My chick lit streak hasn't ended yet. Or should I say, my Sophie Kinsella streak hasn't ended yet. I've mentioned before that "serious" writers may frown at my choice of books, but what the heck. I've been dealing with depressive episodes and bouts of anxiety that all I want is to be entertained. I want to laugh. I want to free my mind from all the stress, even if it's just temporary.
Anyway, I've finished Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic series up to Mini Shopaholic. Those books were hilarious. Then, I tried reading another chick lit novel by another writer, but I didn't like it that much, so I went back to Sophie Kinsella and read Undomestic Goddess and Can You Keep a Secret?. These books were hilarious too that I found myself laughing while reading.
Now, I'm reading Sophie Kinsella's Finding Audrey. When I saw the synopsis, I knew this book was something I could appreciate not just because it's funny. Finding Audrey is a young adult novel about Audrey, a 14-year-old girl who has Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder, and depressive episodes. As a person struggling with mental illness, this is something I can relate to.
Audrey wears dark sunglasses even when indoors or even when it's raining and she's outside. She finds it hard to make eye contact with people (even with her family), let alone talk to them. Talking to a stranger (even if it's her brother's best pal) gives her panic attacks. Her psychiatrist gives her projects to help her overcome her anxiety. I haven't finished reading the book. But the chapter where I'm at tells how Audrey is filming activities in her house and interviewing people so she could practice communicating with them without making eye contact. That's the project her psychiatrist asked her to do.
I can definitely relate to Audrey's panic attacks. Encountering (or sometimes, even merely thinking of) certain people sends my brain into panic, as if all my brain cells and nerves have been fired up. My fight-or-flight response is immediately activated, and my brain automatically chooses flight. And by flight, I mean breaking down into a catastrophic flood of tears despite religiously taking my mood stabilizers (a combination of anti-psychotic and anti-epileptic medicines).
This is how I panic, just like Audrey. I don't wear dark sunglasses, but now I wish I do, not because I can't make eye contact. I want to cover my eyes so people won't see me at the verge of tears. I want to cover my eyes so I have time to make a mad dash to the bathroom before I break down. And at times, I want to cover my eyes so people won't see the fury in my eyes when they piss me off.
I think I also need to do a project to overcome all my issues, just like Audrey. Maybe this is where I can channel my creativity and make something good out of my situation.
Monday, June 6, 2016
Friday, June 3, 2016
What feeling small feels like
It has been a month since I last wrote here. And in those weeks, a lot has happened. Or maybe not a lot. Just... significant.
I've been to a couple of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) with my new psychiatrist, Dr. Evelyn Gapuz. She's a kind and caring doctor and not intimidating (well, I think she should not be intimidating. Hehe). Over those sessions, I've once again told my story--my childhood and adolescent experiences up to the time when I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. which morphed into a more accurate diagnosis of bipolar disorder.
I can't talk about all these experiences without shedding a tear or two. Okay, without crying. Even if it has been years (heck, decades!) since those unpleasant experiences, they still resonate as though they just happened yesterday. And I can still remember them, small details and all.
On my second session, I was asked to answer a form called depression index (I forgot the exact name of the form). Each item consists of four statements that describes a range of emotions and situations, from mild to extreme. It's something like this: I feel happy and good about myself; I feel bad at times; I often feel terrible; I feel like a train wreck all the time. Something like that. And then, I am tasked to tick the box that closely resonated with my experience over the past two weeks.
I didn't know if I was to answer it casually, without thinking about each item too much, just like those psychological or personality tests we answer in school. There was no time limit though, so I took my time answering each item, reflecting carefully on what I had been feeling for the past two weeks. When I gave Dr. Gapuz my form, I thought she would study it already and give me her assessment. But she didn't. Maybe I would here of her assessment on my next session.
The one thing that she picked up from my narration of experiences is how insecure I am of other people. In every stage of my life, there's always one person I'm insecure of. Some people might find this surprising because I was never the shy type. When I was a student, I was active in class recitations. I used to volunteer for certain tasks. I used to lead prayers, was a reader whenever there's a holy mass. Even in college, I share my opinions and comments with rest of the class.
But deep inside, I feel so small. An orgmate of mine in college once asked my why I underestimate myself. Maybe it's because of my fear of getting frustrated with myself. I never aimed to be the best (if by some sort of miracle I become the best at something, then,well, great!) because I was scared of failing. "If you can't be the best, be a little better than the rest." This quote was my mantra. I just want to be a little better than the rest. It's okay if I'm the bridesmaid, never the bride. It's okay if I'm second, or third, or whatever.
And yet, when I see people (classmates, batchmates, even friends) who seem to have it all, I feel small. I feel unaccomplished--that my vocabulary is not wide enough; that my singing voice is problematic; that I'm not really good at playing musical instruments; that my diction is horrible; that I'm not smart enough to comprehend a certain theory that everyone else understands; and so on. I often ask the universe, "Why do some people have it all? And why do some of us don't have much (and I don't mean money)?"
"You shouldn't compare yourself with others," says everyone on earth. Yes, I agree, but it's easier said than done. Especially when you've felt small practically all your life. Especially when you've been bullied in school. Especially when you've experienced teachers discouraging you and putting you down instead of giving moral support. Especially when you've experienced being hated by everyone in class (or at least, the "queen bees") that you don't want to go to school anymore and your grades have suffered. Who would emerge all bright and shining from those experiences?
Based on everything that I've told her, Dr. Gapuz has come to the conclusion that I am insecure of others over these two things: talents and intelligence. That feeling of not being good enough because, well, somebody else does it so effortlessly well. And then, my time was up--this will be discussed on my next session (which I only have a tentative schedule of because Dr. Gapuz will be gone for a month for further studies abroad).
Dr. Gapuz's conclusion made me look at myself in a different light. Talents and intelligence--I'm not lacking on those departments (people have said). I don't know what to make of this, actually. But I think it's good that we've established the things that make me so insecure. And I need to "fix" this; otherwise, I won't be able to advance in life.
So that's it for now. I'm still taking the same dosage of meds (300mg of Quetiapine, 150mg of Lamotrigine). So far, this dosage has been making me stable. I haven't had full-blown, catastrophic depressive episodes lately. Or maybe this is just temporary. That was last month. I don't know about next week. Or tomorrow. Anyway, maybe I should have only the present to think about.
I've been to a couple of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) with my new psychiatrist, Dr. Evelyn Gapuz. She's a kind and caring doctor and not intimidating (well, I think she should not be intimidating. Hehe). Over those sessions, I've once again told my story--my childhood and adolescent experiences up to the time when I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. which morphed into a more accurate diagnosis of bipolar disorder.
I can't talk about all these experiences without shedding a tear or two. Okay, without crying. Even if it has been years (heck, decades!) since those unpleasant experiences, they still resonate as though they just happened yesterday. And I can still remember them, small details and all.
On my second session, I was asked to answer a form called depression index (I forgot the exact name of the form). Each item consists of four statements that describes a range of emotions and situations, from mild to extreme. It's something like this: I feel happy and good about myself; I feel bad at times; I often feel terrible; I feel like a train wreck all the time. Something like that. And then, I am tasked to tick the box that closely resonated with my experience over the past two weeks.
I didn't know if I was to answer it casually, without thinking about each item too much, just like those psychological or personality tests we answer in school. There was no time limit though, so I took my time answering each item, reflecting carefully on what I had been feeling for the past two weeks. When I gave Dr. Gapuz my form, I thought she would study it already and give me her assessment. But she didn't. Maybe I would here of her assessment on my next session.
The one thing that she picked up from my narration of experiences is how insecure I am of other people. In every stage of my life, there's always one person I'm insecure of. Some people might find this surprising because I was never the shy type. When I was a student, I was active in class recitations. I used to volunteer for certain tasks. I used to lead prayers, was a reader whenever there's a holy mass. Even in college, I share my opinions and comments with rest of the class.
But deep inside, I feel so small. An orgmate of mine in college once asked my why I underestimate myself. Maybe it's because of my fear of getting frustrated with myself. I never aimed to be the best (if by some sort of miracle I become the best at something, then,well, great!) because I was scared of failing. "If you can't be the best, be a little better than the rest." This quote was my mantra. I just want to be a little better than the rest. It's okay if I'm the bridesmaid, never the bride. It's okay if I'm second, or third, or whatever.
And yet, when I see people (classmates, batchmates, even friends) who seem to have it all, I feel small. I feel unaccomplished--that my vocabulary is not wide enough; that my singing voice is problematic; that I'm not really good at playing musical instruments; that my diction is horrible; that I'm not smart enough to comprehend a certain theory that everyone else understands; and so on. I often ask the universe, "Why do some people have it all? And why do some of us don't have much (and I don't mean money)?"
"You shouldn't compare yourself with others," says everyone on earth. Yes, I agree, but it's easier said than done. Especially when you've felt small practically all your life. Especially when you've been bullied in school. Especially when you've experienced teachers discouraging you and putting you down instead of giving moral support. Especially when you've experienced being hated by everyone in class (or at least, the "queen bees") that you don't want to go to school anymore and your grades have suffered. Who would emerge all bright and shining from those experiences?
Based on everything that I've told her, Dr. Gapuz has come to the conclusion that I am insecure of others over these two things: talents and intelligence. That feeling of not being good enough because, well, somebody else does it so effortlessly well. And then, my time was up--this will be discussed on my next session (which I only have a tentative schedule of because Dr. Gapuz will be gone for a month for further studies abroad).
Dr. Gapuz's conclusion made me look at myself in a different light. Talents and intelligence--I'm not lacking on those departments (people have said). I don't know what to make of this, actually. But I think it's good that we've established the things that make me so insecure. And I need to "fix" this; otherwise, I won't be able to advance in life.
So that's it for now. I'm still taking the same dosage of meds (300mg of Quetiapine, 150mg of Lamotrigine). So far, this dosage has been making me stable. I haven't had full-blown, catastrophic depressive episodes lately. Or maybe this is just temporary. That was last month. I don't know about next week. Or tomorrow. Anyway, maybe I should have only the present to think about.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Relapse
It is what happens when I've imprisoned my triggers and negative thoughts in a box, only to escape when I thought I've finally succeeded. It is what happens when I've already pushed these triggers away, only to come back with a vengeance and haunt me again.
Relapse.
I've been religiously taking my medicines, not skipping even a single dose. I've been going to my psychiatrist regularly, even if it means it's another P3,000 slashed from my bank account (it was P2,000 before, but it was with another psychiatrist who doesn't do CBT). Whenever I think about the cost, I realize that had I not been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I would've had a substantial five-digit amount in my bank account--enough for me to have money to put in a sound investment. But how useless it would be if I am not healthy both in body and mind. It has been a year since I started seeing a psychiatrist and so far, I've managed to get by. Every month, I'm in the red financially, but I get by.
Dealing with bipolar disorder has cost me a lot of money, that's why when I relapse, I become so frustrated. It's like all my efforts have been wasted. Then, I would try again to put my triggers in a box, only for them to haunt me again after a couple of weeks of respite. And the cycle continues.
Twitter has been helpful in helping me deal with bipolar disorder. People from all over the world who are also battling different forms of mental illness follow me, and I follow them, too. Once in a while, we all tweet using a specific hashtag, like #EndTheStigma and #WhatYouDontSee. It's like we are all part of a community, even if we are oceans and continents apart.
A girl I follow on Twitter tweeted a quote from Alex Elle this morning. It is this: "I am thankful for my struggle because without it, I wouldn't have stumbled across my strength." This puts our struggles in another perspective, to remind us that we are stronger than we think we are. That we have the power over our illness even if we often feel that our illness overpowers us. That we are the captains of our respective ships, and we can stay afloat even if huge waves continue to knock us over.
Relapse.
I've been religiously taking my medicines, not skipping even a single dose. I've been going to my psychiatrist regularly, even if it means it's another P3,000 slashed from my bank account (it was P2,000 before, but it was with another psychiatrist who doesn't do CBT). Whenever I think about the cost, I realize that had I not been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I would've had a substantial five-digit amount in my bank account--enough for me to have money to put in a sound investment. But how useless it would be if I am not healthy both in body and mind. It has been a year since I started seeing a psychiatrist and so far, I've managed to get by. Every month, I'm in the red financially, but I get by.
Dealing with bipolar disorder has cost me a lot of money, that's why when I relapse, I become so frustrated. It's like all my efforts have been wasted. Then, I would try again to put my triggers in a box, only for them to haunt me again after a couple of weeks of respite. And the cycle continues.
Twitter has been helpful in helping me deal with bipolar disorder. People from all over the world who are also battling different forms of mental illness follow me, and I follow them, too. Once in a while, we all tweet using a specific hashtag, like #EndTheStigma and #WhatYouDontSee. It's like we are all part of a community, even if we are oceans and continents apart.
A girl I follow on Twitter tweeted a quote from Alex Elle this morning. It is this: "I am thankful for my struggle because without it, I wouldn't have stumbled across my strength." This puts our struggles in another perspective, to remind us that we are stronger than we think we are. That we have the power over our illness even if we often feel that our illness overpowers us. That we are the captains of our respective ships, and we can stay afloat even if huge waves continue to knock us over.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Perfect weekend
If I could go back to any day from January up to the present, I would go back to last weekend. My boyfriend PM and I stayed overnight at Aruga at The Grove by Rockwell. Aruga is composed of serviced apartments. It's like staying in a hotel but living in a condo unit of your own--at least for the duration of your stay.
This staycation of ours had already been set a couple of months ago. As I went through my extreme downswings and periods of depression, I told myself that on April 9 (which was last Saturday), I could set my troubles aside even on just one weekend. I looked forward to our staycation, as it was also a new experience for us.
Before checking in, PM and I bought food from the grocery. It wasn't much--just snacks like chips and chocolates, a pack of six hotdog buns, and six cooked hotdogs from a stall just outside the supermarket.
Our room at Aruga was spacious. It was a one-bedroom suite that measures around 65 to 68 square meters. That's huge for a condo unit. There was a home office. Had that space not been a home office, it could've been another bedroom.
The entire unit was fully furnished and complete with all the appliances you need. There was a TV in the living area and in the bedroom. I was impressed by the kitchen which was fully equipped with a stove, microwave oven, oven toaster, percolator, and necessary kitchen utensils. Stored in the cabinets were plates, glasses, cups, bowls, and cutlery. There was even a bottle of dishwashing liquid!
The unit also had front-load washing machine and dryer, an iron and ironing board. The bathroom was also complete with toiletries and even a hairdryer! Our stay at Aruga had me daydreaming of how PM and I would be in the future--going about our daily tasks, finishing some work on a laptop while the other prepares food, and eating dinner in front of the TV (which we actually did. We ate all six hotdog sandwiches while watching Angels and Demons).
My favorite part was swimming in The Grove's huge pool. A lot of people were there, but the pool was far from crowded. And because I love, love to swim, using the pool was what I looked forward to the most.
That weekend was perfect that I didn't want it to end. For once, I was able to put all my troubles in a box and store it at the back part of my mind cabinet. For once, I felt far from all my triggers even if we didn't leave the city. For once, Sadness took a backseat and let Joy take over.
I don't know when I will feel the same way again. I don't know if I will feel such joy and freedom again. I can look forward to the next shared, pleasant experience we will have, but for now, I have no other choice but to live each day as it comes, extreme mood swings notwithstanding.
This staycation of ours had already been set a couple of months ago. As I went through my extreme downswings and periods of depression, I told myself that on April 9 (which was last Saturday), I could set my troubles aside even on just one weekend. I looked forward to our staycation, as it was also a new experience for us.
Before checking in, PM and I bought food from the grocery. It wasn't much--just snacks like chips and chocolates, a pack of six hotdog buns, and six cooked hotdogs from a stall just outside the supermarket.
Our room at Aruga was spacious. It was a one-bedroom suite that measures around 65 to 68 square meters. That's huge for a condo unit. There was a home office. Had that space not been a home office, it could've been another bedroom.
The entire unit was fully furnished and complete with all the appliances you need. There was a TV in the living area and in the bedroom. I was impressed by the kitchen which was fully equipped with a stove, microwave oven, oven toaster, percolator, and necessary kitchen utensils. Stored in the cabinets were plates, glasses, cups, bowls, and cutlery. There was even a bottle of dishwashing liquid!
The unit also had front-load washing machine and dryer, an iron and ironing board. The bathroom was also complete with toiletries and even a hairdryer! Our stay at Aruga had me daydreaming of how PM and I would be in the future--going about our daily tasks, finishing some work on a laptop while the other prepares food, and eating dinner in front of the TV (which we actually did. We ate all six hotdog sandwiches while watching Angels and Demons).
My favorite part was swimming in The Grove's huge pool. A lot of people were there, but the pool was far from crowded. And because I love, love to swim, using the pool was what I looked forward to the most.
That weekend was perfect that I didn't want it to end. For once, I was able to put all my troubles in a box and store it at the back part of my mind cabinet. For once, I felt far from all my triggers even if we didn't leave the city. For once, Sadness took a backseat and let Joy take over.
I don't know when I will feel the same way again. I don't know if I will feel such joy and freedom again. I can look forward to the next shared, pleasant experience we will have, but for now, I have no other choice but to live each day as it comes, extreme mood swings notwithstanding.
Thursday, March 31, 2016
Progress report
A month after my nuclear meltdown, here I am, unsure if I am emotionally and mentally stable or not. If I'm making progress or not.
My mood has been swinging again, from being okay to being in a deep downswing. I'm trying to ward off negative and destructive thoughts, as well as my usual triggers. Sometimes, I'm successful, but most of the time, I'm not. I feel a heavy weight deep inside, and at times, it just becomes too heavy for me to carry.
I wish letting go is easy. Like if you will those negative thoughts to go away, they would. But that's not the case. Most of the time, these thoughts decide to linger for long periods of time, leaving me down and depressed.
But the past few weeks have also been marked by happy days. We celebrated my mom and her twin sister's birthday. We had this burger-and-fries party at my uncle's house, and I got to introduce my boyfriend PM to my mom's side of the family. We had a blast. Last week, I just stayed at home and went on a Gossip Girl season 2 marathon while drinking glass after glass of ice cold, chocolate drink. There were also mall trips and attending mass with my close friend and colleague Maika. Looking at all these right now, I must say that there are times that I am indeed happy. My downswings just leave me feel so drained that sometimes, I no longer have the energy to do something fun.
Last Tuesday, I visited my psychiatrist again. He already took my antidepressant out of the list of medicines I have to take, but he did increase my dosage of Lamotrigine from 100mg to 150 mg. My dosage of Quetiapine remains at 300mg. Then next week, I'll be seeing a new psychiatrist (referred by my current psychiatrist) who specializes in child, adolescent, and adult psychitatrist, and who conducts cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT).
I'm actually looking forward to doing CBT. I'm positive that it will indeed help me change my negative thinking patterns and start with the process of letting go of bad thoughts. I have high hopes for this. Meds alone didn't work, and with CBT to be added to the equation, maybe I will have the right formula to actually get better. We'll see.
My mood has been swinging again, from being okay to being in a deep downswing. I'm trying to ward off negative and destructive thoughts, as well as my usual triggers. Sometimes, I'm successful, but most of the time, I'm not. I feel a heavy weight deep inside, and at times, it just becomes too heavy for me to carry.
I wish letting go is easy. Like if you will those negative thoughts to go away, they would. But that's not the case. Most of the time, these thoughts decide to linger for long periods of time, leaving me down and depressed.
But the past few weeks have also been marked by happy days. We celebrated my mom and her twin sister's birthday. We had this burger-and-fries party at my uncle's house, and I got to introduce my boyfriend PM to my mom's side of the family. We had a blast. Last week, I just stayed at home and went on a Gossip Girl season 2 marathon while drinking glass after glass of ice cold, chocolate drink. There were also mall trips and attending mass with my close friend and colleague Maika. Looking at all these right now, I must say that there are times that I am indeed happy. My downswings just leave me feel so drained that sometimes, I no longer have the energy to do something fun.
Last Tuesday, I visited my psychiatrist again. He already took my antidepressant out of the list of medicines I have to take, but he did increase my dosage of Lamotrigine from 100mg to 150 mg. My dosage of Quetiapine remains at 300mg. Then next week, I'll be seeing a new psychiatrist (referred by my current psychiatrist) who specializes in child, adolescent, and adult psychitatrist, and who conducts cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT).
I'm actually looking forward to doing CBT. I'm positive that it will indeed help me change my negative thinking patterns and start with the process of letting go of bad thoughts. I have high hopes for this. Meds alone didn't work, and with CBT to be added to the equation, maybe I will have the right formula to actually get better. We'll see.
Monday, March 21, 2016
Down and desperate
These days, I'm in a desperate attempt to cheer myself up. I'm so tired of my extreme mood swings, wherein I feel okay for maybe a week, only to plunge back into depression in the next few weeks. Of course, I take my medications as prescribed and think of happy thoughts, but there's only so much distracting I can do. I've accepted the fact that some things don't go away by sheer willpower.
I've been spending a lot of time with my friend, also a colleague at work, who's trying to move on from a breakup. We don't wallow in each other's sad stories. We do endorphin-inducing things together, like go jogging every week. We've heard mass together once, and have gone to two mall strolls together as well.
In my desperate attempt to feel happy and boost my self-esteem, I've bought myself some nice things (thanks to our annual leave conversion, I got a little extra). After depositing the amount I needed for my payables, I went to my favorite stores and got something for myself. It wasn't a spending spree (I hope it wasn't). Most of the items I got were on sale. I even bought some items using gift certificates that I have. As I've said, I'm desperate, and I wanted to feel good about myself.
When I wore what I bought to work, and people gave me compliments like "nice dress", "wow!", "I like your top", and "you look nice", I felt good. Sorry to sound shallow, but hearing those positive comments gave me the boost I need. Yes, buying myself nice things and thanking people for their comments do not address the root cause of my problem (which are my mental illness and negative self-image), but they made me feel good. Even for just a while.
I don't know how long will I be in this downswing (again). Yesterday, when I attended mass, the responsorial psalm was, "My God, My God, why have You abandoned me?" At times, I do feel abandoned, even if I know very well that God won't do that to me. Maybe He's not abandoning me. He's just giving me a heavy cross to bear. And if Jesus was able to bear his cross, then so can I. I don't know how, so I have no other choice by lifting all my intentions to Him.
And while I'm desperately cheering myself up, maybe I should also learn to block destructive thoughts and avoid negative triggers. Again, I don't know how I will do this, except to trust that eventually, things will be okay.
P.S. I should probably avoid malls for the next couple of weeks.
I've been spending a lot of time with my friend, also a colleague at work, who's trying to move on from a breakup. We don't wallow in each other's sad stories. We do endorphin-inducing things together, like go jogging every week. We've heard mass together once, and have gone to two mall strolls together as well.
In my desperate attempt to feel happy and boost my self-esteem, I've bought myself some nice things (thanks to our annual leave conversion, I got a little extra). After depositing the amount I needed for my payables, I went to my favorite stores and got something for myself. It wasn't a spending spree (I hope it wasn't). Most of the items I got were on sale. I even bought some items using gift certificates that I have. As I've said, I'm desperate, and I wanted to feel good about myself.
When I wore what I bought to work, and people gave me compliments like "nice dress", "wow!", "I like your top", and "you look nice", I felt good. Sorry to sound shallow, but hearing those positive comments gave me the boost I need. Yes, buying myself nice things and thanking people for their comments do not address the root cause of my problem (which are my mental illness and negative self-image), but they made me feel good. Even for just a while.
I don't know how long will I be in this downswing (again). Yesterday, when I attended mass, the responsorial psalm was, "My God, My God, why have You abandoned me?" At times, I do feel abandoned, even if I know very well that God won't do that to me. Maybe He's not abandoning me. He's just giving me a heavy cross to bear. And if Jesus was able to bear his cross, then so can I. I don't know how, so I have no other choice by lifting all my intentions to Him.
And while I'm desperately cheering myself up, maybe I should also learn to block destructive thoughts and avoid negative triggers. Again, I don't know how I will do this, except to trust that eventually, things will be okay.
P.S. I should probably avoid malls for the next couple of weeks.
Tuesday, March 8, 2016
Life lessons from Becky Bloomwood
I've been reading Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic series to entertain myself. I've been in a depressive swing for around three weeks already, and I badly need something to cheer me up. Thanks to Sophie Kinsella, I get a dose of hilarity every once in a while.
I'm now reading the fourth book in the series: Shopaholic & Sister. The main character, Becky Bloomwood, is so hilarious. Whether she's dealing with her shopping- and spending-related concerns or difficult people like Luke's mother, she manages to inject a funny bit here and there.
Some people (and they might be my colleagues in the writing world) might scoff at the idea of reading chick lit. They might even think Becky is so shallow. To some extent, yes she might be. But her humorous take on the difficulties thrown her way is a reminder that, once in a while, it's good to loosen up. Here are some of the things I learned from Becky:
1. Some people are complete cows that they don't deserve an ounce of our attention.
To be kind is a good thing, and we need to give and receive kindness. But some people simply don't like the kindness we are extending to them. I only realized this recently. Sometimes, we try our best to be really nice to a person for his or her peace of mind and ours as well. But sometimes, the result is far from our expectations. I'm not saying that people who refuse our kindness are complete cows (some are not). But if those people have other "motives,"maybe they are they might not welcome our kindness. Or worse, our kindness makes them feel awkward. In this case, it is in our best interest to move on and let go (although this is easier said than done. Believe me).
2. Spoil yourself once in a while, but make sure you only do so ONCE IN A WHILE.
I can't emphasize this enough. Becky's problems almost always arises from her uncontrolled spending. Of course, she likes shopping (if she doesn't, the books would have the word 'shopaholic' in their titles), but she goes overboard a lot of times. I love shopping, too, but I do so with a budget in mind. For example, my budget for dresses is P500 to P1,000 (if a dress costs below P500, then, great!!!). The same goes for shoes, although sometimes, I extend my ceiling price to P1,500, depending on how comfy the shoes are. For sneakers and running shoes (I only have one pair of running shoes, by the way), P2,500 is my limit. Shirts and other tops should not exceed P500. As my friend and I would always say, #NoToOverdrafts!
3. True friends and family won't leave you alone.
This is cliche, but it's true. Becky was able to snake her way out of her problems with a lot of help from her family and friends. I'm not saying that we should abuse their kindness. Every experience is a learning experience. A difficult one teaches us a lot of lessons, and our friends and family are the ones who make sure that those lessons stick with us.
4. Shoes and bags can make or break an outfit.
This might sound shallow, but it's true. Haha! So before leaving the house, we should at least have a top-to-toe glance of our whole outfit. If something feels or looks off, it probably is. And being comfortable doesn't mean we should look drab. We can mix both comfort and style, and it doesn't hurt to read fashion magazines once in a while.
5. A well-put together outfit can dramatically boost confidence.
And this is what I'm trying to do. I'm always down because of my depressive swings, and a lot of times, I feel terrible. That's why I want to improve myself in all aspects: physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I believe that before we like the other aspects of ourselves, we should learn how to love the person we see in the mirror. Then, everything will follow.
There you have it. I didn't expect that I could pick up a life lesson or two from a piece of chick lit. Haha! I'm having so much fun reading these Shopaholic books that I don't care if I get judged by fellow writers. A lot of things may burden us, and sometimes, all we need is a dose of laughter to make us feel better.
I'm now reading the fourth book in the series: Shopaholic & Sister. The main character, Becky Bloomwood, is so hilarious. Whether she's dealing with her shopping- and spending-related concerns or difficult people like Luke's mother, she manages to inject a funny bit here and there.
Some people (and they might be my colleagues in the writing world) might scoff at the idea of reading chick lit. They might even think Becky is so shallow. To some extent, yes she might be. But her humorous take on the difficulties thrown her way is a reminder that, once in a while, it's good to loosen up. Here are some of the things I learned from Becky:
1. Some people are complete cows that they don't deserve an ounce of our attention.
To be kind is a good thing, and we need to give and receive kindness. But some people simply don't like the kindness we are extending to them. I only realized this recently. Sometimes, we try our best to be really nice to a person for his or her peace of mind and ours as well. But sometimes, the result is far from our expectations. I'm not saying that people who refuse our kindness are complete cows (some are not). But if those people have other "motives,"
2. Spoil yourself once in a while, but make sure you only do so ONCE IN A WHILE.
I can't emphasize this enough. Becky's problems almost always arises from her uncontrolled spending. Of course, she likes shopping (if she doesn't, the books would have the word 'shopaholic' in their titles), but she goes overboard a lot of times. I love shopping, too, but I do so with a budget in mind. For example, my budget for dresses is P500 to P1,000 (if a dress costs below P500, then, great!!!). The same goes for shoes, although sometimes, I extend my ceiling price to P1,500, depending on how comfy the shoes are. For sneakers and running shoes (I only have one pair of running shoes, by the way), P2,500 is my limit. Shirts and other tops should not exceed P500. As my friend and I would always say, #NoToOverdrafts!
3. True friends and family won't leave you alone.
This is cliche, but it's true. Becky was able to snake her way out of her problems with a lot of help from her family and friends. I'm not saying that we should abuse their kindness. Every experience is a learning experience. A difficult one teaches us a lot of lessons, and our friends and family are the ones who make sure that those lessons stick with us.
4. Shoes and bags can make or break an outfit.
This might sound shallow, but it's true. Haha! So before leaving the house, we should at least have a top-to-toe glance of our whole outfit. If something feels or looks off, it probably is. And being comfortable doesn't mean we should look drab. We can mix both comfort and style, and it doesn't hurt to read fashion magazines once in a while.
5. A well-put together outfit can dramatically boost confidence.
And this is what I'm trying to do. I'm always down because of my depressive swings, and a lot of times, I feel terrible. That's why I want to improve myself in all aspects: physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I believe that before we like the other aspects of ourselves, we should learn how to love the person we see in the mirror. Then, everything will follow.
There you have it. I didn't expect that I could pick up a life lesson or two from a piece of chick lit. Haha! I'm having so much fun reading these Shopaholic books that I don't care if I get judged by fellow writers. A lot of things may burden us, and sometimes, all we need is a dose of laughter to make us feel better.
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