Everyday is a lesson learned, Matters of the Heart, Parenting, The Link to the "Thinking Bulb" thing

Doc Sahlee

We just had a trip to the doctor today as my youngest was having a hard time with runny nose, colds and cough. Even though we’ve bought over-the-counter medicines, I still feel uncomfortable giving medicines that’s not prescribed by her pediatrician. She’s the doctor of both my daughters and I call her Doc Sahlee.

Because I had to bring my youngest daughter to Doc Sahlee I had to inform school that my eldest can’t be anywhere but home. There was a disruption in the household as my husband’s grandmother was also in the hospital being looked after by the family members. We never had a nanny so when emergencies come up, we had to make do and make adjustments.

Normally, waiting for a doctor’s appointment can take hours and hours but today we were lucky that the list isn’t long. Our turn came 15 minutes after we arrived. While Doc Sahlee was doing her routine check up, listening to Gabe’s chest, hear her heartbeat, looked at both her ears and had her open her cute little mouth- we were also having small talks about life. We seldom see each other except when the kids get viruses and bacteria one after another which no mom would ever want. She asked me how things have been and I told her how recently I had a breakdown and that I got myself overwhelmed with everything that has been thrown at me. She listened like a good doctor would and told me, “Say no. Just say, no”. Told me that there would always be sacrifices built around wanting to achieve something in life. All these are not new to me but those words coming from a mother whose profession is far more important* than mine, and who took a backseat saying no to conferences abroad, to symposiums and all other activities to take care of her children and her husband- it was a breath of fresh air.

Many people I know in the corporate world has had issues with sacrifices, of what to sacrifice and trying to solve the work-life balance enigma. Always trying to console the self that the sacrifice of being away from family and children is worth it and that being at work for 15 hours in a day equates to love, as such is working hard. I am beginning to believe that those people who’ve already made choices of bringing children unto the world does not have that kind of luxury to even begin with. There aren’t easy choices but only sacrifices to be made. And we must be willing to accept that these sacrifices are necessary and that the children nor the partner shouldn’t be guilty of us taking a backseat for them nor us thinking that they owe us. And if we decide to do the other thing and sacrifice the kids or the partner or the friends and the family then we must be willing to accept the repercussions of not having the most memorable time with those we love and shouldn’t blame ambition and dream for it for we made the choice. After all, time will continue to pass us by and we have the control over how we use it.

After the prescription paper and saying the many thank yous, I kind of appreciated Doc Sahlee more. I just realized that she has become one of those people I truly believe, trust and appreciate.


*I said more important because saving lives and terminating people has huge difference in impact I suppose. But these two have different meanings to us, so both are still incomparable in a sense.
Everyday is a lesson learned, Matters of the Heart

It’s time to heal

Robert Browning once said, “Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.”

Memories rushed in, pain seared through and loneliness kicked in. I was listening a hundred times to Adele’s new single “All I ask” just seconds ago and loneliness stocked up like those pieces of paper on my desk that needed attention. I did not want to write a sad piece, I’ve wanted to believe that I can champion positivism like sort of advocacy in life but discarding these thoughts and denying to acknowledge these emotions is just as worse. I can erupt anytime and I cannot self destruct- no not now, those two pairs of pretty innocent eyes do not need to cuddle my angst. Besides, this is my fight.

For months now I have been thinking of starting a piece on grief because it appears on the peripheral view of my brain like that ghost I am so scared to see, but often I can’t think of how to even begin to synchronize my brain about it. This grief has been at least 25 years late basically because I did not have enough understanding of it. I did not recognize that feeling. At the age of 8, losing the only person who unconditionally loves me, I realized now was both painful and scary but I readily protected myself by denying grief-setting it aside. I cried for only a moment and then nothing. I felt nothing. Only that life has moved on even though I can’t. It’s damaged me, I knew about it but I couldn’t recognize that either. So today, I wanted to grieve and I am not going to stop these tears from welling. I know even up to her last breath she thought of us, I know before she closed those beautiful eyes she was scared of what will become of us. She did not want to end it just yet because she wanted to have those hugs and those kisses. She would love to see us grow and fall in love and get hurt so she could tell us everything is going to be all right and maybe offer that drink of tequila or vodka. She would want to see us get married to people we would love to the end of the world because she knows that love is and would remain the most powerful thing in the world. Oh God, I missed her and I missed her more now that I am in constant emotional zigzag- as I journey through marriage and motherhood. I thought I’d forget she existed and today, I could feel her pain and of her struggle to let go. I could remember that red swimwear- my present before coming home and she never did come home. Instead we were told to see her, she got out of the hospital only that her eyes were forever close. I held on to that until I could no longer remember.

I am not sure how long I’d have to linger this. That part of my existence made me doubt and believe in love like frenemies, constantly fighting over who is right. I thought I am deep but I am just as shallow as the loud and raging river. Consistently, I am oblivious to my true self, on auto-pilot, with thoughts of direction but have no soul altogether. My mother wouldn’t want me to be empty, she’s worked so hard in defining who her kids were, how unique each one were. She was and still persistent, she doesn’t want to be forgotten-resembling an offspring or two that each of her kids bore- from her grand kids’ eyes to skin complexion to those cute nose- she is always reminding us that she is just around. She showed us how choices can greatly affect the people we love; and she made sure to inculcate that struggle was important, intelligence will keep the engine humming but hard work will get that person to where they want to go.

For now, I will reminisce and remember how my mother was so I can re-discover who I was before life took her. Because this fragmented girl is never whole and she needed to be. That girl could be me but it has to stop there. My mother lives within us, within me and I hope she could feel I am bleeding and that I am trying to heal.

I can no longer ask for that one last kiss or that embrace.

I love you. That’s all there is to carry me through.

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Ma, today I wanted to tell you that these girls would have adored you.


Everyday is a lesson learned, Matters of the Heart

What do we get out of kindness?

It is not easy to be kind in this generation where selfishness is loud yet formed in a quick attempt of subtlety. Yet accordingly, we are more humane now than our ancestors decades back. Kindness is our nature as we see kids often are more forgiving and generous compared to us adults. We become unkind as we move along the harsh realities of life. We gain distrust with every pain and fear with every failure. But what do we get out of kindness?

When a stranger gives us a friendly look, a smile or perhaps offers a seat in a commuter vehicle, I don’t know with you but I feel as if an angel just descended upon that person. It is a lovely feeling, it gives me brighter hope for the world. Kindness is love in action.

When I decline someone asking for help, I feel as if I denied love to take over me. I was not even unkind, I just did not have the courage to lend a hand. I am not sure if I should be guilty but I feel a pang of it for a little while. Then I move on, what’s done is done.

Kindness, such a simple and profound word. I once read that kindness saves lives.

Helping Others
Helping others is helping myself. ❤
Everyday is a lesson learned, Marriage, Matters of the Heart, Portrait of My Marriage

Marriage and Expectations

Last night, while trying to insert reading into my day my husband teased me by intently trying to annoy me. I quickly asked him to stop but he playfully provoked me into having a fight. And I asked, do you really want to fight? Few minutes after I asked what they want for breakfast the next day and he answered, pancakes-short and sure answer. Pancakes it will be. After a short while he moved over to his table to continue his work and so I grabbed some muesli, put some raisins in and poured a glass of milk all over. I don’t know why I was hungry hours after dinner but maybe because me and Kyrzten danced to our favorite moves from Sensazao Crew. Anyways, I sat at a chair looking over at what my husband has been doing. He’s working on something, and I kind of do not understand it, really. While I sat there in silence, munching my cereals; looking at him working, I remembered our conversation earlier that evening.

Couple of years ago, me and my husband argues a lot. We always had a big fight over decisions, changes and marital obligations. The fight grew intense when the first baby arrived. We were not adjusting well and I’d say we struggled to be good partners more than good parents. We almost separated and I really thought we’d go that direction. After we moved back from Bohol, I noticed something happened to us. We were kinder to each other and slowly regained the trust we once had. I also noticed the changes in me, I cannot fathom them but definitely I noticed I stopped complicating things and making a drama over my life. I still have episodes of sadness sometimes but then I did not want another person to suffer from it.

Expectations. My disappointments and frustrations were from my ideas of what my married life should be. I had expectations of marriage, of motherhood, of my career and my life. I also had expectations of what my husband should be and of the career that he should choose. I had expectations of his success and so I looked at him and I see weakness and failure. I tried so hard to want what I pictured things should be that I forced my husband to be somebody else. Now that I kind of accepted he is who he is that the fighting stopped. He is far from perfect and so do I. He is still annoying and we still annoy each other. But we are partners and we will hold hands because we are in this together.

Expectations kill love and tenderness. And I want to love him tenderly.

Sinulog 2016 Fluvial Parade Photo



Matters of the Heart


When I feel the urge to write and then nothing comes out when I type, I realize it’s not because I forgot them or something. The thoughts are here, vivid, waiting to be written; however strong I feel for them to be shared, my brain tells me that they will not be interesting. Then I came to a conclusion that there are moments when I write for myself and there are those that I want to please others, assuming that others will have the interest of reading my piece and actually giving a damn about it. There goes my insecure self. There goes my confidence in myself. There goes my self worth. And they are very little sometimes.

I have made huge decisions this year. Some of them made me feel uneasy and the other made me scared. I cannot be certain if I can stay committed to it. What I am certain is that God has a plan for directing me here. I’ll cross the bridge as I am already here. No turning back.

I did not notice that I have listened more to my emotions the past days. Is it bad or good, I’ve no idea. Is it missing the Yoga practice or gaining more weight? Is it studies? I can’t wait to enroll next semester.  I found myself no longer in control after losing touch of the things that brought me light. I have stopped believing, and I am on my to cease existing.

There is more to this. I just have to listen. Deeply. Intently.


Everything else.
Everything else.