Hindi kami lumaki sa sobrang hirap… pero hindi rin kami lumaki sa luho.
May pagkain sa mesa, may tuition tuwing pasukan kahit walang bagong uniform o sapatos.
Pero never yata kami nagkaron ng “Basta gusto ko, bili” moments.

Bata pa lang kami, tinuruan kami ng mga magulang namin na bawat piso ay pinagpapaguran.
Na mas mahalaga ang needs kaysa wants. Na kapag may sobra, doon ka lang magluho ng konti (after pag isipan at diskusyunan pa ng mga sampung beses).

Naalala ko nung mag-10th birthday ako… gusto ko sana ng bagong laruan. Yung maliit na kitchen set lang sana..
Pero hindi pwede.
Yung mga classmates ko, may party, may cake, may giveaways.
Ako? Spaghetti at softdrinks lang sa bahay. Walang balloons, walang bongga… pero masaya pa rin ako.
Masaya kasi kumpleto kami. Masaya kasi ramdam ko yung effort at pagmamahal nila.

Kahit malayo si Mommy noon, lagi naming nararamdaman na nanjan lang sha. 
Minsan tawag lang sa telepono o sulat na ilang linggo bago dumating, pero sapat na para maramdaman naming hindi kami nakakalimutan.

At Ngayon, Gets Ko na Lahat

Bilang magulang, mas ramdam ko yung bigat ng sakripisyo nila.
Yung mga gabing baka gusto nilang kumain sa labas or may biglang "cravings" pero pipiliin yung simpleng ulam (or matulog na lang)  para may matira sa budget.

Yung overtime kahit pagod na pagod na.

Yung pagtitipid sa sarili para may maibigay sa amin.

Hindi kami pinalaki sa luho, pero pinalaki kami sa pagmamahal at security.
At yun ang yaman na hindi nauubos.

Ako Naman Ngayon ang Magdadagdag sa Kwento

Gusto kong ibigay sa mga anak ko ang lahat ng ginawa ng mga magulang ko…
pero may idadagdag ako: FREEDOM.

Freedom na mangarap nang walang takot kung may pambayad ba sa tuition.
Freedom na pumili ng career dahil gusto nila, hindi dahil practical lang.
Freedom na mabuhay nang walang tanong kung kakayanin ba sa bawat desisyon.

Kaya ngayon, sinasabi ko sa sarili ko, sige, okay lang magtiis...
Tiis +  Maraming sipag at tyaga at shempre ...Ipon. Kahit maliit, basta tuloy-tuloy.
Para hindi lang sila mabuhay ng pilit, pero hangad ko na sana ay maging successful at mas maunlad ang buhay nila. 

Sobrang Proud Ako sa Pinanggalingan Ko

At gusto kong dumating yung araw na masasabi rin ng mga anak ko,
“Si Mama, ginawa lahat para bigyan kami ng maayus na buhay."

Mahirap maging cycle breaker.
Pero mas mahirap makita ang mga anak mo na pinapasan yung bigat na kaya mo namang buhatin ngayon.

Konting sikap pa...darating din ang araw na sana'y ang iisipin na lang nila ay,
“Alin sa mga pangarap ko ang uunahin ko?”

Pag dumating ang pagkakataon na yon, yayakapin ko sila at sasabihin,

“Anak, yan ang bunga ng pagmamahal na itinuro nila Daddy sa amin.. at ipinasa ko naman sa inyo.”

Saturdays used to be my favorite days.

Back when my daughters and I were together, Saturdays meant noisy mornings, pancakes on the table, and cartoons playing in the background while we laughed about the silliest things. They would run around the house, hair messy and faces full of joy, and I would just sit there watching them, thinking, This is happiness.

Saturdays used to be about trips to the mall, grocery runs that always ended with extra snacks in the cart, or lazy afternoons curled up on the couch. Sometimes we would go out for a walk, sometimes we’d just stay home and talk about everything and nothing, or watch mushy soaps and cry together.

But life changed. They had to leave and I had to stay here. I had to work far away from them so I could give them a better future. Now, Saturdays feel different. They are quiet. Too quiet. No little voices calling for me, no giggles echoing through the room.

I still wake up on Saturdays wishing I could be there to cook them breakfast, braid their hair, and listen to their stories right beside them. Instead, I reach for my phone, hoping for that one chat or call that makes the distance a little easier to bear. Some days, it never comes. Maybe they forget, or maybe they’re busy with friends, already living and enjoying the lives I’ve worked so hard to give them. And even though it stings, I remind myself that this is why I’m here - so they can grow freely, be happy, and not have to need me the way they once did.

Saturdays always remind me of why I keep going. They carry with them the weight of love, of sacrifice, and of every moment I’ve had to miss so that my daughters won’t have to.
​
One day, I know Saturdays will be ours again. And when that day finally comes, I’ll hold them tight, make all the pancakes they can eat, and cherish every second - never taking a single Saturday for granted.

And the most powerful version of her will be the one who no longer needs to be heard, fixed, or fought for… because she’ll have found safety in her own stillness.

It won’t be that she didn’t love him. She will have loved him so deeply that she forgot to love herself.

She will have shown up.
She will have stayed loyal.
She will have given grace he didn’t even know he needed.

But over time, she’ll grow tired.

Tired of begging for the bare minimum.
Tired of questioning her worth.
Tired of shrinking just to keep the peace.

So she’ll choose clarity over chaos.

Quiet mornings over arguments.
Deep, steady breaths over anxiety.

That walking-on-eggshells feeling? She’ll replace it with a home built for her own peace.

No dramatic exit.
No final speech.
Just… gone.

Because when a woman truly heals, she won’t seek closure... she’ll become it.

Another man might’ve been forgiven.

She could’ve cried, pleaded, or tried again.

But when peace takes your place, know this: her soul will have already moved on.
​
And wherever she’s going… you won’t be coming with her.
 
Soon…
 

Minsan, hindi mo na alam kung pagod ka lang… o talagang hindi mo na kaya.

Minsan, kahit andaming tao sa paligid mo, pakiramdam mo mag-isa ka pa rin. Parang kahit anong sigaw mo, walang makakarinig. Kahit anong ngiti mo, walang nakakapansin na pilit lang pala.

At minsan, naiisip mo:
“Paano kaya kung bigla na lang akong mawala?”

Hindi dahil gusto mong sumuko. Hindi dahil mahina ka.
Pero dahil sobrang bigat na.

Yung tipong ayaw mo namang iwan ang mga mahal mo, pero hindi mo na rin alam kung paano pang hahawakan ang sarili mong bigat.

Ang dami mong kailangang isipin.

Bills. Trabaho. Expectations. Pamilya. Future.

Tapos sa gitna nun, andiyan pa yung sarili mong mga iniiyak sa gabi na hindi mo masabi kahit kanino.
Pagod ka na. Pero kailangan pa.

Kailangan pa ring ngumiti.
Kailangan pa ring bumangon.
Kailangan pa ring magpanggap na okay ka… kahit hindi naman talaga.

Alam mo yung pakiramdam na gusto mong humingi ng tulong, pero hindi mo alam kung paano?
Kasi baka isipin nilang ang arte mo.

Baka isipin nilang “drama” lang.
​
O baka… wala talagang makaintindi.

Today, I donated blood again. It’s my fourth time.

And every time, I think of my mom.

The first time I ever gave blood wasn’t for a cause. It wasn’t for an event or a campaign. It was for her. My mom was preparing for surgery for colorectal cancer, and we needed blood donors. A lot of them. It was urgent. It was terrifying. We were desperate.

So we asked for help.

We pleaded. Posted. Called. Prayed. And people - oh, people came. Friends, colleagues, even strangers we had never spoken to before walked into blood banks just to say, “This is for her.”

It was overwhelming in the best way.

But not everyone was kind. A few people tried to scam us, taking advantage of our fear and grief. It was cruel. And it hurt. But even then, the goodness of others was louder. More powerful.

There were far more people who helped without asking for anything in return. People who reminded us that in the middle of pain, humanity still shines through.

My mom didn’t make it. Cancer eventually took her. But every bag of blood that came in gave us more time. More hugs. More “I love yous.” More chances to hold her hand and just... be.

So today, as I sat in that chair and watched the blood slowly fill the bag, I whispered a quiet promise:
This is for you, Ma.

It’s for every mother fighting.
Every family hoping.
Every person waiting for a miracle.

Blood is just blood until it’s given with love. Then it becomes life.

If you’re healthy and able, please consider donating. It may be a small part of your day. But to someone else, it could mean one more tomorrow.
​
And sometimes, one more tomorrow is everything.

Now every Father’s Day, I scroll through all the sweet posts…
The hugs, the “I love you, Dad” captions, the family photos.
And my heart just aches.

Because I don’t get to call him anymore.

I don’t get to hear his laugh, or that proud voice saying, “Kaya mo ’yan, anak.” and the longing sound of "Kelan ka ga Ineng uuwi?"
I don’t get to say thank you… or I miss you… or I love you… one more time.

And now, as a mom, I look at my daughters
and quietly wish they could feel the kind of love I once had,
the kind of love that shows up, stays, and makes you feel safe just by being there.

That kind of love is rare.

And on days like this, I grieve not just for what I lost,
but for what my girls are still waiting for.

For some of us, this day feels heavy;
from missing our dad's or from wishing someone could love our kids better.
​
Some of us are just learning how to live with a heart that aches-
for the love we had… and the love our children still deserve.

When I was in high school, my sister and I joined a school play called Joseph the Dreamer. We were young, full of energy, and super excited. We didn’t just practice in school. We practiced everywhere. In the kitchen. In the living room. Even while doing chores. We memorized every line, every song. It became a part of us.

But there was one line that stayed with me, long after the lights on stage went out. A simple line, but it felt like a message straight from God.

“See the birds in the air. They don’t plant or harvest, but God feeds them. And we? We are the children of God. We are worth more than the sparrows.”

That line hits different when you're older.

Back then, it was just part of the play. But now, I see how true it really is.

Life is not always easy. There are times when I worry. Times I feel tired. Times I question if all this hard work is really worth it. Being far from home. Missing family. Working non-stop. Sacrificing so much.

But in those quiet moments, I remember that line, and I remember that God never forgets us.
Just like the birds in the air who don’t even try to earn their food, yet God still makes sure they’re fed… how much more will He take care of us, His children?

Sometimes we don’t see the answers right away. Sometimes life feels unfair. But just because we can’t see it yet, doesn’t mean God isn’t working behind the scenes.

So don’t give up.
Do your best, even when no one sees.
Keep praying, even when it feels quiet.
Keep trusting, even when the road is hard.

Because God provides.

Not always when we want,
But always when we need it most.
One day, everything will fall into place.
Not by luck.

But by His perfect timing.

Just like what that school play taught me years ago... we are worth more than sparrows.

Not everyone who travels is just chasing sunsets or ticking off countries.

Some of us are healing.
Some of us are hiding.
Some of us are just tired of pretending we're okay.

I’ve walked through cities, mountains, and empty roads, not always because I wanted to explore, but because I needed space to breathe.

Sometimes I travel for the silence, because my life back home feels too loud.
Sometimes I go for the simplicity, because everything else feels too heavy.
And sometimes, I leave because it’s the only way I feel seen… even when I’m alone.

Yes, I love the beauty, the landscapes, the sky, the smell of rain on unfamiliar streets.
But more than the view, it’s the quiet moments that save me.

One bus ride at a time.
One border crossing at a time.
One small step away from who I was yesterday.

So, if you see someone like me, suitcase in hand, eyes tired but searching,
Please think that maybe we’re not just chasing adventure.
​
Maybe we’re just trying to find a piece of ourselves we lost along the way.

​Most of the time, I keep quiet about what’s going on inside me. It’s not that I don’t trust people, or that I don’t know they care. It’s just that I’ve learned to deal with my feelings alone. I convince myself that telling someone won’t change what I feel. So, even on days when it feels like I’m falling apart, I don’t reach out. I tell myself I’ll be okay.

I know there are people who would help me, who would hold my hand through the hardest moments if I let them. But I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want them to see the parts of me that feel shattered, the parts that are tired of fighting. So, instead, I pull away. I disappear when I’m hurting. I isolate myself, close my doors, and wait for the storm to pass. I cry in the quiet of my room where no one can see or hear me.

There was a time I did this during one of the hardest moments in my life. I remember the day I lost my father, and I shut the world out completely. The grief was too much, and even though my family and friends reached out, I couldn’t bring myself to share that pain. I just sat there in silence, tears streaming down, trying to make sense of the loss alone. I think about that time often because it taught me just how much I prefer handling things on my own, even when I’m surrounded by love.

I’ve always been this way. Even when I’m sad or overwhelmed, I push through it quietly. I don’t like people seeing me at my weakest, so I comfort myself. I tell myself to be strong, to keep going. And somehow, I do. But I still appreciate the people who remind me that they’re there for me. The ones who don’t pry but just gently let me know they’re around, waiting if I ever need them.