Tired

A friend asked me today if I'm happy. I've known this guy for almost my whole life. He knows I'm busy. He knows I'm doing a lot of important things. He appreciates the things I do. And yet he asked if I'm happy.

Has it become so clear that I am not? I've always kept this facade of a strong, happy woman full of life. If you go to my friendster profile most of the testimonials there say that I'm luka-luka, malakas tumawa, masarap kasama. I'm fun to be with most of the time.

At work I don't panic when under extreme pressure. I can control my temper and katarayan when I have to. I'm learning to pamper and love myself again. I try not to work more hours than I should. I get as many massages and spa treatments as possible. I eat well.

But yes, I admit, there's this sadness gnawing at me. This afternoon I was supposed to go and see this well-known shrink. I was determined to "fix" me before I turn 35 next year. But I got sick and couldn't make it to my appointment. I'm certain my body didn't want me to go. I've a strong mind, a doctor-friend once said, I can will myself to get sick when I want to or need to.

Maybe I'm not yet ready to face my demons. Maybe I'm still too scared to find out what's eating me. Maybe I really want to keep the status quo despite the mess I'm in. I'm totally screwed. Or maybe I'm just tired.

Yeah, I think that's it. I've been tired for the last 34 years.

PS. The other day I jokingly told a girl-friend who's in a rut right now that sometimes the solution to boredom is not embarking on a new career, sometimes it's just getting a new boyfriend.