Life Begins @ Forty

At this age, I always remind myself to keep my feet on the ground and never forget where I came from. I once read, “By not forgetting where you came from, you ensure you never go backward. You ensure you always remain grateful and humble so you can keep doing what you love.” I think that’s beautiful and inspirational. I’m doing well so far, and nothing is more rewarding than touching someone’s life because of relatable beginnings.

Along my journey, I’ve learned that we outgrow friendships. For someone who had many “friends” constantly showing up at all my parties, I wasn’t ready to lose connections so easily. But then I realized some friendships only existed because I was a people pleaser. We outgrow people because something changes along the way. C’est la vie. Lowkey friendships are the best—no need to hang out all the time, but when something’s wrong, you know who will show up.

My husband taught me about boundaries. Maybe it’s the culture or how I was brought up, but I was always a yes-woman. Generally, Filipinos are too nice to say NO. I’d say yes to avoid hurting people’s feelings. I’d say yes because it felt good—until I was taken for granted and people abused my kindness. I’d give until it hurt. But why should I let it hurt? I am not unlimited. Setting boundaries taught me to respect myself more, to say, “This is the extent of what I can do, and that’s it.” And that’s maturity—like forty 😉.

Nothing comes easy. When I think about the times I almost gave up, I’m glad I didn’t—because suffering is temporary. Tom Hanks once said, verbatim: “You feel bad right now, you feel pissed off … this too shall pass. You feel angry … this too shall pass. You feel great, you feel like you know all the answers, you feel like everybody finally gets you … this too shall pass. Time is your ally, and if nothing else … just wait, just wait … just wait it out.”

Life will always throw you curveballs, and you can’t just wait for them to stop. But when you’re at your peak and bigger than life, you know it’s only good while it lasts.

I have anxiety. After a few therapy sessions, I realized I’ve had it since I was young. I worry a lot—I eat it, drink it, sleep with it. When I travel, I’m always at the airport way too early to avoid the risks of traffic or any mishaps. My mind runs through multiple things at once, and it can be unbearable sometimes, especially now that I’m a new mother. My mom tells me to relax and that not everything is my problem. This is still a work in progress.

On the contrary, I’ve also taken big steps and made bold decisions. If you haven’t taken risks in your life and you’re wondering why you feel stuck, maybe that’s your sign to take one. My dad taught me that growth happens outside your comfort zone—and that life is too damn short to play safe all the time. Waiting to be “good enough” before trying something is just a delaying tactic. And honestly, who cares about your failure besides you? Nobody.

People say life begins at 40, but to each his own. I enjoy being alone. I used to be extremely uncomfortable eating alone in public, but now? It’s a breather. I believe life starts when you truly understand yourself—when you know what you want. When you choose which battles are worth fighting, when you embrace boundaries, when you own your weaknesses and turn them into strengths, when you are inspired by those who made it, and when you become an inspiration yourself. I used to think 40 was old, and now that I am 40, I’m still unsure if I’m old, still young, or somewhere in between. What I know for sure is that forty is a milestone and a blessing. So here’s to more tiger balm patches, hong thai herbal inhaler, and katinkos. Cheers to 40! #kwarenta 

Plot Twist: Two Blurred Lines

So, I got pregnant at 39. We didn’t really announce it publicly for our peace of mind and because it was a delicate journey. For those who know me well, this is a total shocker! Life happened, and God clearly had bigger plans for us.

In the second quarter of 2024, I was sick most of the time. I had kidney stones, which were immediately removed, and I also happened to have gallstones. Bangladeshi doctors recommended gallbladder removal, but something didn’t feel right, so we flew to Bangkok in July for a second opinion and a series of tests. After thorough evaluation, the doctor advised against surgery and instead recommended monitoring.

With that settled, we moved on and ended up consulting with an OB-GYN in Bangkok for IVF—yes, IVF. I wasn’t entirely sure about it since it required time and full commitment, but I figured, why not? The plan was to start medication in November and prepare for implantation in January 2025. We even bought loads of medications, and they weren’t cheap!

Ever since my kidney stone issue, we tried to change our lifestyle—we got scared. We cut back on vices, started going to the gym religiously (it was literally in front of our apartment), and reduced late-night shenanigans. We became healthier, and my period was always on the dot, which was surprising considering my PCOS.

Then came July. I was a few days late, so I took a test for fun, without any expectations—it had become a routine at this point. WHAT?! Two blurred lines. At that moment, I felt illegal. I was shaking. I walked out of the bathroom and told my husband. He was over the moon, while I was… confused. What just happened? Am I really pregnant?

I took another test, which came out positive. To be absolutely sure, we called for a home service blood test (hCG). All of this happened in a single day. My head was spinning—what’s going on? The blood test result came back, and we went for an ultrasound a week after: “About 5+ weeks of early intrauterine gestation.”

This was it. But why was I still confused? I kept asking myself if my reaction was normal. I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t sad either. I guess I was just… floating.

At the same time, Bangladesh was in turmoil. There were protests everywhere, and the streets were full of violence. We were in a total lockdown, with communication shut down. We weren’t allowed to leave the house, and all we could do was watch the news and wait for any messages from work or the government. These events didn’t help my early pregnancy at all. The once-confused me turned into a scared me.

What will happen to us? What if I have an emergency?

To add to the stress, my husband was waiting for his Philippine visa because we were scheduled to travel in August for my brother’s wedding. And because of the turmoil, the Embassy had to close until further notice. Work also became more demanding due to the worsening situation. I was anxious that my leave might get canceled, but by hook or by crook, I had to go to Manila. Not just for the wedding, but because I wanted a proper check-up. I couldn’t keep my anxiety to myself—I think I even cried while talking to a colleague about it.

God bless him, because after learning about my situation, my leave wasn’t canceled. My husband’s visa was issued last minute, and we were finally ready to go to Manila.

That was August.

Usually, I’d throw a welcome party on our first night back. People would get the invite weeks in advance, and we’d party and drink. But this time was, of course, different. We arrived on the eve of my 39th birthday, and all I was looking forward to was hearing our baby’s heartbeat.

Fast forward to that day: BOOM. We heard it. All confirmed.

We returned to Bangladesh with happy hearts, continued our healthy lifestyle, and went about work as usual. We kept everything lowkey but planned to share the news with our closest friends in the second trimester.

Then… was that blood?

I had my first episode of spotting, and that was just the beginning. My doctor advised me to work from home—this was the last week of September (start of 2nd trimester). The spotting stopped for a while but then started happening more frequently. I couldn’t stop crying. I cried almost every day. Every night and day. 

My doctor prescribed more medication, but what really affected me was the weekly injectable HPC. I cried every time I had to take it. It was painful, left a lump each time, and eventually, I had so many that it became uncomfortable—even painful—to sleep. Thankfully, Sujan found a nurse who came to our house every Sunday to give me the jab.

I felt isolated. Being at home all the time, not seeing anyone—I was very scared for the baby because my body kept failing him. I started questioning my faith. I was exhausted, vulnerable, and definitely depressed. I wanted help, but I couldn’t say it out loud.

My supervisor at work knew about my condition, and I must say, my office supported me all throughout. My husband was my rock—still is. He didn’t know how to handle the situation, though. His instinct was to talk things out, thinking it would help, but I’d just shut him down and cry. He was confused too, but he never left my side.

Fast forward to November—I was admitted to the hospital for the second time after a major scare. My sister-in-law insisted we go to the ER immediately. She had been our guiding light through all this. After two nights in the hospital, we decided to reassess our plans.

We had initially planned to travel to Manila in January 2025 and had already applied for my husband’s visa. But after this recent scare, we requested the Philippine Embassy to expedite it due to an emergency.

At this point, I told myself: Pregnancy struggles need to be normalized. Pregnant women should acknowledge them. It’s not about being ungrateful—it’s about being human.

The change in plans wasn’t easy - it was a risk but we still made it to Manila. It was one of the best decisions we made as a family. Everything changed. I stopped bleeding. I stopped crying, too.

Since I was in my third trimester, I had more frequent follow-ups. At my 32nd-week check-up, my doctor found that my cervix had already started effacement. She advised me to stop working until delivery. I told my husband to rebook his flight for an earlier date once he received his visa.

February 7th: Routine check-up. Vitals: 143/70. My doctor didn’t take it lightly and ordered lab tests and an ultrasound. That night, just as I was about to sleep—excited for my baby shower the next day—my doctor called.

One of my test results came in. It was 31 times higher than normal.

I had to be admitted. Immediately.

I was officially admitted at 1 AM on a Saturday. At first, I still thought I’d make it to my baby shower if I got discharged on the same day. But by 11 AM, I knew it had to be postponed.

Sujan arrived that day. I was emotional. Seeing him, I cried tears of joy. He saw my bruises—both arms covered in marks from repeated blood extractions. My veins had collapsed. It was too much. After days of tests and close monitoring, I was finally discharged on Tuesday, with a strict 14-day rest order.

Considering my generalized anxiety, I was surprisingly calm.

On February 26th, I sent my latest ultrasound results to my doctor. She simply replied: "Get admitted tomorrow."

February 27th, we checked into the hospital at 2 PM. By dawn, my BP spiked. My doctor ordered an emergency C-section.

February 28, 8:25 AM. Our baby boy was born.

Life changed. Right there.

We had to go through some close monitoring, but eventually, we went home—with a plus one.

Overwhelmed? Yes.

Other thoughts? Just relief and happiness.

Nothing else mattered except him.

I’m now a mom, and my husband? Promoted to Best Dad in the World.

We are blessed.

Thank you.

If COVID-19 Didn't Happen

"We will remember 2020 as a year of disease and death, and lockdowns that separated friends and relatives, and businesses from customers, causing depressions of both the economic and clinical sort" - The Spectator 

Well, 2020 is said to be the worst year of our generation and we all share that sentiment to some extent. For me, 2020 was one of the best years. No, I didn't get married 😑 but it was the year when I felt accomplished the most. It was the best time to help others, the best time to be a virtual support system to anyone, and the best time to be alive. 

I lost count how many times I felt like giving up but I also lost count how many times I got back and tried again. If COVID didn't happen, I would never know the extent of my capacity. My humility and patience. 

I did things that I never imagined doing in my 11 years of service. There were people rooting for me but also people who were so good in discouragements and criticisms. And that, my friend, pushed me to achieve everything that I never thought of achieving ever in my career life. 

If COVID didn't happen, I will never meet and get to know the amazing people who changed my life forever. Those people who helped me to cope and survive. I know it's not over yet but imagine being away from your family during the 1st wave of the pandemic? When everyone thought that it will be over in weeks. When getting a phone call from home, at midnight, made you the most anxious and paranoid person in the world. When having a simple sore throat gave you the worst scenarios playing in your head. Damn.

I was given the privilege to go home for the holidays. Yes, it was a privilege.  I know people who can actually leave for some time-off but it will not be a roundtrip ticket anymore. I didn't manage to meet everyone but those 45 days of being there were the shortest 45 days of my life. Time flies when you are having fun. The situation might have barred us from a physical bonding but those times should never be taken for granted.

If COVID has taught me anything, I learned that we will only realize how irreplaceable our moments are, when we are forced to live distant with so much uncertainty. I can't believe that we will be in the situation where we don't know what's normal anymore. When we need to acknowledge that not everything is about me (or you) because other people are struggling too - even worse. 

Millions didn't make it last year but more people did. If COVID didn't happen, we will never understand what survival means. That we can actually survive with the new normal. 

It could be depressing as we are wired to connect and to be social. We are not done so let's continue to hope. 

"Hope is a good thing, may be the best of the things. And good thing never dies." - Shawshank Redemption

How It's Like to Have a COVID-19 Scare When You're Away from Home

Due to exhaustion and burnout, I've decided to start working from home on weekends. That was 2 weeks ago.

Friday morning last week, my voice started to sound weird. It went from 60% to 20%. I couldn't speak well and struggled to every phone call I got the whole day but still managed to enjoy the weekend.

Come Saturday, my voice went from 20% to 10% and started coughing with sore throat. I was confused if I should go to the office the next day because I thought I was fine. FYI, work resumes on Sundays in Bangladesh.

Obviously, I went to the office on Sunday because there was no way that I could skip my important meetings that day. I reported my condition to our in-house physician and UN doctor and was prescribed for medication but was also advised to go home. Although my body temperature was perfectly normal, it's better to self-isolate and observe for any developed symptoms. 

A day after, my sore throat was completely gone but still coughing. The next day, my voice progressed from 10% to 95%. However, since I'm not yet officially well, I've decided to finally request for COVID-19 PCR test just to be sure and for my peace of mind. I was confused at first if I should get it because I didn't have fever or something. But after consulting with my doctor friends, I said, why not. When you are in that situation, believe me.. decision making is not that easy so better know which advice to take.  

I was expecting to get the confirmation for my appointment and finally got booked the next day - Wednesday.

I got up super early and was feeling anxious. I felt like having a bad headache. I called the clinic to confirm the time of collection but they said it's uncertain and be patient. Yes, I guess that's what I needed.. patience. 

The medical personnel did a home-service to get my samples. It was almost lunch time and I was starving. It was a nasopharyngeal swab sampling. It was awkwardly painful but not that intense - I guess it would depend on the person's tolerance. It felt like I snorted a ton of water lol. He left and I resumed working as if nothing happened. I was told that it would take 24 hours to receive the result. Damn, I hate waiting and that, folks, were the longest 24 hours of my life. 

I told my family about it. I got mixed reactions but ultimately, they were all supportive and had zero drama. 

In less than 24 hours, I received a notification through my email. I couldn't believe it. I didn't open it. I was damn scared. But a text message popped-up for the same reason.

NEGATIVE.

Suddenly all the rush went out from all parts of my body like I was relieved from an intense roller coaster ride. That's it. I'm just having a normal cold. I wish I could jump around and hug everyone who were scared with and for me. A virtual high-five for now, I guess.

I don't get scared, scared. I'm always up for thrills and I find some contentment with it (except with rodents, ewwwww). But because I'm alone and away from home, I get to have those what-if scares, you know. 

Not all would understand me but when you're out and about and you've been exposed to different things, you know at some point that you are vulnerable but you have to be strong and cringe alone. Life is short and has full of surprises. Even if you think that you're the bravest, something will scare you somehow until you learn your lesson that you're just a normal person like everyone else and will, at some point, lose and get beaten by it. 

Here's to all the brave souls. May we all learn to acknowledge our losses and accept that fear will keep us all night long and will make us stronger. 

Why I Chose to Stay in Bangladesh During COVID-19 Crisis

I've been wanting to write something during this period but I just couldn't because of my workload. As you know, I am still working as usual, I go to the office, but 7 days a week. The government of Bangladesh imposed for lockdown which they call a "general holiday" since 25 March 2020. It was supposed to be a 10-day shutdown only but we all expected that it will be extended (now it's until 25 April). 

Before WHO declared COVID-19 as pandemic, I already booked a ticket to the Philippines for a 2-week vacation in May. I booked it as early as 05 February as the situation seemed normal that time. On 21 Feb, I received a notification from Thai Airways about flight adjustments. From 2 hours to 14 hours, layover. I thought it wasn't really a big deal. Well it was, because I had to stay overnight in Bangkok but I never expected that something serious was about to happen.

Come March, countries started to impose travel bans. On 18 March, my flight was officially cancelled. Was I sad? I was devastated. President Duterte said that Filipino citizens are welcome to come home but not as if he will send chartered planes to countries to pick us all up. USA did. Not sure in other countries, but that's what they did in Bangladesh. 

Working overseas is not easy especially when you're alone. It's overwhelming, that's why we need social life to balance it out. But now, the only thing that's close to social life is ZOOM-ing.  

COVID-19 lockdown is the world's biggest psychological experiment. I call it a Great Depression. Businesses are closing, people are losing jobs, and the middle class is facing its greatest threat in this lifetime. Our human interactions are so limited that we feel deprived. After this crisis, we don't even know where to start or how to act normal because we are confused to what's normal like.

People ask me why I'm still here. Well, although Thai Airways bailed on me, there was actually one last option: to fly through Malaysia Airlines. I had that small window to go home but I did not. Why? 

"This is not something we imagined would ever happen but we need to remember that our work is vital now more than ever.."

Our Country Rep told us that. And for me, that's enough for me to stay. 

Some few colleagues left and I don't blame them. It's not as if they're less humanitarian than us. They had their own valid reasons and when the shit hits the fan, should we feel bad for staying? I don't think so. Because we all had our chances. We all had our dilemmas. We all had those sleepless nights. And whatever was decided was already decided. It is what it is. 

I don't regret staying. We are placed right where we are but the process is painful. I don't have to lie about it. I'm fighting everyday and it's exhausting. Someday we will look back while we tell stories to younger generations. 

We need to survive this. We should. Because this whole thing... is one for the books. 

it is what it is.

But what I've learned about closure is that it's not necessary. If you don't get the closure you wanted from others then find that closure within yourself. - Thought Catalog

Mostly, we wait for closure before we take the next step even if we are in a situation that constantly makes us feel worse about our self. We hope that someone would just say it to our face and give us a solid b*tch slap so we can move on already.  

Move on from that job application that you've been wanting all your life. Move on from that car you can never buy. Move on from that weight you can only achieve if you die from hunger. Move on from your favorite celebrity couple who made you love them like your own offspring. Move on from that social status you will never get because you spend more than you earn. Move on from that kind of friendship that was as fake as her eyelashes. Move on from that jerk who said he wanted you but he was just bored that’s all. Etc etc etc etc.

Closure is like signs. We look for signs to affirm our planned decision. And let's be real here - one of the hardest decisions would be to either give up or keep chasing pavements (yes, that's Tita Adele right there).

We can wait, sure. But waiting means taking that leap of faith as well. Life doesn't stop while we wait. That's not how life works. Life's a game - an unfair game as we call it. But we continue to strive more while we wait for our turn. And when that time comes, that’s like that cold beer you’ve been dreaming on a summer day or that hot chocolate on a winter morning.   

As we all end 2019 soon, let it serve as a closure to everything that we've been frustratingly waiting to happen. Because sometimes the longer we wait for closure, we tend to ignore the fact that it is what it is.

khalas!

Keep Calm and Carry On!

The thing about writing something and posting it online is that you can go back and read tf your mind worked that time lol.

There’s so much to reflect about this year but what’s significant is that 2019 had me embrace change more than I could ever imagine.

“During your transformation, you might feel like everything is falling apart, but in reality, everything is coming together for your highest good. You’re being pushed to evolve and get out of your comfort zone so you can live and experience your true greatness. Welcome change.” - Anonymous

Every chance I get, I would look back to last year and the year before that. Not to emote or something but I look back to those times when I was too broken while I hold on to that very weak string about to give up because of depression. When I reached the rock bottom but I managed to pull up and be glad that I made it back to being whole again. When something like that happens to you, when you feel like you’re struggling to get out from a black hole or you feel like everything's going against you, look for change because change will save you from it. Well ok, I’m not sure if it applies to everyone but it definitely worked for me. Fortunately, change came this year. Because of what I endured, I felt like I’m a totally different person with a bunch of lessons learned from last time. New perspective and I definitely know the subtle way of not giving a f anymore (except when I’m on PMS).

The decision I made of leaving PHL to work abroad for longer term was a big step. Those people who think that overseas work-life is alright, wait until you experience it yourself. You guys think that you know, but you have no idea.

My situation is somewhat better because of some perks but what’s different is that, in less than a year, I’ve moved to 2 countries already and moving from one to another is not easy! Just when you thought that everything’s like home already, you realize that it’s time to get your sh*t together because you need to pack your life again and move. You again start from scratch; you play by your own judgement – trusting your instincts. Someone told me that it seemed that I adjust easily but dude it’s not even close. I struggle too but I always find ways to be relieved. The thing about moving, it’s like you’re not allowed to get too attached to something and someone because you will have to leave (again) soon. And that’s terrible but I guess I need to learn how to deal with it. So yeah, whatever.

Nevertheless, I’m grateful for everything and for all the fond memories from this year. Thank you, Lord for 2019. I’m thankful especially to the people who have touched and changed my life forever. My shenanigans and stupid whatnots. Those temporary emotions lol.

I don’t know what the future holds but I’m definitely excited for 2020.  So, cheers to positivity... Keep calm and carry on!

Nigeria

It is like a routine check for me to do some research before coming to a new place. I check photos, videos, I read Wikipedia, testimonies, travel blogs/vlogs, watch movies, etc. While I try to learn things about a place, what I don't realize is that I'm mostly bombarded with stereotypes.

Chumamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian writer, once said during her session on TED Talk that "the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story."

The people who actually follow my social media accounts would know how much I enjoyed Nigeria. I sometimes receive very interesting comments but I also understand that some are really curious while some are just trying hard to make a statement.

People would be surprised how pleasant this country is. I was lucky to have visited 6 states plus FTC and every place had its own story. Abuja, the capital, is beautiful. I am sometimes convinced that their capital is better than the capital of the Philippines - starting with the issue on traffic. Kidding. Let's not go there.

Living in this continent is a state of mind. It changes you and words are not

enough to explain the fascination of its wealth and culture. Asia is home but Africa is special. I am obviously excited to go home because of the stories I'm eager to tell. Stories that would hopefully break stereotypes and will build colorful imaginations.

A friend told me six months ago that I will be different six months after. I believed him. And ever since, I kept asking myself what has changed until this day.

I don't know if I will have the chance to come back but what I know is that I will leave nothing but memories that will be with me forever. I will miss you and everything about you. Thank you, Nigeria. Well done.

"You cannot leave Africa, Africa said. It is always with you, there inside your head. Our rivers run in currents in the swirl of your thumbprints; our drumbeats counting out your pulse; our coastline the silhouette of your soul." - Bridget Dore

How's your night?

In the Philippines, if someone asks you that question, you will either grin or get offended, but normally, you will never respond back. Nobody in their right mind will ever ask you about your night unless the person asking is a close friend and something interesting really happened that night or your life is an open book to the world.

My first time, I booked an Uber to take me somewhere (I couldn’t remember). It was a morning ride, I didn’t have enough sleep the night before because of jetlag and alcohol.

“How are you ma?” (ma = ma’m)

“I’m ok, thank you”

“How was your night?”

“Excuse me?”

Yes, that stranger guy, the Uber driver just asked me how my night was. Why does he care? Do I look like someone who was just hit by a bus? Do I have something on my face? WTF.

My second time, I was leaving the hotel when the security guard smiled.

“Good morning ma”

“Good morning, how fa?” (that’s me trying pidgn english for “how’s everything”)

“I dey fine, how was your night?”

Seriously?

Yes, folks. After several encounters, I realized that Nigerians don’t really give a damn about your night - it’s just an extended way of asking how you were.

And what is my point here?

Culture. Customs. Social behaviour. Way of life. If you go to other places and you see how others do things differently, you will realize how amazing diversity is. How strange people say their greetings. How they celebrate birthdays and special events. How they treat each other and outsiders. How they enjoy and have fun. How they value things that you and your people from home take for granted.

How they live.

But you will never appreciate all these things until you learn how to really observe and understand it. The comparison, the complaining and liking. I guess all of that is part of learning.

I can make friends, sure. But I never liked talking to taxi drivers on the road. I’d rather check my phone or sleep. But here? I lost count how many times I had a good conversation with my Uber driver. I told a friend once that you can’t really be sure how sociable you are until you travel alone and test your social skills.

Social skills? Ok, that’s another story. That’s for next time.

But have you ever wondered why you suddenly become a different person when you are out of your box? It’s a “survival” thing and we have that instinct for survival. We adopt and adapt.

And when you’re out there, you move, and you change. And when it’s time for your return, you go back with more things. More experiences. More stories to tell.

In the meantime, I have quite a list of things I’ve learned and still learning about this country and I assure you, it gets more interesting.

Cheers.

No Wahala

I know that I’ve been posting photos and videos on social media (well more on Instagram lol) and that some even had weird comments that I had to deal with, but not everyone knows how I’ve really been since I got here. First of all, it’s not my first time in Africa but it’s definitely my first experience in this region.

I remember searching everything about Nigeria through hashtags on IG, Twitter, travel vlogs on YouTube, and even watched this movie ‘Lionheart’ on Netflix to have more feels about the country. Well guess what, I’m glad I did all of that because that’s how a paranoid person would normally do.    

So, I’m based in Abuja which is the capital of Nigeria. I live in Asokoro, one of the major districts in Abuja, and I swear this place is better than Las Piñas!! It’s clean, secured, wide roads, aaaaaaaaaand traffic has been bearable. I suggest our Mayor to come and visit lol.

I’ve been trying to fit-in which has made me a social butterfly. Yes, and it’s kinda exhausting. Please don’t get me wrong. I like meeting new people and trying new things but the last time I checked, I’ve decided to be a boring person back home which made me a “Tita of Manila” until I stepped in this country. From an oldie to a hipster.

I read an article about the differences between travelling and moving abroad. It said that:

Traveling is like a whimsical romance; exciting, unpredictable, and passionate. But moving abroad, you strip the city and its local culture revealing its demons and angels. You become vulnerable, dependent, and invested. The lust of wander is compromised by its imperfections and challenges.

I don’t know about you but this one is true!

I became vulnerable, dependent, and invested. I’ve programmed myself to adapt to whatever is offered to me because of the main reason of survival. I’ve been trying to meet new people, understand the language (Pidgin English – please just google that) and try the food to survive. Well, it’s not a negative word, right? Survival?

This is my life now, so I need to deal with it and make new memories. And besides, I cannot just test the waters and just decide to return to base if everything becomes inconvenient because first of all, the airfare is freaking expensive and it’s not just how life works.

Anyhow, my first month went too fast. C-R-A-Z-Y. Nigerian music is really catchy guys! Please follow my playlist on Spotify 😊

I appreciate all the concerns back home to check if I’m still alive. Folks, I’m more than OK. I know I’ve been flexin’ a lot but I’m still standing! Maybe because I’ve embraced so much immediately and got lucky for the people who have been making things easy. I still need to push myself to cook though!

So, I guess it’s too early to answer my question before coming here if I really made the right decision – perhaps it’s ok to make a hypothesis. If I keep an open mind and trust the process and have faith that everything happens for a reason, then I won’t have to regret the decision I made.

Keep wishing me luck! 😉

Ps. No Wahala is “no problem” in pidgin english.

The Heart of The One Leaving

Growing up, I realized that I'm constantly challenged about something – my future. Everytime I am faced by an unsettling situation, I would ask myself “until when do I allow this to happen?” then unconsciously (or not) will ask for a change until I get it. I might not get the change immediately but I believe it’s always on the way.

I know how terrifying change is. I may be a risk taker but at the back of my mind, I would cringe and think of a rewind. Primarily because the fear of failure is there. The discomfort. The fear of the new. Change is constant and leaving from something is part of it.

“You get a strange feeling when you leave a place, like you’ll not only miss the people you love, but you miss the person you are at this time and place because you’ll never be this way ever again..” – Pinterest 

Wait, what? Ok, I am scared. As a matter of fact, I’m anxious. I sure did go outside my comfort zone few times but this time is different. Because life moves on for everybody but mine is different. I am going to that direction of uncertainty where I have to start a new life all by myself in a place where I can only trust my guts and instinct. A life that I asked and prayed for. Well, they said to be careful what you wish for because you might get it.

…but not how you envisioned it.

Yup, you heard it. I thought I was ready but I’m not. I didn’t expect it to be this life changing. The life I’m used to. My routine. My favorite mall. My favorite home-cooked meal. My go-to person/s. My house. My work space. My family and friends…and Wolfgang.
Everytime people send me their well wishes, I would always ask them to pray for me. I’m not religious but my faith tells me that prayers work (and can move mountains too).

“I left because I had other dreams. It was like outgrowing my favorite blanket and pair of pajamas when I was a child. What I once needed for peaceful sleep suddenly caused discomfort and restlessness. I needed to give in to growth that was inevitable. And life is too short for ill-fitting jammies, uncomfortable sheets, and for settling with high school and college dreams that were already fulfilled.” – Tricia Zafra  

To those who’ve decided to leave for good reason/s, I salute you. It’s not easy. You pretend to be brave but your mind is all over the place. You embrace the new hoping not to regret anything along the way. You will be sad everytime you miss your comfort zone but you will be fine. To those who will be left behind, I salute you too. You pretend to be OK with it but the truth is, you didn’t have a choice but to accept it.

So from the heart of the one leaving, if everything is easy, victory will not be as tasteful as that tequila shot I’ve been dying to take since last night.

Wish me luck! x

Risk Takers

According to Wikipedia, In 2013, the Commission on Filipinos Overseas (CFO) estimated that approximately 10.2 million Filipinos worked or resided abroad. And the largest population overseas is none other than the Land of Free. From this number, the percentage of Filipino emigrants and or immigrants that do not have proper documents is still unknown (need for further research, will get back to you on this).

Also from Wikipedia, Filipino diaspora was sort of a temporary solution during Marcos' time to address two issues: oil issues, and to ease the unemployment problem in the country.

As promised, this is not a political post but rather a point of view from a person who's a product of two (2) OFWs.

Leaving home to emigrate or immigrate is most of the time, a big decision to make. It's never easy. Have you heard of the term “brain drain” ? Yes, it’s true. It’s a combination of diaspora and migration of skilled workers and professionals to move out in search of a better life. And when you're out there and you see a small window that would bring you and your family together, risk takers would definitely take it. Why? Because, why not.

But then again, this is a small window that could be closed anytime. And if that happens, the risk takers are left with 2 choices: some would take more risks to reach the ultimate goal, while some would quit and fold.

This post may not make sense to others. Nevertheless, I hope something from the other side of the coin will somehow make it to the social media as an eye opener to us, all. We will not judge. If the risk takers decide to come home, we should open our arms and embrace them once again. Because those balikbayan boxes that, arrive in our doorstep full of imported goodies that we demanded, were products of their braveness.

At the end of the day, the family / loved ones who were left behind will cherish the fruits from the risk takers. If shit happens, let’s just deal with it later. Que sera sera.

My Life Teacher: Father's Day Special

Today, I pulled out one of our photo albums from the cabinet. It was dusty as it remained untouched for a long time since e-photo came to the world. My purpose was to reminisce the good memories I had with daddy. 

This photo was my first birthday, 14 Aug 1986.

If you ask me how many birthdays I had with Dad physically with us.. I'd say, few times. Not sure, actually.

Dad was a seafarer. He spent almost all his life away from home. We didn't have much moments together when we were growing up. He wasn't the one who taught me how to ride a bike. He wasn't there when I learned how to swim. To play the piano, the guitar.

But I never hated him for that. Because growing up, he taught me bigger things.

He taught me to dream for the stars. He taught me to never doubt myself. He said if there's a tiniest chance of getting it, then do it. He taught me not to self-pity. With all his tough love, I grew up having a strong heart. He was a people person and he showed me how having tons of people around looked like. It was fun until you're left alone realizing that not all things are worth it. He said people come and go so be prepared to learn things the hard way (for that matter).

He was my life teacher. He was my hero.

This Father's Day is painful for me to celebrate. Had been cringing since those father's day feels started to kick in. I hope he's with us today. There are no words to describe the heartache I’m feeling and how much I miss him... but that's life now and will never be the same again.

So here's to all the daughters who have lost their father but trying to be a living testimony of their father's greatness! There will be more heartbreaking moments like these so let's brace ourselves and try to cherish we had together.

I love you daddy. This time, I will not wish or wonder if I made you proud. But rather, wish that I made you feel how proud I was of you.

Cheers!

Rainbow

World Health Organization defines depression as "a common illness worldwide, with more than 300 million people affected. Depression is different from usual mood fluctuations and short-lived emotional responses to challenges in everyday life. Especially when long-lasting and with moderate or severe intensity, depression may become a serious health condition. It can cause the affected person to suffer greatly and function poorly at work, at school and in the family. At its worst, depression can lead to suicide. Close to 800,000 people die due to suicide every year. Suicide is the second leading cause of death in 15-29-year-olds."

I can only talk about depression from my own experience so I would appreciate your understanding.

When Dad was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer in September 2017, the whole family went from denial stage to depression. I myself couldn't believe that it could hit a person that's known with a strong immune system until I, myself witnessed his health deteriorating.

It was excrutiating, really. My friend who had a similar situation became my manual and she told be what to expect and whatnot.

I was confused. Everything went extra stressful including work not to mention my attitude towards friends and colleagues. I wasn't sure if things normally became more difficult or I was just vulnerable. I guess until today, I still don't have the answer.

I am a strong person. I had a lot of struggles in life that no one could've experienced. I am strong because I survived (and still surviving). I know that some people are having worst but let's not compare more and just leave it right here.

But when Dad died, I forgot how strong I was. I can still remember his last moments when he even had the energy to ask me "ito na ba ang feeling ng naghihingalo?"

I answered him "yes daddy, yan na siguro yun.." without dropping a tear.

Crying is not a thing for our family. I wasn't raised like that. We were not vocal and showy with our emotions either. We curse, we give tough love, but we don't show our weaknesses.

But during that specific moment, my heart was crushing, my whole body was in pain. But I had to contain my emotions because there's another person struggling with me in that same room. She never asked helped from me but I felt it and that was the least I could do. I always thought I got my strong heart from Dad but I guess Mom is stronger.

After Dad's funeral, I went back to work immediately because I was afraid. I was afraid to face the reality. I was afraid to feel weak. I was afraid to grieve.

Then I realized, I was depressed. The day when the 1st tear dropped after Dad's passing, that was the day I started to feel everything.

I felt alone. I guess I got tired of being strong. I didn't want anybody's support. I wasn't open for anything. I went back to black. I thought that nobody will ever understand the pain until it's there time to feel it too.

Because when Dad died, I felt like I died with him too.

I started questioning things. I wanted to hate everyone. I wanted to talk to God in person and ask Him why. I wanted to hate Him too. I got mad.

I also didn't understand why some people get to be happy around me while I'm at my lowest point of my life.

I fell flat on the ground hitting the rock bottom. I was done.

But God was NOT.

While I admitted to myself the depression part, He must've felt it too. More confusing days came and so I went back praying. I realized that if nobody could really help me, then it's just me to help myself. Because while I couldn't keep my sheets dry, the world will still revolve and life must still go on.

"But please promise to forgive yourself for all the choices you thought were good for you, for following your heart even if it was against the will of people around you, for all the times you felt weak and at rock-bottom." - Thought Catalog

I learned to forgive myself and opened my heart to forgive others as well. I also learned that not everyone can really understand what I'm going through but I need to give them a chance to absorb things and be a help during my bad days.

I'm not afriad to die. The scary part is knowing that every love one will die too.

But there's heaven. And I know its real.

Months later, I guess I'm feeling better. I may cry again later, tomorrow, or the next day.. but I know I'm stronger.

I will never be as normal as I was before but who cares about being normal anyway? I will always miss Dad but I know everytime I think of him, he will just be in my heart to comfort me.

Happier days will come. I claim it!

Like Rainbows :-)

Dad

Dad would always insist for mom to travel even though it was always debatable whether his presence was really necessary. He said he has traveled the world already and he’s just glad to be home to relax.

I remember they were a bit pushy to get their visa application done because finally, they both agreed to travel together. One take, and they got it.
Unfortunately, dad’s work schedule was a bit tricky. He was sent back to work for a 6-12 month contract. Come September 2016, without dad, mom and I traveled together and we were both excited.
Dad arrived in Philippines a day after our departure. I remember he was ecstatic about mom’s first time in the Land of the Free. He would call me just to ask how our day was reminding me to look after mom. He was very proud of me. He said I’m used to travelling so I should know the drill.
Then he spilled the news to us.
His loss of appetite.
I was never that worried of him but when I was travelling back to the Philippines, I couldn’t stop myself from tearing up. I arrived home and he was the first person to welcome me. He looked pale. He’s definitely sick. After several tries of convincing him, he finally agreed to see the doctor. It was a normal busy day at work. I was facilitating a meeting when my phone rang.

BOOM. He’s diagnosed with colon cancer, stage 4.
I went back to the meeting room and forced to finish the discussion so I could absorb the worst news I just received in my life. What would a normal person feel? Do I need to hysterically cry over it? But where? I knew I needed to burst out. But how? Days after, my mom finally arrived in the country. We had our family photo taken and a little dine-out-together. We were glad to be complete again but we all knew that something was wrong.

Fast forward to May 2017: Though, I will never know what was on his mind during that time, I felt that he was happy and contented on his birthday. It was a usual celebration with family and cousins. As I was observing him laugh his heart out, I wondered if that would be his last birthday with us. Reality bites, I know.

02 July 2017: We brought dad to the hospital due to unrelieved pain in his stomach. Had I known that it was his last day at home, I would have taken a lot of pictures with him all over the place.

07 July 2017: His body started to release blood which we couldn’t trace where it was coming from. I thought that was the end. I wanted to wail my heart out but I had to hold it because mom was having her moment too. But dad was a fighter. He survived.
09 July 2017: Dad died in the afternoon. We talked about this when he was still alive. We had our long discussions on how he wanted to die. Mom was not happy about it but dad was clear on

everything. He wanted to be in his sleep.

Dad did not die while sleeping. He was fully awake. While he was catching his breath,

I was praying to God to stop his pain. It was my birthday gift. I asked for it. And HE answered. God doesn’t make mistakes. He has decided. And that was it.
I could have asked God to prolong his agony but I didn’t. I could have asked God to let him live longer so I could celebrate my birthday with him alive but I didn’t. Maybe that was a bad call, but I knew that time that my dad needed to go. Dad taught me well. He would always let me have difficult decisions on major things without any regrets. And so I did.
Now, a month later, I still can’t believe that he’s gone. Dad wanted me to get married and have a happy life. He told me not to be too bossy and picky otherwise I’d be all alone for the rest of my life. He even joked about getting me a “taong grasa” to marry. He was a bully like that.

I miss dad everyday. I will miss him when I get married (someday). I miss his random messages when I’m not around. I miss his hard advices. I never got the chance to ask him to teach me how to operate the complicated videoke he bought for me at home. But I will try anyway.

Despite everything, I hope he’s proud of what I have become. I hope I made him feel loved. He was my idol. He lived a tough life and he was successful. I know that dad is now in heaven. I know that he is just sailing around. I know that he is watching over us.
Til our next reunion, dad.

I’ll see you at the crossroads.