You don’t need me to tell you 2020 was a terrible year. We started off on the wrong foot with the Taal eruption, COVID-19 forced us inside our houses for 9 months and counting, and institutions like the health and education system were essentially upended. 

We’re living through history as we speak, whether we like it or not. I think none of us anticipated these “unprecedented times” would be this dull, this unglamorous, this unexciting. And I certainly believe none of us expected to mourn this many losses this year.

Again, from a historical, global viewpoint – the world’s been through a lot in 2020. We get terrible headlines every day and there’s always something to be angry about. But the losses hit harder when they’re closer to home.

I have friends that lost jobs they loved. I have other friends stuck in jobs they hate but are having a hard time finding openings elsewhere. I have friends that were robbed of the on-site classes and graduations they were looking forward to.

We lost a lot of our favorite places, too, as the pandemic sent the economy into recession. I live a 10-minute walk away from my college campus and I don’t recognize the streets anymore. My go-to Pancake House branch, home to my awkward dates and barkada dinners, is gone. I can’t order from my favorite rice bowl restaurant, and I can’t window shop at my favorite handmade crafts store. I won’t be able to struggle down the stairs of my favorite rooftop bar after one too many mojitos.

And I have not had the time to process the inordinate number of deaths from this year alone. Almost all of my closest friends lost someone this year – a doting grandmother, a successful sister, even a childhood dog. I sent my condolences more times than I would have liked to and the deaths kept coming, one after the other.

It’s a painful awakening, realizing these tragedies don’t discriminate. A lot of us wanted to think we’d make it through the year unscathed, and then we didn’t. 2020 has taken so much away from us that none of us want to ask how it could get any worse.

I’ve acknowledged that I have it better than most people in this lockdown, and I stand by that. I mourned my own losses but there were some bright spots that kept me going – I revisited old interests and I relished all the time I had to myself. I reconnected with old friends online, in one way or another. My family had enough money to keep us afloat, so I got to save a big chunk of my salary from the past few months.

But not everyone has those bright spots. Think about Reina Mae Nasino, who gave birth to baby River in jail, only for her daughter to die a few months later. Think about how peasant leader Randy Echanis was killed and tortured and how their family had to suffer all over again when his daughter Amanda was arrested. Think about all the families who lost loved ones to the coronavirus, to disasters, to police brutality. Systems failed them and they’ve gone through insurmountable losses, and I hope they do whatever they need to do to fully recover.

People have said I give good advice, but I don’t know how to reassure people anymore. “Look at the bright side,” but where is the bright side? “It gets better,” but when does it get better? “Things happen for a reason,” but will any pretentious explanation make up for the mess we’ve had to go through this year?

I’ve admittedly stopped trying to look for the “silver linings” in these times of distress, and maybe it’s alright to acknowledge that sometimes there aren’t any. I no longer ask God if He’s preparing me for anything whenever I go through hard times; I find that it’s just better to vent it all out. Sometimes bad things just happen, without any justification for that character-building nonsense.

I know that many of us are capable of bouncing back after weathering through tough times, but our resilience can only take us so far. We’ve gone through battle after battle without ample time to recover for the next one. I don’t think we were made to process this much collective grief. Is it too much to ask for a break? Apparently so.

So what’s the point, you ask? What’s the point of living if the world’s just going to take everything we love away from us?

I don’t know. 

That might not be the answer you wanted, but it’s my honest answer. I don’t know. I’ve had my own share of waiting for breakthroughs that never happened. There were times when I was angry for months on end because life then was nothing but a series of closing doors. I’m still figuring it out, the point of keeping on.

But I’m here. My friends and family are here, too. And I’m not going to say we’re “stronger” because of all the losses we had to endure – no, those losses crushed us. But we’re here today because we have to be.

I still haven’t processed all the terrible things that happened this year. And that should be okay. I’m a big advocate for letting people take as much time as they need to and I believe no one should tell anyone they’re taking too long to get over something. We might not be able to finish the year strong, but it’s enough that we finish.

I don’t know if 2021 will be a better year. None of us know for sure and I don’t want to promise anything. I get up not knowing if today will be a great day or an awful one, but what matters is I get up. Sometimes forward is all we have and I’m learning to make my peace with it. – Rappler.com