How I Become a Teacher

    My journey of becoming a teacher is not as typical as anybody. It was not a dream come true, not a plan fulfilled, nor a decision-made-because-there-is-nothing-else-better resolution. I had no one who inspired me to become one. I'd even got no one who discouraged me not to pursue this profession. My story of becoming a teacher is something unusual. 

    My journey to becoming one had started one lazy afternoon when my parents asked me to take another College Entrance Test. I decided to choose just one for some valid reasons. I didn't choose ACET because I would turn it down sooner due to high tuition, same with USTET and DCAT. We were not financially stable then. My parents were struggling to finance our studies, and kept on juggling jobs here and there just to make both ends meet. I didn't choose PUPCET because I was too lazy to endure the distressing process of applying for it. I had chosen PNUAT because, according to what my cousin told me, it would only take some minutes to apply and process the test permit. It was true.

    I'd taken PNUAT months later. The results of PNUAT were released earlier than the UPCAT. Since my parents wanted to secure my slot, we have processed the requirements to be accepted in PNU, with BSEd as my major. However, just weeks later, UPCAT results were out. Before I knew it, my colleagues told me I'd passed. All the plans of continuing my study in PNU were scrapped. I was advised to choose a program that would accept my UPG because I only have passed the cutoff for UP Diliman, but not with my previously chosen programs. My mom went with me to a computer shop to apply for a program online (we had no computer nor internet connection that time). I had needed to choose three programs among the available choices. I remembered I had chosen BS IE, and BS Econ. I was stuck with the third one. She said, "Di ba gusto mong mag-educ? Ayan piliin mo na yung B SE." 

    Let God lead me the way was my life dictum. All I was praying was to align me to whatever He calls me for. I dreamed of becoming an accountant because my relatives told me to. However, on a personal level, I had planned nothing nor had set a goal when I was a child. All I was just dreaming was to make my parents proud of whatever achievements I would accomplish; to feel I am loved with whatever I had to offer, no matter how simple it may seem. I just let God be my guide. I just let Him be the wind that takes me to my destination. 

    When the results came out, I was accepted in B Secondary Education program. During my stay in UP College of Education, I still was questioning myself whether I was in the right course. I planned to shift to other colleges, but then again, my lazy self prompted me not to. I graduated after so may INCs, 5.0s, LOA status, and Residence. 

    I had no plans in applying in a school right after graduation, but the principal of a small school called me and told me they needed a Math teacher. I was hesitant to take the position, though it was just a part time job. Sooner, I accepted it. I took the LET a year after graduation. I was surprised to get a high score despite not reviewing for it. Maybe it was another confirmation, I thought. I also had resigned from my job and applied in another school. Well that is what a teacher has supposed to do, right?

    Four years after graduation, three years after I became a licensed professional teacher, I braved myself to apply in a public school. Once again, I let Him lead me. I was accepted and been teaching in the same school for five years now. I may not be the most decorated nor the most dedicated teacher, I am certain that I am in the right profession I was called for. Although I still am thinking whether the decision I made 15 years ago was right, I know for sure that there are more beautiful things in life than meets the eye.

    All I am just hoping is my students would learn that in life, whatever path they will take, let God lead their way. Also, if there is one certain thing I could share, that is no matter where you go, you cannot just run from your destiny.

    That is how I become a teacher. I just do not know yet the adjectives to put in before the word "teacher".

    

Father[less] Day 2021

What could have been sadder than celebrating the Father's Day with your Dad inside a box, lifeless? What could be more heartbreaking to see your mom weeping over the loss of her lover? What could be more depressing to witness your siblings crying and feeling helpless with the truth that you lost a father, a friend, a selfless lover, an inspiration, a motivator?

Our world had suddenly crashed when we heard his Doctor said, "gusto po namin sabihin sa inyo na ginawa na po namin ang lahat, pero wala na po talaga," three hours before the day we celebrate the goodness of our fathers. We lost our Dad on the eve of this year's Father's Day.

It was morning of June 19, I was restless, and nervous. I didn't know why, but I had known something bad was about to happen. I always had this feeling whenever some unfavorable event was about to occur. My Mom, who was with Daddy, told me to prepare the things she and dad listed that were going to be brought to the hospital where they were admitted. I went to a nearby grocery to buy the things they asked. While in the grocery, I suddenly felt restless and nervous. I thought something bad might had been happening. When I came home, Mom called in our GC. We already knew something bad was happening. We joined the group call and saw Mom crying. She told us that Dad just had a seizure for the second time that morning alone. The doctors told us that it is not good since the interval between the first and the second seizure is relatively short. They injected some medicine to stabilize Dad's condition. We told Mom to relax, and pray. We asked her to update always. She did. Kuya, being locked down in their company, filed for an emergency exit and was granted. He, and his wife, promised to visit Dad later in the afternoon.

It was around 2 in the afternoon when we received another video call from Mom. When we joined the call, she looked devastated, her eyes swollen due to crying. She told us that Dad wasn't waking up. We saw doctors coming in their room. Suddenly, we heard one doctor asked Mom to go to a side and drop the call. She didn't drop the call. She asked what was happening. A doctor told her they were trying to wake Dad up. Mom wasn't able to hold her phone steadily but we heard her weeping and calling Dad's name. We, in our house, were all crying, shouting and asking Dad to wake up. A doctor urged Mom to drop the call or she'd be asked to step out of the room. She dropped the call. We were weeping, praying that God would extend Dad's life and heal him of his sickness. While praying, we received a message that Dad was pulseless. His doctors were trying to revive him to no avail. He was pronounced dead. We asked for a miracle. We wept to God to do a miracle. It happened. Dad was revived, but was about to be admitted in the ICU. Mom called us and asked us to decide what to do next. We asked his doctor to do everything just to save Dad's life. We all want him to be alive and well. His doctor promised they would do everything. We were relieved.

Kuya visited Mom in the hospital and helped her pack their things since Dad would be admitted in the ICU. He, with his wife, came home later. He told us it was a devastating scenario to see tubes inserted in Dad's body. 

Just as we thought everything was at least fine, we received another call from Mom. She was weeping. She was told that while Dad was in the ICU, he had multiple seizures. The doctors were trying to revive him when Mom called. She was not allowed inside the ICU, she was all alone waiting for someone to come out and bring her news. Moments later, a doctor came out and told her they were on the ultimatum. If Dad had another seizure, they would inject the last medicine to stabilize him. However, after that, they would not do another round. While telling us the news, Dad was having seizure. We were advised to expect the worst. It was 8 in the evening. We were advised that only three of us could rush to the hospital to comfort Mom. I told Kuya, his wife, and sister to urgently go. While they were on their way, we received the news that Dad was pronounce dead. We were devastated. My younger brother, my little sister, and I were all weeping. We were told to go to the hospital to at least see Dad for the last moment. I booked a ride going there. I told Mom I won't go since we cannot just leave our house unmanned. While waiting for the ride, two of our Titas were running towards our house, asking what happened. I blankly told them that Dad's gone, and my two siblings were going there. They asked me if I wanted to go, I told them I couldn't. I requested them to go instead, and support my Mom emotionally. I chose to sacrifice going there because I am too emotional that I might pass out.

At home, while waiting, I reminisced my Dad's life and his influence to my being. I recalled all his advices and teachings. I wanted his legacies be alive in me for the rest of my life. Although he left us on eve of Father's Day, I wanted to honor him, hence I wrote a lengthy message and changed my profile picture .

Dad and I during our College Graduation, 2012

- - - - -

It took the funeral homes five days before we were allowed to hold a two-day wake for Dad. During the first night, we were asked to recall the good memories we had with him, one child at a time. That was the first time I saw Kuya wept. I told the congregation the kind of a father he was to me, while weeping. I felt shortness of breath, and pain in my chest. I couldn't hold myself together. I thought I would pass out, luckily I didn't. 

Daddy loved us differently, in ways he knew we would grow as good citizens. For Kuya, he was an inspiration. Dad inspired him to take his college course and followed his path to becoming a specialist engineer. To me, Daddy was my motivator. Being the second son, and a middle child, I always longed for his approval, and love. It was quite late when I realized his love language was to sarcastically let me feel I was always not enough. To my "twin" sister, he was her protector. He always stayed late, waiting for her to come home. He always asked her her wants; a typical father to his first daughter. To my younger brother, he was his inspiration and a teacher. He taught him things I couldn't do due to some health issues. To our bunso, he was her savior and her provider. To mom, he was her love of her life. Their love story always inspires us (which I would tell in another blog).

During the second night, during the necrological service, the Pastor asked some of the attendees to share one good memories they had with Dad. It was heartfelt to learn that they always considered Dad as their second father, how they always remember him as a caring, loving father. One told her story that she found her place in our family. She was a product of a broken family. She said that whenever she's in our house, she never felt like a stranger. We call her kapatid mula sa ibang pamilya, and that is just fine with her. That is how welcoming our parents are to our friends. Oftentimes, we hosted sleepovers, and that is just okay with our parents, especially Daddy. 

We didn't have the grandest funeral rite when we brought Daddy to his grave. He hated grand gestures especially when it was for him. We didn't bother telling people publicly of the interment because of the pandemic, but during the parade, we saw multiple vehicles following ours in the procession. Indeed we knew that Dad was a really a good man. His high school batchmates were not able to attend due to age restriction and safety precautions. Dad was 65 years old.

- - - - - 

During the wake, one of my friends told me, "o, handa ka na ba? Ikaw na tatayong tatay sa inyo, kasi si kuya mo may asawa na kaya ikaw na ang tatay sa inyo." I set that idea aside for a while. I never thought of it because I always had to agree with whatever my siblings' decision. I didn't really have a voice in our house (maybe because of being a middle child?).

I only felt the pressure of being the second tatay when decisions have to be made, and Mom asked me what to do. I wasn't prepared for this kind of pressure. All I am thinking is what Dad would do. I wish Dad was still here to help me make decisions in life.

- - - - -

Days had passed. We started to accept the fact that Dad had gone. During the 40 day commemoration, one of my Titas told us, "Parang hindi namatay si Kuya no? Hindi mabigat sa pakiramdam yung pagkawala n'ya. Parang nandyan lang sya lagi." Indeed, it was true, as if Daddy only went overseas. We knew for that very moment that Daddy was in a better place already. 

Because of the pandemic, we only invited a few friends to commemorate with us. It was heartfelt to learn from them how good a man Dad was. We were assured that Dad had lived his life fully. 

- - - - -

Today marked the second month since he left us. The pain is still there, the longingness and the loneliness were still fresh. We dealt and we moved forward differently, that is certain, but in our hearts his love, his teachings, his advices are always alive. 

I am moving forward with hopes that he is in a better place now. I am moving forward with all the lessons I learned from him. I am moving forward, wishing I could become a man as good, as wonderful, as kind as Dad was. 

2020: A Year of Conquering Mountains

Even before the year 2019 has ended, almost everyone was hopeful that 2020 would be a year of breakthrough and new beginning. I, for one, aimed to fix myself from brokenness I have had in the previous year. I started with trying some things that are atypical of me.

Early January, one of my Magnolias planned to climb a nearby mountain. I joined despite of the fear that I might not be able to reach the peak. I have not had a chance to climb any mountain before due to my physical incapability (hello, asthma).  With their help, I was able to reach the peak. The unspeakable joy of conquering one fear rescinded the exhaustion. From then, I promised myself to conquer my mountains one after another.

Came March, due to the pandemic, the country was placed under different quarantine classifications (for multiple times). Our hopes that the lockdown would end immediately has diminished with the drastic increase of positive cases. Our work was affected. The stress brought by the uncertainties and the urge of deliverables was unbearable. This is certainly a mountain to conquer. Conflicting personalities, beliefs, and lack of unity made conquering an impossible task. In the end, I had chosen to resign from the position. Did I fail? No. I loved my work, but the environment made it unlovable. I conquered because I chose myself more than my work. I knew it will not be beneficial to my health if I chose to stay.

A day after Mother’s Day, our lola passed peacefully in her sleep. The whole family was shocked with this untimely mishap. We are all in panic (quietly and loudly alike) to how we would accept the fact that she is gone. I, named after her and my other lola, quietly mourn for our loss. She was my protector and my comforter. Though it is inevitable, we must accept that it would happen. And it happened. With the ongoing lockdown protocols, the wake was exclusive and private. Our neighbors only had known the unfortune event during the last day. I was not able to attend her burial because of protocols.

Months have passed, I am still learning to accept the fact that she really is gone. I have not visited her tomb yet, but I will soon. I know for sure that I am conquering this mountain little by little.

Aside from lola, we also lost our sweet Bardagol. He was with us for ten years. He also has peacefully passed in his sleep. I buried him near his friends.

A lot of people have left me in the entirety of my life. However, some of those who I considered special had left me for one reason or two. Some just left without any explanation or sort of. Some left because of our conflicting views on things. Some just said they did not need me anymore. Any reason would be fine, at least I would know who will stay, and who will leave.

There are, on the other hand, some relationships that were restored during the pandemic. These restorations were unexpected. All I was thinking was there would be no more way to mend broken relationships. I was wrong. I am happy I was wrong. This is one of the most encouraging moments of the year.

I learned that not all mountains should be conquered. I learned this when I lost my enthusiasm in raising my point to those who would rather close their ears than listen to my suggestions. Some words are better left unsaid. They said you should learn to choose your battle. Not all battles are worth fighting to. It is always better to choose a fair fight, best to choose self-love over anything.

One of the highest mountains we are facing is my dad’s health issue. Early this year, he was diagnosed with a problem in his prostate. He had undergone operations for it. However, he has not recovered fully yet. October came, he was diagnosed having a rectal mass, and was advised to undergo a major operation. It hurts to see my dad suffer from an unbearable pain because of his sickness. It is financially draining, emotionally thwarting, physically exhausting, and spiritually challenging. We are always in prayer that God will heal him and make him a testimony of His unfailing love. (We chose to keep this thing private to prevent people from thinking dad had the virus.)

We might have more X’s that ü’s in our TTD list for 2020, or we might have accomplished less during the pandemic, but one thing is for sure, that is we have clearer vision about what are the most important things in life. As for me, family, health, and self-love are some of these things.

I have not written all my goals for 2021 yet, but, as what I have always believe, God will make a way. I know He will guide my path to conquering more mountains in the future and avoiding the mountains I should not climb.

My Family Had Cancer

 Could this year be any worse than knowing your father had cancer?

During the first quarter of this year, our family has faced our first storm with my dad's health issue. He had experienced difficulty urinating, hence decided to have a prostate exam. Results had come, he needed to undergo Transurethral Resection of the Prostrate (TURP) last March to treat his urinary problems. He needed to wear catheter for just two weeks, and then proceed with a follow up check up. Quarantine happened, he, due to his age and to prevent infection of the COVID-19 virus, was not able to have a physical check up. His doctor, also, wasn't able to report because of his age. What they did was to have an online check up (of course, it is not enough!). His doctor advised him to go to the nearest clinic or hospital and have the catheter removed. If he doesn't urinate after 24 hours, he was advised to wear a catheter for another round until the quarantine is lifted and physical check up is possible. This procedure was repeated even after his mother, our Lola Maria, died and entombed. 

June came, physical check up is possible, we decided to bring dad to his doctor for a follow up check up. He, then, was scheduled for another operation to remove whatever is blocking in his urinary track. A lot of dead tissue was removed. He, again, needed to wear a catheter for two weeks. Luckily, after two weeks, he was able to urinate easily. 

We were rejoicing until early October or late September when he noticed a blood in his stool. Our parents consulted our cousin who is a nurse about it. She told them to go to a hospital for a check up. They did. They whole month of October was supposedly a happy month for us since two of us celebrate their birthdays, Mom and sis. We're not really as happy.

During the first half of October, what happened was a series of check up. Dad underwent several lab tests, of which results are recommendable. Whilst undergoing lab tests, he struggled, again with urinating, but this time with excreting also. Late October came, they went back to the hospital for a supposedly follow up check up until his doctors advised them to be admitted for further examinations. One day became two. Two became three, then a week. I, being the only person who can run some errands without compromising my work schedule, went to the hospital to bring them stuff they needed while they were staying there. However, due to pandemic, I wasn't able to go to dad's room. She advised us to keep our adversity to ourselves to prevent humors that dad acquired the virus.

While it is stressful for us to do the chores at home, it is more stressful for our parents waiting for a good feedback from the doctors. The doctors suggested him to undergo colonoscopy. They noticed a mass in his rectum. Hence, a biopsy was advised. The last week of October was devastating when his doctor told them about a possible reason while waiting for the biopsy result.  She recorded what the doctor had told them: he  could have a rectal cancer, hence the rectal mass should be removed through a surgery to prevent the spread of the cancer cells. The removal would include some of his organs like the rectum, his bladder, and more. He, as a result, would have to wear a colostomy bag for good. My parents were devastated. We are devastated. We do not know what would happen next. Not to mention our financial status, his health was at stake, his life was on a countdown(?).

I, being too emotional with what is happening, told my closest friends and colleagues about what is happening in our family. I asked them to include dad in their prayers. I wasn't as prayerful as before. I even had turned from my belief that God is there. I just don't want to lose dad. I lost a lot of people in my entire life (3 in the span of three months, during this year alone). I want him to be as healthy as he is before this happened.

Our parents, then, decided to just come home and have the medication conducted at the comfort of our home while waiting for the biopsy result. They went back home just in time to celebrate our mom's birthday. 

We have waited for few more days before the biopsy result came out. I do not understand what is written, but I know it is not acceptable. I asked some of my med students before to read it for me. One said that the rectal mass that was found in my dad's body was malignant. With the term per se, I felt my world was shut down. I don't know what else to do, or at least ease the unfortune event. 

I promised myself to have my birthday celebrated this year to ease the pain of the past. I just lost the appetite to do so. My dad has a cancer? I cannot believe it. What on earth did we do to have this heavy burden? I eavesdropped him saying "anong nangyari sakin, bakit ano nagkaganito?". It breaks my heart hearing a strong man like him, who I seldom see crying or manifesting hardships, weeps. I couldn't imagine how my mom is handling this turn of event. We are hiding our sadness. We are hiding our desperation. 

My dad is not alone in this fight. We are doing whatever should be done for him to recover. He doesn't have cancer, we did. We had cancer. I know, and I am believing, that this storm will pass without any casualty. We will be healed.

[As per the writing, only two of my closest friends knew the result: my med student and my so-called Inay. I decided to write it here and publish it because I am begging you, if anyone is reading this post, to include our family in your prayers.]

What Good Would I Be?

Rejection.

noun.
the act of refusing to accept, use, or believe someone or something.
(https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/rejection)

It was a night of July, when I was 13 or 14, my mother told me a secret in a very untimely manner: I was a product of an unplanned pregnancy. By the time my Kuya reached 2 years old, she planned to return to work. However, even before my Kuya reached 2, I was conceived. She even had plans to abort the child (too bad she didn't). My Lola Maria, dad's mom, intervened. She said that though the baby was not planned, it was still a blessing. To cut the story short, that baby was me. To add some more disappointment, my parents planned to have two kids only, a boy and a girl. When I was born, they have two children, yes, but not as how they planned. 
That night, our church Pastor was invited to talk to me and explain that I was loved, I was accepted, I was good. However, I overheard him saying that rejection was my twin. He told my parents to always make me feel accepted, to make me feel loved, to always make me feel that I was not rejected. They did and they are doing it. I feel secure of their love, of their affection, of their acceptance. However, destiny has its way to revert me to feeling I was, indeed, rejected. 

Just two months ago, my Lola Maria died. I was devastated to say the least. She was my protector. Now that she's gone, who would protect me? Who would wipe my tears away? No one. Several years before, my Lola Josefina passed. I was named after them: Jose from Josefina, and Mari from Maria. Now that both of them are gone, how can I relive the legacy they passed on me? I don't know.

Weeks after my Lola's demise, I lost two close friends. No, they didn't die, they just left me. I only have few close friends, two of them included. I think I was not really worth keeping. I don't know.

Last month, my partner and I chose to be relinquished from our duty in our school. Though we were enjoying the workload, we decided to step down for our own sake. This decision eased our mind from being too stressed and from being too anxious.
To ease my mind from thinking too much, I looked for projects I could do, all while preparing for the upcoming school year. My friend recommended me to write modules for Elementary students. However, I fell short of the standards, leading to my contract termination. It hurt me more than I could ever imagine. Although it is freeing to say the least because while I doing the project, I felt more stressed, I already am questioning my capacity to doing tasks such as this. Am I not really good enough? 

Maybe I should blame my "twin" for all the mishaps in my life. Maybe, I should accept the fact that ever since the beginning of my life, I was but a failure, and all I am to be will be a failure. I just am tired of living this way. I don''t know where I am good at. I don't know what good would I be. I just lost my sense of existence and my sense of purpose. 

I am afraid to try new things because I am too afraid of rejection and failure. I am not courageous because I do not know how to redeem myself from anxiety and pity and misery.

The Year of Brokenness

The year 2019 has brought a lot of learning in my life. I haven't got a chance to document all, but these newly acquired lessons I had were recorded in my mind and in my heart. If I had to summarize what my 2019 was, I would say it is the year when I wandered a lot; when I've got lost and been exhausted with things I should have not done. Indeed, 2019 was the year of brokenness.

In the beginning of the previous year, I have led our department to celebrate Mathematics Month. However, not everything has fallen into its rightful places. Not all of what we have planned had been executed. There are more revisions than executions. The feeling of being a failure overwhelmed me. I was a man of planning and organizing, and also a man of impulsiveness. Having given an assignment that is big enough to let my obsessive-compulsiveness overpower my impulsiveness, I planned ahead of time. I  planned even months before the celebration. However, I failed to have the plans being approved. I have no idea what I did wrong, or what I did lack. I haven't got the full support of my colleagues, as well. I admit I am an ambivert, My introvert self takes charge when talking to a crowd and asking for their littlest support. I was thinking I would steal their precious time to do what I was asking, even if it would affect their performance as well. It is frustrating to find myself being a failure. I promised myself not to take anymore responsibilities that would lead me to stress, soon depression. 

Came the following months, the feeling of being failure didn't subside right away. My heart was still broken, my mind was filled with frustrations. I promised not to ever try doing the same, if I were given a chance. I promised to spend more time for myself than to always make myself available and free for others. It defied who I was and who I am. Someone told me that your true self will always prevail. It came to pass. I was a giver, they say, so I became. I gave my time to those who need it; I gave my self to those who asked for it, even if it meant having less to none for me. I remembered giving support to those who are dear to me most, though they haven't reciprocated it. You might call me insane, but that is who I am--I give whatever I can provide, and even more. However, as the days passed, I realized it is exhausting to always give and never receive. Life is not a one-way road, but rather a two-way path. You give, you must also receive something in return. I have the former, never the latter.

Summer happened, nothing in my plans came to pass. I've got sickness that prevented me from doing and executing what I have planned. I missed two weddings (one of my cousin, the other of my college friend). I missed out-of-town trips. My body paid for all the exhaustion I had in the previous months.

New school year happened so fast. I promised myself to pursue taking a Master's degree, no matter what happened. I was assigned to teach Grade 9 Math (again) and had my schedule in the afternoon (12:30 PM to 6:50 PM). I became frustrated once again. The MA classes usually starts at 6:00 PM, which only meant I have to leave the school by 4:00 PM. I asked for some consideration, nothing was given. I accepted the fact that I would no longer be able to take my MA that time. Miracle happened when a colleague needed to give up her position and pass it to someone. Her schedule fitted with my projected timeline. We switched places, hence I was able to apply for Master's degree. I was wishful to be accepted, but not frustrated to really get it. All I was praying was if it is God-willed, it will come to pass. It came to pass. I was accepted. I enrolled and took one class for the meantime since all is new to me.

Priorities change when your focus changes. I was focused on giving myself to others, even if it means exhausting my energy and efforts. That changes when I started taking my Master's. I learned it is not bad, not even a sin nor a crime, to think of yourself first; others secondarily. However, it is not really me. I feel guilt whenever I refuse to help someone. Maybe that is who I was supposed to be. I still do not know.

When my birth month came, I promised myself not to have a grand celebration. I chose to celebrate silently since I never had found a reason to have a grand celebration. I have lost a lot of friends who I thought were real and true. I have never been that broken: I expected a lot, gained less to nothing; I have given almost everything, received nothing. 

Our church conducted a worship night on the exact date of my birth. At first, I was hesitant to attend. However, I was reminded of the chances of having such service on my special day. I attended. I cried a lot because of what I have undergone in the previous months. I wept and had all my frustrations, my brokenness, my hurtful feelings be drowned away with my tears. As the night got deeper, the service came to conclusion. I asked our Senior Pastor to pray for me. His prayers overwhelmed me. The words, I believed, were rooted deeply in my heart that I promised myself to hold onto it for the coming year, 2020. 

The year 2019 ended with me being hopeful of what 2020 would bring about my life. I believe that whatever is broken in my life for the previous year will become whole and new again this year. I am hopeful that this year will bring me more peace, more of time spent for myself, for my own growth. I know it will not be easy but I am determined to have all of what I have lost in 2019 be gained in 2020, and even more (if it'll be permitted). I promised to always go back to what I have prayed almost a decade and a half ago--to bring me where I am destined to be, to have His will happen in my life the way He wants.

I was broken, but not crushed. I believe that with all these brokenness that I have undergone will lead me to the wholeness and betterment in the years to come. I am broken, but I believe that in brokenness there is wholeness. I promise that I will be whole again and I will start fixing myself in the year 2020. 

Fly Like a Kite

                Several write ups talked about the lessons we could learn when we fly a kite. They talk about how flying a kite can be applied in living in this world. However, we haven’t talked about how it is to become THE kite. Let’s look at a different angle this time.

                Some say that flying a kite talks about living in its entirety. You, being the person who flies a kite, should know that there are times the wind doesn’t go with the direction that you want to go. When this time comes, you have to learn to change your kite’s navigation. How? By constantly dragging and releasing the thread of your kite. You need to learn when to release the tension, and when to drag your kite down. Through it, you can see your kite would fly high. You are who you are; your kite could be your dream or aspiration. You are the only one who is responsible of having your kite flown high. What if you became the kite? How would it feel to be one?

                Several days ago, I was in the verge of giving up. I was in the edge of my sanity; nearing to breaking down. I was contemplating, knowing that life, yes, gave shit sometimes, and I have to get used it. I haven’t. I never got used to it. Then, I was reminded of how a kite taught me about life.

                Let me illustrate it this way: you are the kite, the person who makes you fly represents the people within your circle, and the thread is your connection with them. The kite is made of light materials, and designed the way a person wanted it to be. You are made of diaphanous material and designed the way people wanted to see you. Your nature and nurture should jive for you to become a “perfect” kite you should be. There is nothing wrong with it. You are designed to fly, anyway. When a person is done making a kite, he will tie a thread so he could make it fly. People tied a thread with you. It should be strong so the connection between the person and the kite cannot be broken by the wind. You have to have a strong connection with people around you. They will make you fly; they will make you touch the sky. There would have some attempts that you didn’t get the rhythm of the wind. That’s okay. It happens. It’s all natural. Once you get the rhythm, and once you get to learn how to fly with the wind, the person who you are connected to is rejoicing. However, in order for you to stay in the wind, you will experience constant dragging and releasing. That’s okay. It is part of life. With this constant dragging and releasing you could fly higher and higher, but you became farther and farther from the person. The tendency was he would drag you down harder so you wouldn’t reach higher. It happens. Sometimes, those people who we are expecting who could be happy with our achievements are the ones who would drag us down harder because of it. One reason might be they wouldn’t want you to reach higher, or they are afraid to let you go. The constant wind, with fluctuating strength might bring you closer to your dreams but farther from your people. The choice is yours, my dear kite. You could fly higher and chase your dreams, or you could let the people drag you down so you could stay with them for a longer time.

                Choosing one option leads you to several consequences. If you choose to fly higher, you have to cut your connection with them and let the wind bring you wherever you are destined to go. However, losing someone who navigates you makes you lose your direction. Yes, you could reach higher, but could you achieve your dreams? That, my friend, is a mystery yet to be realized.

                If you choose to let the people drag you down, you have to forget about your dreams and stay with your people. However, not all people are appreciative. There are those who, after using you, might leave you unnoticeable and rotten like they haven’t cared at all.  There are those, on the other hand, who will take care of you and let you fly again to reach your dreams again. It is only a matter of time to know who is who.

                Being a kite makes you wonder how beautiful life may be when you are up there. You need the connection in order to fly higher. You need the constant dragging and releasing to be navigated and guided to where you are going. You need the wind that will help you fly when you are there. But, most especially, you need to be strong. The wind might blow you hard and away from your navigation. The constant dragging and releasing might make the connection between you and the person cut loose. You need to have a right combination of the elements in order for you to fly high and soar in the sky. You have to fly in order to become the kite you wanted to be.