact that I am struggling to keep up with others. Medicine is so difficult to study, and it even comes to a point where I even question my intentions.

The thing of the matter is though? I am in this for the long run. Medicine is difficult, but God wouldn’t have given me this opportunity if He didn’t see me as one of His instruments to help the world He created.

Yes, I am struggling. Yes, my ego-strength or psyche is getting weaker by the day. Yes, I cry multiple times not knowing how to balance or manage my “time.”

But at the end of the day though? I am still hopeful. And I think that that’s what makes this whole (personal) journey beautiful.

I’m afraid of growing older. I’m afraid of adding another year to my age. I’m afraid of deterioration, I guess?

Bones get weaker. Skin gets saggy. Metabolism gets screwed up. Adipose tissue gets piled up. Et cetera.

It is ironic how I wanted to be older when I was younger. Now, I want to be younger all over again. I can’t seem to cease the idea or thoughts of what I should have done. Shouldn’t have done. Or could have done. Or. Or..

I will be twenty-seven this summer.

I have no child.

Not married.

Unemployed.

It’s crazy! I’m still in a process of becoming the person I want to be. “Time” keeps ticking. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

And every single day, all that runs in my head is.. is this really it??

You’re twenty-six. You have a diploma in Psychology (FINALLY!). Yet, who would have thought?

Most of the people you know from high school/childhood are getting their asses together with their babies, marriage, and jobs. And you? Ha! Who would have thought?

You’re currently in a long-term relationship - six years! Wow! Who would have thought?

Yet.. you’re stuck in your apartment, daydreaming about what ifs, the shoulds, and the woulds. Who would have thought, really?!

You’ve applied for medical school - WOW! Can you really handle it? Who would have thought that that’s where you want your life to be? Do you really want to spend six more years in school? Then, couple more years in a hospital? Dannggg, who would have thought?

Your fourteen-year-old self thought you would be married with kids by now. Your fourteen-year-old self thought that your ultimate goal was to have a successful family by now. Ha-ha. Who would have thought?

Future-me, I hope you’re going to be great. Maybe, greater. If this is the path for you, then go. As long as you can, keep working hard-er. 

I’m okay with anything, because I believe that I wouldn’t be given this kind of opportunity if this weren’t for me. As long as I can, I can. I just have to believe that, y’know?

I’m smiling, grinning, or whatever you call it when my dimples and teeth are out.. because – wow – who would have thought I’d be where I am now?

I like that saying. I really do. It’s like a personal assurance that there is something to look forward to “next time.” Whatever I may be doing – hanging out with friends, eating food, reading a good book – “’til next time” or “next time again” is like my safety blanket that something good is worth looking forward to.

Honestly-speaking, I don’t even care if that phrase is uttered out of habit or just out of spur, I still take it to heart and finds it very comforting. Because.. comfort is what’s keeping me out of bed every morning.

Comfort is what urges me to keep moving. Keep breathing. Keep living. 

So, when I find comfort in something or someone, “next time again” is a good validation that something good happened. Even just for one day.

It has been awhile since I have posted anything on here. I don’t know if it’s because of the lack of time or the lack of interest. However, I have been catching myself with a lot of thoughts lately. And I feel the need to go back on here.

Having that said, I am going to turn this tumblr page as a personal blog. No re-blogging. Just simply me, put into words and punctuation marks.

Adios muchachos.