Black Sheep

Photo by Jonathan Mabey on Unsplash

I am up and out of bed. I congratulate myself. Usually I would still be there, nursing a cooling mug of coffee. Scrolling, gaming, scrolling, One Netflix episode, scrolling, until nap takes over and the next thing I know the afternoon is giving way to evening, then the anxiety would move in and I would start thinking where the day went and how I could have wasted it like that.

In reality it wasn't actually a waste because my brain and I needed that rest. Except that ever since I learned about responsibilities and obligations I have always felt guilty about resting or taking a break. It always felt like letting people down. I was a latecomer to the "rest is productive too" mindset. But even with that there remains a lingering of apprehension and worry that I might not be earning my existence.

Two weeks ago, my doctor increased the dosage of my meds to help with better mood regulation because the previous dose had a limit and I had overspilled that limit when the going got tougher and tougher. After the two weeks here are my observations.

Clarity of thought to the point of being able to discern where the pain or tension point is actually coming from. I still experience some anxiety, the occasional panic, the extreme mental and physical exhaustion. But for the first time I am seeing through the fog and into where they are actually coming from. I thought it was the work, because in reality it really is a super high demand and super high stress job. But the clarity showed it isn't the work. It is the house. The house that is supposed to be a home except it's all broken and falling apart and I could barely stitch the seams to hold it all together.

I have a strained relationship with my parents, most especially the so-called mother whose true colors were revealed within the past decade culminating during the pandemic. Communication is hard, barely functioning. Every day I try to make up for all the gaps and the neglect and it is simply impossible.

I had to start seeing a doctor when I started having breakdowns and outbursts from all the stress and pressure. I was pushing hard trying to create a home that was never really there in the first place because it was all an illusion and the result of many years of manipulation.

Since it's going to be September soon, many clients are already thinking about their December holiday campaigns and promotions. Here in the Philippines, much ado is made about how we have the longest celebration of Christmas that starts as soon as the 'Ber months hit. Personally, I don't like nor enjoy it.

Yesterday I was doing research looking up trends and how the holiday has evolved and so much of what I can find are the same -- a solid tapestry wall of ideal tradition that is repetitive, predictable, exhausting. There is also that underlying sense that if you do not subscribe to it then there must be something wrong with you.

Yes I belong among those who are well outside of the ideal tradition. And I am certain there are more like me but we are underrepresented, unrecognized, unheard. At its worst, we are judged for being difficult and unreasonable, a herd of family black sheep. At best we are ignored, set aside or excluded as the traditions go on.

There have been a lot of memes from people about the tensions and stress of family reunions. But these remain as funny jokes, totally missing out on how much the new generations are struggling against outmoded thinking and behaviors.

Birth rate is slowing down and soon enough Christmas in the Philippines which is also very child-centric will really have to change its face and its formula. But who will be brave enough to lead that change? Or even brave enough to actually begin to acknowledge that is is already changing? That word-Christmas- is already being questioned. Last year, more people were saying "Happy Holidays" to be inclusive.

My sister and I have finally exercised our adult rights to only attend holiday gatherings that resonate with us. Learning to say "no" to obligations that disrespected our time, energy, and mental wellness took decades but now we are finally able to rediscover the magic of the season again.

We were estranged from out father's family and now we are reversing that. We are now estranged instead from the other side of the family that had abused and damaged us in countless tiny destructive ways.

I was a "gifted" child yet grew up to be an adult failure. Religion, parentification, eldest daughter syndrome, manipulation, demoralization, and guilt-tripping ruined me. And all that time I didn't know I struggled even more than most because I was neurodivergent.

How am I doing now? Slowly getting better under medication and therapy. Fortunate enough to have found work I don't mind getting up in the morning for. Fortunate enough to still somehow have traces of that childhood "genius" so that I can keep my job. Fortunate that somehow I continue to have hope. I still look forward to being a full-time artist, of having an art shop, moving to the province and live near the woods, the mountains, or the sea.

(Hey Doc, I think the new dosage is working.)