State of the Moment Address

Three months ago, I began feeling abnormal sensations in my body. For many days, I would feel sick, nauseous, dizzy and always just utterly afraid. I couldn’t even walk straight during certain times of the day. The pain and anxiety was not even just physical but it became a palpable manifestation of the fear that I was probably going insane or facing death. Since November, I’ve been suffering from severe panic attacks (my classmates can attest to this) and have lost the capability to act like a normal person. I was always paranoid and everyday was a struggle to live. For the past months, I’ve consulted at least five doctors and all of them said that I was just probably suffering from separation anxiety because of my upcoming graduation. Yet, my depression seemed to have escalated and became already too intense, which then lead to my hospitalization two weeks ago. Little did I know that I was already suffering from a certain ailment called hygroma that is causing some parts of my brain to malfunction. Even until now, I’m still under observation and can’t survive a day without my medication.

And yet, as if to add insult to injury, tragedy seems to have hit once again but it has not just affected me but my entire family as well. Last Thursday, like the other days that passed, I felt weak and had to stay at home. The weather was gloomy and the winds were strikingly cold. Davao City seemed like it was drenched in melancholy. And yes, it became even more melancholic with the news that

one of my family’s dearest friends,

Tita Nene Lacaba, was abducted in Sulu

by bandits in the estranged island. Suddenly, it was not about my illness anymore. I forgot about myself and started to worry more for my beloved Tita Nene. As my mother and I watched ANC’s Breaking News confirming Tita Nene’s abduction, all we could do was hug each other and allow tears of mixed emotions to wet our already wounded spirits.

It seems utterly devastating that it was just two months ago that we were at Tita Nene’s rest house merrily celebrating her 44th birthday (No, she is not 37 as most newspapers would claim) and now she’s at the hands of such individuals who hold no respect for any laws whatsoever—not even that of the Geneva Convention that protects humanitarian aid workers of the International Committee of the Red Cross.

I can still remember during Tita Nene’s birthday how she willingly offered me hot milk, knowing that I was having panic attacks and was not allowed to drink coffee. Yes, that is how she is, the Tita Nene I know—selfless, generous, warm-hearted, kind, motherly, vibrant and with the kind of laughter that is infectious and warms the soul.

Even during my recent confinement, Tita Nene would constantly check on how I was doing. This is how I know that she deeply cares for me too, in the same way that she cares for her distraught son. Four days after I was discharged from the hospital, what would be her last text to Mama only said, “Naa na ko Sulu mam.” If only I knew that she would be mercilessly taken from us that Thursday, two days later, I would have personally thanked and hugged her when she was asking about my condition.

It goes without saying that these are very tough times for me, my family and many of our friends. Even whilst I’m writing this article, my head is throbbing (and actually am about to faint—my illness gives me a hard time to stand the glare of the computer monitor). But, I remember Tita Nene and what her two companions are possibly going through right at this moment and I feel more strength to choose to write this story.

Last night, I was with Tita Nene’s family, relatives and closest friends. Not an eye was without tears. Clearly, not a single person there has had enough time to rest and cope with his or her distress. The atmosphere can only be described as sombre. But, out of respect for the family’s right to privacy and choice to remain silent during this time,

I can only ask and plead for everyone’s