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[redux52]

[redux52]

Noodles and stuff.

It's been a while since we ate here. But it was a good meal, topped off with a shared ice cream sandwich. Not exactly comfort food, but it did bring a measure of peace.

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Meal with a friend.

If there's one thing I'm learning when it comes to healing, it's reaching out to people I thought I'd lost touch with.

I realize they're also healing and they have scars too. And in the midst of living life and earning just to get by, we each had to carry so many burdens under the surface. I wasn't the only one.

I think that's why I appreciate honest and vulnerable conversations. Because it gives each person a chance to heal and be healed through our stories and laughter, and tears. It's real. And I am a willing participant in this give and take. I am given a chance to open myself up to judgement, and receive acceptance. Because I accept them too. No past is too shocking, or horrifying anymore because it's the past. And if I can help this person feel less shame, because I too have a lot to be shameful for, then maybe even for the time that we conversed, we feel less of the pain. I think that is time worth spending for.

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I was a secret, and he was mine.

When my pain was about to swallow me whole, someone held a way out for me. It was just a question, really. But it was the right question in the right tone. It brought tears to my eyes. And I took that chance.

I said it all. Well, most of it because its been kept for so long. I told it in facts, in memories. In metaphors. This beautiful and painful thing that was secret, was now known by someone else.

I braced for judgement and shock. In my head, I thought, they would never look at me the same way again. But instead, they accepted my story and my secret. The fear I built in my head about sharing something so integral into who I am was out. And I was not shamed for it.

They listened quietly. They asked me to clarify. Then they shared their own scars that was similar to mine. They shared how they healed. They told me that they weren't really shocked. I wasn't seen as less. They still loved and cared for me, despite the secret that was a risk to share.

I was his secret. And he was mine. The fear of judgement fell away. Mostly. A little. I have different fears now. But that's another story for another time.

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Never too old to play dress up.

At a sticker con today with my daughter. It's been years and I honestly don't like crowds. There's the music that's too new to my ears. The people are both beautiful and scary. The exchange of money. The feast of colors, pins, stickers and art.

Filipinos are amazing artists. They sell their talents in the work that they put out, and I hope that our little contribution to support their products bolster their confidence so they keep fanning the flames of their passions.

I jumped right into the excitement of it all (I do like stickers!) and decided, I should have some fun. Wore my 'edgy' shirt (hahahahaha) and plaid pants that looked more costume than street wear. It felt great. I felt great. I let the age of my years become numbers, and embraced who I felt inside: someone who still had a lot of wonder. :)

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Magic overnight.

Saw these baby moringa sprouts warming themselves in the morning sun. They seem unreal, growing in a row, bursting out of the brown husk that scattered the floor of the parking lot. Each one, a potential tree. Isn't it amazing? I stare at the quiet elder moringa, as if looking down at me, admiring his children. They're really beautiful.

It made me happy to see them.

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My favorite things.

Well, not ALL of my favorite things. But each are precious. Each has a story and meaning. That's why they're my favorites.

I remember a student who asked me if I had any favorites in class. I had to pause and really think about it before answering. While the whole class sat on baited breath, waiting to hear their name, I looked at each face and smiled. I said. "Each and every one of you are my favorites."

Disappointed, my student (a very smart little girl of eight) said "Really? Why? What do you like about me, or her, or him?"

I laughed out loud (even now as I write this). I heard the challenge in her tone and posture. Maybe she thought I was tossing a cliché to answer her. So I said "You're my favorite because you push yourself to write sentences even when you're having a hard time. It tells me you have a fighting spirit and you don't give up. Truly impressive."

"What about me?"

"Me next, teacher!"

I then proceeded to tell each student what magic I saw in them. I felt the mood of the class lift and they had quiet smiles as I spoke about each of them.

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I guess, being 'neglected' as a child made me see that there is worth and value in each person. There is always something good there. And I want them to know that I see that. Because I didn't want anyone else to feel unseen.

That goes for the little things that are given to me or bought. That's probably why I'm sentimental: keeping movie tickets, candy wrappers, tags of presents, drawings scribbled just for me. There is a story, and a depth of feeling, to each and every one of the things I collect. But then, a few do stand out. They stand out because they're things from people closest to me. It's from people who has seen the real me. That's why these things will always be my favorites.

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Pop-up signs

1. Obviously, a fan of 80's rock.

2. I read the message and smiled.

3. ❤️

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Childish things.

Stuff that caught my heart and made my inner child jump and clap! Reality stopped during these moments, and I wanted to play. Laughter came easily, and a smile softly danced in my mouth.

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Baby Steps. Literally.

Bruised but healing. Wrecked but hopeful. A gentle drizzle fell over me when I asked for sign. Manila is sunny but grey skies color the far horizon.

Chores await. Work is docked. Prayers whispered. Game.

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Does color matter?

Identical photos, but somehow, each telling a different story. Of course, it's just me in the pictures. Somehow though, the black and white photo just seems more dramatic. More quiet and thoughtful. What do you think?

Credits to my daughter who took the photo. :)

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Cinderella.

My first pair of grown-up, glittery, beautiful shoes that I bought for myself. Yes, this is a first. I've always bought sneakers for myself. A recent pair of black velvet flats with a bow.

But these shoes mean so much more to me. They mean that I'm willing to look pretty. They mean that I'm trying something new. They mean that I'm wanting a life where I feel precious, even if only for myself.

My knees look odd. But I'm okay with that. It shows my age. I hope you see me wear these shoes. Just like Cinderella, I'm going to a ball, and these shoes may not outshine any of the other guests there, but to me, I shine. After almost 20 years of diminishing myself, I would like to shine.

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" It's better to try..."

A good friend of mine got a cancer scare. He's recovered, and I'm thankful for that. He told me he's been listening to this song. I listened to it. And it hit hard.

I also got a call from a good friend of mine today, out of the blue. Angels do send real people to help when you're grasping at threads that seem to flutter away. She didn't tell me anything out of the ordinary, to be honest. But in it's simplicity, and in my circumstances, it became profound and beautiful.

This song has been playing in my head since I woke up. I told myself that I think I've done all I can in this life. I don't have regrets. Except one. I wish I had something for myself. Just this one thing. But it's gone now. Or isn't meant to be. Not yet? But then I go back to feeling, that I'm good. I have touched people's lives enough. They will be healthy and happy. I'm done. My work and purpose is done. Then this song.

The song isn't about being hopeless. It's a plea to anyone listening that you deserve that 2nd chance that no one gives to you. Give that second chance to yourself.

I hope that my message reaches someone, anyone who feels lost right now. You're not alone. As I write this, two crows caw outside my window, their sounds overlapping each other as if in song. Listen to the song. Do it now. Whatever it is you can do for yourself to get out of the spiral.

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She drew me!

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Sweet Rain.

The trees can drink again, they can take a break from shielding my home from the insistent Sun. Though I love the Sun, he has been relentless these past few weeks and I am weary from his glare. Today, I want to hug the wind, and play under raindrops because Rain has finally visited the dry city.

Thank you, Lord.

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Something sweet in the afternoon.

When the heat wants to assault your senses and dull the mind, having a cold drink and a tiny bite of sweetness helps wake me up from the fog. Either that, or the body just needs to rest more. Sleep is a good idea too.

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Rainbow. ❤️