So Easy

You know that feeling when you love a song so much you play it every single day… until one random Thursday you hear the first five seconds and think, if I hear this again I might vomit?

Yep. Olivia Dean’s So Easy (to Fall in Love) does that to me. I loved it. I cherished it. I basically made it my personal anthem. And now? I need space and other songs!

Call it my personal enigma. It does not only happen with a song or a place. It happens with people too. When I like something or someone, I go all in. I monitor their appearances. I am a publicist. I am a brand ambassador. And then… the intensity fades. I get too consumed at first, and then it dies down like a phone battery at 2 percent.

Take Nadine Lustre, for example. I was such a huge fan during her OTWOL days. I loved how simple she seemed, selling her used clothes at a garage sale. I found it refreshing. A celebrity decluttering like the rest of us? Iconic!

Then she kinda morphed into someone else. She made a full 360 turn. And somehow I was the one who got dizzy. I lost interest.

I do not think I have that die hard fanaticism persona. My friend once told me, "why not check out a BTS concert? You might become a fan."

Listen. I like some of their songs. But to spend a crazy amount of money to watch them live? My pockets and I had a meeting. The answer was easy: Hard Pass. I am a fan of John Mayer, but even then I kept myself in check with ticket costs. I am not a fan-fan. You know what I mean? I am emotionally invested but financially responsible.

If there is anything I am dying hard as a fan, it is the people close to me.

I am a fan of my sister. I am a fan of my friends. I am a fan of people who, no matter how much they struggle, still show up every day. I am a fan of people who refuse to dump their anger, misery, and emotional heavy lifting onto everyone else. That takes strength. To me, that deserves merch.

I am also a loyal fan of sushi, dimsum, and pansit. No character development there. I will never get sick of them. I am a fan of traveling and how it makes me feel small in the expanse of the world but big in the expanse of my mind. 

I am a fan of reflective podcasts. I am a fan of transformational leadership. I am a fan of people who try to be good even when being evil would be the easier shortcut.

Some things I will outgrow. Some songs will be overplayed. Some idols will fall off the pedestal I built for them.

I may outplay Olivia's So Easy (to fall in love) but I will always be a fan of love. That one, I will not get sick of.

No matter how my role model of love fails me.

Or no matter how long I have to wait.

Or no matter how my over-two-decade prayer still remains unanswered.

Romantic Baboy

“So, can we unsingle ourselves?” he asked.

“Why not?” I replied.

His smile grew wider. “Does that mean…?”

“Give me three days,” I said.

I’ll be honest. This was never in my plans. This was never how I imagined it would be.

But random and impulsive chapters have always found their way into my life. Funny, because I’ve always seen myself as a passionate planner. Old school. By the book. Follow the rules. And yet, doing something out of the ordinary gives me a thrill.

The random long drives. The biglang liko into a less-traveled path. The impromptu encounters. Call it rebelling against my goody-goody image. After a well-planned week, I crave a breath of fresh air. I crave variety.

It was meant to be a joke.

Three days? Anyone who truly knows me knows how long I take to think things through. I prepare. I mull things over. I contemplate. Big time. I lose sleep before arriving at a single conclusion.

My being single is a mystery in itself.

I once met someone for the first time, and she asked, “Why have you been single for a long time?”

I went quiet. For years, I’ve laughed that question off. Friends know how high my standards are, so I never feel the need to explain. Family members have slowly stopped asking. But a near stranger asking me so casually caught me off guard.

It baffled me more than I expected.

Modesty aside, I’ve always been surrounded by boys, then men, who liked me. Some confessed. Others gave up after realizing how hard it is to woo me. I’m a hopeless case.

Her question sparked something deeper. Bakit nga ba?

First, I believe in love. It’s not as if I’ve been badly hurt. In fact, I’ve never felt that intense, shattering pain from a failed relationship. Second, I’ve had good role models. The kind that make you believe in lasting love, and also quietly fear not finding the same. Lastly, I have requirements. Yes, requirements. Non-negotiable.

But how do you compress all that into one neat answer?

She waited, eager and curious. I smiled, a little confused. I couldn’t brush it off with a laugh the way I do with friends. They know me. This woman barely did, yet she genuinely wanted to.

So I settled on the least complicated truth. “I just haven’t found him yet.”

“But are you dating?” she asked.

Fair question.

To be fair, I’ve had my share of dates and getting-to-know-yous. Are they enough? In that department, I can hardly convince myself. I’d love to shout “Yes!” for dramatic effect, but who am I kidding? Sometimes I go on dates simply because I want company, because I feel social. Does that even count?

Lately I’ve been asking myself, when I go out on dates, is my heart fully in it? Or am I only giving half of myself?

I’m still figuring that out.

The most fascinating part of self-discovery is actually spending time with yourself. These days, I play golf on weekends, meet friends, or take myself out on solo dates. The more time I spend alone, the more convinced I am that I am capable. I can hold my own. I can entertain myself. I don’t get bored being alone.

That scares me. LOL.

Who needs a man when you can take care of yourself? Scary, right?

And yet, my greatest dream, one I repeat over and over, is to settle down and have a little family of my own. How does that dream come true when I’m so good at being me, myself, and I?

Why is it so hard for me to open up to someone who might be a real partner?

Why do I feel like one slightly disastrous date is already a sign of failure? If he’s late. If he has one trait I don’t like. Why does it feel so final?

But then again, if we’re talking about self-discovery, maybe part of it is allowing opportunities in. Maybe it’s letting someone be brave enough to ask.

So when someone says, “Can we unsingle ourselves?”

I thought, how can I cross the bridge if I refuse to step onto it?

Bahala na si Batman.

Of gratitude and its magnitude

“Thank you for…”

I’ve always believed in practicing gratitude. I like being grateful. I like feeling nostalgic about the people, places, and moments that have shaped my life, often in ways far greater than I imagined.

But sometimes, reality insists on being felt.

Things happen. Everything shifts. And you’re left with no choice but to move forward. There’s barely time to adjust. You’re in the front seat, taking it all in while adjusting at the same time.

The change in management at the job you finally love. The shift in personalities of people you thought would be in your life forever. The issues that were supposed to be resolved, but a decade later show up again in the same old patterns. These are changes you never asked for. Changes that need time, but life does not pause just because you need a moment.

It’s difficult. Exhausting, even. You run through every possibility. You draft plans from A to Z. You think, “So this is how things go from here…” And still, you do your best to keep up. To stay afloat. To navigate whatever is in front of you.

No matter how much of a planner you are, ready or not, and most often not, you take it in. You try. You keep trying.

Someone once asked me, “Why do Catholics or Christians thank God even when they’re given problems?”

I smiled. For a second, I had no neat explanation. I could have gone deep into Theology, Psychology, or Philosophy, but how do you explain that thanking God in the middle of trials comes from a personal relationship with Him?

There isn’t always a polished answer. It’s like explaining why you prefer apples over oranges. It’s personal.

What I do know is this. Life isn’t easy. Whose is?

Still, we continue. We hold our heads high. We look for tiny glimmers along the way. The short trips. The pistachio-filled chocolate. A BTS music video. A K-drama kiss scene that feels like it lasts an hour but is really just a dramatic camera spin. Small things. Simple things. But they count.

From a distance, my life might look easy, maybe even glamorous. But the inner battles, the quiet wars in my head, are not easy to fight. And if I let myself dwell there too long, I start sinking instead of swimming.

The more space I give those hard truths, the more power they have over me. Some realities are brutally honest. Painful, even unbearable, to sit with for too long.

“Mental space.” I learned that term recently. And the more I understand it, the more I realize that what we give space to grows. So why give harsh realities more room than they deserve? Why not make more space for the good that is still unfolding?

That’s where gratitude finds its strength.

Thanks for…

A thousand reasons to be grateful, outweighing the dozen demons that try to silence a single thank you.

Podcaster era

 So I started a podcast. It’s an attempt to empty my mind of thoughts that consume most of my day.

Before this, I had no experience speaking into a microphone with a modulated voice. I always felt my voice sounded too crisp for public speaking, let alone for recording. Still, I wanted to try something new and have a platform to share my thoughts, so I gave it a go.

I love listening to podcasts. I get inspiration from the words and statements I hear. When Mel Robbins says, “Let them then, let me,” I pondered on it earnestly.

Mel Robbins said there are two steps: First, let them. Let people have opinions about you, never clap, exclude, or ignore you. Let them because that’s who they are.

Then the most important and probably the hardest step is to let me. Let me take the power to control my thoughts. Let me choose peace. Let me accept. Let me let go.

Hearing this, I had a renewed sense of vitality. It gave me the power to own my story.

Initially, I had planned to release an episode weekly. I might be too ambitious because with a full-time job, a desperate attempt for a fitness routine, and a sure slot for my favourite kdramas, I have no space and time to do recordings, not to mention laborious edits.

“When’s the next episode?” a friend curiously asked.

“Wait, what? You listened?” I said, shockingly.

“Of course, it’s not just you who’s in the same boat with this process of becoming!”, he replied.

Apparently, we’re on this train together. The train keeps moving, it’s going through loops and turns. It’s showing the sunny terrains outside its windows, and then all of a sudden, a pitch black tunnel. We’re anticipating the light at the end. We feel something we couldn’t even name. We’re carrying ourselves to an abyss only we can hope and pray for.

I started this podcast as a way to face my thoughts alongside my truths. While my stand could change anytime, I feel that living in the moment means having the capacity to take things as they are.

“Do I sound like a life coach?” I asked.

“No, you sound so real and confused”, another friend notes.

I don’t know if I can keep this podcast thing up. I’m not in it for the analytics but for the meaning it may contribute.

Just like letting them and letting me, the podcast is a reminder that while we sometimes think that we’re alone in the madness that our lives bring, somehow, somewhere, there’s also one soul who completely gets us.

At this point, that’s more than enough. As my podcast closing line says, stay soft, stay curious, and don’t let anyone rush your becoming.

We’re in this together.

Breakdown, let's break it down

Two days after my parents left for the Philippines after a five-month visit, I got a text from a friend,

“I’m meeting X’s friend.”

It seems harmless and unsuspecting at first. I even laughed. I was not sure who X was, so I asked, Who’s X? And she replied, X, our friend. (Well, technically, X is my long-time friend from school whom I introduced to her.)    

When she clarified what was happening, I felt unsettled. I realized that while others seem to move forward, I am the friend who stays the same. The force of this realization was overwhelming.

If there is some metamorphosis to be had, I would have taken it gladly. But I didn’t. I was thrown back in time, where I just grew complacent. With my relationships, my behaviours, and my sense of happiness.

The realization shook me. The question echoed in my mind: 'How do you take space?' 

I wondered if it meant living boldly or shrinking to stay safe. I began to see that these choices defined how I interact with others and with myself.

For the longest time, I was doing the latter. I was afraid to hold so much space and left myself in a box. I welcomed people, supported them, gave them all the love I could, yet I gave little to myself. It made me feel small. I held space for people to be themselves, which eventually held me back from being mine.

It’s a sunny September. The sun glaring brightly outside was a bitter contrast to how I was feeling. 

For the first time in my life, I got a complete breakdown. 

I cried countless tears for the times I let myself down. For the times I’ve chosen other people’s needs before mine. For the times I may have a shot at happiness, but choose to be just okay. For those times that I ruined bridges because I was completely focused on an alley. I wailed at the thought that I could never blame anyone for feeling this way, because I brought it upon myself.

I’m no stranger to uprooting and rerouting. For fudge’s sake, it’s my second! And yet, I’m still doing the same things I’ve always wanted to break free from. Friends would tell me, “You’re so brave,” yet “Am I really?” When I hang with the same people, drift to the same habits, and limit myself to preconceived notions?

“What’s your greatest fear?”

My response always changes with time. But what seems to be more poignant is this: being alone. I always wondered what makes me fear being alone. Is it really feeling lonely, or is it the idea that I’m always with someone? And being alone somehow feels strange?

It is a given that we fear the inevitable, the unknown, the variable that comes in the in-between, but more than that, I fear for the familiar. I feared losing people I love, relationships going sour, love turning to indifference, because when you think about it, what makes you happy right now is what you have. And what makes you sad is losing a bit of this familiarity.

Crashing like that woke me. 

The reason I’ve wanted to move abroad has got to do with economics, but more than that, it’s about freedom. Of attempting to attain the impossible. But by the looks of it, I am nowhere near my goal. If I keep this up, I may never truly have the chance to change my path.

I no longer want to be trapped by my old patterns. I want to honor my own needs and rebuild myself into someone I aspire to be. My breakdown became a chance to start again.

Free from guilt this time.

Alrighty, Anxiety

Anxiety is a debilitating illness. It can take you from hero to zero in an instant.

Unpacking its root causes has always been a challenge. A negative thought, a bizarre expression, or even a small comment can shift my mood. And when it does, sleep becomes elusive.

I remind myself not to believe every thought I have. For example, when someone seems to be lying through their teeth, my mind spirals into the situation. I jump to conclusions and let my emotions steer my decisions.

Understanding why I feel anxious has been difficult. Sometimes, the steps I take are drastic - like shutting people out.

I’ve talked to friends about it. But when I do, I always downplay what I’m truly feeling. What sounds like a firm “I’m okay” often masks a long night spent battling my thoughts. How do you articulate what you’re really feeling when your mind is flooded with horrible possibilities?

What calms me most is writing. Writing about why I feel what I feel. Writing even the deepest and most complicated parts of my tangled thoughts. I’ve tried to identify my triggers - and it always comes back to the future. There’s one specific topic that intensifies the anxiety. Waiting is slowly killing me.

Yet part of me resists the idea. Am I placing my sense of satisfaction in someone else’s hands? Why wait to feel fulfilled? Isn’t living on my own terms the real goal? Why seek something else when I already have so much?

I feel like for someone who seems to have it all, I keep focusing on what is missing.

I don’t know. Maybe I need to broaden my perspective. Sometimes, the problems I’m facing are just products of an idle mind.

Maybe writing alone isn’t enough. Maybe leaning on just a few people isn’t the answer - it builds walls. Maybe venturing out into the world, meeting more people, and observing how they live could give me a more holistic view of the life I’m shaping. Maybe learning to be curious - to listen, to care, to be present - could ease the anxiety, not by erasing it, but by giving it context. 

Maybe anxiety isn’t the true enemy, since it’s always been part of me. Maybe it’s teaching me something greater - not just how to survive, but how to face the pitfalls and become the hero of my own story.

The "Just" to Happiness

Today’s Morning Question: “What Are You Grateful For?”

Every meeting I join starts with a curveball - some unexpected, often thought-provoking question. Today’s was: “What are you grateful for this morning?”

One by one, we took turns. Someone shared, “I’m grateful for my partner and my dog - for their love, support, and the happiness they bring me.”

I nodded instinctively and thought, “Of course!” But then, my mind (being its usual overthinking self) wandered off into deeper waters.

What does it take to be happy?

That question took me back to something I read online. A dad said he didn’t want to teach his kid to pursue happiness because - get this - it might ruin him. Naturally, my first reaction was: What the heck? Why?!

Then I read further.

He wasn’t against happiness itself. He just didn’t want his child to become obsessed with the idea that life is supposed to be happy all the time. Because it’s not. And believing that it is? That can be dangerous.

And honestly, that hit differently. Because the younger me would have scoffed. The younger me believed happiness was everything. Why bother with life if you’re not chasing that buzz, that spark, that constant sunshine?

But the current me (the one who’s been through a few storms, detours, and existential spirals) knows better. Or at least, knows more.

Happiness, I’ve come to realize, isn’t a neon sign at the end of the road. It’s more like soft glimmers along the way. It’s not a fixed state, not a trophy. It’s fluid, messy, fleeting, beautiful. And wildly personal.

To some, happiness is a big, booming crescendo - the proposal, the promotion, the dream vacation. To others, it’s simply being able to breathe through the day. For many, it’s being surrounded by people who see you, accept you, and love you anyway.

And every version is valid.

But for me? I’ve stopped chasing happiness like it’s a destination. Instead, I try to notice it - where I am. Sometimes, happiness looks like a slow morning. Other times, it’s laughing too hard at a dumb meme. Or having a conversation that’s real and raw and doesn’t require me to perform.

Because honestly? I don't want to chase happiness like it’s something out there. I want to live my emotions as they come. If I’m sad, let me be sad. If I’m hurt, let me feel it. I don’t want to slap on a smile to meet some unrealistic standard of being “okay all the time.”

The worst kind of pretending is pretending you’re happy when you’re anything but.

We often think happiness comes with conditions:

I’ll be happy if I get that job.
I’ll be happy when I find “the one.”
I’ll be happy once I figure it all out.

But what if we flipped the script?

What if happiness didn’t need a reason?

What if it sounded like:

“I’m happy just because.”
“I’m happy right here.”
“I’m happy in the middle of figuring it out.”

Now that feels real.

So today, when I was asked what I’m grateful for... I think the deeper answer is this: I’m grateful for the awareness that I don’t need to chase happiness. I just need to be.