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.