My Post Partum Diaries (ep3)

Three months left of my maternity leave and where are we now?

Not doing yoga.

Not running enough.

Not eating healthy.

Not on a reading frenzy.

Not rocking a side hustle.

Not even back to my pre pregnancy weight.

I’ve been thinking about what I can do for myself when the days get easier.

Some days do feel like I’ve made it to easier. Most days I still feel like it’s really hard.

They say the years are short. They won‘t be little that long.

And I do enjoy it, I really do.

But I also miss bits of myself I’ve had to put in the closet to make way for motherhood. And I think that’s okay.

Slowly, when the easier comes and goes, when the hard gets harder or more manageable.

Maybe I can bring the little bits out again. Or maybe I can clear the closet for other bits I have yet to discover with in me.

My Post Partum Diaries (ep2)

Have you ever had a moment in the newborn stage when you’re in the middle of “me time” after baby finally slept and you think, whatever happened to Ira Cruz? And so instead of sleeping when the baby sleeps, you fall into the trap of a social media investigative dive, all the way to the bottom of the grid (shame), ignoring the fact that any minute now you’re baby will stir and wake. Babies feed every 2-3 hours FYI. You just missed an opportunity for a much needed snooze but atleast you got an answer to your ever important question.

Well, Ira Cruz and the rest of the Bamboo band seem to be doing perfectly fine according to my stalking. And funnily enough, the entire scrolling process had me re- listening to the OPM of my youth. At the same time opening the flood gates to pleasant memories when Panagbenga was THE event to look forward to in the City of Pines.

Right in the thick of the newborn stage, I put my baby to sleep, wear the airpods, search for Bamboo, Kapatid, Eraserheads, Sino Sikat, Urbandub, Franco, etc… whilst sterilising bottles and fixing the abode for next day’s mothering shift. My playlist has changed in so many ways through the years, and listening to songs I used to store in that fake mp3 player I bargained from Centremall (I just had to emphasize that), brought such delightful nostalgia. Every generation has a thing. Back in our days, THE band was THE thing. And so every college student was looking forward to the end of Panagbenga, when Session was in bloom with booze and bands. And everywhere was a stage from Melvin Jones to Athletic Bowl, SM and ofcourse the rotonda where we watched Bamboo live. Where I spotted Ira Cruz from a far for the first time ever and thought what a fine human being. He still is mighty fine BTW.

As a person who was tagged a “single listener”, or not having enough patience to listen to entire album catalogues, (I choose my battles thank you very much), I somehow ended up spending majority of my newborn me time listening to OPM albums from start to finish. Specifcally repeating Bamboo’s Light Peace Love and Kapatid’s well, Kapatid. No, Ira Cruz has nothing to do with it, obviously. Ofcourse the former Up Dharma Down will always be my bias (hello Gen Z). Capacities was the soundtrack of my early twenties, without a doubt. I never really followed OPM after that era, but thanks to how easy it is to source music these days I’ve been introduced to a new roster. More diverse, more quirky, and I believe more accepting than the previous. I don’t think poser is a word that gets thrown often these days. I’ve been digging IV of Spades and Dilaw (ehem Begyow), although I think they should drop the over the top wagwag fashown, but that’s just me.

If I could choose a next concert to go to with my bb, I would really love to see Tom Misch or Muse if bb is older. I would also love another Opera House concert with maybe Penguin Cafe Orchestra. But sincerely if Bamboo the band decides to do a “reunion concert” in Sydney, I will probably do overtime to score tickets.

My Post Partum Diaries

Eight months into this mothering gig and here I am. Maybe less anxious, maybe more confident, brimming with baby love and the most sleep deprived I’ve ever been in my life. I was never a heavy sleeper to begin with but what in the hell is going on with post partum insomnia?

When my child is sound asleep but I cannot for the love of coffee fall asleep, is just a whole new level of torture. And don’t get me started with sleep regressions and teething episodes. Those belong to an entirely separate universe I dare not visit.

So when I got the snotty nose three times in less than 6 months, I knew it was time for a major change. I am at 8 kilos more than my ideal weight, but I have accepted and have come to terms with what I see in the mirror, flabs and all. What I cannot accept is this over all feeling of weakness. Of taking so long to recover from a simple runny nose despite loading with fluids and vitamins.

And so after a much needed recharge but not really a rest period in the hometown, here we are putting this running pram into what its actually for. It sucks to start all over again in fitness but I am positive this maybe the answer to my post partum problems. Babylove endorphins are the best but I need the sweating it out endorphins too. This is my 2nd week attempting to somehow be consistent in the running department again. It’s a slow as effff start but can I just say, I am damn proud of myself huhu.

Letters to Lakan

My dearest brave little boy,

On your 6th month, we swapped the half a year celebrations for a visit to the children’s hospital. The whirlwind of the past few weeks since your first referral has led us to words we’ve been dreading but relieved to hear. Words that pinched mommy and daddy’s heart, but at the same time answered all these lingering questions surrounding your peculiar condition. The specialist doctor was very gentle and reassuring, still it hurt knowing I had to sign you off for surgery very early on in your life.

On the days leading up to your operation, I swore to avoid breaking down, not even a tear, especially not in front of you. Which I never did by the way. I felt however, rather floating. Just floating in air with all the thoughts in my head that led to forgetting small things in your routine. Like putting oil in your bath water, or cleaning your mouth before your night sleep. Some days I imagined worst case scenarios. Other days I go through everything that happened and analyse which part we missed, or which part we may have done wrong. And it’s a shame to admit there were also moments when I thought atleast its not this or that. Which made me feel all the more terrible because truthfully others have it worse and nobody deserves any of that. Not children. Your daddy in most days would snap me out of it and say everything will be okay. And we go on and on with conversations that start with “the doctor said”. It was an exhausting process. As first time parents completely oblivious to even the simplest of child rearing, me and daddy were lost somehow. If not for my theatre nurse background, we could’ve never been found. Despite the worry, I was confident in the system I’ve always championed as a health care worker. I was confident you were going to be in good hands.

We woke up early on your big day and hauled you off to admissions just before your call time. And we waited and waited. I kept counting the hours and minutes since your last feed and I was starting to feel edgy but surprisingly you were content looking at unfamiliar faces and spaces. You even slept on daddy’s arms without as much as a little cry. It was getting close to 4 hours of waiting when someone with a big smile came calling your name. Thankfully you have yet to register stranger danger, and so you simply looked into my eyes as they swooped you away. We went for a quick caffeine fix before making our way to the parent waiting room. We had to keep our voices down. It was a small space and other parents were waiting too.

Me and daddy were deep into reminiscing our beginnings for whatever reason when the surgeon came to say everything went well and we have nothing to worry about. The short conversation made me feel my feet slowly fall back to the ground. We couldn’t thank her enough. Then they called your name, “parents of Mattheo”. We walked fast to find you at the very end. I held you as you cried uncomfortably with all the usual contraptions. You went straight for the boobie. I don’t blame you for that. And you kept trying and trying even with blood in your mouth. I had to ask daddy to call the nurse because you were chesty and I thought you needed suctioning. The nurse calmly said there was no need and you were fine, something I could’ve also said if the roles were reversed. A few more tries and you managed to swallow. Until you stopped crying, and eventually started feeding, making up for all those hours you were fasted. The numbers on the screen were really good so they moved us to the reclining chairs. All this time your eyes were shut, nursing and sleeping intermittently. Just when daddy came back from the toilet, you propped yourself upright and opened your eyes wide. We were so emotional looking at you smile as if you just woke up from a very good nap.

We went home on the same day mentally preparing for a tough night thinking it must be painful having surgery at a very young age. But you were instantly back to your usual self. We didn’t even have to give you Panadol. When the hospital rang after a few days to check on you, I had nothing much to say except you were doing perfectly fine. Daddy said maybe this was your way of telling us not to worry too much. Maybe we just have to believe in you and your small milestones.

We say a little prayer before you go to sleep, something I made sure to be part of your bed time routine. I am not as spiritual as I would like to be but having you, I learned to say my little prayers again, just like when I was a little girl. Even big prayers whenever anxiety crept up on me. We have always been a tight unit since we welcomed you to this world, and surviving this ordeal I know has made us even closer. I kept teasing daddy slowly becoming my housemate but this was a reminder of why I chose daddy in the first place. That daddy is my better half, my partner in sickness and in health.

My darling baby, this is just one of many experiences we will have to share together, good or bad. I have come to accept that. Coming out of this, I do feel like a completely different person, as though something in me switched off. And somehow there is a sense of calm and encouragement to keep moving forward.

I look back and recall my old life with such judgement. I used to roll my eyes whenever parents get priority over annual leave, or when they’re excused to take lesser on calls. Seeing yet another perspective, I found an elevated level of respect for parents who are simply doing their best. It hits different when its your turn. There is a lot of guilt over past thoughts and opinions, a lot of thinking over and self talk “kastoy gayam”. Nevertheless darling, what else to say other than we take things one day at a time. We rewired and re booked everything to finally bring you to our beloved hometown. And today, can you believe we are down to just a few days of vacation left? To think we thought all of these might not happen as we planned. Once I read motherhood is a never ending cycle of worry. Well, I can say we have moved past one cycle. And here’s to the start of another one……

Teething.

Slow Travel (part 1)

Travel. To go from one place to another. Leisure travel. To go from one place to another for enjoyment and relaxation. (Oxford Dictionary)

I’ve been thinking about my recent “leisure travel”. Or rather, the evolution of leisure travel throughout my life so far. Beginning as a mountain girl in the Cordilleras, and now a professional *suture counter* navigating the cost of living crisis, and navigating my own dose of mid life crisis somewhere down under.

Growing up, travel was simple. Mostly family oriented affairs involving nauseating bus rides to the Mountain Province or quick trips to the hot and humid low lands. When I started earning my own money, travel was still simple. Albeit this time, spent more with friends on weekend trips to the beach for beers and sunset.

Then I left the comforts of my hometown. Despite seasonal bouts of homesickness, life abroad opened my existence to options I have never imagined myself to choose from. Including leisure travel way beyond beers and sunsets. After my first trip to Europe I kept wanting to see more. The experiences, even the most basic were completely mesmerising in the eyes of my 3rd world country upbringing. I took plenty of pictures and even made lengthy blog posts about literally everything. From eating pizza Margherita in Naples, walking around the ruins of Pompeii, seeing the Roman Colosseum and the Eiffel tower for the first time, listening to a boys choir in Vienna, to camel rides at sunset in the Zagora desert.

And then the pandemic came. And everything stood still. And as a healthcare worker, unnecessary travel became public enemy number one. The sheer realness and chaos of that thing called COVID just smacked me in the face and made me evaluate my life in depths I have never reached before. In isolation, I went on a series of self judging rampage. I’ve been choosing to romanticise leisure travels. A weird flex, which meant downplaying and sometimes completely ignoring uncomfortable truths in my experiences.

The truth is that as a Filipino citizen, I have had to scrupulously organise these leisure travels from collating necessary paperwork to scheduling appearances. All for the glory of having a special paper stamped on my passport. Of course to lessen my chances of becoming a person of interest in every immigration counter I have had to pass through, even in my own country of birth, believe it or not. I get by with “it is what it is”, and focusing all my energy and effort into another lost in translation scene. But also a bit humiliated having to prove myself “legal” and “capable” over and over again. A rise in heart rate nearing the end of border control is very much unnecessary. Passport is a privilege. 

Or the garbage situation travelling around the Philippines, even in other southeast Asia countries. Bali, despite being the backdrop to my now husband’s surprise proposal, was also where I narrowly avoided stepping on a medical syringe with a needle while walking barefoot towards a beautiful water falls. Talk about grounding. And how do you reconcile going somewhere unfamiliar for your enjoyment and break the routine moment knowing very well these people catering to your perfect holiday are not exactly in the same position? “To holiday” is not normal for everyone. 

At some point I just withdrew from all of it. And to be fair there is also enjoyment in staying still and languishing over the joy of missing out. To think settling is such a challenging concept to conquer for my generation, but all was and is well, thank you very much. Surprisingly, settling with someone is an enjoyable adventure on its own. I may still balk at the idea of more than a 2 hour drive, and the cost of living crisis is as real as it can get. Nevertheless we do what we have to do to survive. Wait what? Okay, somewhere in between I booked a couple of semi long flights for a break the routine comeback. In a twist of post pandemic events, I lost my quarantine headspace. Or so I thought. 

To be continued…

Your Mountain Girl’s Unpretentious Guide to Homecomings that Matter Most

Yesterday, I saw snow continuously falling from grey skies, painting my outside window a gloomy white. I stared intently and thought about who I would love to be beside me then, to keep me warm in between cuddles and coffee sips. Until I forced myself to cut the drama and make breakfast instead. We do what we need to do to make the blues go away.

Today, I woke up to sweet sunshine peeking from my curtains. Thank you universe. I am on the 6th and I suppose the last day of my post international travel isolation, given another negative result (keep going immune system woot woot!). And although I still have that pinch in my heart, thinking about home and everything that happened in my almost 5 weeks of homecoming bliss, somehow, the long hours and today’s ray of light have cradled me to breathe easy and move forward. In fact, I have finally changed my bed sheets, and just last night did a 30 minute low impact work out. Since we reverted back to messenger conversations, Grant mentioned how this recent parting felt like the first time again, more heavy, more difficult to shake off. I couldn’t agree more. Believe me I cried, and have done nothing but rely on the Internet to pass time, but the Igoy taraki spirits are strong. We must help ourselves to make the blues go away.

And as I enjoy my last free day before heading back to shifts, PPE’s and redeployment, I shall once again rewind these wonderful, wonderful memories from my recent downtime at home. Not to sulk but rather to be grateful. All those days spend frolicking around Baguio and La Trinidad. Another version of your mountain girl’s unpretentious guide to homecomings that matter most.

• I was determined to continue keeping active whilst on vacation. And of course, every true blue Baguio resident will know the best short trail hike/run to go to is in John Hay. There’s another path to follow leading towards Happy Hollow right after that gate to the US embassy, but who would want to play chase with barking dogs running around? In La Trinidad, my morning runs were around strawberry farm and BAPTC, towards the oval in BSU, and one time towards Mt. Kalugong. One daring day, we ran/ walked from Puguis to Ambassador Tublay, all for the sake of barako in D’Ridge which is a modest cafe strategically situated along the hiway, and overlooking the mountains of Benguet. And of course, Burnham Park and Athletic Bowl are still hosting a variety of exercise activities every early morning. I am extremely pleased with more and more Northeners keeping active and resorting to healthy habits. Although, I would recommend runs to be done very early in the morning. Traffic has long been a problem in our city, and it’s just gotten worse over the years. The disgusting fumes from all the cars passing by are unbearable and extremely dangerous when inhaled continuously. In other days we went for short hikes to Mt. Yangbew via Tawang road. Sunsets are most beautiful here, sometimes even showing a sea of clouds. On our last hike, we exited to Shilan and had siopao and pansit at Marosan’s for a late breakfast.

• Ahhhhh the cafe life. When I moved to the UK some 5 years ago, and having travelled around Europe, I was most struck with the cafe culture. It reminded me so much about cafe life in the Cordilleras. At the same time, it introduced me to the inviting world of lattes, cappucinnos, cortados, and flat whites. Which I have appreciated in a way because back home, I remember these options used to be so out of reach for me. But now, cafe life in Baguio is thriving more than ever. Barako is still a household staple, the coffee section in Hanger is still active, and lattes are no longer just a Starbucks affair. Somewhere along the road I have become a mocha person, sorry but I don’t fare well with pure black coffee, and surprisingly I’ve enjoyed the cups of mocha I so eagerly ordered around the City. I like mine hot, not scorching, tasting and smelling like freshly ground beans, with a bit of chocolate to slightly offset the bitterness. Just like what I grab in London every after a day off run. But of course, I also like my Barako alternately, and I like mine with evaporated milk or creamer. Some days, if there’s too much crowd, we simply bring our coffee with us and park somewhere quiet.

• My all time favourite season in Baguio is the sweater weather beginning in the ber months, all the way to Panagbenga. I love dressing up in knit wear, boots and scarves while walking around the City, running errands and getting things done. In the afternoons, we meet friends for coffee or milk tea(ugh) and wait for beautiful sunsets to unfold. Although a portion of the City sky line has changed drastically over the years, I’m still so enamoured by Baguio with the blue skies, pretty cloud arrangements, sun shining bright, and cold crisp air floating about. The food scene in our City has also become quite impressive. As a returning resident, I chose to reunite with the basics first, care of Good Taste, morning taho and those vegetarian meals in Health 101. Out of curiosity, we gave this exclusive dining trend sprouting around Benguet a try, and sadly it wasn’t an exceptional experience. One afternoon, we spontaneously drove along Ambuklao Road, all the way to Adunot river. Just enjoying the fresh air and the majestic view. I recognise the increasing number of attractions not just in Baguio, but also in neighbouring towns, but honestly I didn’t feel the need to see something new. Session road alone, gave me that much needed comfort I’ve been longing as an overseas worker.

I did not put specifics this time, with what to eat or where to buy coffee. As I’ve said in one of my social media posts, one thing I gained from this pandemic homecoming is truly appreciating the beauty and comfort of staying still. For 5 weeks I merely lingered around my hometown and did ordinary things with people I hold close to my heart. I refused to seek more and found contentment in the usual. It feels rather euphoric to say all of that. Now the challenge is how I would react once this pandemic situation comes to an end. I have doubts quite frankly but I trust myself to have realised what matters most in various aspects of my life. Let’s wait and see 🙂

Of Homecomings in Stranger Times (swabs, more caffeine, and pretty afternoon skies)

In the not so interesting life of your quintessential OFW, airport dwellings and homecomings are the spices that keep life savoury and scorching. Well a few days into this version of my homecoming and wow, I can’t even begin my narration. In February of this year, when “the” novel virus started making rounds globally, I was hell-bent to spend 3 weeks in the Ph for the sake of using my hard earned paid leave. As an overseas healthcare worker who reap the benefits of free annual flu vaccinations, I concluded the media making an exaggerated fuss about a virus I’m sure I will overcome, should I get infected. I was overly confident to the extent of spending an entire day dealing with customer service to make sure I get to rebook my flight accordingly. I did become an airport dweller that February. I walked around my hometown and ate every food I missed. Met some friends, visited old bookshops, and went bargain hunting. I even spent a week road tripping in Palawan with allergic rhinitis, and it was helluva fun. Just your usual OFW homecoming, not anticipating the unimaginable horror I, or should I say we came to face, the moment I stepped back to my overseas reality.

Stop. Block. Breathe. We all have a quarantine/ lockdown story to tell. And it breaks my heart to see sacrifice and suffering invalidated over and over and over again. Wait, pause. I refuse to dwell further into the black hole of conspiracy theories, anti vaxxers, pandemic deniers, political circus, pointless social issues, and so on, and so on. Whatever happened has passed, and I am grateful for still breathing, all the more for standing where I am now. But to appreciate now, I must acknowledge the harrowing days which led me here. The days of uncertainty, my risk assessment, slowly shifting routines, and getting used to more aggressive hygiene practices. It confuses me to feel confident and say I have done my part. I know I did whatever I could, what was asked, and instructed of me. It confuses me because I’ve been longing for another homecoming, and I know I deserve this more than anything else. But why do I feel differently right now?

Selfish. That’s the first word I thought of the moment the news spread about another variant. More “potent”, more “infectious”. I have just arrived in Baguio. I am home, but I felt I wasn’t meant to be standing here. I’m not supposed to be anywhere near here. I was being too selfish. Shouldn’t I be there, helping out and covering my colleagues? What If I am a carrier? What if I’m a super spreader? What havoc will I be bringing to this beautiful pine city?

There were so many what ifs floating in my head. For crying out loud I had been in close contact with my family and my fiancé everyday since I arrived. On top of that, I knew I was being reckless, parading around town and relying too much on my antigen self test kit, social distancing, constant mask changes and these flimsy plastic face shields that have become the ultimate nuisance in my gallivanting. But another part of me was fighting back and questioning why should I burden myself with a situation I can no longer rewind, nor erase? This was meant to be a very special homecoming. I can still control the situation.

A massive stupendous sigh of relief. That’s what I felt right after reading my second negative PCR test whilst on Philippine soil. Call me lucky or plain strong (thanks immune system), but having gone through 3 airports and a long haul flight with impossible social distancing, I was in euphoria to still be not a carrier. I wasn’t spreading anything malicious after all. After the new year festivities I sort of became more relaxed and at ease to continue my vacation. I started seeing friends and going to places. I have re focused on why I insisted to be home in the first place.

And what really is your point babbling about this? To fellow OFWs wanting to go home or are actually at home right now. BE EXTREMELY CAREFUL. DON’T BE RECKLESS (like me), TAKE EXTRA PRECAUTIONS not only for your safety but for everyone around you. I know how it feels. You worked so hard, maybe the hardest you’ve done so far. You are at the tipping point holistically. You feel like breaking down. You just miss home. You deserve a break. Trust me I get you, but now is the moment to gather that 20 seconds of intense courage, to move past what you feel and consider a greater deal of what’s happening around you. Do it if permitted, but no matter how infuriating it is, follow the rules if you see no harm. Keep your distance and curate your holidays to something simple yet meaningful and safe.

30 Day Writing Challenge (part 2)

19. Discuss your first love.

My first love are my parents. Charot! My first love is a tragic story of a deep friendship lost over immaturity and societal expectations to stop talking to people from your past. Even if one has moved way beyond that romantic aspect of things. And merely holds in her soul a friendship born out of heartaches, and wrong decisions and eventually care and understanding.

20. Post about three celebrity crushes.

In the past I had a major crush on Victor Basa, ho ho ho. And that guy with washboard abs, who undoubtedly is the poster child of San Juan’s surfing scene. I followed him on IG and left a comment that I had been crushing on him, and he followed me back, which was like woaahhh wtf. Eventually he unfollowed me hahahahahahah. And, hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm oh yes, I used to have a major major crush on Shia Lebouf, when he was still Even Stevens. But then he became weird. I did just watch Peanut Butter Falcon on Netflix, and I thought he was good in that movie.

21. What three lessons do you want your children to learn from you.

If given the chance to have children someday, I really wish for them to be aware of the natural world. I wish for them to live their lives in a manner where they do what they want to do but at the same time considering their surroundings. I want them to choose their actions wisely and not be easily swayed. Of course I shall also teach them the ways of the Igorot people. That they mustn’t forget their heritage and they should be proud of their roots. And trust me, I shall teach my children proper skin care from the day they learn to wash their faces by themselves.

22. Put your music on shuffle and post the first ten songs.

These songs came from my very old playlist, when I managed to secure my sister’s old iPod as my own. They come from long hours downloading torrents and converting YouTube videos to audio files. har har.

-If I ever feel better by Phoenix. Ahhhh Phoenix, one of my favourite bands ever. I watched them once in Alexandra Palace and it was amazing. I was singing and dancing like crazy.

-Reconcile by Love Me Butch. I downloaded their album because of Hollywood Holiday. And I also like We Are All You’ve Got, specially in days when I feel like an oppressed, overworked and underpaid employee, sigh.

-Stir It Up by Bob Marley & the Wailers. My vivid memories of Bob Marley songs were in high school. Watching my father getting tattooed by my cousin’s friend, while they were swinging 2×2 down their throats and Bob Marley singing on the background.

-Wish you were by Radiohead. This is a cover of Pink Floyd’s song, which I read is a song about Sid Barrett. What a tragic tragic story.

-I dance Alone by Toe. One of my dreams is to watch Toe live someday. Hopefully in Japan.

-Stellar by Incubus. When I got my sister’s iPod, she had all these Incubus songs in it. Literally all the songs and albums. Although I wasn’t as obsessed with Incubus as she was, I kept the songs and from time to time relished on Brandon Boyd’s singing. What is up with all these Brandons in music eh?

-Kisapmata by Rivermaya. One of those OPM classics you randomly sing to while walking or whichever activity you’re doing.

-The Voiceless by And So I Watch You From A Far. Ahhhhhhhhhhh shoe gaze music.

-To Be Young by Ryan Adams. I found Ryan Adams because of NME’s top albums list.

-Baby by Warpaint. Sometimes I have this girl power moment when I only listen to female singers. From Company of Thieves to Now Now, BP Valenzuela, Alabama Shakes, Gillian Welch, and Warpaint.

23. A letter to someone, anyone.

Dear Self, be cool but don’t freeze. Hang in there. The blues shall pass.

24. Write about a lesson you’ve learned the hard way.

Hmmmmmmmm. I guess having this intense desire in the past to leave my hometown and relocate somewhere acceptable in my terms. Thinking that life abroad would be great with all the travel opportunities and concerts and museums and culture I can immerse myself into. Realising soon after how life away from home can be really difficult and lonely. Sometimes we long for something new and exotic. We always champion the idea of stepping out of one’s comfort zone. But really in the long run, the heart will end up wanting what it always had. In my case, my hometown and my family.

25. Think of any word. Search it on google images. Write something inspired by the 11th image.

So I wrote Baguio, and the 11th image is a picture of the City at night. Pardon my dramatics but I just really miss home, and with how things are playing out right now, it’s making me miss home more.

26. Write about an area of your life that you’d like to improve

My social skills. lol.

27. Conversely, write about something that’s kicking ass right now.

So I’m really proud of sticking to my minimalism goals. I didn’t even buy anything on Black Friday.

28. Post five things that make you laugh out loud.

-That Modern Family episode where Lily is introduced to the family.

-Old Bretman Rock videos.

-Jimmy Kimmel’s I ate all your Halloween candy.

-Just recently those Donald Trump SNL skits.

-My niece!!!!! Her name is Cayenne Aiko.

29. What are your goals for the next 30 days.

To not breakdown and just continue sweating it out on down times. Until I can board a flight home and hopefully celebrate Christmas surrounded by people I hold close to my heart. At this point, I have only ever been day dreaming of walking the streets of my hometown, cold breeze sweeping my face, sun shining brightly, skies mighty blue (cue in UDD music), meeting friends for cold beer or hot coffee, grocery shopping for holiday menus. I cannot wait to be home.

30. Your highs and lows for the month.

So far my lowest was waking up on a work day and receiving an email saying my flight got cancelled. And my highest was the day after when I rang customer service and managed to rebook my flight. I just really want to go home.

30 Day Writing Challenge

Some random link left on the comments of my old Blogspot led me to this. I started answering each question on Instagram stories during the first lockdown, but somewhere along the way I stopped. Maybe I got busy at work, or maybe I just got lazy. Anyhoo, here is a continuation of unsolicited answers to the rest of the questions on this “30 day writing bonanza”. wink.

I archived my answers to numbers 1-7,9, and 11 so I guess I’ll start with 8, and skip 9 and so on.

And yes it does say writing challenge, but let me take things lightly and finish, before I stop doing it again. I’m not very good with these things, really.

8. Share something you struggle with.

Having reached my 30’s and officially recognising myself as an “adult”, I admit to struggle with connecting to people. Like making small talk and joining conversations not related to whatever I’m doing. Sometimes I can even feel my face turning red when I’m tying a sterile gown for a colleague and there’s just silence. I have very poor social skills.

10. Write about something for which you feel strongly.

I may have poor social skills but I feel strongly for a lot of things in my life. Now more than ever, I feel strongly for where I come from, my heritage, my roots. I am extremely proud of being an Igorota. I feel strongly for my profession, and our daily struggle to commit to our department’s goals and reputation. I feel strongly for Mother Earth, thus my #thirftthatOOTD shindig, road to minimalism, blah blah.

12. Write about 5 blessings in your life.

My family, Grant, friends, my job? I guess, my existence.

13. What are you excited about.

The end to this COVID situation where we all learn from our mistakes and move forward to a better understanding of how we should be living our lives.

14. Post your favourite movies that you never get tired of watching.

HP, LOTR, The Godfather series, Dead Poet’s Society, Into the Wild, Studio Ghibli anything, anything Shailene Woodley and Miles Teller, 500 Days of Summer, anything Wes Anderson, anything Leo di Caprio and Martin Scorsese, The Dark Knight Trilogy (best superhero movies evahhhhhh), the Before series, anything coming of age………….

15. Bullet point your whole day.

Uhm, I’m not sure what bullet point means.

16. Something that you miss.

I could cry writing about what I miss right now. I miss everything pre COVID. I miss my boyfriend, my pesky siblings. I miss my old routines in Baguio, walking around John Hay In December, scarf around my neck, blue skies, sun shining brightly, thinking about Christmas menus, what to bake, what to cook. Damn it.

17. Post about your zodiac sign and whether or not it fits you.

I’m not really into these zodiac signs, Mars on retrograde phenomenon. Im a cancer, and if it makes any sense it doesn’t fit me because as far as I know crabs can swim and tread on water, but I can’t.

18. Post 30 facts about yourself.

• I’m a liver transplant and abdominal retrieval nurse
• I was born in Sagada, but I grew up in Baguio
• My Igorot name is “Bantek”, I was named after a great great grandmother who I apparently look like
• I start my day with a cup of coffee (decaf on work days, see I scrub for long standing cases sometimes, and it’s kinda hard to concentrate and mount less than 10mm needles when you’re high on caffeine)
• I can bake (I can make a decent red velvet cupcake, I swear)
• I don’t know how to swim, more like I can’t float lels
• but I can skate though
• I just recently learned how to ride a bike
• I am into minimalism, not the aesthetics, but more like living with less and using what is already there
• I like books, and I read sometimes, I try to read whatever books I have, I promise
• I run if I can, the longest I have done is 21 km when I joined a marathon back home
• I walk to work even if it’s freezing outside, I enjoy walking
• I used to play lyre in a school band (proud SPEDer) and we won some competitions in Elementary

• I currently have 9 plants in my room
• I like taking pictures
• I am kind, Chos!
• I thrift on my free days, I have a penchant for oversized dresses with pockets
• I am currently in a long distance relationship (going 5 years strong) hohoho
• I like nice music, I have this thing where I judge people based on their playlists, and I think I should stop doing that
• I have scoliosis, and a bad posture, that’s why I try to do yoga sometimes
• I play the ukulele sometimes
• I watch a lot of Youtube documentaries, my previous obsessions were the history of the world wars, life of the Inuit people, Everest and K2, history of ancient civilisations, Egypt, dangerous ways to school, and just recently, Yelena Mukhina and women’s gymnastics in the 70’s
• I am a cheap traveller
• My favourite colour is yellow
• My feet are flat and fat, lol
• My dream is to live a sustainable life, grow my own food, make my own furniture, run a recycling shop
• I learned to speak Kankana- ey when I was in 3rd grade I think, when I spent an entire summer vacation in Sagada. But the dialect slowly slipped out of my tongue. I understand it fully but now I kinda have a hard time bringing myself to speaking it. Which is rather sad.
• I have this dream of putting up a boutique where I sell refurbished clothing. I thought of learning to sew and make patterns to fix my oversized clothes. And eventually I thought about hunting vintage dresses and giving them a new look. Someday maybe.
• I am a DIY enthusiast. Or maybe I’m just stubborn, hehe
• I am the eldest amongst 4 children

….to be continued…..

btw, the link brought me to Pinterest, but I found the original post on this link:

https://lifeentirely.wordpress.com/2019/02/08/30-day-writing-challenge/

Confessions of a Tired Overseas Nurse

“But today, after half recovering from a 24 hour marathon shift, and sipping on my favourite matcha tea latte in soy milk with 2 pumps of simple syrup (shoot me now), I felt this burning desire to express and explore how tired I am. “

I wrote this some 3 weeks ago, after another one of those life expectancy reducing work day I luckily get to participate into every once in awhile. I believe I wanted so bad to describe how excruciatingly tired and floating my entire being was at that time, until maybe I couldn’t find the right words to put things together. Well today, after a forced run and a free salted caramel oat latte (shoot me again), I half heartedly opened the drafts section of my online diary and came face to face to this hanging paragraph I wrote after a 28 litre blood loss, and anxiety shooting off of my fingertips at 12 midnight. Why did I open this? Maybe to entice myself to write about what’s been going through my head for these past couple of weeks. Maybe to encourage me to reflect. Maybe to help me move past whatever I’m going through, one day at a time. Just maybe.

To be fair though, it’s been 3 weeks and I haven’t had another 24 hour straight work day. Which is not a reason to celebrate anytime soon. I still have 5 on call shifts for this month, but it does make a difference to be under the covers when the skies are dark and the City is in silence. In fact my past weekends have been consistently about sweating in between autumn colours, caffeine loading, and page folding. Pretty decent really.

Having said all of that, I don’t know but re reading what I just wrote above, I feel like I’m being inappropriately emotional lately. I think I’m fine, I mean, I have a roof over my head as winter looms in. I have a job that puts food on the table and pays for my internet. Sometimes I even get to indulge in fancy coffee and Japanese titles. I am rather okay, but there’s this undefined shape and heavy crisscross lines inside of me that’s just there. I’ve been forcing my guts to suck it up, and stop acknowledging anything not nice. But confronting myself now, as I continue looking for the right words to finish this piece, I’ve realised the reason behind my writing stagnation since that particular zombie day, is because I’ve been trying so hard to feel okay. But the truth is, I feel downright helpless.

What I would give to be walking on familiar streets right now. To be surrounded by familiar people. And what I would give to make all the inconveniences go away. There are so many things happening everywhere, and the most distressing events are from back home. My plans, and all these possibilities I’ve been constructing before all this madness happened, all the supposed checklists have gone down the drain. And don’t get me wrong, I get the hashtag check your privileges movement, and I am a nurse in a badly hit nation, hell I’ve been re deployed once, but loneliness in a different circumstance doesn’t mean its fake loneliness. Believe me, I am trying to psyche my self out of it, and keep repeating “mind over matter”, “mind over matter”. I do have a chance to go home, but I am at the mercy of what may or may not happen. Of rules, regulations, policies, border restrictions, statistics, vaccine outcomes, all of which I have no control of.

It’s been 3 weeks of sleeping during the night and not hauled up in uncomfortable yellow vehicles, or counting in twos and fives. I almost already forgotten what it’s like to be in zombie mode. But fighting my tears right now, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I am hoping for another 24 hour marathon shift. At least in that situation I have full control of what I can do to make me feel better. I can choose to sleep all day, or grab a plate of that katsu/ teriyaki duo from the Japanese place across the street, or soak my feet in hot water and epsom salt, or grab another soya matcha tea latte with 2 pumps of simple syrup (okay I have to stop saying that), or even wear my running shoes and head somewhere I haven’t been to before. At least I can choose to do something possible, something with in my reach.

One day at a time, 5 on calls this month, another 5 next month and hopefully, I can be home again.