I Was Okay With It—Until I Wasn’t

When things start to fall apart, I always go back to the beginning—to the reason why I chose this.

An unconventional kind of love. The kind people don’t understand at first glance. The kind they judge without knowing the full story. And maybe they’re not entirely wrong. But I chose this—fully aware, fully willing. No regrets.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

I remember being in Palawan for a training when everything almost ended. We had a fight—a big one. The kind that doesn’t just shake you, it breaks something in you. I thought I could handle it. I thought I was built for this kind of setup, this kind of love. I said I was okay with everything from the start.

But it’s different when you’re already deep in it. When feelings are no longer just words you say, but something you carry in your chest every day.

And then something happened—something that shouldn’t happen in any relationship. But shit happens, right?

I was at the airport early that morning when I found out. And I swear, I felt my heart shrink. Not break—shrink. Like it folded into itself. My mind spiraled. Paranoia, anxiety—everything hit me all at once. The kind of pain that doesn’t scream, but quietly consumes you.

When I arrived in Palawan, I had too much time. Too much silence. Too much space to think.

For the first time, I sat alone at a hotel bar, taking shots of cocktails that burned going down. The rain outside felt too perfectly timed, like the world was echoing exactly what I was feeling. Heavy. Uncertain. Uncontrollable.

I couldn’t undo anything. It already happened.

And that’s the part that stayed with me—not just the situation, but the feeling. That exact moment. That quiet, burning ache inside me that I couldn’t even fully explain. Even now, when something triggers me, I go back there. I remember how it felt. I remember how much it hurt.

But somehow, I still try to make sense of it.

I tell myself it happened for a reason. That it was meant to teach me something. That maybe I needed to be reminded how it feels to be human—to feel pain, to feel hurt, to not always be strong.

Because the truth is, it didn’t just hurt.

It broke something in me.

And even now, I’m still learning how to sit with that pain without pretending it isn’t there.