here’s to brighter days
I feel like I’ve always lived in the dark. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fully aware that all my achievements combined since I was in preschool could fill an entire wall, just like in the movie Four Sisters and a Wedding, but there are days when I would feel insufficient. Maybe this is my imposter syndrome talking, but I’ve always had internal insecurity that I couldn’t address until I started regularly going to counseling and psychotherapy. I recognize that people have other ways to cope, but I want to point out how these methods helped me fix and accept what happened in the past, what’s happening in the present, and what I could do for the future.
Most of all, I think the biggest lesson here is learning to have acceptance in your system.
As a child, I would tend to compare myself to others: whether it may be about academic standings, number of gadgets, number of achievements per year, the list goes on. I think that the predominant one above everything else I mentioned is about beauty standards.
Standards in the media industry would always display women having fair complexion, especially here in the Philippines. I was born having fair skin, and there were times that people would assume that I’m mixed-race or something because I looked whiter compared to my peers. My grandmother shared that her ancestors had Spanish blood, but considering that the Spaniards conquered the country for more than 300 years, I don’t think that I would even have Spanish blood at all. All I know is that it is recessive for me.
Going back, I also was a victim of the whole fair skin frenzy. I remember using whitening products as early as elementary school, even if I looked like a ghost at times because I would get teased. Of course, considering that we were all immature at that point, I would retaliate to them, not fully comprehending the idea that words hurt and can affect one’s self-esteem.
There was a pattern when I was in elementary. When I was in 1st Grade, I made it to the first honors list, and it slowly dwindled until 4th Grade. I can’t recall what the exact reasons were. It could be because I spent more time watching Phineas and Ferb, Barefoot Contessa, Hannah Montana, Everyday Italian, and Gossip Girl collectively.
It could also be due to my feelings at the time — I was slowly getting uninterested in studying. I just wanted to watch TV more to fill in the void.
I love school and learning in general, but there were times that I felt incompetent and not good enough because my scores weren’t that high enough. I recall one teacher telling me in 6th Grade that my grades are dropping because I was in a relationship. For that person to assume that engaging in a relationship is the main reason why my rates are dropping is just absurd. If anything, it was one of the few reasons I decided to try to do better, even if there were times that I wanted to vanish in thin air.
It made me sad since my previous teachers were always motivating, and as I grew up, they just got disappointing. Not to discredit anyone; it’s just that some continue to use words that fuel insecurity towards students. They would tell us that our grades don’t define us, and yet, they dare to say to us that this student is better than you because they are more brilliant or something along the lines of that student put a lot more effort than you. I guess that some never accept that many factors surrounding students affect their level of understanding.
I remember getting scolded for passing out in the middle of class or feeling drowsy because I found the discussion redundant. Some would even scold me in front of everyone, which fuels my imposter syndrome and insecurities more.
I never learned to believe in myself as a child because I would get scolded in the lightest and pettiest of things even if I’m doing the best I can.
There were days that I would choose not to go to school, fearing that I would get picked on or scolded in front of the class. I would never forget that one teacher who told me that it’s okay that I was falling asleep in class — for he still sees that I’m still able to participate in class discussions and would give the correct answers. It was one of the happiest days of my life. At the time, it was the most validating message I got.
It’s frustrating, though, since the mean words never stopped. I tend to retaliate too, and I’m still working on that. I have improved [hello, character development], and I want to continue improving to the best of my abilities.
When I transferred schools by 8th Grade, I thought that I could start a clean slate. Aside from my cousins in elementary, no one knows me here, so I figured that I wouldn’t get teased anymore. And boy, was I wrong.
I read on the student handbook that all new students are under academic probation, and we would need to meet a certain threshold for us to stay for the next school year. Since this is a second chance in life, I told myself that I would do my best in academics. I was able to do that — but it didn’t come easy.
During the first quarter of the academic year, I already got bullied for the most random reason. A few of my classmates were talking behind my back, telling things such as 1) I have ugly teeth because they are crooked [this forced me to get braces even if I didn’t have plans to until the following year] and that 2) I have an ugly voice. See, my voice is raspy. It has been raspy ever since the beginning of my existence. It was good that I didn’t stutter when I transferred; it would give them more reasons to pick on me.
It’s like having a white paper with the tiniest smudge of dirt — I know that I’m enough, and yet, people would only notice the smudge of dirt, not the entire paper.
It was frustrating because whenever I wouldn’t have the ability to speak [my voice would be hoarse, and I have little to no vote], I would still do my best to participate in recitations by writing my answers on my whiteboard. I know I shouldn’t resent my body, but could you blame me if you were in my position? I remember crying at night because my insecurities would pile up, and it would affect my workflow. I would get annoyed that I was letting their words consume me and that counseling was barely helping at that point. It was as if the system was failing me.
I honestly find it weird that those bullies are now the ones who are experiencing the opposite. Is this how the universe works? I would never know. And I wouldn’t want to know either.
It’s also depressing knowing that I’m achieving a lot to get back at my bullies — but it never filled that hole. If anything, it just fueled my resentment more. However, I’m glad that I was able to get the achievements I had in high school. I never thought that I would receive a perfect 100 in the Technology and Livelihood Education subject, a rare occurrence since, from what I know, the highest Grade given before was around 98–99. I was ecstatic about that, yet one of my friends was mad as hell — considering that her Grade was only approximately 96-98. Like dude, grades don’t define you as a person. If anything, it reflects your character.
The way we react to things is one thing, and sometimes, we never realize that it has the potential to hurt others.
Maybe one of the reasons why I tend to get insecure easily is since growing up, I rarely received validation. I would use academics to fill in the void that I was seeking, and whenever I would not meet my expectations, I’d end up invalidating myself in the process. It’s a thing that is hard to unlearn, and even after more than three years of counseling and psychotherapy, I still ask that question a million times.
How do I unlearn invalidating myself? How can I tell others that they shouldn’t do it, and yet, I can’t even do it?
I remember one particular day when I was in 11th Grade. My teacher was showing us our Midterm Grades, and I was hoping to get a decent grade that’s enough to qualify for the honors list. Before she showed my grades, she asked me if I was running for honors. Jokingly, I said that “No, Ma’am, I’m begging for honors.” It was a joke at the time, but come to think of it, it was me unconsciously seeking validation through academics, again.
If my memory serves me, right before our teacher released our grades, she told us this iconic line that I would forever remember until this day:
Kailangan may acceptance sa katawan. [You need to have acceptance from within].
I never knew how I could translate that line in my life until things around me went downhill.
I would never deny that one of the reasons I got depressed was because things around me were collectively falling apart. The idea of depression was pretty new to me, and even if I experienced terrible things as a child, I certainly couldn’t grasp what happened to me until I sought help.
When I had my first counseling session, I told my counselor that aside from feeling depressive, I thought that I had PTSD as well. Maybe the 18-year-old in me figured that being subjected to trauma equates to PTSD immediately. That isn’t the case, though. Over almost two years, I went to counseling weekly. There were moments when I would stare at the wall, and there were times when I would remember random memories that I blacked out.
Then, I said that maybe seeking help isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Being someone who is used to being independent, I always found it hard to ask for help. I was always the one helping, not the one who was receiving support. I would ask for tips from my classmates, but I would rarely admit that I could not understand what we were supposed to do. Too much pride, I guess.
Another factor that comes to my mind is that one of my responsibilities was to care for my younger cousin when I was five years old. I would help him eat and accompany him while watching cartoons. Of course, we would constantly bicker at each other because he wants to watch Batman, and I want to watch Dora the Explorer. Since I’m the eldest among my cousins, I always take care of them during school vacations. It was fine since I love spending time with them, but it also made me think about what I could do during those breaks. I asked many questions, and I had a lot of what-ifs in my mind up to this day.
My former school offered Summer Classes on multiple things, and I always wondered if I pursued badminton, ballet, or clarinet at that age. I never got the chance to study ballet or clarinet, but I’m good at ballroom dancing [cha-cha-cha, jive, waltz], folk dance, contemporary; and playing the soprano recorder and lyre xylophone. I still know how to play badminton, so I guess life didn’t turn out that bad. I studied Robotics at an early age, but I felt discouraged when I tried it for a second time as I found my coach condescending.
I just never showed my talents that much since I always thought that people are better in me, when in fact, I could match their levels as well.
The past four years felt like the Renaissance era to me. Even if I thought that my life was falling apart, I could also rekindle many of my passions.
I felt so alone during 11th and 12th Grade, but I managed to thrive in neglect for some reason.
Around February 2018, I learned that our physical education class would consist of different types of dance. I loved dancing, but it was also problematic since I was treating my sinus problems. Rigorous dances would quickly exhaust me, so it was a big problem. I did enjoy dancing during class, though, especially when our dance was the cha-cha-cha. My teacher is a former Bayanihan dancer, and he was my partner in class since I didn’t have a partner. Surprise!
At first, I was nervous since I hadn’t danced in a while. The last time I danced in front of many people was in 10th Grade.
Luckily, I had a good time learning to dance again. I recall this one particular Friday when we were practicing in class, and my teacher complimented me because I could follow the song’s beat without counting aloud. I felt happy. Muscle memory did not fail me at all.
I had to stop dancing in the middle of the semester, though, since we found out I had heart issues—the literal one, not the figurative one. That problem adding up to my sinus issues, was one of the most challenging semesters I had to face. I wanted to finish, but my body said no, so I didn’t.
During my first ever internship [well, technically, it was coined as work immersion], I felt conflicted. I discovered many new things that I could do, but I also realized many things that I don’t. It was concerning since some of the people there would vape inside the premises, and since I have asthma, I was scared to death. My grandfather was a chain smoker, and it gave him emphysema in his later years, and that fact scared me. What’s funny is it never got solved. Another problem I had, some consider it a rite of passage, was being tasked to pick up things for my supervisors. Yes, the typical “you’re an intern, buy me a coffee” scenario. I never understood the concept of that idea; why can’t you buy your own? Don’t you have feet? Lol
Once I became a supervisor of something, I told myself that I would never do that to my people. How you treat people isn’t an episode of Grey’s Anatomy where Dr. Bailey assigns Alex to be the scut monkey, this is real life, people. Geez.
After graduating high school, I felt a sigh of relief — maybe I could move on from the sadness and go on with my life.
Wrong.
When I was on a 48-hour psych hold, I recognized a lot of things. Maybe my intentions were not to end things — perhaps I just wanted for the problems to end.
I went to college then dropped out. It is a known fact, and I would never deny that. When I parted ways with that school, I began soul searching. I would explore things I had never done before. I would ride motorcycles going to Makati, and it was an exhilarating feeling. I honestly felt that I could fly.
I studied how to bake and cook recipes that I had never tried before, and I enjoyed it. My first batch of brownies was an epic fail, though. I tried it for a second time, and it was still a failure. I didn’t give up, and for the third time, I tried again. I asked my friend who bakes to go here [Hi, Albert] to pick up the test batch and taste it to see how it tastes and what I could improve on. I recall his mom saying that it tasted delicious and I should go to culinary school. Maybe I’d pursue that one day, but I’m not particularly eager to cook every day, so that isn’t a possibility in the foreseeable future.
I tried and tried until I was able to master the art of baking. The main takeaway I have is never to give up, even if things feel shitty, even if it feels like the world is falling on your head and you have nowhere to go.
Returning to school a year ago was, of course, life-altering. It challenged me in ways I never thought I could face, and I received a lot of brain stimulation, which I always longed to have.
And everything went downhill again. Is this the circle of life? I honestly don’t know.
As much as I hated drastic changes in my life, I knew that I needed to accept them at some point. In the spirit of being open-minded, I did my best to ask questions from most, if not all, of my professors. I would always ask for feedback, and I would accept it wholeheartedly. However, I contested my scores one time since that instructor did not reveal her rubrics during the first day. [Kasi naman, bakit hindi ni-reveal agad. Lol]
It never registered in my mind until a few months ago that maybe this isn’t the life I had always aspired to have, but for some reason, even if there are days, weeks even, that suck — I am still able to pursue a lot of opportunities that I never got to do as a child.
It’s funny because I thought I would never be able to do this, yet I’m doing it!
I knew that my writing was good, above average maybe, but I’m glad that I have people correcting me as I go. I find it fun, even if it’s exhausting at times since my software crashes when it senses that I’m starting to panic.
I admit that I’m still horrible at drawing anatomy or reading super deep terms that I never knew existed, but I feel somewhat getting there. [Somewhat, because I’m honestly not sure about that. I’m scared to know.] Admitting and allowing myself to be bad at things helped a lot. If anything, it made me grow as a person.
I still haven’t met the one — wherever he may be, but at least I’m receiving character development. That’s still something.
They would always say that there’s a rainbow after the rain. For someone who lived in the shadows, it took a lot of strength to accept that.
I’m still mastering the art of genuinely accepting things, but I will get there somehow. Some things happened, and even if some almost destroyed me, I feel that someday, I’ll know the reasons why those happened.
One of the reasons I chose to share this, even though it seems random and all over the place [I consider this brain vomit, btw], was because of Blessing Offor’s song, Brighter Days. Of course, as a true Grey’s Anatomy fan, I listened to this song.
It was as if the lyrics of this song were speaking to me, saying that everything would be alright.
Oh, ashes fall from burning dreams
Oh, never lived through times like these
Oh, if you’re trying hard to breathe in the dark
In the darkI know there’s gonna be some brighter days
I swear that love will find you in your pain
I feel it in me like the beating of life in my veins
I know there’s gonna be some brighter days
I know there’s gonna be some brighter daysOh, if your screams don’t make a sound
Oh, if your walls are crashing down
Oh, if your heart just cries too loud all the timeI know there’s gonna be some brighter days
I swear that love will find you in your pain
I feel it in me like the beating of life in my veins
I know there’s gonna be some brighter days
I know there’s gonna be some brighter days
— excerpt from Brighter Days by Blessing Offor
Acceptance. Courage. Strength. It exists out there, somewhere.
