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July 2025 Highlights:

– Spent three days in Sagada with my best friend. Sea of clouds, mountain air, and unforgettable hikes. ✨

– Had a sibling date with my sister and younger brother. We watched Superman (loved it!), devoured samgyup, and bought a new table for our shared workstation.

– Midnight drive with July by Hozier playing. Absolute magic. 👌✨

– Built a blanket bunker with Qielli and got totally caught up in the coziness. Zero regrets.

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Wednesday be like

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“growth isn’t always constant. relapses happen. it doesn’t erase all your success.”

— Unknown

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Tangina laging wrong timing ah. Pano lumandi in this time and age, in this economy? 🤣

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It’s not over yet. There’s still a new page to be turned. A new chapter to be written. A new story to be told.

Dr. Nicole Addison

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Matching Tattoos:

We’ve always been really close with our cousins. They’re my mother’s eldest brother’s children, so they’re more like siblings than cousins to us. We call my Tito and Tita Tatay and Nanay because when my twin sister and I were kids, we would mimic what our cousins called them. It stuck, and it shows how naturally close we’ve always been. We grew up side by side, from scraped knees and birthday cakes to heartbreaks and real life worries. From childhood until now, we’ve always had each other. They’ve always been part of our lives, and I’m endlessly grateful for that.

The idea for our matching tattoos came from an inside joke between us. The short (and not full) version is that my twin sister, Angela, really thought that a Thesaurus was some kind of dinosaur. We thought she was just joking, but she was completely serious! We laughed so much, and it turned into one of those funny stories we’d always remember and tease her about. We laughed until our sides hurt, and somewhere between the giggles, we decided to make the memory last. It just made sense. It’s a funny memory that reminds us how much we enjoy being around each other and how we can always find something to laugh about.

This dinosaur is actually my third tattoo, but it’s definitely one of the most special because it’s something I share with them. Each of us chose a color for our dinosaur:

🧡 Ate Kate: Orange

💜 Ate Lule: Purple

💗 Ate Taylene: Fuchsia Pink

💙 Angela (my twin): Blue

💚 Me: Green

❤️ Ate Leah: A combination of all our colors, with maroon or red to tie them all together.

It’s a simple tattoo, but it means so much to us. It reminds us that no matter how much time passes or where life takes us, we’ll always have each other and our silly little inside jokes to make us laugh. 🦖✨

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June 2025 Highlights:

June was honestly a rollercoaster ride. There were so many moments that made me smile, laugh, and feel alive but in the middle of it all, I also lost my tita. Grief came unexpectedly and reminded me how fragile everything is.

Still, I’m grateful for the little pockets of joy this month gave me. The people I love, the memories we made, and the strength that comes from holding both happiness and sadness at the same time.

Here’s to giving myself space to feel it all.

I hope July brings me moments of calm and pockets of adventure. I want to hold my loved ones a little closer, laugh a little louder, and find beauty in the simplest things.

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Those Elementary Days

I once had a classmate back in elementary. We were close. She didn’t sit with me in class, but she always came to our house to hang out. At the time, my mom was still working and my dad was working abroad. My best childhood memories are with my elementary school friends at our home. My friends were always welcome.

We made pancakes with Milo.

I still remember all their names.

Romelyn used to come over often. When she moved away, I had a fever. She still dropped by to say goodbye, hugged me, and told me she’d miss me. I gave her a teddy bear to remember me by. Years later, she found me on Facebook and we reunited.

Lorraine came to hang out and watch TV. She always brought me handwritten lyrics of songs, she’s the reason I know Closer You and I. One time when we were headed to the mall, she tripped on the sidewalk. We laughed so hard we couldn’t breathe, we said she looked like a frog flattened on the cement. That memory still makes me smile.

Dolly always made this snack niyog na kinudkod with sugar. I don’t know the exact name, but it became my favorite. Even now, I try to recreate it, but nothing ever comes close. Dolly and I used to text each other quotes back and forth, back when Nokia phones were still a thing, simple messages that felt big at the time.

Criselda would invite us to her house since she wasn’t allowed out much. She had a strict guardian.

Elvi either came over to sing karaoke with us or invited me to her house. Sometimes we went to the mall because there was an internet café inside. She loved to play computer games there. It felt like such a treat.

I’ve tried searching for Dolly, Lorraine, and Elvi online, hoping to find a trace of them, some Facebook account, a name I’d recognize but no luck. Only Criselda and Romelyn have stayed in touch with me over the years.

I always invited Joselyn over because she came from a tough background. People bullied her for how she looked. She once invited me to her home, hidden behind a junk shop, built from scrap wood and old cart parts. It was so small. I was overwhelmed by empathy. After that, I made sure to always offer her my lunch, invited her to hang out at our place, and once gave her a Barbie doll. She cried and told me I was her best friend. She moved away not long after that. I never heard from her again.

Even as a child, I was aware that we were privileged, my parents both worked, we had a nice enough home, food, Barbie dolls, weekends at the mall, and Jollibee. Life only became difficult when my mom lost her job after her company shut down.

Then there was Danica. She had a cousin in our class too. I remember one afternoon after school, Danica suddenly knocked on our door in her uniform and said, “Let’s hang out.” I let her in. Then her cousin showed up, looking for her. Danica told me to lie, tell him she wasn’t with me. I thought it was a funny prank at the time, so I did. Her cousin just said, “I’m telling Tito,” and left. A few hours later, he came back: “Danica, Tito will come here if you don’t come out.” Danica’s face changed. I understand now, she was scared.

She eventually asked me to come with her to her house. I hesitated, but I didn’t think I did anything wrong. Danica had told me before that her dad was strict, always worried she’d get pregnant and drop out. When we arrived, her mom was quietly tending to her younger siblings. Danica stood in the corner, a punishment I recognized from my own childhood.

Then her dad spoke to me.

He told me to stand straight and face him. He wasn’t shouting. He was calm. Too calm. That kind of calm that makes you feel even smaller. He looked at me and said, “You seem like a good kid. Don’t play with or hang out with Danica. She’s a liar. Lying is bad. You might learn from her. This girl has a bad attitude.” He went on, and I don’t remember the exact words, but the message was clear, he kept belittling her in front of me. Danica stood there in silence, quietly crying.

I remember standing there, trying to understand what was happening. I told him we were just playing, but he kept insisting that Danica was a bad influence. That no matter how many times he warned her, she wouldn’t change. So I should be the one to stay away. I said yes, and he sent me home.

I still hung out with her after that, but I never let her stay past 3 PM. And even now, as an adult, I think about that moment. About Danica.

At the time, I didn’t know what to call it, but now I know, what I felt was heartbreak. Her father wasn’t cruel in the usual way. He wasn’t violent or loud. But in his fear of her future, he spoke of her like she was already a failure. Like she was already lost. And I realize now that maybe he did love her, in that strict, desperate way some parents do, trying to control what they fear. He was so afraid she’d take the wrong path, that he treated her like she already had. And maybe, in doing that, he pushed her toward the very thing he feared.

How lonely that must have felt for Danica. To be treated like a warning sign, even in front of a friend. I don’t know what their home life was truly like, but in that moment, I saw how a father’s fear could become a child’s burden. She wasn’t just grounded or scolded, she was made to feel like she wasn’t worth believing in.

I don’t want this to sound like I was better than her. I wasn’t. I was just lucky. And I don’t know why I suddenly remembered all this. Maybe because I saw Romelyn’s post on Facebook. She got married. I was invited to her wedding. She has a son now. And all of it came rushing back. The noise of our kitchen, the smell of pancakes and coconut, the giggles, the shared secrets, and the quiet sadness tucked in between.

The last time I saw Danica, I was in high school. She tapped me on the shoulder out of nowhere. I was shocked but happy. She told me she already had a child and had moved to the province. In college, she added me on Facebook. We talked a bit. She said she didn’t have a partner, had two kids, and was pregnant again. Then we drifted apart. That was the last time I heard from her.

And maybe that’s just how life works. People come and go, leaving behind echoes of who we were and who we became. But there’s a certain kind of memory. Sunlit, bittersweet, full of innocence and quiet grief that never really leaves you.

We were just kids.

And those were the days I learned what kindness, empathy, and silence could mean.

And how sometimes, love when tangled with fear can feel like something else entirely.

There are a lot more memories. I might write about them again someday. I don’t know, maybe if I feel like it.

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“I’m still learning to love the parts of me that no one claps for.”

— Rudy Francisco

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to all the people with good hearts, one day you'll get what you deserve.

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Rest in love, Tita Baby 🕊️

My heart is broken.

Last night, we lost someone so precious to us. Tita Baby.

She wasn’t just a tita. She helped raise us. Inalagaan niya kami simula pagkabata. She used to tell us we were her favorite nieces, and we felt it in everything she did. She was always there for every birthday, every celebration, every ordinary day made special just because she was part of it.

She gave us pillows, food, and gifts, but more than that, she gave us her laughter, her stories, her warmth. Her love.

I didn’t expect her to be gone this soon. She was just 51.

I imagined her growing old. Watching her kids graduate. Witnessing them live full, beautiful lives. I imagined her dying of old age someday, peaceful, surrounded by love. Not like this. Not because of some sickness that slowly took her away.

As hard as it is to accept, I’m trying to hold on to the one thing that gives me peace:

At least she’s not in pain anymore. Hindi na siya mahihirapan.

Still, the grief is unbearable.

Right now, it’s so quiet. But I can still hear her voice. Still hear her laugh.

I can still picture her singing Chiquitita by ABBA, her favorite. I’ll never hear that song the same way again. That song is her.

I called her the day before she let go. I told her we love her. I told her I miss her. I told her,

“Next time, magkukwentuhan ulit tayo. Malay mo may boyfriend na ulit ako nun.”

I hope she heard me. My God, I hope she knew.

I hope she knows I will always be her first child as a pamangkin.

I hope she knows how much I love her, even though our communication wasn’t always perfect or consistent.

Because my love for her never changed.

She was always the first to welcome us home in Bicol, and always the one crying the most when it was time to leave.

She was always present. Always loving. Always full of life.

And now she leaves behind three children, my young cousins, who now have to grow up without their mom. Her youngest is just 13.

Tita Baby never had it easy when it came to love or relationships. But she gave her entire heart to her kids. To us. To everyone she considered family. She was everything. Our second mom, our ka-kwentuhan, our safe place, our constant.

I will miss her birthday greetings.

I will miss her hugs.

I will miss her puting adobo.

I will miss her.

And Bicol… Bicol will never be the same again.

I spent every childhood summer there with her. Laughing. Talking all night. Just being loved.

I don’t have many pictures of her on my phone.

And right now, I’m too lonely to even look through old albums.

But I carry the memories in me. Her voice, her laughter, her love. That's what I’m holding onto.

Tita Baby, wherever you are, I hope you’re singing Chiquitita again. I hope you’re finally at peace. I hope you felt how deeply you were loved.

Because we love you. We miss you.

And we always will.

💔🕯️🌸

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I’m not one to celebrate someone’s downfall, but seeing them get a taste of their own medicine, feeling the pain they once caused me. It felt like poetic justice. The tables really do turn.

I won’t lie. I felt smug, even amused by the irony of it all. There’s a strange sense of justice when someone who hurt me ends up getting hurt in the same way. It’s not about revenge. It's about finally seeing the scales balance on their own.

I hold grudges. I won’t pretend I don’t. Especially against the people who made me miserable. But I also hold my integrity. I’d rather carry that than live with the shame of hurting someone who never deserved it.

At least I know I’d never stoop to their level. I’d never treat someone the way they treated me.

And maybe that’s why I think it’s okay to feel this quiet sense of justice. I was hurt deeply, betrayed, and never got an apology. I don’t think I have to force forgiveness or pretend I’m unaffected. Healing doesn’t always look pretty or gentle.

I get to watch life hand them the consequences they tried to escape. Not because I asked for it but because that’s how the universe works.

Healing isn’t linear. Some wounds don’t fully close, and some anger never fully leaves. But I’ve learned how to carry it without letting it harden me.

And if anything I hope what happened taught them something. Not for my sake but so they don’t leave the same damage in someone else’s life again.

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May 2025 Highlights:

- went camping at Camp Awol with my fave people. I loved the place. Tingin ko if mag camping ulit dito gusto ko bumalik. They have a lot of activities. We tried the wall climbing, the big swing, repelling, hanging bridge, and spider web. Pumlakda pa ko imbes na Anne Curtis fairy walk HAHAHA. They have ATV pero sabi namin next time na namin itry pag nakabalik. They also have river and falls! Super fun ng experience.

- celebrated my father's birthday. We went to Tagaytay Skyranch. Tried the zipline. Sayang di ako nakapag horseback riding kase umulan na ng malakas haha. We ate at Bulalo Capital then went home. Simple celebration lang.

- binilhan ko ng tali sa Cassie para sanayin para pag gagala makakasama siya. Kaso nung nilagyan ko ng tali hindi na gumalaw HAHAHAHA. Never kase nakaranas ng tali si cassie ever since. Binilhan ko din sila ng pool mat kase sa tanghali sobrang init. Si Qielli lang ang natuwa. Siya lang ang gumagamit ng gumagamit hahahaha.

- I cut my hair short again after 4 years. The last time i cut my hair short was in 2021. Sabi ko never ko papagupitan hanggat di ulit ako nagkaka-boyfriend kaso nabored ako sa mahabang buhok kaya pinagupitan ko na. Wala pa din akong boyfriend hahahahahahaha. Pero malay mo diba. Manifesting 🤣

Lots of adventures this month. 😊

Oh yeah! Taylor Swift finally owns all of her old records/albums! My swiftie heart is so happy! ✨🫶❤️

Here's the video of my doggos . Qielli trying to wrestle her ate Cassie. 🤣

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Andrea Gibson, from The Madness Vase. [ID in alt text]

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Hypothyroidism Journey

I wanted to share a bit about this journey I’ve been going through now that things are finally starting to make sense.

It actually started when I went in for a general check-up last April. Nothing felt seriously wrong, but I decided to get everything checked including a neck ultrasound. That’s when I found out I had a cyst. Further tests revealed that it was connected to my thyroid, and I was eventually diagnosed with hypothyroidism.

And suddenly, everything started to click.

I had been gaining weight so fast without understanding why. I wasn’t eating differently. In fact, I cut out rice at night, started eating more salads, and worked out daily but nothing was changing. I just kept gaining. I felt bloated all the time, constantly exhausted, like I couldn’t keep up with myself. Even the cold kahit mahina lang ang aircon, nanginginig na ako. I thought it was just because I get cold easily, but no, symptom pala yun.

One day, my co-worker said something that really stuck with me:

“Hirap maging babae minsan no? You have to choose your fight. PCOS or hypothyroidism. Hormones kalaban lagi ng babae.”

And I felt that in my soul.

There are days when I look at my body and feel so frustrated. People always say, “Love your body, be body positive, you’re still beautiful.” And while I appreciate the love and encouragement, sometimes it’s just really hard. Especially when you don’t recognize the person in the mirror. When you’re quietly mourning the version of you that felt strong, light, and full of life.

But I’m learning something: a woman’s body changes a lot. Physical, emotional, hormonal. And those changes don’t make us weak. They make us real. They make us resilient.

I still get sad sometimes. But I’m grateful the cyst turned out to be benign, not cancerous. I just need to monitor it closely with regular blood work, ultrasounds, and follow-ups. And with the help of my doctor and the support of the people who love me, I believe I’ll get through this.

If you’re going through something similar. Hormonally, physically, emotionally, please know you’re not alone. It’s okay to miss the old you, and still learn to love the version of you that’s healing, surviving, and trying every day.

This body might be struggling, but it’s still mine.

And I’m learning to be kinder to it.