The Time When the Pandemic Saved My Life

As I think to myself in solemn isolation, I believe that the pandemic saved my life from needless worries I could have faced during college. I'm not kidding or lying. I could have easily off-ed myself in the middle of a school day and no one would care. I was able to harm myself inside a free classroom at Building A. 

That's how I previously viewed my existence in my near twenties. 

With all the misfortune thrown my way, I can never catch a break. 

My classmates always had a group whenever we had projects and activities to do. They always were grouped, like a flock of birds. I hated how I wasn't able to be a part of them. I hated how I longed to be a part of it. I hated how they weren't as forgiving and more open toward me. I always felt alone in that classroom filled with forty or so students. It was always filled with mindless chatter. People just can't control their voices. Well, it's not like the classroom is a public place and you need to keep your wits about you unless you wanted to experience shame. There were some voices that rang in my ears wrongly. I wanted to shout at them for being so loud and unkempt. It was always hot and smelly - this is particularly because we only have two or one ceiling fan working. The comfort rooms always had a pungent scent of urine. The toilets were still soiled by piss and feces. The floors were covered in mud. There were not many janitors because the university doesn't have a lot allocated for them. Again. It was a public university. What was I expecting? Getting good quality experiences like what I had with SVNHS? What an impertinent little thought. 

It was so poor. I couldn't bare it any longer. I kept crying on the way to the university because I didn't want to go through the feeling of loneliness as well as the poor quality environment again. Imagine. For almost an entire day. Classes were never fulfilling because I was always alone with my thoughts or somehow dragged along by Joy Rish. I disliked her back then. She always had another group or an acquaintance to converse with, and I couldn't catch up with them. I hated how minuscule and futile were my attempts at engaging with my peers. I hated those heated but lonesome afternoons. I wrote to myself. I tried to talk to other people, but it felt like it was forced. I was forcing myself to be polite or to care about whatever topic they fancied. I felt out of place. My course was unforgiving because it wasn't my passion. Up until this day, I don't know what my passion is for my career. I felt so angry, sad, drained, and just so depressed. 

My mother wouldn't understand me or my woes about how my classmates still did better than me because they weren't genuine enough. Or maybe I was the wrong one because I didn't follow the current trends. I blamed her for the times when I wasn't happy because we always didn't have enough money to buy delicious and warm meals. But she was able to dine out with her friends. 

My father gave up on me after rejecting his offer to go to Australia for the umpteenth time. While also called me bipolar when I desperately needed his support after all these years. He didn't feed me, house me, protected me, or nursed me back to health. I don't owe him a quarter of my life. I blame him for all the misfortune in my life. Why am I alive in the first place? I didn't even ask for this. You birthed me into this world without my permission. Yet, you try to live your picket fence life there in Australia as if we weren't a part of your life in the first place. How dare you do this to me? I didn't deserve this. You deserve all the pain and suffering in the world. You are not a great father. You would die tomorrow and I will laugh at your grave. I needed you in my life. To hold some stability and sense. The void in my heart is forever there and no one would be able to patch it up. 

My grandmother kept pestering me about money. For the bills. For her medicine. For our food. I would spiral into a manic episode where I would just be angry at the world and then isolate myself from people. She was the reason why I am so terrified of losing money, and not having enough money. If she wasn't pestering me about me, which was more often than not. But as I try to recall, she didn't do that much in the latter parts of her life as I know my brother would educate her on how I felt about money. She would retreat for the day and would try to ask me for some meager thing like her bp or her insulin. Damn. I'm really sorry about that, Lola. I could have done better at taking care of you. You tried to raise me as your own. But I couldn't see eye to eye with you. There was too much hurt and anger inflicted on my heart. I also blame you for giving me a hard time growing up. Yet you were there for my tantrums. You nursed me back to health. You were there for my awarding ceremonies. 

When the world was trying to mitigate the adverse effects of COVID in the first few months of 2020, we were confused by the sudden change. We were trying to limit the number of people we saw. So, the university was also forced to conduct online classes. It wasn't perfect. But it helped me. It saved me from the daily distraught brought by circumstances. I was able to learn by myself. At my pace. Without the interference of competition, neglect, and loneliness. I felt freer than ever. Like I have reached inner peace. Because I was able to view myself more often. I can reflect on my mistakes. No one would berate me or pressure me into doing other things. I wouldn't be weird. I would just be me. Maybe that's what I truly needed. To be away from the world, but just enough to make me appreciate their company once again. Social media really did a number on my self-esteem. I would often compare my life to some other person I was relatively familiar with. So, I backed away from everything. Apart from Twitter and Reddit as it currently seems. The pandemic also brought an end to my grandmother's life. She was always a thorn in my side. Constantly nagging about money, her deteriorating health, and my attitude towards other people. Her ability to be compassionate towards other people but not me nor herself. She would always allocate some money to lend to other people. Or give away to her sons, which I would say was a complete waste since they always spend it on gambling despite telling her that their lives were at an all-time low. Well, boo-hoo special snowflakes. You wanted to have families. You better bear the brunt of the consequences of your actions as what the responsibility for it would entail. Having families are just not about securing your end game as you reach your retirement. You ought to understand that to bring life into the world, it's your responsibility to make sure they are a working citizen. And that they want to live. They have something they would grow fond of. There would be something they would be working hard for. They would seek the purpose of their lives. You have to understand their emotions right before they even understand it themselves. 

Anyways, as I was saying, the pandemic somehow removed the bitter events that brought me down. That truly depressed me. Since I know, like the back of my hand, that these events as well as the people around me are beyond my level of understanding and reach. I couldn't easily manipulate their feelings. I couldn't give the right amount of wages my mother receives every month to ensure our survival. I couldn't cure my grandmother of her diabetes if she herself is not fighting enough for her life. It's like she's already ready to accept her fate. I couldn't handle myself knowing that death is on the other side of the door. Or in this case, the other end of the hallway (that's where her room is situated by the way). 

I'm afraid that once I get back to interacting with other people physically, I might go back to my depressive state. I truly hope not. I like to view myself as an improved version of Ailysh. More mature and emotionally stable person. Who could handle anything the world has to offer. I like to think it so. I have helped a humbling number of people during this era. I became someone who could listen to other people's problems. Not the other way around. I could be the rock of being beaten down by the world.  I could be the ship that keeps them afloat. But alas, I should practice the thought that I know that I know nothing at all. It keeps me open to possibilities and less prone to biases from prior expectations or experiences. 

But tldr; the pandemic stopped me from engaging with other negative aspects of my life and somehow I'm happier or less of a complainer.