I wanted to tell him that I couldn't care less if we took EDSA or C5. It was a Friday night, everybody was out for the long weekend, and I was just coming home from an emotionally draining week in Cebu. My flight was delayed and so I met Metro Manila rush hour traffic. All I wanted to do was not to think and let the world take its normal course.
I politely told Manong Driver to try C5 and returned to my confused thoughts. I had planned to attend the First Friday Mass at Lingkod QC tonight. There was no way I could make it with the way the traffic was going, however, and I had to accept that. I didn't want to call attention to myself by walking in late in the middle of Homily or Consecration, with my black-and-pink luggage in tow. I texted the people I was supposed to meet there that I was sorry to miss the mass. I asked for prayers. I didn't specify for what, as my intentions wouldn't fit in one text message.
The familiar beeps of replies from friends, the driver's music from Friday Magic Madness, and the song playing on my iPod, which I wasn't paying attention to, all failed to distract me. I wanted a retreat so badly but could not fit it into my schedule. I wished I could go to an island spa but it was not in my budget. I sorely needed to talk to a spiritual director, or a counselor, but could not contact anyone on a Friday night.
I counted all my failures this week and got more depressed. Perhaps I just wasn't cut out for my job. Perhaps I should have done more, given more, been more. I could not bear the thought of all the work I had to face on Tuesday. Even the youth camp this weekend at Anawim did not seem so exciting, and felt like punishment. I knew I wasn't thinking straight anymore. I was simply exhausted. I didn't need to tell anyone about it, as my friends would just say that this too shall pass, and that my God and I had been through worse crises before.
I needed to write about it though. So write about it I did.