As I was lying down deliriously in the overcrowded emergency room, I was worried more about my work assignment being delayed rather than my health; how I would disappoint my team, the university, and the Cebu Province Registry of Deeds. Despite my best efforts to social distance and keep myself healthy, I was severely hit by COVID-19 and in the middle of a special assignment no less. I spent a month hospitalized under intensive observation because, despite all the treatments I was undergoing, my condition did not improve. My doctors were throwing everything at me, hoping that at least one treatment would stick.
The pandemic clearly demonstrated how fickle fate could be and how foolish my belief was in my own youthful invulnerability. The Yiddish expression “der mensch tracht, un Gott lacht,” which translates to “When man plans, God laughs,” succinctly encapsulates my pandemic experience. Despite the seismic shifts brought on by the pandemic, I initially thought that I had it all together. I even felt at one point an odd sense of pride to be living through one of the 21st century’s historic events. I consumed news bulletins and the latest scientific literature regarding the status of the pandemic. I bought myself cycling gear to keep myself healthy and active, I was in the best shape of my life (with heavy emphasis on was).
In the esoteric halls of psychology, there is a debate on the adaptive value of depression. Academics far and wide discuss its etiology and why it was not “pruned out” of our DNA if not for some adaptive purpose. One of the many theories posited was the analytical rumination hypothesis, which argues that depression and depressive symptoms could be an evolved adaptation that served to keep individuals immersed in their own complex interpersonal problems until they could arrive at a resolution. I would like to believe I am living proof of this theory.
When I was discharged from the hospital, I was barely clinging to what little vitality I had left. Walking up the stairs felt like a marathon and being asked to recall what I had for lunch was like solving calculus. My mind was perpetually in a fog and my body was badly battered, but the core of my spirit remained unbroken. Throughout my recovery, I frequently fought against my inner demons, lamenting my shattered mind and body. Frustrated, I would push myself to do things at the expense of my recovery. I’d act and pretend as if I could still think and process the way I used to, only to fail spectacularly. I tried to get back to exercising at my old pace, only for the session to end in heavy nosebleeds and another trip to the hospital. With my classmates taking leaves of absence left and right, the challenge of keeping up with the rigorous standards set by my university felt insurmountable.
However, I realized that I was given a second chance at life, and I didn’t want to live the way I used to. As a fiercely independent person, I thought that those who buckled under pressure were somehow weaker and had a flaw in their character. Oh, how pride cometh before the fall. The pandemic acted as a stress test of sorts toward the beliefs I once thought were unshakable. In my case, it highlighted the faults of my arrogance and near-hermetic self-reliance. I swallowed my pride as I reached out for help to those closest to me. I faced the realities of living with severe post-COVID symptoms and took my life one slow step at a time. I believe I gained more empathy and understood that reaching out for help and guidance was not a sign of weakness. Every breathless step up the stairs was a small victory, every paragraph written worthy of a Pulitzer. It was during those times that I accepted that adversity in life was inevitable and that I should not dream of a life completely free of challenges, but I should instead pray for and strive toward being a better version of myself.
Pig iron is a strong but brittle metal as it will never bend but be broken instead. I am still the same independent, determined iron at my core, but I have been tempered by the pandemic with my beliefs reoriented to make me a more resilient and stronger individual. As in the words of Saint Madeleine Barat, “As iron is fashioned by fire and on the anvil, so in the fire of suffering and under the weight of trials, our souls receive that form which our Lord desires them to have.”
—————-
Paulo Cuesta, 23, is a graduate of psychology from the University of the Philippines Cebu. Once a child prodigy with the intelligence of an average adult, now an adult with the intelligence of a child.