The Faith Factor

A couple of months back, when mom was still pretty conscious of filling the whole unit with an eighty decibel audio from whatever it was that she was watching at that particular moment, I heard Kris Aquino over the tube. It was on one of those considerably less stressful Sunday afternoons, me headset-free and what-not, and after her emoting over something I don’t exactly remember anymore, she ended her tried-hard-to-be-dramatic-but-didn’t-quite-pass-off-as-such speech with a cliché. “Choose your battles,” she said. It made sense, weirdly enough, even though I’m sure it didn’t really quite tie up with whatever it was that she was saying anyway. Even so, it’s pretty much lived with me until now.

I’m not exactly into reliving my defeats and failures from the past. The fact notwithstanding, three weeks ago, I lost a bid to become N.E.C.E.S.’ vice president for logistics and documentation. I think here’s where I’m supposed to insert bitter comments about how my pessimistic tendencies dictated it was never going to work out in the first place.

But I won’t.

Because I won’t make a mockery out all of the experiences I gained from that point onward; there were a lot of lessons learned, new friendships formed, bonds with old friends that got strengthened, and a particular one that takes special mention for being renewed – you know who you are.

And then there are the offers. Of course, a lot of things have opened up for me after that. One’s being delegated the task of organizing workshops for the same club that I ran for, which is nothing short of being nailed in the proverbial coffin. But I’m barring the two more that I’m essentially considering up to now; I’m indecisive like that, I guess – that much still hasn’t changed at all.

Because after everything I’ve purportedly been through over the last couple of months, I’m no stranger to having cold feet. Right after the loss, my resolve was complete; there was nothing left for me to lose. I gave myself the green light.

Yet as though on that line-up less Saturday redux, I’m having second thoughts about taking one more. What if I’m having too much on my plate? What if precisely because of that, I end up undercooking all my commitments? What if I haven’t chosen my battles well enough?

How committed are you? The last line read.

People will have you believe that ultimately, you should let go of your inhibitions. As for me it’s not a question of having guts of steel or having a face four inches thick, but rather it’s the prohibitions It’s all about firmly believing that I can do it all.

I guess the only question now is: can I?