Just the other day I found myself almost hyperventilating, the roller coaster of recent events finally piercing my so-called armor.

There have been the highs and lows of the Olympics, where our athletes continue to fight for the country’s glory.

Our eyes glued to the screen, we have followed the journeys of Carlos Yulo and Carlo Paalam, one emerging with two gold medals in a row for the Philippines, unheard of till now, and the other bowing out at first blush, a boxing dream yet to be realized.

We have watched with bated breath, occasionally cringing, when Nesthy Petecio and Aira Villegas both advanced to the semifinals after beating their boxing ring opponents, China for Petecio and Algeria for Villegas.

Most recently, it was EJ Obiena who had many of us losing sleep as we watched him make the final four in a stiff competition for the pole vault gold.

We felt bad for Obiena when he narrowly missed clinching the bronze with one misstep, though it did not diminish the pride we feel for him and all the athletes in the Philippine contingent, medal or no medal.

We have come a long way, indeed, from having practically no competing athletes to absolutely no medal in previous Olympics. Now we are truly on the map, as they say, and our precious thanks to our leaders who continue to bat for more support for Philippine sports.

At this point, we are assured of four medals for the country, but some observers are predicting that the weightlifters will “spring a surprise” when the time comes.

Nothing of the sort has ever brought Filipinos together, not counting those times Manny Pacquiao’s bouts cleared the streets of Metro Manila and other regions as everyone followed each round transfixed, hopeful, fearful, undeniably proud in any case.

And while the Olympic Games in France had given rise to many issues from the get-go — including getting a rise out of Catholics everywhere with an opening number that many said parodied Christ’s Last Supper — it still managed to rekindle our pride as a nation, which remains a tenuous emotion in us all.

A few more days remain till we have the final medal tally, and meanwhile we will count our blessings coming as we have from a supertyphoon that razed the spirits of many. So now government once again reviews its calamity preparedness and so on — some things, we know, are as perennial as typhoons and regret.

Then, of course, there is the arrival of dreaded festivals like the Hungry Ghost Month of the Chinese culture, or Mercury Retrograde, both of which, if you must know, are delivering a double wallop to us this year.

How can you avoid the “malas” or misfortune these occurrences are said to bring this seventh month of the lunar calendar?

There are ways to do so, of course: “avoid major life events like moving house, having major surgery, starting a business, starting construction; traveling; making major financial investments,” and so on.

One may not be a follower of this tradition, but it always pays to exercise caution when it comes to important events or decisions, don’t you think?

What this Ghost Month will always remind me of, however, is the loss of my Mom, whose death anniversary is this Friday. And this year, we also lost a dear colleague — our Social Set editor Jojo Silvestre, whose passing left us in shock and sadness. He was always so full of life, so full of plans. We were still to travel, and publish a magazine, and interview countless personalities he was intrigued by.

To have had such energy amongst us, jaded plebeians chronicling less glamorous realms, was a gift we only truly appreciated once it was gone.

All these — and it’s not even half of August! — leaves me reeling just a bit. Ghost or no ghost, planets moving backwards or not… maybe we do need to hit pause once in a while.