Crying in the New Year

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    THE YEAREND. It’s that time again, and again, and again – for as long as I can remember – when depression sets in.

    It’s just there. No warning, no triggering mechanism, no nothing. No cause, no reason. I am just depressed.

    This peculiarity in the psyche necessitated some time with some shrinks all finding neither pathological nor psychological dysfunctions, drawing from as far back as  early youth. At least the earliest memories I can drag out.

    There’s just not a single traumatic Yuletide experience in my memory bank that could have possibly effected this yearend malaise. Still…

    So, as in years past, I cry my heart out on New Year’s Eve. For no reason, at all. Moreso as I’ve had a good 2012 and therefore should be most happy about.

    Careerwise, my assumption of the editorship of Punto! in June was more than enough cause for celebration, especially as the paper continued to soar as much in readership – online, particularly – and credibility as in revenues. 

    As some wag put it – so unoriginally: “Either hate or love Punto! But you can’t ignore it.”

    Travelwise, my self-imposed quota of three overseas jaunts a year more than doubled in 2012.

    Hong Kong with the whole family in January.

    Kuala Lumpur and Melaka in June for PHL AirAsia’s maiden flight. 

    Hong Kong and Macau with the wife for our 34th wedding anniversary in June too.

    Macau and Hong Kong in July for PHL AirAsia’s maiden flight.

    Bangkok and Pattaya in August with Cebu Pacific Air for media familiarization tour with the Tourism Authority of Thailand.

    Dubai and Brunei in September on a media familiarization tour sponsored by Royal Brunei Airlines, Ties that Travel, Meteor Philippines Inc., and White Sands Tours and Travel, Dubai.

    Taipei in December for PHL AirAsia’s media familiarization tour with Taroko Travel Service Inc.

    Domestic junkets covered Puerto Princesa thrice and Davao once.

    No globetrotter as yet, but a jetsetter already there.

    So, why should I, indeed, why am I depressed?

    Familywise, a year of generally good health. The kids are doing fine with their own separate lives.

    The youngest, Paquito, is at last listed as graduating in March. Hong Kong-based Jonathan earned his chartered financial analyst designation in October from the CFA Institute in Charlottesville, Virginia.

    And his presence completed the noche buena and media noche family tables.

    Materialwise, a 2008 Ford Ranger Wildtrak made an addition to the carpool.

    Mutated myself to an octopede with eight pairs of Crocs, Merrell, K-Swiss and Lacoste. And found vainglory in a TW Steel 3007 and a Sottomarino Italia dive watch coming within days of each other.

    It was a very good year, 2012 for me. Still amid all the material – and spiritual, I don’t miss thanking God – blessings, I am in deep depression.

    At the close of 2009, trying to find some reason for my crying on New Year’s Eve, I left the family and went to Iba, Zambales. There, in some secluded beach I immersed myself in the cool dark waters and waited for 2010 – raising alarms to the hotel boys who thought I contemplated suicide by drowning.

    I welcomed 2011 by my crying lonesome again at our house in Xevera-Bacolor.

    And 2012, alone, weeping in my room in our St. Jude Village home while the whole family was outside with all the gaiety, lights and noise of sparklers and firecrackers.

    In all these times, “I don’t know” was my standard response when asked why I cried on New Year’s Eve.

    At the turn of the last year, I found some reason for my tears: oneness in the suffering of typhoon Pablo’s victims.

    Yeah, how could I afford to be celebratory when some men, women and children could not even have a roof over their head?

    As I could not be with them in their homelessness, ay, in their hopelessness, at least I could cry for them.    

    More than reason, there’s some redemptive values for my tears there. So shall I go on crying to bring in each new year.            

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