the pursuit of feeling fine

staying sane through a stupid gratitude list — entry 05

the other day, i was neck-deep in work when i received a call from an unknown number. the man on the other line was looking for me, full name and all, and informed me that he is a representative from a famous tobacco company. he was calling to tell me that i won two boxes of cigarettes and to ask for my complete address so he can send it over.

surprised, the only thing i got to say was “what? how did you get my number?” he tried his best to refresh my memory. five months ago, this tobacco company held a raffle in a club in poblacion. and apparently, i signed up and gave out my personal information in exchange for a free lighter. i chuckled and thought yes, that sounds like me.

if this was four months ago, i would’ve given my address without hesitation so he can send the goods. but i live with my parents now, and more notably, i haven’t smoked a cigarette in over four months.

so i told him no thanks, i don’t smoke anymore, and hung up.

high fidelity (2020), episode 5

i picked up the bad habit of smoking three years ago in my highly-stressful and demanding publishing job. like every other bad habit, it started with smoking one stick every time i drink. beer just tastes better with it, i’d argue. soon enough, it was part of my daily routine and i was finishing a pack in a week. i started every work day in our building’s smoking area, a cigarette in one hand, a cup of overpriced coffee in the other. when i hit a writing wall, i’d smoke to “clear my head”, when i successfully hit my daily quota of three articles, i reward myself with a smoke. and on friday nights, my friends and i drink until the morning, sharing and finishing countless packs.

when i hung up the call, i realized i haven’t thought of smoking for a long time. and i didn’t feel any regret for the lost chance of free supply of cigarettes. i wrote in my journal that night: huh, maybe i really have quit smoking. for real this time. after the realization, i added it to my “gratitude list”.

i’ve never been a look at the brighter side type of person, especially not now. i know well enough that there’s no silver lining to all this. but when i’m alone, inside my own world when no one’s looking, i keep a list to stay sane. a stupid list of the most mundane things i can be slightly grateful for in this life that feels like a poorly-written disaster movie. an inventory of simple pleasures i finally had the time to do, habits i started and sticked to and bad ones i finally broke.

having this stupid list doesn’t mean that these things make the whole ordeal less horrifying. it means that i’m trying to redefine what a good day is under these very terrible circumstances.

things on my stupid gratitude list:

1. the glory of early mornings

i’ve never been a morning person. when things were normal and going to offices was still a thing (remember that?), i was often one of the last ones to clock in. mornings were spent rushing — rushing to take a bath, rushing to get ready, rushing the ten minute walk to office.

when remote work started and the lines between working and living started to blur, i knew i had to start waking up earlier. i can’t keep rolling out of bed and rushing to turn my laptop on to join a morning meeting while still half-asleep.

on phillip picardi’s ask me anything, he told a reader asking for creative advice: we are freshest and cleanest in the mornings, when our brains are active and untainted. don't give that to a job, give it to yourself.

i started dragging myself out of bed at six in the morning. having three hours of personal time before burying myself with work majorly changes the course of a whole day. some days, i work out for a full hour. most days, i read for two hours straight. i try meditation too but it doesn’t do much for me. when i’m feeling introspective, i stay in our balcony, catch some sunlight, stare into space and write in my journal.

i find that it doesn’t really matter what i do with the extra time. simply having that time for myself and having the liberty to do what i want with it is enough to start a good day.

2. the pleasure in fiction

i was a pretty avid reader growing up. i’m willing to bet you were too, until we were introduced to the hell that is social media which stole all our time and attention span. at least for me, that’s what i believe what happened. according to my goodreads account, the last time i read more than 10 books in a year was in 2015.

determined to change things, i bought a kindle a year ago and have been slowly been getting back to reading. it was hard work at first. i would check my phone after every page. my mind would wander from the pages and i’d only realize i wasn’t paying attention after i’ve already flipped three pages, so i have to read everything all over again. it took me over three months to finish trick mirror by jia tolentino.

it wasn’t until april of this year that i started finishing at least two books in one month. currently, i’m on my 15th book of the year.

devoting parts of my day for reading was how i rediscovered my love for it. before, i would only read when “i feel like it” or “when i’m not too busy”. now, i wake up extra early for it, i spend my lunch break with my kindle on my side, and reward myself for surviving the work day by reading in bed.

and on saturdays and sundays, with no events to attend or friends to get drunk with, i recreate the excitement of weekends by immersing myself in a different world i can only access through reading.

3. the power of reaching out

human connection has never come easy for me. i can count in one hand how many people from high school and college i still talk to. i’ve never been good at making friends— meeting people, starting conversations, opening up. but there’s something i’m even worse at: keeping friendships alive.

it takes me hours to reply, sometimes i never reply at all. i don’t start conversations. i’m never the one to message first. i rarely initiate hanging out. and when friends invite me to meet up, it takes me 2-3 business days before i can fully commit to the invitation. i think the short version of what i’m trying to say is i’m a terrible friend.

but now that every single one of us is confined in our homes, loneliness has never been this ordinary and the feeling of being alone has never been truer. and the irony in my isolation is that i’ve also never felt more connected with people. i’ve been talking to my parents more, opening up to friends and work mates more, and reconnecting old ties that have faded over time.

if this was the pre-pandemic world, i would find all the excuses to avoid conversations. but now, i pick up calls with excitement. concerns of running out of things to talk about or saying the wrong thing that usually cloud my mind the moment i say “hello” are gone. i’m just glad to be a bit closer.

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it goes without saying that nothing could ever offset the horrors of the current situation. no list of good things could ever “cancel out” everything that is going on.

the world is upside down, everything is on fire, and it can feel like there’s no end in sight. but when sunshine hits my face in the morning or when i find a new favorite book or when i just hung up a fun video call with friends, i feel fine.

it’s only for a brief moment, but i feel better. and i think that good feeling, no matter how short-lived, is worth putting on a stupid gratitude list.