• 19th December
    2012
  • 19

I haven’t written anything publicly for more than two months because for a long time, I was sad angry. At myself, at the world, at the chaos. All I wanted to say, I kept to my private journal and to the people who I knew would understand the most. Most nights there weren’t even any words, just tears, hugs and the occasional pat at the back. I have stumbled across different yards of booboos before, but I have never been anywhere near the fence of “caution: the most dangerous curves ahead.” 

Day in and day out, I was looking for something/ someone to blame for the unhappiness I was experiencing for I could not - at that time - come to terms with fate. “It’s a blessing,” they all said, yet I cannot find any bit of reason to be happy about finding out I was with child on the week of my 23rd birthday.

Boom, there goes my future. Or so I initially thought. 

My dad refused to talk to me for a week. He was not only disappointed at me; he was grieving for what he believed was a result of misguidance. After all, a daughter’s confession about her unplanned pregnancy is a news no parent ever looks forward to receiving.  

However, little by little, family and friends expressed deeper understanding of the situation. I felt the pain I have caused my parents but I, too, was in the dark for some time. I could not defend myself: for what we did, for the life we have created, for everything that felt and seemed wrong simply because it was untimely. Given the chance, will we choose to do things differently? No. Do we wish that we have waited instead? Yes, because of our impending financial responsibilities as young parents.

While my boyfriend and I am still very much together, we weren’t planning on anything close to building our own family until 2014. We love each other deeply and we did not expect that our personal timelines would be cut this short.

But it is what it is - not a mistake entirely - rather, an unexpected but not unwelcomed little bundle of joy. We cannot turn back time and undo what we did. Instead, we pray everyday to have enough strength, courage and wisdom to accept what has been given to us.   

I am putting this out here because I want you to know that you will be hurt and broken by some choices that you will make in life. Everyday, you will convince yourself that it is the end of the world even when it’s not. You will be in denial, you will be ashamed, you will cry an awful lot. And it’s okay. 

One day, you will discover that you are a thousand times stronger than you think you are. You will learn that things will get worse only if you let it. You will realize that the love and support of your family and closest friends are two things that will help you get through —- not just survive, but succeed. 

It will take you days, months, years to pick yourself up once again and believe that things do happen for a reason. Let it take its course and don’t rush it; even I have yet to know what else is out there that life has for me and our future little family.  

For now, I’m soaking in all the positivity I can for our miracle. I still cry at night and when I do, I talk to the little guy inside my emerging tummy. We have gone to two ultrasound examinations already (first was to make sure the seed was planted firmly and second was to see how big the baby has grown), and feelings do really swell when you see that little blessing all cooped up inside of you. Peaceful, filled with hope and promise. 

  • 23rd September
    2012
  • 23

Sunday notes

This particular weekend, I have subjected myself to a slew of writing assignments needed to be passed, proofread and approved urgently. Obviously my short attention span has once again taken over and the fact that I am still 2,000 words away from finishing all of  these says a lot about my Sunday mood (I say, blame it on the rain…and on this new MAC keeping me captive at home). 

While I have been out of the publishing circuit for a little over seven months now, I never stopped writing. No matter how exhausted I get from my present work, I just couldn’t get writing out of my system. In many ways, I guess that’s a huge revelation of who I want to become and what I want to achieve after being a happy camper for two years post-graduation. 

I’m not complaining, not one bit, so don’t get me wrong. In fact, a lot of the things that have happened this year opened up to wonderful realizations about this generation’s new breed of young professionals and how differently my contemporaries handle such “struggles.”  

So what I really want to say is this: be fearless and discover things out of your bubble, a telltale version of the cliche, “You’ll never know unless you try.” But at the same time, have the heart to admit what you really want. You owe it to yourself to be happy and more importantly, to be honest when you no longer are. 

  • 30th August
    2012
  • 30
Confronted with a blank type pad, I am willed to write about how writing is not merely a hobby. But I do not know where to start, or how to write about writing. This isn’t like most of the writing assignments I get every so often, where the editor in-charge supplies me with a writer’s brief indicating discussion points, readers’ expectations and if I’m lucky enough, start-up references.  “So, what do you do?” I once got asked by a chief editor who was, at that time, considering the possibilities of commissioning regular freelance work to me.  “I used to write. Like, really write.”  Could have phrased it in a better,  more professional way. Doesn’t make it less true, though.  “Used to. Why?”  “I thought I wanted something else. I didn’t want to play things safe.” But sooner or later, I’d be back —- I was tempted to add.  “You have to live up to your own expectations, and no one else’s. Do what makes you ultimately happy. Do it everyday, for the rest of your life.”

Confronted with a blank type pad, I am willed to write about how writing is not merely a hobby. But I do not know where to start, or how to write about writing. This isn’t like most of the writing assignments I get every so often, where the editor in-charge supplies me with a writer’s brief indicating discussion points, readers’ expectations and if I’m lucky enough, start-up references. 

“So, what do you do?” I once got asked by a chief editor who was, at that time, considering the possibilities of commissioning regular freelance work to me. 

“I used to write. Like, really write.” 

Could have phrased it in a better,  more professional way. Doesn’t make it less true, though. 

“Used to. Why?” 

“I thought I wanted something else. I didn’t want to play things safe.”

But sooner or later, I’d be back —- I was tempted to add. 

“You have to live up to your own expectations, and no one else’s. Do what makes you ultimately happy. Do it everyday, for the rest of your life.”