The Dreamer's Disease

by Angel Santos

Exactly a year ago, I quit my job. 

It was not a decision born out of whim, not even close. It took me several months to finally give in to what I wanted out of life. It required me one road trip, one Albert Einstein, seven Bible verses, and one epic playlist to make the final decision. 

For nine months, I battled with my inner evils, telling myself that it was my duty to work after college and support my family. I came to a conclusion that idealisms and dreams were only for people who could actually afford them. I was not one of them. I coaxed myself into giving up my dreams of being someone noble in order to earn a decent living for my family. I wandered without a cause. I talked without substance. I merely existed and barely lived. I woke up everyday without a reason and motivation. I was stuck in reverse. I convinced myself that quitters never win and that only those with enough perseverance and patience would actually get to the end goal—success. For nine months, I let myself be blinded by social norms and society’s definition of success. During those months, I was my own unhappiness.

Until one road trip to Batangas. I was in the passenger seat, looking out of the window, seeing past the street lights and headlights. As we were passing by Tagaytay, the city’s cool breeze was touching my skin, sending chills down my spine. It was almost midnight then. Modest Mouse’s Float On, the third song in our Road Trip Playlist, was playing on the car stereo. My friends were singing along to the song. I was keeping my quiet and drowning myself in retrospect: Why did I accept the job? Why was I still staying? Was I happy with the decisions that I made? Were the norms worthy enough to sacrifice my own happiness? Those were the questions that I found no answer for until I thought of Albert Einstein, and the Bible verses that I read the other day. I was pretty sure that Albert Einstein, just like any other scientists, despite other people’s skepticism, still kept on doing things that inflamed his passion and interest, which proved beneficial, if not best, for him. Why subject myself to further suffering when, in fact, I could be happy if only I choose to? Right there and then, I knew what I had to do. Screw social norms, I did not want to be miserable anymore. 

And so, I quit my job. I bummed around to find what I lost—my idealisms and my dreams of becoming someone who could effect change to the great masses. Thinking that I could do and contribute more to the society in the future, I decided to go back to the academe. While I was planning and preparing for my immediate future as a student, Destiny was brewing something else for me. On my third week in school, something happened that changed the course of my life. Apparently, the academe did not want me. At the time, I could not understand and I refused to understand why it happened. I could not see its logic. The academe was for me, I could feel it in my blood, but I was wrong. Out of frustration in the recent events in my life, I did what I never thought of doing again in at least four years—I joined the working class. 

It was a Tuesday, the first day of my exile from that school. I was on my deathbed—figuratively and literally sick—when I received a phone call. It was a job offer, a job offer that I would have refused given a different situation. But since I was depressed and in need of something to do just to keep myself from breaking down, I accepted the job as a peace worker in a government agency.  

To put it simply, I entered the work force as a government employee. Yes, 21-year old government employee, a bit younger than the typical government employee I had in mind. On my first day at work, I was sure I was going to quit after three months. Never had I imagined myself working for, with, and in the government in my immediate future. Some of my Tibak friends would definitely slap me for this. I was sure that I would feel the way I did on my first job. Boy, I was wrong. What happened next was a certain realization that it was not what I thought it was. After a week of doing the job, I became conscious that I knew little of peace and the peace process in the Philippines. I was disturbed by the fact that despite my significant background in Anthropology and Sociology, it was still not enough to fully understand the peace process. I found it unsettling and challenging at the same time. I knew a little? Well, time to learn more. I did, and I still am. 

As of this writing, I am on my seventh month in the office. Four months past the deadline I set to myself, I am still working for peace and feeling content, something I did not feel with my first job. Four months past my deadline, I realized several things in life. 

First, “Do what inspires you and everything will be okay in the end.” Those were my mom’s words when I told her that I quit my first job and I intended to go back to school. Unfortunately (or fortunately), school was not for me. Not yet. I may not have found myself on the grounds of the university last year, but I believe that I am where I need to be right now. Working for peace is not easy. It was, it is, and it will never be easy. But it is where I get my inspiration to do more and to be more. It inflames my soul, knowing that I am doing something for the greater good.

Secondly, the cliché: everything happens for a reason. Had I said no to the offer, I would not learn certain skills and knowledge that I have now. I would not be able to contribute to the greater masses. Had I succumbed to depression, I would not be able to experience the things that I am experiencing right now. I would not be able to fulfill half of my dreams of becoming someone who can effect change, someone who does noble things for the people and for the country. Had I refused the job offer, I would not have found where my passion lies. Had I done things differently, I would not be as content as I am now. 

Thirdly, everyday is a learning process. Working for peace is like being a student again—with experience as my teacher. Everyday there is progress, new information that I have to process and save in my frail human brain. I have come to understand that the search for peace never ends. It does not stop with a signed agreement. It requires more than a signed agreement; it entails patience, faith, and perseverance to achieve it. Peace, I realized, is something hard to grasp, and it takes a dreamer to chase after it. 

Exactly a year ago, I quit my job to find a cause for my existence. Well, I think I already found it.