“Si Dara? Naku, isa yan sa mga taong nakilala kong walang emosyon.” A friend of mine used to tell this line every time we are going to have conversations about emotions. In return, I gave her my sincerest smile because I knew she was correct.
I laugh. Yes, a lot. But crying? It’s none of my business. A tear or two would be enough for a touching movie or a bad experience of a friend or an inspirational book or even for the death of my own father. Very seldom. So rare.
I could still remember the prayer of my close friends during college every time recollection is coming… that it would be blue moon so they would see me cry or become emotional. Sometimes, I gave them the pleasure of seeing me cry, for the Thank you’s, sorry’s, I appreciate you and many more heartfelt messages. It’s once a year though.
Why is that so? Why am I like this?
I grew up with happy people around. People with strong personalities. A world where crying was a sign of weakness. A world where expectations were really high and failure must not be at hand. Pain was not part of my existence as a kid. Sadness never visited in our house, as well as disappointment. We never met.
During my teenage years, I was the shield, a crying shoulder of broken-hearted friends… a listening ear to a problematic buddy… an encouraging mouth to a suicidal stranger. This was my normal life way back then; which I think I enjoyed. Until college, it was still my job, my world. Aside from the fact that I stopped writing. Because I believed that emotions are pouring out every time I write. From then on, I put my pen down.
My father died. My heart was broken. I was in depression. I was in so much pain. But I was OK. People comforted me in return. Thank you, but then again, I was OK. No tears. No emotions. Just broken and wounded.
I moved on, besides life must not stop there. I finished college, found a job, passed the board exam. I remained strong for myself, for my mom and for the people around me. Again, I did not show any sign of weakness. For a long time, I was wearing a mask.
Not until, I started my first job as a TEACHER. At first, everything seemed to be a routine only. But then I realized that this world was reality. There was happiness, sadness, anger, disappointment. People here were real, they laughed out loud, they cried, emotions were normal. I was not a hero anymore. At times, I was a villain. Sometimes, I was the poor little one. These people removed my mask. They taught me lessons in life. They made me realize that life can be normal and simple in this seemingly complicated and harsh world. I can laugh if there is something funny or stupid. I can cry even in front of other people, if I’m sad or touched. I can get mad. The world would not judge me as a weakling if I did. Lastly and I think most importantly, this world taught me how to write again.
Now I am real. Thank God for putting me in this profession where only a few were chosen to enter. My love relationship with this profession, or should I say vocation, seems to last until my dying days.
I am about to end this article, but can you do me a favor? Please check the moon, is it blue?
Ms. Daramin T. Sanchez, 28 years old, is a Mathematics teacher at St. Thomas Avida. She enjoys watching movies, reading books, writing poems, and laughing out loud with her friends. According to her, she is a dedicated teacher, a frustrated writer, and an ambitious photographer.
Other Forever stories written by:
Other trending news, stories, and topics as they happen!