Worries, Worries, Worries

Di ko alam kung ba’t ako nagtititingin ng MA courses ng 2:00 a.m. Kailangan ko itong tigil-tigilan. Di ko alam kasi hati ako. I want to pursue educational management pero gusto ko rin ng creative writing. Alam mo iyong feeling na . . . alam mo sa sarili mo na matalino ka, na may potential ka pero . . . takot ka kasi baka ilusyonada ka lang pala? Hahahaha.

Di ko lang naman matuloy dahil natatakot ako mag-risk. You know how I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in secondary education, major in math, but look where I am now. An editor. A story coach. Ang nakuha ko lang ay trauma from that Math 55 class, which ended my dreams of making my parents proud. Chz. I mean, really. Because of that Math 55 class na imbes na ipagsagot kami e nilunod kami sa PowerPoint presentations tapos binabasa lang ng instructor ang nakasulat. Or baka bobo lang talaga ako.

But I still love math kahit gano’n ang nangyari sa akin. Elementary and secondary math, to be exact. I love algebra. I love geometry. I love trigonometry. I love the headache and challenge of finding solutions to get to the same answer. I love teaching these subjects. No, not you, calculus. Huwag ka na rin, probability. Di ko kayo forte. Hahahaha. Kayang aralin but if given the option, nope. Hehe.

Kaya kapag nagre-review ako ng mga mathematical learning resources, grabe ang adrenaline rush. I can compare solving algebraic problems to finally closing a story. Isa pa, closely working with people in the academic field until now made me realize that I still love teaching. But there’s no money in teaching, not if you have the perseverance to climb the academia ladder, take masteral units, attend and pay for these seminars . . .

And I have bills to pay. My family isn’t rich.

O siguro puno lang talaga ako ng worries. Ako talaga kalaban ng sarili ko noon pa.

Minsan napapatanong ako . . . kung nag-apply ba ako sa mga high-paying schools right after I graduated and nag-stick na lang ako sa academia pathway ko . . . masaya kaya ako?

Pero nangyari na. Masaya ako sa pagsusulat, sa pag-e-edit; ang downside lang talaga ay may worries tapos walang stability at assurance. It’s like . . . extremely happy when I am involved in a project, tapos kapag patapos na, ang dami ko na namang iniisip.

So heto na naman ako. Torn pa rin ako. Which field do I want to pursue?

Kung pure passion, it will be creative writing. Don’t get me wrong . . . I love to talk about education but not as passionate when I talk about writing. I saw the courses. Oh my gosh, I would love to study again. Hindi ako magaling sa conversational English, but I do know the rules . . . kaya siguro I am good at editing (hopefully hehe). Siguro nga kasi ganoon ako trained as a math person, gets? I can get to the answer as long as I know the mathematical operations. Getting this logic, I can write a clean sentence because I am familiar with styles. Pero ngayon pa lang, tinatakot ko na sarili ko. Pa’no kung ako lang ang nando’n na hindi magaling at gusto lang matuto tapos buong araw nosebleed lang ako? Hindi ko ma-enjoy hangga’t puno ako ng insecurity. Paano ba ako magiging confident?

O, di ba? Ako talaga ang kalaban ko.

Hirap talaga i-unlearn ng mga bagay-bagay. Kaya please lang, kung magkakaanak kayo, huwag ninyo ikumpara mga anak ninyo sa ibang bata o i-pressure nang husto. Ay, ewan. Hindi ko na rin alam ang perfect philosophy ng pagnu-nurture ng isang tao. Kaya nakakatakot magkaanak, e.

Layo na nang nirating ng usapan. Balik na ulit sa ginagawa. Dami kong iniisip lately. Hay.

Good Days, Bad Days

Trigger warning: Dysphoria, mental health issues. Please read at your own discretion.

It’s the time of the year wherein I question my abilities and doubt my sanity. And then poof. I self-destruct.

By self-destruction, I don’t mean I drag along others with me and inflict emotional pain on them until these people hate me. Hindi naman. Self-destruction as in . . . ako lang.

By self-destruction, I mean hating my body, hating how I look like . . . yet still staring at my reflection, crying over the fact that the person in front of me had never been enough . . . and then eating and self-sabotaging my own health goals.

By self-destruction, I mean doubting my capabilities, letting the demons inside me win. “Uy, nagsusulat ka pa pala? Mukhang hindi. You lack effort. Dalian mo. Anong ‘write for yourself’? Only foolish people say that.”

By self-destruction, I mean giving away my earnings so someone could pay their own credit and then wondering why I couldn’t save for my future. “Mababawi rin. Mababayaran din.”

On good days, I am eager to live longer. On bad days, I curse at my reflection.

On good days, I stay “foolish” and write at my own pace. On bad days, I blame myself for not writing enough.

On good days, I tell myself I can earn what I lost again. On bad days, I fear for my future without a penny saved.

I know that this will pass. It’s just, you know, a quarterly occurence. But these voices inside me telling me that I will never get to the point I’ve always dreamed of because of my pace are getting louder. Pero sino ba namang magsasabi ng “This is just one of your bad days” nang hindi ako nasasaktan kundi ako lang?

First Anniversary of Working with Wattpad

Original post can be seen here (needs a LinkedIn account).

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Today marks my first anniversary of working with Wattpad.

A year had passed, but I could confidently say that my current workplace had given me so much room to learn. Never had I been jam-packed with meetings but would still get thrilled thinking about the possibility of having more, probably because these were people who had the same struggles I had before (and is still having) as a creator. Aside from this, I was taught methods of gathering and organizing data, and I would always be amazed how my colleagues could present tons of information in a visual that was readily understood.

As a freelancer and a project-based worker, I would rarely get attach to the work I do. All that mattered to me was to give a hundred percent to every little detail I would make. But with my current work, I would often forget that it was temporary. Now the phrase “make the most out of it” had become equally depressing and gratifying—depressing because I know this has an end and gratifying because, so far, I know I am in my happiest state and I am beyond thankful for the opportunity and experience.