Life is a mystery and more mysterious is death. 

     Sometimes, we take life and people for granted. It was not until in 2009 that I have started to realize that while we live we need to make the most out of it and live peacefully with others. In October 2009, I was sent to Senegal for a three month experience in one of our communities.  Everything was fine and I was enjoying my mission.  And came this day of December 4 when the superior woke me up my afternoon nap to join everybody in the living room.  The atmosphere suggested already something wrong had happened.  Then, as I sat since I was the last to arrive, she broke the news, the bad news: one of our fellow sisters had had a car accident and died. We all wept. 

      Another similar event occurred last 2015, when another sister with whom I was close went to bed at night and never woke up.  We were friends until something affected our relationship and I was not able to talk to her about the issue so that we could settle down the conflict.  Unfortunately, When she passed on I was already here in the Philippines.  I was depressed and felt guilty. 

       What questioned me was the fact that the first sister was healthy when she left for the trip.  She said goodbye but not a Dios.   And I never thought my friend will die soon.  After these events I started to think seriously about our human life.  Anything can happen at any time.  From that day, I told myself that I should avoid going to bed angry with others.  

    Since then, I try to be positive and forgiving.  I am conscious about how fragile life can be.  I try to value each one’s presence.  And I leave room for the unexpected.  

He, who, with gold blings,

Tough exterior, and straight face,

Sells sampaguita 

Recently, I have been nothing but down due to how my life is doing. Continuous Family problems, Hassle which accompanies my position, and an unwantedly negative mindset I do have... I see myself as living a life not that worth living. I question my existence, and if I still, shall keep going. 

Just last Sunday, Feb. 25, 2018, I volunteered in UE-SCA’s outreach in TALA Leprosarium. Before seeing the patients, I was of excitement meeting them, excited to converse, and hear the stories they have to share. It was all about fun, until I actually got to see them… 

As we enter their respective wards, I saw them and felt a strong aching in my heart. I could not bear to see their condition, but as part of the activity, I chose to talk to an old man who answers enthusiastically when we were introducing ourselves. As soon as I sat next to him, he said, “Do you know I’m blind? You know, even if I’m blind, I can feel the kindness in your heart.” It made me smile. I started conversing with him saying, “Kamusta po kayo tay?” He replied, “Di mo man lang ba tatanungin pangalan ko?” I answered, “Ano po palang pangalan niyo?” He replied, “Emmanuel Espiritu. Emmanuel na ibig sabihin ay God is with us at may Espiritu (spirit) pa. O diba?” The conversation went on and on, and I saw the positivity he has in himself, despite too much struggles he has faced and is still facing in life. It made me re-think of myself. If a man who is at such an unfortunate state can be this positive, and trusts God in all things he has in life, why can’t I? 

We ended our conversation with me saying, “See you!” he then answered, “bulag nga ako, pano kita makikita?” I laughed and answered, “Feel you soon!” He , too, smiled and said, “Feel you soon! Masaya akong bumisita kayo. Bisita ulit kayo ah?” 

Ever since I was a kid, I wasn’t that clingy person who always says I love you to my parents. I do not show my love for them. It was always hidden. I grew up with a weird relationship with my parents. We don’t act like a stereotypical mother-daughter or father-daughter rather, we act like friends. Other people find it very cool and yes it is. However, at some point, it wasn’t. Honestly, I do treat them as friends and without me knowing, they are longing for a daughter. Honestly, I was a rebel. The rule-breaker. The one you don’t want to be your daughter. I enjoyed my life the way I wanted to be without considering what they feel. I was so selfish and without me knowing, they were longing for a daughter. 

One incident happen a year from now. I was hospitalized because of pancreatic tumor, thank God it was benign. It was painful, like if you would rate it, it was nine over ten. A month long wherein all you just feel is pain. This is the point wherein I lost everything, my education, theater, boyfriend and an organ in my body. It was a tough battle to fight depression and anxiety. I isolated myself inside the room, I isolated myself from people. Things change. A lot has change. That moment, I felt like I was alone. Every day I am seeing the same stuff. It was very lonely. 

Well, I’m still here, still kicking. All thanks to the one who never leave my parents. They never left me. They were with me through the battle. I learned to value them and treat them well since then. I realized that it take a nice hit on the head before you learn. I appreciated what my parents did to me. I realized that there are people who will never leave you, it is your family. I guess I did a lot of nasty things in my past but now I learned to value the people who were always there for me. Today, I never felt alone. I am more than happy.  

Every day is a chance for us to be the change we want in this world. Certain circumstances will lead us to things that will push us through our limits may it be good or bad. In my case, one good circumstance happened to me around 2010, 8 years back. It is where I took the leap of fate. A fate that I think is really destined for me. 

Once upon a time, way back my elementary days, I was always elected as an officer in our class as vice president or president. During those days, I asked myself “am I worthy of the position?” and a unanimous decision from our class said “Yes.” That’s why I became the president of our class from grade 2 up until grade 5. So during my last year in elementary, I was offered AGAIN the position of a president but this time, in the central student council. I was so shocked with the said invitation for I thought that I am not really worthy of the position. As you all know, I am really loud and extrovert so sometimes I tend to get loud and make unnecessary comments on anything. I also got worried because I might not balance my time for my family, friends, and academics. But despite of the many what Ifs I’ve had, I chose to run. 

            Fast forward to the day of the releasing of the results, I won with a big margin against my two opponents from the two other parties. That, I think, changed my perspective in life.  From that, I realized that if you want something, no matter how hard hindrances may come, you will still fight for it. But I guess you’ll ask: What perspective did it changed you? Well, before winning the presidency in 2011, I already have the leadership attitude in me. But sometimes, I get so shy to impose things because I feel I don’t have the right or even the capacity to do that. I am a leader by heart but not really in mind. But after winning the presidency, I realized that being a leader is not more of a capacity or title but more of a responsibility, a responsibility to stir projects that would enable my co-students to reach their full talents and intelligence.  

The National Service Training Program or NSTP gave me many firsts in my college life. I chose LTS over CWTS because I really wanted to become a teacher someday and from this, I could gain some experience on what it feels like to become a teacher of my own. I found NSTP at first as a hassle because I have a class from Monday to Saturday and NSTP wants us to go to school on a Sunday but I had no choice but to comply in order to pass the course but eventually I learned to appreciate the course especially when the 2^nd semester came. 

When 2^nd semester already came and our fieldwork was to be held in the province of Bataan. Honestly, I felt quite scared when I learned about this because the school is far, but I also took it as a challenge and of course, a privilege. When the day of our fieldwork finally arrived, it was a long trip going to Bataan but it was definitely worth it. The children in that school happily greeted us and we played with them for hours, it was tiring but we had a lot of fun! I also got the chance to tell a Bible story to the children and I felt glad when they are participating and listening very well to the story I was sharing. When we were there, I looked at the children and marvel at the simple life they are living. It was a priceless sight to look at and also unforgettable. There is also a part of me thinking that, I am very blessed with all these things I have in my life right now. I study in a good school, I eat more than three times a day, and many more things. Sometimes we overlook things because of our business in life, but I guess even the small things matter especially to these children. When the children told us, “Balik po kayo dito!”, and they were so happy, that was such a priceless feeling for me. When we got back there the second time, I saw the smiling faces of the children when they saw us again and part of us also felt sad because it was our last day there. We played again with the children. After that session, we took pictures with the kids and they told us that they will miss us and wants us to come to their place sometime in the future. The children we taught there will be always instilled in my heart because they were the first ones who made me experience of what it is like to be a teacher. These children taught us the simplicity and the beauty of this life and we should never let each moment pass because who knows your moments right now won’t happen again in the future.            

What I thought was a hassle in the first place inspired to me to become a great teacher in the future because a good teacher always instills the experiences he or she haves with their students. My NSTP was such an unforgettable experience for me and the joy of helping other people could not be replaced by the riches of the world. 

 What really touched me the most with this experience is knowing that these kids have their own stories to tell and even though life has struck them with hardships and bad experiences, they still managed to continue with their education with limited resources. I can definitely say that these kids changed me. They changed my perspective in life. Through them I realized that anything is possible if you just work hard for it and have the passion in terms of what you really want. I am really lucky and blessed to have an amazing life wherein I get to enjoy different things and pursue education in a prestigious university. Also, those kids made me realize that you do not need cell phones, tablets or computers in order to have fun or learn. All you really need is imagination with a dust of creativity. I will never forget their smiles and laughter and those kids will always remain close to my heart. 

There is this part of me that I want to hide; something I don’t want people to know and I don’t want people to remember me by. I am scared of criticizing eyes and judging mouths that’s why I don’t open this side of me. I don’t let my guard down because I don’t want to look weak and helpless. But here I am writing about it, because finally, I’m okay and better. 

At the age of 8, I was already hurting myself whenever sad thoughts and pain consumes me… This got worse when I reached high school; I came to school with these red lines on my wrists and purple patches on my body. Nobody knew that for a long time, but then, one teacher noticed these lines on my wrists. I was sent to the guidance office and had a chat with the counselor. When I got home, I opened the locks I’ve been trying to keep and told my manang everything. The thing is, it was supposed to be between us, but the news broke inside the household. A few weeks then, a family friend of ours came by, apparently he’s a psychiatrist. We talked a lot and I got to open the dark and sad parts of my life. It was very helpful for me to know that someone wants to talk about it, someone who will really pay attention to whatever it is you’re feeling and someone who feels like a friend. 

Sometimes, the sadness and anxiety still visits me… But I found friends who I know care about me; they make me feel loved and important. My family became more open and sensitive to each other’s feelings. After everything I’ve been through, I learned to look for the positive side of every situation. I realized that people go through life differently and we look at life differently. But what I really realized is that, life is something to be cherished and appreciated. Whatever it is that you’re going through, there will be people who will be by your side; someone will listen and make you realize that you are worthy and loved, someone who will remind you how beautiful life is, and someone who will go with you through the ups and downs of life. 

When you think of life changing situations, or a new start, or maybe a new approach with how you handle things, it’s always usually about debut into adulthood, or the first time you earned your first salary, or the birth of your first child. It depends on every person, but it’s usually associated with a milestone created by society. The misconception about future is that it can be restrained to how far a human imagination can go. People can’t be blamed however, because daydreams can touch even the impossible things. But still, sometimes it’s not like that. Sometimes, things that we don’t even see coming suddenly swerves around the corner and hit you in the face before you even realize what had happened. That’s how the phrase “beyond imagination” was born. Life is full of surprises, as they say. 

One time, everything’s just going to be normal. But then suddenly the doctor comes out of the operating room, her eyes puffy. You stood up from the bench, hips sore from all the waiting, there was a faint smile in your face from what little hope you have, but then the doctor didn’t smile. And the curve in your lips lingered for a bit until it gets wet like flowers in a stormy night. There weren’t even words for the first few minutes but you already made a connection. You were ten. Your hands and clothes were red with somebody else’s blood. You weren’t even eighteen yet, but you knew pain like an adult. 

Sometimes, you think of this ten-year-old child— her young mind and her eccentric way of thinking. Sometimes you wonder, what could have been of this child if she hadn’t gone through that kind of situation? 

You think of it as her life-changing situation. But to her, it’s a piece of life that falls in perfect place with normality. She thinks instead, that someday the very same death she saw that day will knock at her door, too. She thinks instead that that will be the real life-changing event. To yearn for a reset, for a new start in the next life. 

“Better luck in the next life” 

When I look in the mirror, I question myself, is this really me? Was this the kid my mom raised? Could I have grown up to be someone else? Sometimes, on bad days, I’m taken aback as I face myself, “What have you become? Why are you like this? You would’ve been so different.”

So many questions arise when you don’t know yourself. When you think you don’t know yourself. 

 I dwell so much on hating what people think about me, what people can say about me, yet I rely on them to manipulate who I am. What a hypocrite, right? In the midst of trying to find myself, I get strayed away when something else catches my eye. I pretend to be someone else. And yet again, as I realize what I’ve done, I question myself, is this who I really am? Someone who is just bound to mimicry, never allowed to discover who she really is? 

And then, one day, something just clicked in my mind. An enlightenment. What I have been doing to myself, who I am, that must have been the reason why I am completely confused about my own identity. Yes, I’ve said it earlier. I dwell so much on what people said. 

I allowed myself to change to how I thought society wanted me to be. But standards changed over time, and so did I. I have been trying to mimic what was prominent, what was popular, in an effort to get noticed. I never knew I would become like this. I never wanted to. Because in every attempt to mask and mold myself, it had only ended in misfortune. A pool of lies, to those around me, and especially to myself.  There was no consistency to who I was. 

 And now that I realized this, I stay quiet. Observant. Not of my surroundings, but of myself. In silence I try to find myself, who I was meant to be, who God wants me to be. What actually interests me, what makes me cringe, what makes me feel a certain way, what makes me…me.  I am still trying, until today. I still discover little things about myself every day, I take down mental notes, to love myself the way I am. To love and treasure these little things about myself because these are the only things that would truly make me who I am and who I will be. And in silence, I find myself. 

I know what you’re thinking, “Julia, what do you mean? Don’t you talk to her at home?” I do. All the time, in fact. I tell her stories about what happened in my day, about my friends, basically about everything, and she’d do the same with hers. Every night, we’d talk over dinner with my brother and my father like a normal, loving family. We’d tell the randomest stories and we’d laugh. Sometimes, we’d spend the whole day, when it was just the two of us in the house, talking. She’d never get household chores done and I’d never get my school work done because of it.

To another person, it would seem that I have a strong bond with my mother. It would seem that I could talk to her about anything just fine. There’s a backstory to this, obviously. We weren’t always this close when I was a child. I actually have no idea what happened that made us this close, it just did. But the memories of my childhood, especially the ones during 6^th grade up to 3^rd year high school, have always prevented me from REALLY talking to her… or to anyone for that matter.

It happened on one quiet afternoon during the 2^nd semester of my 2^nd year in college. I was so frustrated and stressed with a presentation I had been doing for our Biology project. Science has never been my strongest subject. My mom had just finished cleaning the house and was then watching me work. She must’ve seen how agitated I was so she asked me what it was I was doing a presentation about. I explained to her the basics and most of the facts I remembered about it. I answered her questions eagerly, trying to get her to understand this topic that was closer to her daughter’s heart than she realizes. 

To be honest, I expected her to scoff. I expected her to dismiss everything I said or contradict it in some way like how she has been doing since I was a kid. To be honest, I even expected her to be angry… but she wasn’t. She never got angry or annoyed. She never scoffed and she never contradicted me except for a few questions she raised. Instead, she asked me this one question I will forever remember:

“Anak, may gusto ka bang sabihin sakin?” (“Do you have something you want to tell me?”)

I was really stunned that I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say so I merely nodded and she hugged me, not saying a word. She cried and I cried. It was quite funny actually now that I thought about it, but at that moment, I was just too surprised and taken aback with what just happened. I never thought I would get to tell my mother, the woman who always had something negative to say about me when I was a kid, something I had been carefully hiding from her and my dad. I most definitely never thought she’d react this way. This was the first time ever that I got to actually talk to my mom.

Now, she has been nothing but wonderful and caring. I still have to get used to telling stuff to my mom, but I’m trying. If I managed to have the courage to open up to her and let her in, then maybe I could do that to others too. Maybe I can finally, really, talk.

I’ve never believed in the phrase “Ignorance is a bliss.” As a matter of fact, the phrase had taken quite a literal meaning for me. I believe that the world is vast and has too many to offer and too many avenues not yet explored and that we should take time to discover the secrets of the universe and educate our beautiful minds. We should be able to look at the bigger picture and realize that along with the beautiful paradise that the world presents to us, there is the deeper and harsh reality of life. 

I began to see the world in a different light when I started reading books. When I started to open my mind to other perspectives presented by authors in their own words in inked pages. Back then, I used to scoff silently to myself every time I’d see someone holding a paperback and reading, seemingly lost in another world because I assumed that they were just pretend reading for the sake of looking smart and knowledgeable and I would silently snicker to myself, thinking how I would never be like that. Little do I know, I was going to eat my own words. I can still remember details of what has transpired in my life that changed  my perspective in life. It was during freshman year in high school, I was sulking because my friend that I usually am didn't’ come to school that day. At that time, there was this period which is conveniently called ‘library period’ wherein the class would go to the library and spend an hour there. Since I was left alone and am too lazy to socialize with other people, I sat at the farthest corner of the library and began to survey the library for something that might relieve me of boredom. I was even surprised with myself when I picked up a lengthy book (It wasn’t really lengthy but everything past 50 pages of reading material was lengthy for me back then) and settled in one of the chairs of the library. That book was called ‘Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone’. That one moment changed my life. I ended up borrowing the book and finishing it in a span of three days and that was the moment that I knew that I just ate my own words. I gobbled it up actually.

From that day onward, I was hooked on books. I would even go as far to say that I was learning more from books than from some of my teachers back in high school. It was also in books that I educated myself on issues that are still very much relevant today such as racism, sexism, misogyny, human rights and mental health etc. I got to know people and their culture from the experience of immersing myself in books. It was also during reading that I find myself experiencing the rest and peace that my restless self craves. Now I can completely say that I agree with the quote that I’ve read from my favorite book series. “We must always be careful of books and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us.” and that indeed is true. We should never be afraid of getting out of own bubbles and educating our beautiful minds about the various realities of life.

 

Why? Was it that far? 

Not exactly. Our country just owns a lot of cars. 

Like brother? 

Like brother. But bigger. 

Ohh!!! Is that bad? 

What? 

Having a lot of cars? 

Well there's no more place to keep, so yeh, it is.

Hhhmm...

What? 

Then, what happened? 

I can’t really recall. The only image that remains in my mind is finally standing before the door and feeling nervous. 

Why?

Because. I you're there. 

I made you nervous? 

Sure. The entire process was nerve wrecking. Mother suddenly woke up in 2:30 am. And I remember her kneeling on the ground like a hen sitting on her eggs. Then dad woke up, he asked what's wrong. Mom answered, "She’s coming." 

I’m coming? 

Yeah. You want to go out. 

Oh. How did I go out? 

You slid down like slime. 

... yer joking. 

I’m not. 

I'm going to ask mom. 

Hahaha! Sure. 

...

I thought you’re going to ask mom. 

What happened next?

Where? 

When you finally opened the door? 

Nothing much. I remember a very orange room.

The room was full of oranges? 

Tsk, no. The lights were orange. And mom was sleeping. Dad is having dinner. 

How about me? What was I doing? 

Hm... Imagine a cockroach that is lying on its back- 

Ew! Why would I-

And its little, disgusting feet are clawing and clawing, struggling to turn on their fat bellies. That's what you were doing. 

I was not- 

You were making small whimpers as if you're trying to say something. I asked dad if I can hold you but he said no. 

Why? 

Because I have dirty hands. 

Then you should’ve washed your hands! 

I did. But I still can’t hold you because I don’t know how. 

Then, what did you do? 

I just stared at you. 

That's it? 

Yeh. And you were staring back. 

Oh. 

Yeh.

Was I still doing the cockroach dance? 

Pfft, what? 

Was I? 

I guess. Yeah. You were. And then I remember you holding out your hand. It was very tiny then. Very tiny. I feel like I might break you if I just laid a finger. But I still tried and offered one. 

Did I suck it? 

No. You simply took it with gleaming eyes and smiled for the first time.

Someone asked me before why I didn’t seem to have any constant friends in college. In the context of the situation, constant friends meant people who I eat lunch together with every time and friends I would sit beside in class or when we have seminars. Basically, constant friends equated to a squad or a clique. At first, I couldn’t give a proper answer to her question. I just said that I like having different people I could spend time with. It wasn’t until another person asked me the same question when I started pondering on the question more. 

I think the answer lies on an event that happened 7 years ago. Everyone always knows me to be this quiet and reserved person in class even 7 years ago. Back then, I was part of a clique. Everyone in our group of friends were loud and outgoing except for me. They even referred to me as ‘banal’ because I was the only one who didn’t curse or made harsh comments like they did. I enjoyed being in their group because they made me laugh and I didn’t feel out of place at all. However, it all changed when I was suddenly outcasted from the group. I noticed how they would just stay silent when I was eating lunch with them or how they no longer waited for me during dismissal time. So there I was. Alone with no friends. I tried joining other peer groups after that but we all know how hard it is to make yourself feel like you belong in a group that didn’t even have you in the first place. This experience made me wish to finish graduation just to start anew which is why grade 6 wasn’t particularly memorable for someone like me. I talked it out with my mother and she told me I didn’t have to be part of a squad. It only matters that I have friends who I can rely on. It took me a while to find someone that I could actually trust and she was from a different section than I was but she was all I could ever ask for. She became my best friend at a certain period of my life and even though we don’t talk anymore, I’ll always value our friendship.  

If somebody asks me again why I have no constant friends. I’ll just put on a brave smile and say ‘Of course, I do. I’m just not part of their squad.’ Right now, I may not have people I always spend time together with and I may not be part of a squad but I know I have friends from different cliques who I can talk to and trust with the darkest parts of myself. I’m breaking the status quo that students need to be part of a clique. They don’t. We don’t. Because sometimes, all we ever need is ONE true friend by our side. 

Diverse people mean unique perspectives with distinctive life experiences. It only leads to the point of difference. What I believe in may not be the principles you consider. And the experiences I have are far different from yours. Changes are not easily made. It is a process of practice and willingness. And at times, an event would surprise you with a sudden realization of change. And these factors can constitute to affect your perception about things, about life itself. 

Every day you go to school, you attend your classes, do whatever task is required and go home. Repetitive indeed but different every day for the reasons beyond what you do are just lying around looking at you waiting for you to realize them. It was one Sunday morning that our music leader shared to us the concept, Audience of one; to work hard every day no matter who you’re with or to whom your work is for because in the end of the day it will all be credited and known by the omniscient God. All the sacrifices that you made and the efforts you gave. Sometimes our thoughts are clouded with why’s. Why do I have to do this? Why am I here? Why me of all people? But it will all return to you, asking, “why not you?”. It made me realize that you are the only one who makes your loads heavier for the reasons you don’t want to understand and kept questioning instead of doing and listening. It may be difficult to submit a 10 paged long paper due tomorrow to a professor you don’t like or to read a long journal with a topic you don’t understand and attend your 8:30 morning class.  There are reasons why you are threading such circumstances and why you are the person chosen for that certain task. Maybe this is a challenge for you to be stronger and wiser for your future battles in life. The sacrifices you do are the ones that will signify your strength and your willingness to continue your journey. 

There are reasons we are searching for yet we do not see because we are merely trying to find the answers in other people’s lives instead of focusing our view to ourselves. Also we tend to ask instead of doing the task at hand complaining why do you have to do it. Your point of view about the things at hand will be the basis of how heavy the loads of life will be. 

November 8, 2013—the date that every Leyteno would never forget, the date that changed our lives forever. The day before the tragic event happened, people were seen everywhere with plastic bags on their hands, hoarding every canned goods and emergency supplies they would see on the shelves of every shopping center in the city. Classes were suspended but the sun shone as bright as it would before, I was confused and weirded out with what I’ve observed. I was aware that a super typhoon was coming, but I didn’t feel any kind of panic or anxiety during that day. I even joked about putting a car tire on the roof of our house and laugh at the fuss being posted on Facebook about the Napoles probe on television. I slept at peace during that night without knowing that the tragic event that would happen the next day will change my life forever. I woke up to a whistle-like sound of the strong winds outside and the loud rattles of our rooftop. There was no electricity and everything fell into a gloomy vision, I went downstairs to check on everyone since I was the last one to wake up. The radio was on and we listened to every bit of information being announced by Atom Araullo who was doing a broadcast on the situation in our province. 

A few minutes later, a strong surge of dirty water came rushing down our kitchen, I honestly thought it was from the overflowing canal but  the current got stronger and stronger and the entire floor was flooded with black water. We immediately went upstairs and held on to the staircase but everything went to a blur when all of a sudden, our roof was blown off by the strong winds. The water kept on rising and I literally panicked and even screamed for my mom to hold me because I felt like I’m about to have an asthma attack, which unfortunately happened. We struggled our way into the attic and held on tight for as long as possible despite the coldness we felt because we were already submerged in water plus the winds that were going to and fro. We stuck together in a small space as my little sister clung onto my shoulders and asked me, “Ate, are we going to die?”, I didn’t even know what to say but I just shook my head and held on to the grills by the window. Despite my loss for breath, I made sure that everyone made it out in time. I had to swim back to the other side of the house to check on my grandma and my brothers who were thankfully safe on the balcony, I brought them to the attic using the cabinet that was floating nearby and let them hold on to it as we paddled our way out. 

In the extent of experiencing such traumatic event at a very young age brought me to a new outlook in life. I never thought that Typhoon Haiyan would have a great impact in my life and until now, remembering such experience would always make me realize how blessed I am to be able to survive such a deadly phenomenon. It made me value my life even more and treasure every bit of memory I make. This second life that God gave me is more than just a blessing, to be able to live the life I have right now is more than a privilege, and to be able to survive the strongest typhoon in the world proves my strength and resiliency. Such experience is just the beginning of my struggles, there’s more to experience in this world, may it be good or bad, both are still part of living as a human being. 

            My mother has a twin sister and 5 other siblings. 3 of them live in the United States. When my grandmother passed away, all of them came home and we had a reunion. I can say that it was a happy and sad event at the same time. We were happy because we were all united again and lola’s suffering finally came to an end but we were also sad because we knew that we will never see her again when we came back home from school or work. However, never did I expect that her death would lead to a more serious problem and sadness that would befall my family, especially my mother.  A few weeks after the burial, my mother had been bombarded by her siblings with questions about where my grandmother’s money went. They asked her to give them a detailed list, a liquidation report about all of the things that were bought with my grandmother’s money and all of the loans that we made. I already knew before that my mom was making the list because she was asked by one of her siblings but I never knew that it would get out of hand. They were all getting angry at her, telling her that it was her responsibility to account for the money but as we recall, there was no deal or agreement whatsoever regarding this. If she knew that from the start of taking care of our grandmother, she would have to keep all the receipts and make a report out of it, she would have done it. But now, she’s having a lot of stress because of the pressure that her brothers and sisters make her feel and because we don’t have all of the receipts from the past 4 years. 

            I didn’t expect that my mom would be “betrayed” like that by her siblings. They didn’t even consider the fact that my family was the one who took care of our lola. We sacrificed so much and yet here they are, acting like we got money from our grandmother illegally. I am so troubled by this incident and so angry at my aunts and uncles because I just couldn’t understand why they would pressure and hurt my mom like this. It’s like the Filipino saying, “
 Wala silang utang na loob”. They didn’t even thank us properly. They were just focused on the money. Since the start of this incident, my brother and sister told me that we would never be like them. We’re siblings and we shouldn’t let something small and petty such as money ruin our relationship in the future. I realized that even if you’re related by blood, there will still be something that would be a cause of misunderstandings and problems that would tear your relationship apart. It’s only a matter of how you handle this problem and how mature you can be with it. 

            This incident changed my, as well as my siblings’ perspectives in life. We made a promise that we will not commit the same mistake as my mother’s siblings and that we will always find a way to understand each other and solve our problems without having to hurt each other the way they hurt our mother. 

How did you celebrate Christmas? Most people probably went to mall, park, or any fancy places where they say they can feel the spirit of Christmas. Others just stayed at home and cooked food for their Noche Buena. Mama asked me if I want a cotillion or a traditional way of celebrating debut for my 18^th birthday but I refused. I told her that I want to take a rest because before that day was our hell week. I just want to celebrate my birthday and Christmas on Boracay Island and other part of that region to go on an adventure. 

We were in Boracay from 22^nd to 23^rd of December and unexpectedly, my uncle told us that we are going to a mountain in Antique for hiking and we will celebrate Christmas at the top of it. Since it’s a mountain, there was no signal and there was a typhoon by that time so we were not able to surf or text someone from Manila. So I say, “How could I use social media? How could I text my friends? How I post pictures?” I also told myself that it will be a boring Christmas. 

It turned out that I was wrong. People from Puruk 4 gave as a warm welcome. I felt glad that they serve fresh fruits and cook native chickens and pigs for us. What I mean by fresh is that we are going to see that they will catch and kill them for us. They also introduce the activities that they offer to the guests like Kawa Hot Bath and River boat rides. We are also encouraged to go to Tibiao falls and enjoy it. 

It was a tiring day. I laid down on banig in the assigned nipa hut where we are going to sleep. It is quarter to twelve and Christmas was going to come. It’s the time that I will talk to Jesus and greet Him happy birthday, and realized that He gave me a big time blow out. I realize that my life should not revolve to social media, and that I should explore the world to see what life really is. In that place, I saw happiness. The smiles in their faces are worth looking for. It made me think that Tourism in the place is increasing also because of the people. It is not just an adventure for me. My 2016 Christmas really changed my perspective in life. My 18^th birthday celebration really turned me into a young lady. On that 25^th day of December, I became a better me. 

Maybe I’m not talented enough? Maybe I’m not working as much as I thought? Maybe I’m not really cut out for this? Lots of maybes out there. No matter how small, there’s always gonna be that hint of doubt coming your way as you try to achieve something. Triggered by endless rejection, multiple loss, and lack of visible improvement even after training 10 hours a day for the past couple months, but there’s gonna be that certain point where all of those doesn’t matter, the moment your life changes. 

Shaping your career according to your passion sounds amazing. Never having to work a day your life, just doing what you love, but of course it’s one of the hardest things to do in life as it’s one of the most fulfilling dream to reach there is. Only a handful of people are able to reach a point where they’re satisfied with what they were able to achieve and as of right now I’m not satisfied. 

Starting out with joining one of the most favored dance crew during my third year high school, but quitting halfway due to personal reasons left me disappointed after they won 2^nd place in the competition. Next, during my fourth year, I decided to create my own team and compete, but ended up losing in the first round, while the team that I joined the year before and was inviting me then was champions. College began and I auditioned for Precom Dance Troupe, one of the strongest college division crew in UST, but ended up getting rejected. A few days after I joined the Salinggawi Dance Troupe, but left after only three weeks due to difference of style between me and the members of the team. I had to wait a year before audition season began again. I was lost for a while there but when the time came, I joined Phonetix, a society level crew, where I was able to become the co-captain and compete, only to end up with a loss, placing 4^th. I’m currently at my third year, yet I haven’t been able to place at any competition, this left me with a lot of doubts if I could still achieve something in life. Then, seven months ago, I got accepted in Project Pax, one of the strongest team in UST which led me to believe that I could reach my dreams. I started to see change and I got to where I am now. Because of what I learned in that team, I was able to join Prime which was one of the strongest team in the country, which has members that compete and won internationally. It gave me the confidence and will to keep training and the mindset that no matter what happens, my dream… I’ll get there. 

This line essentially encapsulates what I’ve come to realize after taking up NSTP. Yes, I am very much aware of the overwhelming problems our country has been facing. I do know how poverty has been growing over the years and how it has been plaguing my nation especially the underprivileged, but it is only until I got to put myself in their shoes, through my NSTP course, that I’ve discerned my innate responsibility. I fathomed how selfish I was before— solely thinking about my personal welfare, not minding the cry for help of the others. 

When I was throwing a fit over the expensive shoes my parents would not buy me, I forgot that there were children who do not even have any thing to put on their tiny feet. Above all, NSTP did not only serve as an eye-opener to someone who seems apathetic, just like me, of the needs of other people but also pave a way to turn this apathy to empathy. Being sensitive enough to care for the sufferings and misfortunes of others and being able to respond to our call of duty, that is, lending a helping hand to them – these are enough reasons to consider my NSTP journey as a turning point in my life. It is sad to think how some students would view this course as an “extra baggage” when in fact it leaves us something worthy to be treasured: the experience of being a part of someone else’s life and empowering them. That being said, the best experience from NSTP I would always take with me is being able to build, educate, inspire and empower not only myself but also the people I met along the way. I did not even treat fieldworks as work since I’ve enjoyed and loved what I was doing. Enrolling myself in the Literacy Training Service program of the NSTP may just be one of the few good decisions I have ever made.  

Our students’ genuine smiles and laughter gave joy to my heart. I almost burst into tears when one of my students named Keith, an incoming 6^th grade student of Asuncion Consunji Elementary School in Samal, Bataan, sent me a message, days after our last fieldwork, saying, “Ate, miss na miss [na] kita kaso hindi na tayo magkikita. Babalik ka pa ba?” It is indeed fulfilling being able to touch someone else’s life in a short span of time. Words could not equate the genuine happiness I felt. Through NSTP-LTS, I have become more empathetic rather than apathetic to the seemingly unending challenges our nation has to face. The NSTP course as a whole has helped me gain a heart that is willing to serve other people and a mind that focuses on the betterment of the community. One thing’s for sure, I would always look back to all the learning, experiences, and memories I’ve obtained from NSTP for as long as I could.

It was March 8, 2014 and I was still a 3^rd year high school student back then. It was my Papa’s despedida, 

he was about to fly back abroad the next morning. So he was having fun and drinks with his friends and our neighbors. They finished their session earlier than expected because he also needed to rest, but then, we also decided to eat out first. I think it was about midnight, when we went to the nearest 24/7 fast food chain which was Jollibee. Our family then ate our hearts out and talked about life since we would be able to see Papa physically for the next 2 years. We had a great time, we were happy that night, kind of sad because Papa will go back to Saudi Arabia, but because he’s doing this for our sake, it’s good. We’re all okay with that kind of system. 

March 9, 2014, I remember the date because it was my friend's birthday. We all went back home, and as far as I can remember its past 1 am. We were about to sleep that time, when suddenly strong thuds from the door were heard. Pissed from the knocking, my Mama opened the door, only to find out and see people outside running, screaming and shouting “sunog! Sunog! Sunog!” a hundred times to inform everybody in the neighborhood about what's happening.

By the time we were informed the fire was already big, all of us are panicking crying, and trying to save the things we can, bringing it to the place far from the fire. Sadly, the only thing I got to save from that day was my laptop, because it was just lying from the desk and I thought of my important files there. Also, my Parents kept telling us to hurry and run from the house and never go back to gather other things because the fire is rapidly increasing up to our residence. My siblings were crying like shit back then and so was I. I didn’t know what to do, I was with them, and I was scared as shit because my parents are left back in our house trying to save some of our things. I was crying and thinking, ‘what now?’, ‘what would happen to us now?’, ‘what if my parents couldn’t make it?’ my mind was full of questions that moment. All I can see is the huge fire and feel the heat even meters away. 

Gladly, my parents came back, but I saw my Mama crying, it broke my heart, I cried even harder, I saw the face of my Papa, in grief. I was so messed up that day, I was just crying and crying, my heart is breaking, I felt like any time I’d passed out. I just couldn’t bear to see my parents in such faces. 

It was then that moment when I told myself, I had to work hard, harder than I should. It was then where I realized the responsibilities of being the eldest daughter. It was then that moment where I manned up, and felt that I should now be mature and adult thinking. It was then when I finally realized that I was really the breadwinner of the family. That I will be the one who will bring up my family from this disaster. It was then where I promised to my Mama and Papa that I would help them start a new chapter in our life by reviving our house. All the memories, the appliances, literally everything that my Papa bought from working so hard abroad suddenly became ashes. Devastatingly, nothing left. 

From that day up until now, even if the process is so damn hard, I’m still trying to keep up with that promise because I need to. 

I used to take things for granted. I don’t really experience the “rollercoaster” ride that they say life is. For me it felt like a straight road with a few bumps. I rarely experience any thrills going on with my life. All of my emotions are mostly neutrals. Although, I’m not sad neither am I complaining about my life. I would say I’m a very blessed person. I have good friends that surround me and a beautiful family. I’m always grateful for my parents that always give their best to provide me everything that I want and need. Sometimes my life gets a little boring for me and I always wondered what it would be like to have something happen to your life. 

Until that one day, I would never forget. It made me regret wishing that something would happen to my life. It was a regular day or so I thought. I came home from school like the usual. My parents were not home, again like the usual. I asked our maid she said that they went to the hospital. That was ordinary for me because every once in a while they would get their regular checkups. When they arrived, I noticed my mom’s eyes like she just cried so I go to my dad to ask him what happened. I was nervous and afraid to hear that maybe there’s something wrong. My dad told me that the doctors found lumps in my mom’s breast and there is a possibility that it could be cancer. When I heard my dad say that, I felt like my life took a 360 degree turn and I just felt my world falling apart. I can’t bear the thought of my mom having cancer and the possibility of her leaving us too soon. My dad said that they would go back to the hospital after three days to find out if my mom really has cancer. In the meantime, I was an emotional mess. At the time, I had my prelims exams and I couldn’t focus on studying. I would cry every hour because I was so scared of losing my mom. The only thing that distracted me from all my thoughts was my friends but then I’d come home and cry again. I prayed and prayed every night that my mom would be okay and that I would give up everything I have for her to not have cancer. I remember vividly, I was the one who told my youngest brother about the possibility of our mom having cancer and I saw the shift of his emotions and his watery eyes. That broke me. He’s only 14, he doesn’t deserve to feel that way. 

After the longest three days of my life, I was sitting by our kitchen anxiously waiting for my parents to be back from their doctor’s appointment. When they arrived I immediately search their faces for any signs but it looked like they were both fine. To end my anxiety, I asked my mom how was the doctor’s appointment at this point my heart was beating so fast but my mom just smiled at me and told me that those lumps were not cancerous. I hugged my mom so tight and cried from happiness. It was the best news I heard in my entire life. I realized a lot of things during those three days. I realized how I did not do my best to express my love for my mom and dad. I realized I don’t spend much time with them and that I was more focused on the material things in life that don’t really matter. It was a turning point for me and it made me see how short and precious life truly is. Now I tell my parents “I love you” every night, I always hug them and thank them every chance I get. It’s important to cherish and let the people you love know that you love them because we never know what will happen. This truly made me see how short life is and how every breath we take counts. So live life to the fullest, tell the person you love that you love them and live life without regrets. 

                I’ve written and spoken countless pieces about “the event that changed my life” and each time, I hated it. I want to further the fight against domestic abuse and sexual harassment without having to deal again with the thumping heartbeat, that cold sweat in between my fingers, and my brain going overdrive – borderline losing myself. I’ve always had a hard time putting Band-Aids on my wounds that never heal, I’ve always hated accidentally opening my chamber of dark and traumatic past just because of some unfortunate circumstances, and I’ve always tried to put up a wall whenever unbearable emotions come my way because each time I’ve talked about how my dad sexually harassed me, it feels like I’m brought back to that night of how I lost my innocence and how I had to grow up early. If I could just empower people without having to feel these emotions, I would. But these emotions are vital to the story. Plus, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t change me and made me who I am. 

                Since I’ve already opened my chamber of darkness, let’s talk about how I felt that night. That night all I could ask myself was, “is this really happening?” Because for all I know I could just be imagining things- I’m an imaginative child after all. Before that night, I didn’t have any notion of what molestation was. The closest thing I knew about it was rape. That night, I could feel his hands touching me everywhere, so I thought “this certainly isn’t rape, but why am I crying?” I didn’t know what I was feeling because I didn’t know what was happening. All I knew was that I wanted to get away from him as far as possible but at the same time I wanted to scream and punch him and hurt him because I was so confused of what he was doing to my body and what I was feeling. But then again, I couldn’t do any of that because of the stiffness my body was experiencing. It felt like my whole body was on anesthesia and I had no escape. So, I let him finish and that’s when I ran and left the room. As I slammed the door behind me, clutching my phone in my trembling hands I knew that I wasn’t myself anymore. I knew that a part of me was left in that room and I could never retrieve it back, no matter how hard I try. 

                And it only got worse from there. I knew my family on my dad’s side had to know what he did. They deserve to know. So after telling them my story, face to face, my voice cracking, my eyes red and sore from all the crying, I could just imagine how they will reprimand my dad. But, plot twist! They reprimanded me. They asked me what I was wearing, they explained to me how alcohol can cause a man to lose his inhibition and rationality, and they even told me how they experienced the same kind of thing with other men and that they forgave them because they’re family. But what struck me the most was how they said “’Di magagawa yan ni Bryan. (Bryan could never do that)”. I was heartbroken. Here I was, bare and naked, telling them my deepest emotions, how I felt like I was betrayed and used and hurt and all they could do was defend a man who molested his own 13 year old child. I was crushed to my core. And that was the moment I realized, this is a deeply rooted problem in the Filipino society- how in order to solve this kind of problem, I had to be strong and be my own person and move on with life. It was painful to accept the truth that even with all your scars and your wounds, the world goes on. And the only way for your story to be heard is to stand up, educate, and empower all people. 

                So I had to lose my innocence, I had to grow up early and see the world in the perspective of a victim. But I won’t let myself become just a victim. Instead, I will be a fighter. Truly, the feminism movement still has a long way to go, but just by imagining the number of women who has the same kind of experience makes me think who will fight for them? In the words of my good friend, “Kung hindi tayo, sino?” 

One of the attitudes I like about my mother and my late father is that they love to help the needy people. When I was younger, I did not realize what they do. I just thought that they just love to buy new things. Little did I know that there are always stories behind those things they bought from the seller. If you would go to our house before it was renovated, our house is filled with unnecessary pieces of furniture inside. 

My father came from not-so well off family. In order for them to survive a day, they had to sell salt and bagoong. My father knew how hard life at a young age. Thus, when he saw people in need, he did not hesitate. My mother would always tell stories about my father. She would always tell to me how helpful my father was when he was alive. There was this one story of my father, he bought rugs and doormats from an old women. My father saw that the old woman was carrying the rugs and doormats on her back. My father pitied that old woman, so he bought all the rugs and doormats of the old woman even though he knew that there are stocks of doormats and rugs in our house. 

Realizing the story about my father changed my perspective in life. There will always that device inside of us that will activate for us to help. There will always good people that won’t hesitate to help. My father hadn’t received anything, but still help until his last breath.  

High school was such a toxic place for growth and self-confidence. Days go by in a routine that people were so afraid to defy, because they were afraid of being ridiculed; individuality even is strange, and if your interests don’t match those of the generic hormonal teenage boy or girl, you’re uninvited to peer groups. Weirdos end up as the best of friends. “Quirks” are disgusting in a place where patterns are seen as some sort of Holy Grail. Students promote it, and so do teachers. Most of them. 

I lived high school life with friends I can count with my five fingers (we accept that we are the weirdos of the batch), and some supportive teachers, surprisingly. Teachers were easily forgettable in high school, but not this one adviser I had back in third year. We’ll call him Sir DG. When third year started, there was such a contest where the class bulletin boards are judged for their creativity and design, and the theme then was Japanese literature. They cut sakura petals and wrote haiku, made drawings of characters they had no idea of the meaning, and stuck them to the bulletin boards. Every person in the class seemed to know their place. I didn’t. But everyone seemed to know though—I was the only person in class who knew how to draw. 

Growing up an artist in a place where patterns are sacred, I was forced to believe that the arts is the worst option if you want to get by in the future.  I was afraid to contribute anything I know I can do, or (I say this shamelessly) anything I know I’m good at. But if there was anyone in class who believed in me because they see potential, and not simply because I know the skill, was Sir DG. 

Like a real adviser, Sir DG talked to me after class, about the art I was afraid to draw. He told me that the art is something that’s going to be different from the other sections (I know this wasn’t so, my three friends knew how to draw). But then he told me about how my art is something that sparks a person’s imagination, the kind that inspires; an unforgettable style. I haven’t heard any compliments that are remotely about me. It was a short and simple talk, and I can’t remember the actual words anymore, but I do remember flat out crying in front of Sir DG. I don’t know if it’s a boost, or some kind of acceptance, to know that there are people who still believe in art, or a bout of self-confidence—or maybe it was a mixture of all of them. Crying feels great when it’s from something positive. It was the day before the contest, and in one night, I drew everything. The next day I went to school at 4:30 in the morning to paste my art. We won first place. 

It’s something petty, talking about a bunch of words that made me like myself a bit more. But in a place where being “creative and artsy” is weird and filled with stereotypes (“Do you watch anime?” “Can you draw me?” “Do you draw porn?”), the encouraging words are a breath of fresh air and an opportunity to drop some self-doubt. 

            If there was something my 13-year-old self was the most thankful for, it would be the fourth-wave of feminism, which sounds like the most pretentious statement ever but the most ideal way to express the moment—or rather, the year that dramatically changed the way I understood and saw the world, people, and myself. Most people think philosophies are abstract, and in a literal sense, they are correct, but philosophies can be so concrete and whole that they can impregnate a person’s mind and give birth to a new life, a reformed human, out of mere words, and that is so fantastic to me as a recipient of this kind of tumultuous perspective shift. 

            I have always been an astounding introvert and as a high school student, that never worked. Introverts are swept to the recesses of the classroom, to the stinky corners where no one will ever look, and people expect them to survive there. And survive did I try to do, but no one teaches kids that when they grow up social constructs just become more complicated, so kids have to improvise. I improvised by being quiet and laughing along as boys made fun of everything about me, from my body to my language, my smile to my passions. I bit my tongue whenever my classmates would take turns in speaking to me about their problems about one another because introverts were everybody and nobody’s friends at the same time. I developed mental illnesses so I could be relevant, so I’d be important enough, until it physically harmed me. All this was fine, of course, because I was fitting in this small space they’ve allotted me. It was being grateful to having my head above water. 

In retrospect to the grand scheme of things, they may be bitter to remember but I’m grateful to have gone through them. I may have been beaten to the point of worthlessness beyond recovery, but amidst all of that, I learned about feminism and how it respects bodies of all shapes and sizes; it raises the importance of women and their voices to effect change; it prioritizes gender equality and the right of every girl like me to occupy the world as freely as I can; and so many more. I had the privilege of being exposed to it through social media (when social media was more good than bad) and it encouraged me to look at myself kindly. In return, my improvisation became less ragged and destructive, more peaceful and high-minded, searching for avenues to grow more as a woman and as a person. It helped me be unafraid to question the fabric on which we set our lives on and call out misinformation, discrimination, and insensitivity. With so little space and so little of my life, I cannot fully tell my journey with feminism. It has just saved me from being selfish and depressed all my life. And the best part about this is that I did it myself. I, a strong independent woman, albeit shy and will cry at anyone who raises their voice at me, overcame that by myself. I love learning and I love being able to hone my mind, and I owe that to feminism. I hope to be better. I hope to contribute to feminism so it can benefit people like me. I hope to write more about it in the future. 

There’s a famous saying that is prevalent in family-themed Filipino movies and it is something like, “Kaya ng anak talikdan ang kanyang magulang ngunit hindi kaya ng magulang talikdan ang kanyang anak.” I beg to differ.

My sisters and I were raised by a strong and independent woman. When my dad was diagnosed with a fatal illness and had to stop working abroad, she immediately became the sole provider of the family and she continues until now. Growing up I always see her as a person who is  very occupied; she never joined me in school trips and school activities unless necessary, and I am okay with that. High school came and of course, the turbulent hormones that came with it had some effects in the way we communicate with each other. I always taught that I can never spend a whole day with her without having an argument. But it turns out, her signs of aging nor puberty is not the reason why this happening to us; there is definitely something wrong.

In my last writing prompt, I mentioned how my eldest sister has a bad temper, she got it from our dad and sometimes, It is not just severing the ties between her and whomever she was arguing with may it be my older sister or me, but with the whole family. The last time that we had an intense argument was three years ago, I say intense because we did not speak with her for months. While this dichotomy occur, I spent many time alone with my mom since it was also nearing our school break. As my mom drive, I sat on the passenger seat and we were talking how her life was before; with my grandparents and her other siblings in our province. I was careful not to bring the topic about the argument with my sister but it was my mom who did. The way she brought it up was something like reading the lead sentence in a controversial news story. ‘Para syang tatay mo noon.’, after saying those words she immediately bursts into tears. She then went on saying how her life was burdening when my dad is still alive;  how controlling he was and how traumatic experience that is for her and my sisters. It made me angry and disappointed in my dad; I could not help but ask why he did those things and how my mom did not deserve him.  

That fleeting moment changed how I see my mom, seeing her cry bitter tears have been engraved in my mind and I do not think it will go away. I would like it to serve as a reminder of the painful feeling for a child to see her parent so vulnerable and weak; she may be  stiff and cold when time requires her to be but, she is still the soft and sweet lady on the inside. That is why I want to differ to the opinion set by that saying. No, some children cannot take for granted her parents.  

 

 “Anak.Makinig ka….” The next few words that she spoke shattered me into pieces.  I had no idea she was carrying this the whole time… 

 And from there, my perspective in life changed. I don’t know if it’s for the good or bad, but all I can say is that it turned my world upside down. Everything changed, not drastically but gradually. And the worse thing is that as I begin to witness all these changes, I found myself being helpless, because I knew from then, that try as I might, try as I could, I couldn’t do anything to change the situation. I was the only one who knew then, so I was very much burdened. 

Growing up, I carried those wounds within me, I do not take it against anyone, not to my beloved mother, or father, I took it upon myself. I blamed myself, I do not know why, maybe because I knew then that it was not anybody’s fault, I just wanted someone to blame, because I thought it would make things easier, but I realized it was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that because not only was I hurting myself, I was also hurting the people I love without knowing it.  When the time comes when I had to return to the Philippines to study in UST, I had to be separated from my parents, I had to treasure every moment, every minute, every second counts, and then even the last few seconds before I separated from them at the airport mattered. 

Though the problem she told me about is yet to be solved, I have faith that we will make it through simply because we love each other and that even if I am not there with them physically, God, who is ever omnipresent, will guide them and embrace them whenever things get too hard.  

What I learned from this is that no matter what, we should learn to forgive ourselves in order to forgive someone else who have wronged us. For many years, I have struggled with self - blaming that lead to anxiety and depression, and I realize it is time to set myself free from that. Mother told me that it is okay now. We can still be joyful no matter what circumstances we are facing right now. No matter what, I can finally tell myself that despite everything that has been happening in my life, God is still good. It takes a lot of courage and gratefulness to say that but I wanna tell you, whoever is reading this, that a thankful heart is a healed heart. And that night when my mother and I finally opened up to each other was one of the things I am so thankful for because this has taught me to value even the littlest of things, because these little things can produce a rainbow of countless possibilities. Even in the presence of storms, a rainbow shall be seen afterwards. That rainbow, which is a reflection of all our pain, sorrow, and joy packed in one... Is it not so beautiful to unsee?

Entering college life was one of those instances. The whole process of it though remembering about it now puts me at ease even when that time was just a complete mess. For one I didn’t have a plan. Everything was handed to me by the school, my parents, and my relatives. Choosing a university and even a course was totally confusing but I went with it anyway. When I finally got accepted here in UST, I got scared because, second, I don’t know how to commute to Manila. In fact, I didn’t know what goes on in Manila. Then the warnings started, people telling my about thieves and kidnapers. I said to myself however if I wanted to go abroad I should be able to deal with Manila first. Finally I was meeting new people at the university as well as encountering new ideas. Everything during the first semester was overwhelming and a thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Yet I’m here. 

That was three years ago but the memory, though I remember it vividly, seems more like a dream. It happened, it was challenging, and then it’s all over. Things like these happens all the time and I guess this is what I learn from them. My worries today will soon be gone and what may be challenging, intimidating now will pay off and be a dream for tomorrow. The way I look at life now is that I should look at it and take it all in because soon it will all be over. 

           -Angelo L. Braulio

     There was a boy back in preschool that noticed all his seatmates were able to copy what was written on the blackboard while he sat there looking, trying to figure what was written on the blackboard. So he looked at his seatmate’s notebook and copied the notes from there. This continued until eventually his parents found out he can’t distinguish red from other colors. They eventually went to an eye clinic and the ophthalmologist asked the boy if he had an accident or if he woke up with such eyesight. The clueless boy replied no with a following statement that ever since he can remember, he never had clear eyesight. His mom asked if there was a cure or some way to help the boy, the eye doctor replied with a remorseful no and added, your son is diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa, a hereditary eye disease that has no cure but the only way to help the boy’s eyes are with glasses. The boy remembers his mom once said something like she would have given her eyes for the boy if it was possible but it was innate, the disease. He sat in front of the blackboard on the floor wearing peculiar glasses with the left lens thicker than the other. At a more recent date, he was diagnosed with Macular Dystrophy in which his retina got torn, with a hole gradually expanding and had to be dealt with immediately. To this day he sometimes still go in front of the blackboard and sit on the floor. 

                This is more of a literal change of perspective because the boy thought it was normal to have his eyesight even if he knew both of his eyes weren’t the same in terms of grade. After that revelation, he accepted that he had to always be in front and that his eyes were special even if he hated sounding or being called “special”. 

Finding love online. How pathetic. How delusional. How pitiable. How impossible….. How ironic.

Who knew I could ever fall in love with a guy who I have never met personally. Who knew he could give me the emotional support I’ve always searched for. Who knew that love can manifest between the two confining screens of our mobiles.  Who in the world knew. We obviously didn’t. We just fell. And we fell hard.

For the last two decades of my life, I have never felt more loved and more wanted than the way he made me feel in the past 3 years we’ve known each other. I feel like he was the only one who I was able to really connect with.

Though I have met a few men-or rather boys-in my life, I never really saw them as someone who I can share my true feelings with. 

Whenever I get the chance to talk to him, whenever he calls me in Skype, I get all giddy and just go on to answer the call and start pouring out all of my elations, my frustrations, and sometimes, my defeats. 

I know he feels the same about me. I really do. His love for me is not as corrupted as other kinds of loves are these days- he told me so, and I believe it. He adores me and I him.

We really did think that love alone could make our relationship work. Never seeing the fact that we live in different countries, different cultures, and different religions were a border. We just went with it.

 But as the same goes with other long distance relationships, reality will soon strike in, and would have all of us realize that relationships won’t work with love alone. We took a step back, breathed, and finally saw where our relationship stands in the clearest. It was standing in a cloud. It was suspended in space. No foundation was holding it in place. So, we ended it. It had to end because it never really had a future in the first place.

My previous judgment for people who find love online was eradicated, banking on the fact that I myself have lived through it. I became a part of it. I thought that those who were not physically here cannot provide any type of emotional support, but it seems that they can. And just because they’re not here, it doesn’t mean that they are incapable of feeling -and even make you feel - anything.

People who are far away can make you feel the same delight, the same hurt, the same devastation. Love can happen in the same space, but sometimes it can also happen in different planes.

 

            Most people had their turning points after an eventful day in their lives. But for me, it was just a plain, hazy day. It happened while I was just eating with my mom in our favourite fast-food restaurant, Greenwich. We were both catching up with what is going on with our lives until our conversation got serious. When my mom’s voice cracked, my heart cracked too. I knew were going to talk about the matter I’ve been avoiding for so long.

            I was about to eat my pizza when she cried about her struggle as mother. My tears kept on falling as I was biting it rapidly. “Ikaw nalang ang pag-asa namin ng papa mo”. Those words were the least thing I wanted to hear from her because once she said that, I knew she have already given up. She gave up her dreams that she wanted for my ate and kuya and she only have me now. She’s tired, and in pain for she has only have to accept the fact that things can’t be changed the way they planned. Nevertheless, her hope is still there, barely holding, holding on to me.

            My parents’ dream is for us to have a good life, and to inherit an education that they can only give. It was reasonable and simple if you will come to think of it. But it got harder for my ate and kuya into reaching that dream for them, resulting into wasted time and efforts by my parents. It was simple… so simple. But I am also having a hard time achieving it for them. That’s why I promised myself, from that day, that I will finish my studies no matter what happen. 

This happened to me on the day I watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the one with Johnny Depp, when I was seven years old. There was a scene where Willy Wonka was getting his hair cut. He spotted a single gray hair; it was a sign that he was getting older. That scene stuck with me ever since. But, how does this relate to me? A few years later, I spotted a gray strand of hair growing on my mom’s head. I started crying, yet my mom found it funny. I was crying because I knew what was going to happen. Someday, there would come a time when things wouldn’t be the same.

We live life not knowing the essence of a fleeting second. We do not notice seconds turn into minutes, days turn into weeks, and months turn into years, all in a blink of an eye. As a child, you thought you had all the time in the world, making you feel free. But as you grow older, you become aware of these “expiration dates”. What you are familiar with won’t last, and that is not something you can control.

You realize you get tricks more than treats nowadays, tricked into thinking that things would stay this way. As you grow up, you stop trick-or-treating altogether. You are now aware that you are too old for that. Throughout your lifetime, you received candy, Butterfingers and candy corn, tricks, until you perceived Halloween as a day not meant for you. But then you remember, Halloween was initially for the dead. 

You probably won’t recognize me if you met me 9 years ago. You could have despised or avoided me just like how everybody else did. Contrary to my present jolly and ultra-talkative self, I was shy and quiet. I had nobody to talk to. I didn’t want to tell my grandmother because she might worry about me. I was always bullied by my classmates. When nobody could recite in class, I would stand up and explain the lesson to my teachers. They would say that masyado akong maraming alam (I knew too much) or that I just wanted to impress our teachers. When I would exert extra effort to produce an output or project of quality, they would say I’m pasikat and that my work was just probably made by my grandmother. When I would remain in school to help our teachers or maintenance personnel clean the classrooms, they would say I’m sipsip or that I was just being helpful to receive favors in return.  Not only did they call me hurtful names, they also framed me up for many misconducts and wrongdoings I didn’t do. The worst part is, many of my teachers didn’t believe me even if I said I was innocent. One guidance counselor even said that I was a problematic child who needed psychological help. He even went as far as telling my grandmother that may sayad po ang apo niyo sa utak. These teachers  – who are supposed to be my second parents – joined my classmates in ganging up against me. I didn’t know why they were ganging up against me. I didn’t know why they were scorning me for who I am. 

I succumbed to depression and anxiety. I felt so worthless. I felt I wasn’t good enough for anyone. No matter what I did, everybody will always hate me. I was angry with God. When I needed Him the most, He vanished. I stopped going to church and stopped believing in God all-together. My life was out of order and direction. For an 11 year-old, I was bearing too much emotion my tiny, feeble heart couldn’t contain. 

Half of my little body was out of the window. I didn’t care what would happen next. As I closed my eyes, ready to embrace Sister Death, somebody shouted “Huwaaaaag!” It was my classmates – the same classmates who belittled me. They rushed to the window and worked together to stop me from ending myself. I was confused. Why were they saving me? They should have let me be. They hated me anyway. Some of them were crying, asking for my forgiveness, telling me that I did nothing wrong. The same people who crushed me are the same people who saved me. 

Since that incident, I have met good people who guided me in my process of healing and restoration. It is through the goodness and Charity of their hearts that I found my way back to God’s warm embrace. My ex-bullies and ex-haters are now among my greatest friends who’ve been with me in both joy and grief. I realized that I really didn’t need God to come down from Heaven and change my life in a whip of a finger. God spoke to me, touched me, through the events of my life. Through our most trying and challenging times, when He seems absent, He is carrying us and directing us towards what is best for us – towards a joy of no compare. At times, He sends us guides who will direct us through this journey filled with steep and stony paths. 

I can’t imagine how many people in this world are facing unknown battles, consumed by their inner demons. Let us strive to be their guides, the extension of God’s love in their lives. This is my mission – to be a brother to all, to bring hope to the hopeless. 

 

As we reached the resort, I was so speechless. I have never seen such view in my entire life. There were men who enthusiastically greeted us despite of the extreme heat coming from the sun. They were in queue together with their boats. They were assigned to bring us to the falls. During the tour, we continuously asked the bangkero about the place. As time went by, we noticed that he had a wound in his right foot because he stepped on a rock. We panicked that time but he comfortably said that he's okay and worry not. I felt how tired and hurt he was but he kept on rowing and rowing so hard while giving various trivia about the place. My mom randomly asked "Magkano po ang sahod niyo rito?" (How much is your salary?" Then he replied cheerfully, "Maliit lang po pero nakakatulong din sa pamilya ko." (It's not that big but it could help my family in many ways.) I felt sad and wanted to help him so bad. As we reached the falls, we thanked him for the safe trip. He nodded and smiled. 

 After this tour, I realized the simplicity of life in the province. Indeed, simplicity reveals the true beauty and essence of one's life. This amazing man is working so hard to support his family. I admired how he viewed life in general. Despite of being financially unstable, he tend to manage all the difficulties with a smile on his face. This experience has let me appreciate my life as well as my family more.

“Anong oras duty mo?” “May duty ka?” “Late ka na! May duty ka pa!” --these are the normal utterances of my friends after or during classes. If you happen to visit the Miguel de Benavides Library, 5^th floor, Humanities section, and you see a short-haired AB student who doesn’t smile often, that’ll be me. It is a fact that I did not come from a rich or financially stable family, so studying here in the university is a luxury. I got accepted back when I was in my second year and believe me, my world literally turned upside-down and inside-out. In the same year, our regular schedule was 3-7pm with an addition of a 3 hour P.E class, but I had my own additional library hours in the morning with some 4 or 5 hours, depending on the day. I had to work on the library while thinking of all the school works I still have to do, focus in class and work extra harder since as a scholar, we also have a required grade, and try to cram all at night to dawn while my body is aching because of exhaustion after stacking and returning books that are heavier than me. So, you could only imagine how hard it was for me to balance everything. There were times where I just break down and cry because I was just so tired and hungry and sleepy all at once and I just want everything to go on my way but it’s as if the universe won’t allow me. There were also several instances in which I can’t go out with my family and friends since I have to stay home and study since I can’t the next day and apologize to all my group mates and block mates since they all had to adjust their schedule just because I have library duty. I eventually gave up my dancing career as well since I cannot attend trainings anymore and there were times where my friends kept on messaging me if I am still alive. 

But these are just some of the challenges I have as I work in the library. But believe me, working as a student assistant changed me and my view in life in a surprisingly good way. I can say that working while studying made me more mature, flexible, and responsible. I have big plans for my family and I know by studying and working harder now, it will eventually pave the way for a better and brighter future. Working made me physically stronger, mentally sharper, and emotionally steadier and now that I am on my third year as a student and the second year as a student assistant, I can truly say that I grew into an unexpected version of myself. And I’m proud. 

So, you’re telling me that we have a 20 page reading, a 5 page essay, and a long quiz tomorrow? Ha. Bring it on.  

The moment my life did a complete 360 was not about me.

“Life begins with birth and ends with death. All that’s in between can be deemed irrelevant, to be honest. We were born to die.”

This pessimistic statement has been my motto in life for as long as I can remember. Especially after the death of my grandmother, I’ve lost all hope in the beauty of life and spent my everyday waiting for my eventual death. In all cynicism, I had no motivation to live. Gratefully, that perception changed when something unforeseen happened in our family.

It was an ordinary day, I remember so vividly, and I just got home from school. It was boring, really. The good part of the story, however, begins when my mom texts me from work and asks me to help my dad in preparing the table, as she’s decided to have dinner at our rooftop together with the whole family (my aunt, uncle, and cousin included). I asked why. I realized there was nothing special about today, why the preparation? She just answered me with a vague “We’re facetiming your cousins.”

Still confused, I went on with the serving of the food. Even my aunt, my mother’s sister, had no idea why we were all having a meal together. When everything was all set up, we started eating. Nothing much out of the ordinary. In the middle of the meal, my mom brought out our iPad and video called her other sister who was residing in the US. She was also surprised that we were all together, it was nobody’s birthday anyway. She just dismissed it for us bonding over a meal. At the end of dinner, my mom once again gathered us around the table. I was starting to get worried. Did somebody die? Did she get fired at work? What in the world was happening?!

My various questions were answered when she opened her mouth, “Buntis si Alexa (Alexa is pregnant).”

I was in shock. Not just me, we all were. My father who was trying to remove a piece of meat stuck between his teeth, my brother who was busy still eating, my cousins who were preparing for their day through the screen, my uncle who was having a smoke at a corner, my aunt who was starting to gather the used plates, even my 5-year-old cousin who was busy playing with her Baby Alive doll. We were all surprised.

It was a long night. There were tears, there was anger, and there was a lot of confusion. It never occurred to me that this night would be all about my older sister. Eventually, we learned to accept the fact.

Birth and death in the family have changed a lot about me. Fast forward to six months later (my sister was three months pregnant when she decided to let us all in on the secret), seeing my little nephew for the first time made me change my view on life. He was one of the reasons I’m trying to live my best life now. He’s the reason I have so much that I’m fighting for – equality, human rights, and all those other things. It’s because of this little human, that I wanted life to be better for everyone. It’s because of him, that I look forward to the future, and that I want to make sure it’ll be a better one than what we have now. He has restored my will to live and I couldn’t be more delighted.