Dissertation, the Audit, and the Dream

 Here we go again — another plot twist in this already chaotic season of my life.

I’ve just been invited into the audit team for the Mindanao department. And my first reaction? "What?! Seriously?" I mean, I knew there were whispers before — I had been told there were talks about "borrowing" me from our branch to help out. Even our department manager once half-joked about it. But now, it’s real. This is happening.

I’ll never forget what she said: "I need someone who can look at things differently, someone who sees the bigger picture for the charity’s direction." She even raised it formally during our branch’s exit conference — asking our branch manager if there’s a way to have me help out in Davao del Sur.

And while part of me was overwhelmed — the other part lit up. Because honestly? This is the kind of challenge I’ve quietly hoped for. It felt like the universe whispering, “You’ve been preparing for this.”

But let’s be real… the struggle is absolutely real.

I’m still in the middle of writing my dissertation. I’m barely keeping my head above water with revisions, adviser meetings, and presentation drafts. Now, with the audit scheduled for November 18–21 in Ozamiz City, and my proposal defense locked in for November 22 — it’s going to be one hell of a ride. I mean, come on. The defense schedule alone was a rollercoaster. Adviser conflicts, paperwork adjustments, revisions upon revisions — grabe talaga.

And oh, did I mention I’m still teaching classes too?

So yeah — kumusta naman ako?!

But despite all the pressure, what surprises me the most is the excitement I still feel. Amid the chaos, I’m energized. Maybe it’s the thrill of being trusted. Maybe it’s the sense of stepping into something bigger than myself. Maybe it’s both.

This is exactly what I mean when I say I’m trying to live the best of both worlds — the world of academic pursuit and the world of fieldwork impact. It’s messy. It’s tiring. But it’s also deeply fulfilling.

So here I am — juggling it all, chasing what sets my soul on fire. The audit, the defense, the classroom… all happening in one whirlwind season.

But you know what? Let’s bring it on.

Because no matter how wild the schedule, how intense the pressure, or how sleepless the nights — I know I was made for this.

The Weight of It All

 The defense is drawing near — and now, the pressure is hitting harder than ever. The stress is real. The deadlines are looming. And yes, the procrastination I swore wouldn’t get to me? It’s here too, loud and unapologetic.

Honestly, I didn’t expect to reach this level of burnout. I’m not even close to finishing my paper. I’m still in the thick of writing — trying to stitch together meaning, coherence, and purpose — but suddenly, my mental health feels like it’s spiraling. The migraines are more frequent. The headaches. The blinking fits. The heaviness behind my eyes. It’s all too much.

And I cry — sometimes in silence, sometimes in secret. Because how can I just give up now? Mahal ang tuition! But more than that, mas mahal ang oras. I’ve come this far — how can I walk away now? No. I won’t.

I have to finish this. Even if it means sacrificing parts of myself. And that’s the hardest part — feeling like my mind is breaking into pieces while I try to hold it all together. I ask myself why I’m pushing so hard for this doctorate degree — when it’s testing my mental, emotional, and physical strength to the limit.

The truth is: all I want to do right now is cry. Not because I’m weak, but because I’m overwhelmed. It’s not the kind of tired you get from lack of sleep — it’s the kind of tired that lives in your bones, in your soul.

There are moments I just want to pause — sit somewhere quiet, feel the breeze, and remind myself why I’m fighting so hard. Because the painful part of all this isn’t just the work itself — it’s the realization that you’re doing it all alone. And yet, when I finally succeed, when I finally cross that finish line, everyone will clap. They’ll celebrate the outcome — but they’ll never see the lonely, sleepless, tear-filled road it took to get there.

Right now, I feel… empty.

Not the kind of emptiness that longs for company. But the kind of emptiness that comes from carrying too much. I have so many responsibilities on my plate, I can’t even savor the journey. I’m emotionally full — yet spiritually lacking. Like my soul is quietly asking for something I can’t name.

Still, despite everything, I’ve started to love myself again. I’m slowly winning back the pieces of me I gave away too freely before. I’m proud of that. I’ve learned to stop putting everyone else first. I’ve let go of the habit of prioritizing others’ needs while burying my own.

Yes, I feel like I’m walking this road alone now — but I believe it’s for something greater. I believe this pain has purpose.

I’m excited — not because the road is easy, but because the destination is worth it.

So I’ll take the process. I’ll honor the progress. Even if it’s slow. Even if it’s messy. Even if I have to cry along the way.

Because I know one day, I’ll look back and say:

I made it. And it was worth it.

Heavy Days, Silent Battles

 It’s getting closer to my proposal defense, and honestly, everything feels incredibly overwhelming. Most days, all I can do is stare blankly at my laptop — lost, disconnected, unsure of where my study is even headed. I know I’m determined, I know I have the will… but lately, it feels like I’m shutting down. I’m mentally foggy, emotionally confused, and everything is starting to blur.

Each time I want to give up, I find myself going back to why I started all of this. I’ve always known that education is one of my life’s deepest “hang-ups.” When my mother was still alive, she never stopped reminding me to live right — to live with purpose. And I didn’t always listen. I thought I knew better. I thought, this is my life, I’ll live it my way.

But I was wrong. And now, year after year, I carry that weight — the shadow of regret, the echo of “kasi hindi ako nakinig.” That guilt follows me like a silent companion.

Sometimes I ask myself, What am I even trying to prove? To whom? And why?

I’ve given up so much of my personal happiness. I’ve let go of people I once loved and shared life with — not because I didn’t care, but because I thought maybe, just maybe, I could somehow make peace with myself... and with my mother. Maybe if I finish this, I’ll feel less guilty. Maybe I’ll find healing.

The truth is, I feel so lost. Everything feels like it’s in chaos, and all I can really do is cry it out when no one’s watching. Everyone assumes I’m strong — that I can handle anything. But they have no idea how close I am to breaking. They don’t see how hard I’m trying to find my way back — to stay sane, to keep going — when deep inside, I feel like I’m falling apart.

There are moments I wish someone, anyone, would just say: “You can do this. We’ve got you.” Maybe there are people who care, but there’s still something missing — something I can’t even put into words. It’s just… heavy.

And then there’s my health — the part people forget. I’m still in the process of healing. I haven’t been fully cleared of thyroid cancer yet. My body needs rest. My mind needs care. And yet, I keep pushing, because I don’t know how else to survive this.

To make it even harder, someone from my past keeps blaming me — throwing back the very things I already carry as guilt. And I’m tired. I’m so tired.

Maybe tonight, I’ll rest. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll try again.

For now, I’m just trying to breathe through the storm. Quietly. Softly. And with hope that, one day, this will all make sense.

Drowning in Deadlines

Graduate school feels like it’s swallowing me whole. The pressure to meet high standards, the looming deadlines, and the relentless mental demands — I can already feel the exhaustion creeping in. Sleep, these days, seems less about rest and more about escaping the weight of it all.

And yet, I know I’ll keep going.

Ambisyosa ako, eh! There’s so much I want to do, so many thoughts constantly running through my mind. I genuinely enjoy academic life — the pursuit of knowledge, the process of learning. But there have been moments I’ve had to pause, for the sake of my mental and physical well-being. I'm already deep in the writing phase of this journey, but truthfully? It feels lonely. Boring, even. Most of my friends and batchmates have already graduated.

It was never an easy ride — there were long nights, early mornings, and countless revisions. But back then, we could still laugh, grab food after class, and find joy despite the chaos. If I were to compare it to my entire educational journey, I’d say I enjoyed my doctoral studies the most. It was here I finally found my place. I felt a sense of belonging and clarity about the life I wanted to build.

There’s still a part of me that aches when I remember the scholarship I didn’t take — I had a chance to pursue studies in Australia. But I chose my career in the agency I’m with now. I never regretted that decision. In fact, I’ve always believed it was God’s will.

Right now, I’m just trying to hold myself together. Trying to stay sane. I write, but I don’t talk. I don’t really have a support system for what I’m doing — and it hurts. People applaud your success, but they disappear when you’re struggling. That’s the sad part. Maybe that’s why I gravitate toward people who are in pain or still finding their way — because I know, once they overcome their own battles, they’ll learn to live with deeper appreciation and grace.

There are days I want to cry it all out. But when I do open up, people just say, “Ginusto mo ’yan, so wag kang magreklamo!” (“You chose that, so don’t complain!”)

Yes, I chose this. But what people don’t know is why I’m doing this.

It’s not just for me. It’s not about chasing titles or feeding ambition. It’s about paying it forward — to give the next generation a lighter burden to carry, to help them embrace life with dignity and grace. That’s the dream. That’s the mission.

So yes, I accept this journey. With all its pain, loneliness, and quiet battles. I pray hard — for strength, for clarity, for peace of mind. I want my mental health to stay intact. I want my spiritual life to grow alongside this academic pursuit.

No one truly understands the depth of struggle that comes with being a doctorate student. I often joke that I have “no life” now — just me, my laptop, and the endless world of the internet. I barely go out. I rarely see friends.

But someday, I hope to look back and say: “I did it well.” And that everything I gave up, everything I endured, was worth it — not just for me, but for those who come after me.

Between a Heartbreak and a Deadline

There’s so much I want to say, but I haven’t had the space or clarity to express it. Lately, I’ve been overwhelmed—buried under the weight of deadlines, demands, and the mental exhaustion of dissertation writing. And just when I’m trying to find calm, someone from my past keeps reaching out, asking if there's still a chance for us, if we could revisit the idea of getting back together.

Honestly, I had found peace. I was finally moving freely—calm, grounded, and without the anxiety that once clouded everything. My only focus was on my dissertation, and for the first time in a long time, I was okay with that. But the persistent messages, the emotional pull, it stirred up memories I thought I had already let go of.

Still, I know where I stand. I’ve made my decision based on what I need right now—and that is clarity, peace, and focus. I won’t deny that I feel a sense of guilt, maybe even sadness, for no longer feeling anything when I try to look back. But I also know I gave what I could. Maybe I wasn’t whole back then in 2021 when we tried again. Maybe I was trying to heal while holding on. And maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally learned that some things happen the way they do for a reason.

Right now, my dissertation is my priority. I only have three months to finalize my study design and prepare for my proposal defense. I don’t have room—emotionally or mentally—for another breakdown. The smallest waves of anxiety or sadness already feel like too much. That’s why I’ve chosen to say no. Not out of anger or bitterness, but out of honesty. I have to be real with myself now. I have to live my truth.

This has been one of the hardest lessons of my life—but it’s also the most important. I learned it the difficult way, but I learned it deeply. This time, it’s different. I understand now that some things are beyond our control. And though I wish I could be angry, I’m not. I just can’t hold onto those emotions anymore.

All I want right now is to move forward, even if it’s just in one direction: toward my defense, toward my goals, toward becoming the person I’m meant to be.

And maybe that’s also what love is.

To love someone doesn’t always mean staying. Sometimes, it’s letting go—for both your sakes. Real love isn’t always loud or romantic; sometimes it’s quiet and painful. It’s accepting that timing, healing, or personal growth may pull you apart. I did love—fully, imperfectly, sincerely—but I also love myself enough now to choose what’s best for me. If love is real, it doesn’t need to end with bitterness. It can simply rest in gratitude, in the hope that both people find peace, even if it’s separately.

Between Two Worlds

A long journey is finally nearing its most defining chapter. After all the coursework, sacrifices, and silent struggles, I am now standing at the threshold of the dissertation phase—a moment both thrilling and terrifying. This stage comes in two parts: the first, crucial and meticulous, is the design of the study. The second, its actual implementation, is filled with uncertainty. Nothing is guaranteed until the final defense.

I’ve been carrying thoughts about this phase for a long time—too many, in fact. They swirl endlessly in my mind, and breaking them into something clear and purposive has been a real challenge. Now that July is ending, I feel a quiet excitement building for August. It marks the beginning of the first semester—a new chapter for both my academic pursuit and professional responsibility.

This time, I’m walking the path alone. I don’t have the circle of friends I once had—no more laughter after classes, no more vibrant, intellectual debates that left us energized instead of divided. I miss those days when life felt simpler, when running after deadlines was just part of the thrill. I truly enjoyed schooling; it was never a burden to me. It was, in fact, one of the best times of my life.

But now, things are different. Alongside my dissertation, I am stepping into yet another demanding role—teaching. Initially, I had no plans to teach this semester. I wanted to focus solely on research. But something happened last term that I just couldn't ignore.

Students began using AI not just for support, but to the extent of simulating interviews with social workers. That struck me deeply. I couldn’t let it pass without consequence. I told them the truth—that one day, they would suffer the consequences of cutting corners. And that moment lit something in me. I realized: if not me, then who will teach them properly, with discipline and integrity?

I know I can’t save the world. But I believe I can make a difference, no matter how small. That belief pushes me to give my best—to keep going even when it’s tough. I know I’ll need to carve out at least three hours daily for reading and research just to keep up with my dissertation. Add to that the time and energy required to prepare meaningful lessons. It’s a lot.

Some may say it’s not worth it—that students aren’t even grateful. Maybe that’s true. But still, I want to try. I want to give until I no longer can. Maybe this is a risk. Maybe I’ll burn out. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll discover something more about myself—my limits, my purpose, and how deeply I care.

Let’s see what’s coming. I’m here for it—all of it.

The Weight of Waiting

I’ve been anxiously waiting for the results of my comprehensive exam. It’s been almost a month since they were supposedly released, and the wait has been exhausting. To cope, I found myself downloading hundreds of books—knowing full well I wouldn’t be able to read them all—just to distract my mind. I made self-care a routine every Saturday, went out more than usual, and tried everything I could to ease the overwhelming uncertainty.

When I took my board exam, I only had to wait three days, but even then, the stress gave me a fever. This, though—this wait for the comprehensive exam results—has drained me in a different way. I couldn't sleep. I didn’t even admit to myself how badly I wanted to know the results. It wasn’t just about proving my capability—I wanted clarity about what to do next. What if I failed? How do I start again?

I’ve faced many failures in life—so many that I thought I’d grown used to them. But this one felt different. This one felt like a personal validation that despite the setbacks and delays, I was still pushing forward. Maybe, just maybe, it would prove to me that I’m still capable of something great. That even if I’ve stumbled many times, I’m still someone who can achieve something meaningful.

I hate that I feel like I always need to prove something—to stand out, to do what others can't. Maybe it’s because of the high standards my mother set for me. So high that I’ve broken down more than once trying to reach them. I don’t even know what I’m trying to prove anymore. Or to whom.

My anxiety got worse every day. I was checking our school’s Facebook page every five minutes. And then, ironically, on a busy afternoon when I wasn’t checking, I saw a “Congratulations” message in one of my group chats. I didn’t process it at first until a friend called and said, “Congratulations, Larrahbells!” I was stunned. I had been so consumed with worry that I forgot this moment could actually be good news.

When I finally checked, I found out that only four of us out of twelve had passed. I was one of them. And deep down, I knew—God made it happen. I wouldn’t have survived that waiting period without my constant prayers for mental strength.

This has been a journey I’ll always look back on. The stops and starts, the mental health battles, the unresolved heartbreak, and my ongoing health struggles—all of it. These were the reasons I kept restarting. It was never easy, but I truly gave it my best. And now, I’m on to the next chapter: writing.

I’m both excited and scared. Can I really do this alone now, without my friends around? Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m holding on to one dream—that one day, I’ll be walking across that stage wearing my doctoral gown.

The Day the Stress Consumed Me

 The second Saturday of my exam week was, without a doubt, the hardest. Compared to the first, this one felt like a mental marathon. The subjects were intense—packed with case studies and decision-making questions that drained every bit of my energy. It was the kind of exam that had me saying, half-jokingly but half-seriously, "nakakaubos ng English!"

Still, by the end of it, I told myself: "I did my best. I gave my all. I will never regret this."

That afternoon, my family picked me up, and we headed uptown to get mangoes from one of my papa’s friends. I sat quietly in the car, still processing everything, when my friends started calling, asking how the exam went. That’s when it hit me. I wanted to cry. I felt like breaking down. That day marked one of the hardest moments in my academic journey.

They offered me words of encouragement—comforting ones, even—but I couldn’t shake off the doubts. I tried to keep it together, but deep down, I was overwhelmed and stressed. All I could say was, “Bahala na. I did my best.”

There were twelve of us in the program who took the exam. During lunch, I listened as others talked confidently about how they thought they did. They sounded so sure, so intelligent. I, on the other hand, felt so small—like I didn’t belong in the same room. "How can they be so certain?" I kept asking myself.

The stress didn’t stop there. Later that day, we went to the grocery store. I was starting to feel irritable over small things. I called my papa to ask for help because my card had declined—I had forgotten my password. He didn’t answer, and I panicked. I felt helpless. Thankfully, my GCash saved me.

That night, back at home, my sister noticed I was off. She asked, “What happened? Why are you angry with Papa?” That simple question opened the floodgates. I exploded. I shouted. I shook with anger. My voice was so loud, it made my niece cry. My brother-in-law even called, telling me to calm down because I was no longer in control.

It wasn’t just about the grocery store or the declined card. It was everything. I was ranting—saying things like, “Why can’t life just be simple? Why do I have to suffer? Why did my mother have to suffer because of Papa?”

I became someone I didn't recognize—pacing back and forth, shouting, outraged. It lasted for fifteen long minutes. And at that moment, I realized something painful: the stress of the exam had consumed me completely. I hadn’t handled it well, and the people I love the most had to bear the brunt of my breakdown. That was unfair to them.

The days that followed were heavy. The emotional toll lingered for a week. I couldn’t shake it off. And honestly, I don’t think I ever will. That moment left a mark.

Looking back, I understand now that it wasn’t just about the exam. I had personal issues too—things I hadn’t been able to talk about, things I had tried to deal with on my own. That day was a breaking point.

I’m still learning how to carry the weight of stress without letting it spill over to those who don’t deserve it. I’m sorry—to myself and to my family. Maybe, that was life’s way of teaching me a hard but necessary lesson.

The First Saturday of truth

The moment I entered the exam room, I felt the weight of doing it all alone. No friends, no batch mates beside me—none of the people who had once walked with me during the early years of this journey. It hit me hard: this was something I had to face by myself again.

What’s ironic is that I’ve always been the one encouraging others, the one constantly lifting people up. Yet when my own mental health declined, I couldn’t even find the strength to lift myself. It consumed me, stole my time and energy—and on top of that, I had just undergone thyroid surgery. Still, despite everything, I made it through.

The exam was just as difficult as I had expected. Even though I had studied most of the key points, the actual test was overwhelming. As I answered each question, struggling to manage my time, I was quietly amazed: I was doing it again—alone. And yet, deep inside, I knew that this strength, this endurance, would mean something one day. I just have to be patient and trust the process.

By lunchtime, I was so exhausted I could barely hold my spoon and fork. I wanted to break down, but I couldn’t—not yet. It was just the first Saturday. I still have another round next Saturday—another five subjects to go through. Honestly, I don’t know how long I can keep doing this alone. Yes, I have friends who keep encouraging me, cheering me on toward the finish line—but it still feels different when a part of you feels like it’s slowly fading, even when you’re trying so hard to do everything right.

This journey is something I’ve always wanted, but I never expected that pursuing a doctorate could take such a toll on my mental health. And yet, on the other side of that struggle, I remain determined. I choose to continue—even at the cost of setting aside a personal kind of happiness. Not because I don’t want happiness, but because I’ve learned—sometimes painfully—that certain things are no longer healthy, and it's okay to let go of what once felt familiar and comforting. Growth means moving forward, even when it's hard.

Procrastination its finest

Finally, the weather has returned to its usual cold and rainy state after the extreme heat of April 2024. I have been really busy lately getting ready for the comprehensive exam that is scheduled for May 25, 2024.

I've been staying busy with reading and practicing writing to avoid the fatigue I encountered during my master's degree exam in 2019.  I still remember well how unprepared I was the last time, how tired I was when I got home, and how I even became sick with a fever. I'm making a lot of preparations ahead of time because I'm determined not to have that experience again. Still, there's a trace of procrastination that happens for no apparent reason.

I spent the entire day staring at my iPad and laptop in an effort to get into the right state of mind for studying. I even ate some ice cream and watched Netflix in a try to get the impeccable kind of motivation to push myself harder. Yes, both physically and psychologically, I'm exhausted. I therefore hope that taking a day off won't impair my memory or ability to think in preparation for the approaching exam.

The scheduled exam is in just fifteen days. Just like my master's degree exam, this one has another goal, so I wanted to put in more effort because I've been losing a lot of time and energy due to personal circumstances over the past few years. For that, I am still grateful. These events got me to thinking and realizing that we all need to live, have a life apart from our jobs, discover our happiness, and even our purpose.

It appears that I am using this as an excuse to write because I am finding it difficult to stay focused on my readings today. I have been putting off reading all day, which is bad because I still have a ton of readings to catch up on and I have work responsibilities to attend to. I have tried to read after work, but it seems to be extremely exhausting already, and coffee, soda, or anything else that helps me wake up can't seem to complement my everyday exhaustion.

 

When Letting Go is the Bravest Thing You Can Do

 There are things better left unsaid—not out of fear of hurting someone, but because silence can sometimes be kinder than truth. Still, today, I found the courage to say them. To write them. This might be long. And maybe one day you'll find this, or maybe you won't. It doesn't really matter anymore. What matters is that I was once brave enough to take a risk that cost me more than I expected. It broke me.

I'm not angry. I don't hate you. But everything eventually consumed me until I no longer recognized the love I once had for you. I don’t even know what kind of love it was anymore.

To RK:

I wanted to tell you all this directly, but maybe leaving it here is better. We had a small story—beautiful at moments—but incomplete. I appreciated the consistency you showed, but then you drifted. There were years we were apart, and I never asked much. I was afraid of the answers.

Still, I’m grateful. I experienced a kind of love that others long for. But along the way, that love lost its respect. It stopped feeling like love and more like possession—something I couldn't make sense of.

From the beginning, deep down, I knew we wouldn’t end the way you always dreamed we would. I stayed not because I believed in a future with you, but because I wanted to make up for the mistakes I made. I wanted to prove something—to you, and maybe to myself. But in doing so, I became trapped. Afraid that someone else would give you what I could have, and in that fear, I stayed for the wrong reasons.

I’m sorry for not being completely honest. Maybe I did try to tell you, but you refused to listen. I remember one argument so vividly—it ended with me begging you not to take your life. That moment shook me. It made me realize that I wasn’t staying for love anymore—I was staying out of guilt and fear.

I can't explain how much that broke me. I lived through a quiet kind of hell while you remained focused only on what you wanted for us. You were blind to my struggles. But in that pain, I learned how to stand on my own. You taught me to defend myself, to face my weaknesses, to grow.

I'm grateful for the love you gave me, even if it didn’t last the right way. Over time, I grew apart. I was consumed by pain I couldn’t even talk about with you—because to you, only one thing mattered: marriage. And I couldn’t give that.

You refused to listen. You refused to understand me.

When I finally said I couldn’t see myself with you anymore, it wasn’t the hardest thing to say—it was the easiest. Because it was the truth. I wanted to run. I needed to escape. The love had faded, and I can't blame myself for that anymore. You had your chance—and maybe I blew it too—but I know this much: I did try.

I’m sorry for all the broken promises and hopes. We became too comfortable, too complacent. We didn’t realize we were falling apart until it was too late. The first time you broke my heart was the hardest. The second time? It just... happened. Effortlessly.

I still wish you happiness. I truly do.

There will be someone who will love you endlessly, someone who will stay, who will fight for you. I’m sorry I lost myself while trying to bring you back into my life. My mental health suffered, and you didn’t even notice. That hurt the most.

I tried to be the person I wanted to be for you—but it was so hard the second time around. Too many reminders. Too much blame. I couldn’t carry it anymore.

If I fell out of love, maybe it was God telling me that it was time to stop. To let go of what I had grown used to. It’s not easy—but I will do it. For my peace. For my well-being. Call it selfishness if you must, but I can’t keep going like this.

I know now: love isn’t always enough to stay.

I pray that your heart will find peace—that God’s grace will soften this goodbye. I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.

And I hope one day, you’ll understand why I had to choose myself.

Postscript: 

If love alone could have saved us, we would have made it. But love—real love—needs more than just emotion. It needs understanding, patience, and growth. I gave all that I could, and in the end, I lost myself.

I will always carry a piece of what we had in my heart—not out of regret, but as a reminder that I once loved fiercely. And that I was brave enough to walk away when I knew I couldn’t give what you wanted anymore.

Take care. I wish you a love that will never make you question your worth.

What I Never Said Out Loud

 Here I go again—starting a blog, the usual and classic way. It’s been years since I last did this, and honestly, I don’t even know where the time went. Life happened, I guess. I’ve been busy teaching, pursuing postgrad studies, working, and managing everything else in between.

Blogging used to be such a big part of my life. Looking back, it helped me grow, reflect, and understand myself on a deeper level. It became my outlet, especially during one of the darkest times—when I lost my mother. A part of me died with her. And taking a path I never truly wanted was the biggest game changer in my life. I poured my thoughts into words every day, using writing as my escape. In doing so, I forgot how to live in the real world.

Then came a turning point. Reality demanded more from me. I got caught up with life, especially nearing graduation. That’s when I lost access to my old blog, telelahbells. I forgot the password and eventually, the habit faded. I started living more in the present, with people in front of me, not just behind a screen.

Maybe part of me stopped blogging because I didn’t want to relive the memories—especially the love that once was, and the grief that nearly broke me. I never really allowed myself to grieve properly. I didn’t cry as hard as I should have. I buried the pain, kept moving, because if I didn’t, I might’ve lost myself completely.

Blogging reminds me of those struggles—the ones no one ever really saw. Maybe some people would understand if I had shared it, but I never did. I didn’t talk about the pain. I didn’t show it. I was so hard on myself. I wasn’t even kind to my own heart. That was me then. That’s how I survived.

And now, here I am, writing again. Maybe because I need to. Because there are still things I’m keeping inside, and I need a space to release them. One day, I’ll look back at this and remember how far I’ve come—and how to live a life filled with meaning, with beauty, and with heart.

Use energy wisely

The energy is not the same as it was. It's true that when you age a little, energy declines, but that depends on the circumstances. Some are even more active and energetic as they age. In my case, I started to feel that my energy was not the same anymore as when I was younger. I can turn morning into night and night into morning. 

When I was a young adult, I could never imagine staying up late to have fun or do schoolwork. I still have the same energy in the morning when I go to work and school. Now, sleeping late at night makes a week of sleeping early to recover. 

I want to think about the things that have happened to my body since I had my thyroidectomy. I don't have the same energy, but even before my surgery or the COVID era when everyone had to stay home, I got used to it and loved how things worked at home. It got to the point where I was okay with what is now a simpler life because I did the things I wanted to do. 

Life is a series of phases. One instance would be if you had a job and made enough money to live your life. I remember that all I wanted to do was go out, take breaks from work, travel with friends, get back in touch with former coworkers or acquaintances, and attend parties when I got the chance. Now? all I wanted to do was stay home, have an intimate family vacation without posting on social media as much as possible, and concentrate on building a home where you can rest soundly after a long day at work. At the moment, the idea of that is all about simplicity. I lost the energy! 

My Friday realization: 

You will never get back the time you wasted, so make the most of your energy and time. 

 

The complexity of life

I was reminded of the feeling I had when I wrote a blog years ago, and even though I know no one is reading it, I still get the same excitement from being able to read it over and over again and be reminded of the things I did and didn't do. Almost a decade has passed since I last wrote about my thoughts. Being an adult has kept me busy with work, school, relationships, family, and everything else that counts to being a human. In fact, I eventually reached a point where I had to deal with my mental health because I was burnt out.

It's my dream job, yet I was overwhelmed! I genuinely enjoyed embracing the things that I had once lost. Although the road was initially difficult, persistence and hard work eventually paid off. I never imagined how I got to the point where I didn't think I could achieve it. God always works in ways beyond human understanding.

The feeling overwhelms me as I write this, remembering how I used to balance blogging with my work and studies. Despite my busy schedule, I started and kept up a blog site for years. I spent several restless nights putting down on writing every thought that crossed my mind. But after those years, reality set in, bringing with it the harsh realities and unavoidable truths of life. With the growth of the internet and technology, the blogging and vlogging environments have changed, and now everyone is vlogging and creating their material for profit.

I'm enjoying writing right now. Apart from being an introvert, I want to stay because it's peaceful and simple. The world is complex enough as it is; let's not make it any more so with our own complicated lives. I want to savor the peace of mind I already have, which is already a luxury, given the prevalence of social media in today's world.

Should i be guilty?

I should be guilty to a lot of things now and I don’t think I should justify each.

I'm at my desk right now, and the Wi-Fi is down, so I utilized my hotspot to stay connected. This gives me enough of an excuse not to check our corporate email for updates since we have no connectivity. I have a lot on my plate and can't start what I intended to do.

I'm buzzing with excitement to the point where I can't bear to glance at my exam notes any longer have quite a number of books lined up for the exam, but I just can't seem to get started. My stomach is rumbling, yet I'm at a loss for what to satisfy my hunger with. Maybe because I'm the only person in the area right now, the temperature in the office is colder than usual, and I really loved having no one around to mess with my peace of mind. I am unable to even begin creating the guided questions and reflective reaction paper that I intended to give my students.

With so much to accomplish and so little time, procrastination is at its best. I had so much on my mind that all I wanted to do was write it all down, put everything on record. A part of me gets tired of the talking that comes with my job all the time. Even for a little while, maybe once or twice a week, there's something quite appealing about being quiet, walking under the trees, and taking in the fresh air. I consider myself fortunate to work in a place full of trees and blessed with cool weather.

I do, in fact, treasure my peace right now. Life gets more peaceful the less I worry about the people around me. My sanity and WiFi seem to be entwined lately, which is surprising. Hahaha

 

 

 

Limot moments

Do you know that feeling you get when you're thinking about a bunch of different things at once? You often experience moments of forgetfulness related to work, school, teaching, digital stores, and many other things.

As I was about to leave the house, I realized that I needed to bring my Gatorade and the mixed nuts my sister gave me from SNR, so I took them out of the fridge and placed them on the smaller fridge next to it. I went straight to the mirror and walked out to the door, closing the gate. I might have forgotten the Gatorade and the mixed nuts I had taken out of the refrigerator while I was making my way to the workplace, and sure enough, I had.

Around 9:30 am, I was talking to a client while on the phone, and in the back of my mind, I had to get ready for the live draw by 10:00 am, so it just went. I noticed that my boss had hurriedly gone to the car, so I quickly finished giving the client's requirements. My officemate informed me it was his schedule, but I thought it was mine, so I hurriedly ran to the car. He followed me and said, "Again, it's my schedule; can we check?" So we did, and sure enough, it is his schedule. I was going to get in the car at that point.

Since it was not my schedule, I went outside near the office to buy a coffee and a donut. Still, I forgot my phone where I saved my PWD ID, so I ordered first and returned to the office to get my phone. While scrolling through my phone, suddenly, I felt I had forgotten something, and I asked and told my other office mate and the guard who was outside too, "I just went back to get my phone, and now where's my phone?" without realizing that I was holding my phone scrolling.

I took a deep breath and let it out. I feel like my "limot moments" are growing worse every day. I could think more progressively than the other way around, and even if I might have a lot on my plate right now, I still love thinking about many things. I have ten major subjects to study, all of which are management-related, and I have to prepare my concept paper on top of that. I am under pressure because my comprehensive exam is next month. It's fortunate that I don't have too much stress at work anymore because I have an assistant who is still motivated to learn and active. I still have to prepare my students for their midterm exam and their interview guide questions, in addition to attending our live draw three to four times a week.

So, what life do I still have now? Hahaha

 

Progress makes a difference

No matter how small, it’s still a progress.

I freely acknowledge that I am not unique among those who strongly believe in God yet do not attend church every Sunday. I pray differently than what is expected and what I was taught growing up. I have always given a little thought to these things in recent years. That is, until I told myself that in 2024, I have to do something different for myself. I prefer that everything always begins within us and works its way forth. Yes, without a doubt.

I don't know; perhaps it just happened. I know my faith is strong, and I'm trying to convince myself that it is, even though it's ironic to think that, but I haven't spent more than ten minutes in prayer—that is, a prayer in which you speak to God in depth and share everything that life has taught you about turning into an adult. On the other hand, I could say that someone is praying for me up above to at least turn myself back to God.

I've created a daily practice in which I pray for at least two to three minutes as soon as I wake up and for an additional two to three minutes before bed. In just two months, this practice was gradually increased to five minutes, then ten. I started small and no matter how small it is, it’s still a progress. These days, I'm proud that it's hard for me to go even 15 minutes without praying; this change was not just caused by myself but by God, who made these things possible.

The next thing to do is to make a habit of going to church every Sunday. When life really hits you, a lot of things will just come up and try to compel you to do all these things, and I felt that I was going astray. There is a distinction between praying only to get what you desire and praying because you understand that God is the one who is in charge of your life.

 

 

 

A Letter to the Pain I Carried

 I’ve never been one to talk openly about my personal life—especially not the parts that live deep within my soul. The kind of pain I’ve carried silently. The kind only I and one other person knew. But lately, the weight has become too heavy to carry alone.

February of this year broke me. Every day felt like walking through fire—filled with fear, pain, and overwhelming sadness. I couldn’t find the strength to believe in something good anymore. The pressure, the emotional torture—it became too much. I kept holding on because a part of me still hoped, still wanted things to turn out differently. But in my heart, I knew. It was too heavy. I was drowning in my own apprehensions and fears. Even love, as strong as it once was, wasn’t enough to keep me afloat.

So I spoke the truth I had been avoiding for so long: “I can no longer see myself with you. Not now, not in the future. I cannot imagine being happy anymore.”

It broke me to say those words—words I never thought I’d say to the one person I once dreamed of a life with. You asked me what I really wanted, and I gave you the most honest answer I could: “I don’t see myself with you anymore. Deep down, I think I knew that from the start. But I still tried. I tried to fix things. I tried to prove myself wrong. I gave everything because maybe… maybe I was the one who needed to make it right.”

But even after pouring my energy, my time, and my soul into this relationship, I kept coming back to the same place—alone, confused, and hurting. I realized I still had so many unresolved issues within myself, wounds I’m forced to deal with over and over again. Nothing was ever enough.

Writing this now, all I feel is heartbreak over how easily everything fell apart. But for the first time, I’m brave enough to say it: I gave up. I gave up because I needed to choose myself.

For so long, I lived in your shadow—measuring my worth against your expectations, losing air in a space that never really felt like mine. I tried to fit into a world that was never built for me to thrive. And now, I’m choosing differently. I’m choosing me.

I think I always knew how our story would end. Maybe it was the mistakes. Maybe it was the silence when I cried, the way my pain was brushed aside while you kept choosing what you wanted. I could no longer afford to die inside just to keep something that wasn’t keeping me alive.

You saw my tears. You saw my struggle. But you saved yourself.

Now, it’s my turn.

I don’t know where this path will take me, but I hope it leads to peace. I hope I find the version of myself who is free—free from fear, from guilt, from emotional chains. I want to be whole again. I want to smile with my soul, not just my face. I want to live without always having to explain why I’m not okay.

One day, I’ll meet that version of me again.

And when I do, I will thank her—for choosing herself when it mattered most.

Food for the soul

I've admired a few bloggers for all these years who never seem to change with their blogs or love of writing. As always, I salute them for whatever motive they had. A few of them are still my friends on Facebook, and we've all had somewhat different lives throughout the years. Everybody enjoys writing a blog post daily and sharing updates; this was the norm before vlogging entered the picture.

I simply hope that I will be able to write about whatever it is that burns in my soul right now until the end of time. I've tried and tried over the years, but I can never seem to keep up with writing, and as time goes on, my memory drops and I lose both my email and account password. Despite this, I didn't give up and thought it would be good to try again and try again. Right now, my sole source of motivation is the book I intend to write! Me telling myself "weh?" 

I'm attempting to persuade myself right now that I will continuously jot down whatever ideas I have. In my opinion, blogging remains a means of fueling one's soul, a soul that is peaceful and happy, while vlogging, on the other hand, attracts an excessive number of visitors and critics on social media. Blogging? nah! just quiet & calm, no pressure of making a content after all! I still find it enjoyable to just share your views through blogging; even if no one reads them, that's okay because your thoughts and feelings now, whether positive or negative, will never again be the same in the future (maybe?) or even carry the same weight. It's just good to have a remembrance! lol 

Ms. Lah

From thoughts to execution

Four months later! At last! I've managed to talk myself back into writing! I made a lot of promises to myself when 2024 first started, including to start writing! Since January this year, I have been thinking the same thing every day: "I'm going to start writing, I'm going to write my thoughts, or like I have to start something I would love to do." It took me four(4) hard months to get to this execution, and now that I've written my first blog again, I'm enjoying my little victories!

Perseverance and persistence are necessary to keep doing the things you have always loved to do. It takes little courage to push yourself to do the things you wanted. I'm still working on it, convincing myself that I can write every day and practicing expressing what my thoughts teach me about the world and myself. I also hope that one day, my quiet dream of writing books will come true. That is - this is me writing all about it. 

I just can 't wait to write all the things my thoughts are telling me. I think I should be subscribing to the premium of BlogSpot (if there is) so I can practice committing myself to writing every day. We cannot see our future yet, but we can create it, ayt? One day, I wanted to go back to this day, reminding me that I made the best decision, even though I have struggled starting to write. There may be a lot of reasons. But what's important is that I just did!

Ms. Lah