Back when I was a little boy – roughly 4 to 5 years old – I remember just perusing the Grolier’s Encyclopedia that my mother bought for days and weeks. It took some time to do it, of course, but from reading those books, I learned to love history. I got stuck mostly in the “W” section where stories on World War I and World War II were abundant. Then, I moved on to the US Presidents and tried memorizing all of them from George Washington until George H.W. Bush.
Quite negatively, however, reading the encyclopedias may have also triggered my health anxiety. Suffice to say, all those times reading about different persons, events, places, and so on, may have paved the way for my future career as an academic in the field of history; but there is no doubt that my interest in reading led me to writing. As I always tell my students, both go hand in hand; if you are a voracious reader, then writing will come easy for you.
In hindsight, though, I did not really pursue writing at a young age. I was part of the school paper in my elementary years, but merely as a circulation manager. In high school, I was not part of any writing club or the school newspaper, but I still kept on reading books – mostly non-fiction. When I reached college, the writing part just came naturally as I wrote essays and papers as part of my requirements for my BA History course. My love for writing, however, developed further when I was in graduate school – taking up MA in History and PhD in Social Science. Of course, when you’re in graduate school, you’re really expected to read and write. It was here where I discovered my niche in World War II history.
I’ve already written quite a few journal articles and book chapters on World War II history – specifically within Negros Oriental – with topics like the disunity within the guerrilla command in the 7th Military District, wartime food shortage, political and military collaborationism, Japanese wartime atrocities, and so on. In the process of writing these papers, I’ve learned that that what urged me to write was not so much on getting a promotion at work, or “sheer egoism” as George Orwell mentioned as one of the motives for writing, but it was more on curiosity and the desire to contribute something in the historiography of World War II. I suppose from Orwell’s essay “Why I Write”, this desire has something to do with “historical impulse” or the “desire to see things as they are, to find out true facts and store them up for the use of posterity.”
Most of my writings or research are done quite painstakingly – it takes time and effort to finish it, as I do not want to make submissions for the sake of submitting, or for the sake of trying to get an award or a promotion. For me, those things will just follow if you master your craft; good if it happens, but nothing really concerning if it does not. Of course, there are people who love to take a shortcut – or an easier route – and compromise their integrity to satiate their egos and ambitions, but that should not be the reason why we write or do research. Writing, for me, is a craft that needs to be mastered, and it takes time, dogged persistence, and patience to master it. It should not be (or seem) forced – just to fulfill a requirement, or a attain a certain goal.
On another note, I also started writing because of my personal bouts with OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder), anxiety, and depression. I’ve talked about this in my previous columns, but one of the things that helped me get through melancholia is writing. I would always find time to write a diary of my daily experiences and, at times, bouts with this seemingly interminable curse, i.e., health anxiety. My psychiatrist told me that my health anxiety is brought about by my desire to neurotically control things or know and understand – or get to the bottom of – the root cause of my problems. The more I want to find answers about my illness, the more disappointed I get because it all just seems irrational. There is no rational explanation to it, and this is where the disappointment stems from – the lack of answers and explanation.
Nonetheless, writing about my mental health issues has indubitably, if gradually, helped me embrace it as an irremovable part of me. I know that I can never overcome it, and I believe it’ll stick with me until the day I die, but that’s just how it is. I have already learned to accept it. Once you have done so, you will slowly learn that life is copacetic – that it is okay to feel anxious, to feel down, and not to be in full control of your life.
At the end of the day, though, at least in my case, writing is just a part of the remedy. It is still important that you seek professional help if things are getting worst, especially if you feel like you cannot function properly anymore.
Whenever you feel like you’re drowning in misery, and you cannot understand why you feel that way, try as much as you can to write down (or journal) your fears and worries. This is not to say that writing will solve all your problems, but it will definitely help you organize your thoughts and understand them to varying extents. Try to make this a habit; soon enough, you might get a hang of it and start writing more about other matters that concerns or interests you.
To end, aside from writing, I can only speak for myself when I say that oft-times, we think that we’re alone, and that nobody can truly understand who we are, or what we are going through. We are so preoccupied with our inner demons that we forget the people around us – those that matter, and those that give meaning to our wretched lives. I suppose we should take some time to notice them too and give them a chance to help us; we should not close our doors on them.
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Author’s email: JJAbulado@norsu.edu.ph
