It’s become a rather tiring habit of mine to dust my blog with re-introductions and explanations of why I have been away. Truth be told, I don’t really know if anyone missed/misses me in the blogosphere. I would like to think at least one of my few dozen daily hits does, though. And I wouldn’t be lying if I said I missed blogging too.
I started my blog perhaps a decade ago; and it has been a long gestating thought for a couple of years before that. It’s been through several iterations on Friendster, Multiply, Facebook, Blogger, and finally, here on WordPress. I started it supposedly as a fashion cum lifestyle blog (you all know how I like dressing up, travelling, and eating out) and also as a means for me to practice writing while my real world life revolves around numbers (ho-hum, I have the most boring job in the world, according to the Diary of a Call Gir: I’m an accountant). It was my means to release my otherwise pent up energy.
But then, as is usually the case, life happened and I simply didn’t have time or I couldn’t get myself to write anymore. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve tried to sit down and start an entry, even going so far as organizing the photos I want to include but once I start typing, the words just wouldn’t come out.
I guess it wasn’t time. And maybe now it is.
You see, in the last two years, I have been diagnosed with not one but two autoimmune diseases: rheumatoid arthritis and autoimmune thyroiditis coupled with this thing called vasculitis. Before you get alarmed – no, I’m not dying. At least not in the rate you probably thought. I do have to take meds daily and have my blood and urine tested every quarter.
Before I was diagnosed last year with RA, I had been feeling tired, feverish, and my bones were quite painful. You know that feeling when you physicaly exerted the entire day withou proper warm up and you feel like a rotten banana the day after? Well, that was how it felt like. Every friggin day. I was on sick leave practically every month (thank goodness for leaves) where I would just stay home and groan and flip on the bed the entire day.
I finally dragged myself to the doctor when the symptoms wouldn’t subside after about half a year and dozens of tests later, got sent home with the diagnosis and about a dozen pills to take every day for the next half year.
I’m getting better now. I’m slowly easing myself back into the thick of things; before my diagnosis, I had been your typical workaholic (and I still am – I actually love being one). And I was a full-time mom too so I was working practicaly round-the-clock. I worked 12-14 hours every day, took care of the kids when I get home for around 3-4 hours til they sleep, cooked dinner often, and slept max of five hours every night for the last five years. Weekends were not much different except that instead of the office, I spend my best hours cleaning the house and whipping up dish after dish in the kitchen.
I’ve cut back on my hours at work; my father used to tell me, work will not miss you and willnot cry for you if you die. I didn’t really see the point back then, but now I appreciate it more.
As I said, I am easing myself back into the thick of things. But I have learned to take things in stride, trust more that the team will run smoothly without me so long as they are trained, given proper instructions, and motivated. And that hours spent at work don’t necessarily translate to more work done.
I’m trying to build a stronger relationship with my kids. They’re both growing up and I cannot be an absentee mother to them. And it breaks my heart every time they ask me if I have to stay late at work, so I’ve started going home early to help with their homework, have dinner together, and tuck them in bed before I catch up again on work.
I’m slowly getting back into the things I love – reading, for instance. I’m rediscovering how much I love to read and I’m now at a healthy one book/month average since beginning of the year.
My love for art has also been rekindled. Blame it on countless hours spent in hospital hallways in between appointments; St. Luke’s BGC actually has a lot of interesting paintings that makes a trip there feel like visiting a museum. Even as a kid, I’ve been fascinated with art and I remember asking my parents to buy paintings and sculpture, even if they are of the department store variety 😂
Anyway, fast forward couple of decades. My collection has now grown to cover our tiny condo unit’s walls. But that is for another post.
I guess what I am trying to say is that everything’s still a work in progress but I daresay I am now back on track with my priorities set straight.
Oh, and I’m glad to be blogging again.