But Mom, where are you now?

Where is the person who told me she would come back right after getting some snacks for our movie time? Where is the woman I always saw at the back of the crowd, holding a banner with my name on it, cheering for me until her voice ran out? Where is the presence I keep searching for whenever the world makes me feel like I’m a failure, whenever I disappoint myself because I didn’t achieve something I truly loved and poured my heart into?

Somehow, along the way, I felt your absence much louder than the moments we spent together laughing over simple things. I hear your footsteps walking away, slowly. Yes, Mom, I lost my audience once your presence faded into the crowd. The food I eat is less tasty than the moments when we shared a plate together, feeding each other like a couple. Our home became a monument to the memories we once built. The garden we nourished together is now an empty space, full of tall grass and ant nests. We became visitors in each other’s worlds rather than people who chose to stay, even at our worst.

One time, you called my name again, asking me about something, and I lied. I did lie because I didn’t want to upset you again. You kept asking, but I simply silenced myself.

“Alam ko nagsisinungaling ka,” you said.

I responded, “Paano mo nasabi, Mama, na nagsisinungaling ako?”

“Anak kita, kaya kilala kita,” you said with a firm voice.

As if you were one hundred percent sure that the same adult standing in front of you was still the same kid from back then. As if you were always there when I had no choice but to cry and let my pillow dry all my tears. As if you knew my first heartbreak, my first kiss, or the first time I fell in love with someone. As if you knew how fearful I am of the future and how frustrated I am with my life.

Mom, your voice cuts too deep, but it never reaches my soul.

It never reaches my soul because I slowly forgot that I had you. I slowly swallowed all the things I should have been feeling with you.

You forgot how to be a mother, and maybe I forgot how to be your daughter, too. We are still living in the same house, but it feels like we have built endless walls between us. What are these walls for? You built your life with another person. You searched for love, and somewhere along that search, you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.

You watch different movies together while I look at the two of you from the corner of the room. You became busy supporting your man while I waited for you on my most memorable days. You forgot to buy me my favorite food, but you never forgot his. I know I’m not his real daughter, but I am your daughter. Yet somehow, it turned out that you memorized him more than you memorized me. You made him your world, and I became the black hole.

How can you say that you still know me?

It’s been years, Mom.

I slowly accepted things as they are. I got tired of convincing people, and I got tired of convincing you. I got tired of making people see me as I am. I got tired of trying to prove that I am worth knowing.

Because no matter what I achieve, wherever I go, or whoever I meet, there is still this hole that only you can fill.

I told many lies, but maybe the truth is:

“I miss you, Mom. I miss everything we had. Please, I’m still waiting. Waiting for you to come back home.”

I have many new favorite movies now that we can watch together. I continue joining seminars and participating in public speaking, not just because it’s part of who I am, but because I keep waiting for you to come. I have documented some of my favorite restaurants and foods, not just because they are a part of who I am, but because I want that one day, you’ll finally ask about them and join me again.

I’ll keep waiting on our couch. I’ll keep waiting on the stage. And I’ll keep waiting in all of our favorite places.

I’m still that kid, Mom. Some part of me never changed, even though I have become a completely different person now. I hope that one day, you’ll get to know me again.

Because I still want to feel, deep in my soul, those words:

“Anak kita, kaya kilala kita.”

I want it to make sense.I want it to be true.I want to own those words like they were always mine.

Subscribe

Photo by : letizia

Edited by : me

“Ohh, 5 years old ka na, ipapasok ka na namin sa kindergarten.”

“10 years old ka na pala, bakit di ka pa marunong ng gawaing bahay?”

“Ano? 18 ka na, di ka pa marunong magbiyahe?”

“Dapat pag 23 ka na, may work ka na.”

“Dapat ikasal ka na at the age of 28.”

“Dapat magpamilya at magka-anak ka na kapag 35 ka na.”

“40 years old ka na, hindi ka pa nakakapunta sa ibang bansa?”

As if they're pointing to an exact timeline of what you should be and what you should have accomplished. And if you're vulnerable enough to listen to their voices rather than hearing what your inner core is dictating to you, you let them win and make them the authors of your life

You let them highlight all your wins but never the times you spent so much time trying to figure out if this is the thing you really want to do. You acknowledge their opinions because they seem perfect and fit enough to gain their validation, rather than looking at the tiny, broken pieces of yourself that you abandoned just to prove that maybe they're right. “Maybe it should be like this at this age, because if I'm not, I'm not doing enough.”

You let them write a period for every sentence you carry without looking back at all the commas you've been enduring.

Somehow, your brain adapts to the thought: “They're right because they're older than me, they know what's better.” You lure yourself into thinking that your own sense of self is more valuable if you're following their directions rather than your own selfish desires. Who else doesn't want to be selfish, to be honest? We are so afraid to be true to ourselves because we don't want to disappoint them or our loved ones. We embed it into our system that if we are doing what they like, we have a higher chance of making them happy, while we are drowning in our endless suffering because, deep down, it's not who we are.

Who are you, really? If I'm going to assess myself, it can be true to me, or it doesn't even align with who I really am, but let me express myself through this, and somehow, I hope you see yourself in me.

I spent almost 20 years of my life trying to gain my parents' approval, my friends' attention, and building relationships where I somewhat only sought attention to feel more seen and valuable. I forgot to hear my own voice, or should I say, I forgot who I really am. I denied what I really wanted. I sacrificed my needs over someone's comfort. I swallowed every “no” because I wanted to keep them and make them feel safe enough that I was doing the right thing they wanted me to do. I'll become the perfect friend, a good daughter, and an understanding girlfriend. I swallowed every treatment and their excuses for hurting me just to keep everything together.

But somehow, along the way, I got tired of convincing. I got tired of hoping they would see the true me while keeping all these masks. I got tired of proving something because, deep inside, it's not who I am.

And the last thing I voiced out was, “Sorry, hanggang ngayon kasi di ko pa alam gagawin ko sa life ko.”

The worst answer I got was, “Ang tanda mo na, bakit di mo pa rin alam gagawin mo sa buhay mo?”

I chose silence after hearing those words. As if they kept echoing in my ear like a song on a loop. They kept vibrating through my bones and feelings, carrying all of their sensations because that's the only thing I could respond with at that moment.

I questioned everything, myself, my life, and how people see me. I got angry, but who am I angry at? I don't even know. It's like a small hole, and it keeps getting bigger and bigger as time passes.

Who am I? WHO. AM. I? Do I really know how to answer this question? I mean, I have a lot to say whenever someone asks me this. I'm a good friend, a perfect daughter, an understanding girlfriend. I'm an achiever, I know how to behave properly, and I know... I know... where are those words? What are those words? I have a lot to say, but where are they now? Every word seems to be dripping inside me like it's not mine in the first place.

It's not mine in the first place. It's not for me in the first place. The moment I stop, I see myself hiding underneath my fear of judgment, my fear of being left behind, my fear of other people's opinions, my fear of not being good enough, my fear of disappointment, and my fear of being true to myself and what I want.

And underneath those fears, I heard a voice saying, “You are enough, you've done enough.”

At that moment, someone's opinion about me turned into gray ashes. The moment I saw a 5-year-old me begging for my attention and asking me to make her feel seen for the first time, I somewhat understood why I needed to hear those words, “Ang tanda mo na, bakit di mo pa rin alam gagawin mo sa buhay mo?”

It was an eye-opener, not to erase what I've done for years, but to stop myself from living my life according to the standards of the world and the people around me.

I can be 23 and still not know what to do with my life. I can be 30 and still be undecided if I want to have a family or pursue my passion. I can be who I want to be because that's what makes me. If you ever find that this experience resembles yours, I want you to hear me.

You don't need to figure it all out at once. You can take your time for as long as you want. You can say no, you can disagree, you can be free to state your opinion, especially if it's making you uncomfortable. Don't abandon yourself just to make someone stay or just to gain someone's love and attention, because if you do, you'll lose yourself even more. Be more authentic, be more straightforward if it doesn't align with who you are. And don't you ever think that you're not doing enough because you still haven't figured it all out.

I know someday you will. You're gonna see the new version of you, the stronger version of you, and the more determined version of you. Until then, be courageous. Until then, keep on going. Until then, keep on believing. Because I know one day you're gonna pay attention to the details of who you are and not what others think of you. That is the beginning of your life, and I would love to see that.

Subscribe

Madalas gusto kong isipin na ang mundo ay isang malaking balon-tuyo, walang buhay ngunit maraming kasaysayan. Tulad sa nag-iisang balon na ngayon ay nasa aking harapan, pinilit kong ilaglag ang hawak kong timba ngunit hindi man lang bumigat ni hindi man lang dumampi sa dulo nito ang tubig na halos ilang oras ko nang hinihintay.

Hinahanap ko nga ba ang bigat? O dala-dala ko na lahat? Nilibot ko ang aking paningin, hindi kanais-nais ang nakikita ko sa paligid. Masasang ang amoy ng hangin, walang buhay ang mga puno at ang langit ay nandidilim.

Nakaramdam ako ng panlalambot, ako ay nauuhaw at gaya ng langit ay nandidilim na rin ang aking paningin. Napahawak ako sa aking dibdib, nabitawan ang timba. Pinilit kong hawakan ang tali nito ngunit kusa nang kumakawala sa aking mga kamay.

Paano? Kay tagal kong naghintay sa kakaunting pag-asa na meron ako ngunit kahit dito ay ayaw akong pagbigyan ng tadhana. Napahawak na lamang ako sa aking dibdib, hindi ko na kaya ang sakit. Patuloy ang hirap ko sa paghinga, pakiramdam ko ay babagsak na lang ako sa lupa nang mag-isa.

Ngunit unti-unti ay humupa rin ang sakit, tapos na ba? Tapos na nga ba? Dahan-dahan kong binuksan ang aking mga mata. Sa aking pagdilat at paglapag ko ng aking palad sa aking harapan, mahigpit kong hawak-hawak ang aking puso.

Malambot, puno ng dugo, at patuloy ang pagtibok nito. Paano? Patuloy akong humihinga at nakakaramdam ngunit wala na sa posisyon ang nagbibigay ng aking buhay. Nakakapagtaka nang nasaksihan ko rin ang punong timba, patuloy na umaapaw ang tubig nito ngunit saan ito nanggagaling? Ang balon ay tuyo at wala pa ring buhay.

Hindi na ako nag-isip pa, ginamit ko ang kabilang kamay upang inumin ang laman nito, kabisado ko ang lasa - ito'y hindi tubig kundi mga luha. Tuluyan na ba akong nawala sa aking sarili o ilusyon lamang ang lahat ng ito? Wala akong maiiyak, wala akong maramdaman - nasa labas na lahat ng aking katawan. Ipinikit ko na lamang muli ang aking mata, umaasa na sa pagbukas nito ay maayos na.

Naramdaman ko ang pagpatak ng ulan. Naramdam ko ang pagdampi ng tubig na dala nito sa aking mukha habang nakapikit at nakatingala. Ninais kong sumigaw, ang lasa nito ay di karaniwang ulan. Malapot, malansa - ang bawat patak ay pula.

Hawak ang puso, mga luha ay natubigan ng dugo. Wala na akong ibang makita kundi pula. Pulang langit, pulang paligid at pulang pag-asa.

Ako ang balon. Ako ang hinahanap kong bigat. Ako lahat ang nasasaksihan ko ngayon. Ako ang dugo at ang luha. Ako ang hawak kong puso. Ako ang ulan. Ako ang langit. Ako ang paligid. Lahat ng ito ay pinili kong kainin.