Author: Neyzielle Ronnicque

First things first: Invasives are cruel.

These past few weeks — tsk, months maybe— have been about flattening everyone else’s emotions. It was about being scared and vulnerable; about hiding sentiments, and constantly facing fears I never knew existed. It has been very terrifying. Enough to tear down the defenses I struggled to build long time.

I know, deep down, that I am never meant to carry these alone. But silence is more bearable than asking people to sway with me in this position.

Invasives get heavy. Tonight, they come in waves, and I am drowning.

I’m very tired, but I don’t want to sleep. I’ve got a lot to do, things that I always postponed for some future date, in the date when I thought life would last forever. Things I’d lost interest in, when I started to believe life wasn’t worth living.

Paulo Coelho, Veronika Decides To Die

So, what about it? What gives?

Life is fair, but it can be a whole lot unfair, too. Our society imposes collective ways of behaving, and it– most of the time– forces me to think hard about how to deal with my life. Some days, I come out strong, but most days, I feel oh, so weak.

My heart told me this is just a passing phase. Personal growth comes with challenges and unsteadiness and breakdowns and awful adulthood decisions. It inevitably comes with a price, and I have no choice but to pay it without complaints. But right now, I need to come out of my delirium. The world will not stop spinning just because I stop functioning.

What is both terrible and beautiful about this world is it’s forever changing, so it gives me a reason to never be stagnant, not to be stuck, and to never stay perpetually still. I am all allowed to be fierce yet fragile, to be soft yet strong, to bend without breaking, and to rise without falling.

Ah, scrap that. I will rise and fall, but I will pick up the phase and start running towards my end goal, over and over again. I have nothing to lose, so I am living my life the way I want it to be.

I will always remind myself that invasives can get pretty heavy, and it’s okay to feel weak sometimes. It’s okay to be scared and tired and crying, to feel hopeless and dreadful, to push through the pain, to be one step ahead of my game, or to lay back down and think about my next great move to jump start living again.

So, what about it? Nothing. This is just a friendly reminder that the invasives will come and go, so deal with it as much and as long as you can. It is a natural process to finding your strength again.

Over and over again.

Ilocos Norte is so proactive on the fight against COVID-19, it’s relieving.

When I decided to go home from the fear of being locked down again for I don’t know how long in Metro Manila, I knew it will never be a smooth ride. Securing the necessary documents and passes was a bother, but the longing for a safer haven was stronger.

I was supposed to go back two months earlier, but I felt like the danger of me going home poses a greater danger to my family, so I stayed a little bit longer, working from home, locked from the outside world of my neighbors who never stopped fixing their houses from day one.

But then came the exponential growth of positive cases, and my community wasn’t disclosing necessary information about the rumors of COVID-positive patients in the area. Still, we stayed religiously at home, but the fear of contracting the virus was overwhelming it kept me awake at night.

I stressed over the circumstances, until one day, my friend went to process her documents – she was finally going home. I did not know what to do. Where should I go? Should I stay in Novaliches for the time being? Because I can’t afford to stay alone in our boarding house any longer. But I want to go home. How can I go home? So I waited until she was able to secure her travel passes.

Without any concrete plan on how to reach Ilocos, I started processing my papers, too.

I booked a flight to Laoag when I have finally submitted the travel authority requirements at the police station. But just when I thought the plan was working out well, Philippine Airlines cancelled my flight. Pays to have a plan B, though, —my neighbor was going home a day earlier than I was supposed to, so I asked him if it’s okay to hitch a ride. He said yes.

Rumors about Metro Manila going back to the ECQ situation started roaming around social media, so we planned on leaving the Metro before the 16^th – that’s what we did.

We reached the Ilocos Norte-Sur border at around 2AM—it is the strictest border control along the Northern strip, indeed. Our identities were verified, our temperatures were checked, nurses on duty interviewed us to know more about our travel history and whom we came to contact with, and after all the protective measures, we were told to wait for the representatives of out local government unit (LGU).

Our town’s protective measures were even more efficient. Staff and nurses from Bacarra Municipal Health Office and MDRRMO came to fetch us at 10AM (yes, we stayed inside the car for that long—no biggie, though, we just slept); they drove us all the way to our Barangay Isolation Units; disinfected our baggage; disinfected the rooms for the second time; and coordinated our stay with the BHERT officials.

Pseudo-home, at last. Back to my safety-net.

But it wasn’t the end for my long journey. I needed to transfer to a hotel because I cannot work with other people around me—with all the meetings and late-night part time work to consider. So, our very efficient nurses drove me back to a hotel in Laoag using the municipal ambulance.

Hotel rooms don’t scare me—with all the solo traveling around the world that I did, but my alter ego was screaming “14 days is too long, you’re going insane!”

But it wasn’t so bad. Food were delivered directly to my hotel room, nurses came to check my temperature every morning and night, hotel staff were helpful and accommodating, and above all else, my family and friends came to visit me from time to time to bring food I devour alone. My youngest brother was also a nurse on duty for a few days, and the idea of him being so close to me made the stay bearable.

I also enjoyed being curled up like a burrito because of the coldness from the aircon that I never turned off (lol, I did few times a day); the long hot showers; and the deafening silence every night when I assess my decisions in life.

This wasn’t exactly the scenario I imagined when I get back to Ilocos, but at least the health care system is far way better here than in Quezon City. I felt bad, for sure, because on our first day, the provincial government announced two new cases in the province, after having none for the past two months. I was scared. People were blaming the Balik Probinsya Program, and I for sure wasn’t confident at all.

Until the government sponsored another free Rapid testing. The result came out negative, and although there is a 50% chance of it being inaccurate, at least it lessened the dread.

Ilocos Norte is so proactive on the fight against COVID-19, it’s very, very relieving and reassuring. Other provinces in the north don’t even come close. This is how my province fight the pandemic, when others don’t even do the bare minimum. I just wish other provinces will do the same.

Until then, at least I’m back to my safe haven.