Hello, my name is Gail Ventic.

Bitch. Toxic. Wrong Choice. Loser. Replacement. Undeserved. Unworthy. Slut. Ungrateful. Uninvited. Left out. Mean.

These were the words uttered to me both in my presence and in my absence. Words that may seem harmless to some, even to me at some point, but carry a certain kind of weight that cuts through my heart. I may sometimes act tough, act like as if it doesn't bother me, act like as if I am the bigger person. But by the end of the day, I'm just a person as well. Getting hurt, feeling the pangs of despair and carrying those words with me as I get bruised and abused by the very people I thought who would protect and love me.

But why? Why do I even tolerate it? Them?

Because I am Gail. I am so secured of myself that I don't need any external validation to be happy. I protect whatever I built and whatever it is that I am still building - because no one - but myself can understand where I'm coming from. In introspection, the world is just an experience. I am just an observer. And whatever stones people throw at me, I should not be fazed. Because I know myself, and they don't know any better. They don't know because they don't care. And that's fine. I will not beg for them to care. I will not beg for them to be nice. I will not beg for even the slightest human decency I deserve.

I retired at 30.

Contrary to popular belief that retirement deserved to be achieved by working your ass off up until your'e old and gray - clocking in and out of work - saving up for rainy days - and hoping your children soon will save your ass once you're at bay.

We opted for the opposite. Financial literacy is one thing I practice in my early 20s, one thing I learned by reading a series of financial books by Robert Kyosaki entitled Rich Dad Poor Dad. That booked changed my mindset about money early on which enables me to understand how salary is a trap and job titles are nothing but a golden cage.

So I broke free.

I quit my high paying/highly coveted flying career for a simple life at the farm. Alongside my husband, we understand the value of buying back our time. Time is the greatest resource there is. It is but limited, but at the same time, flexible. A minute of pain is much more gruesome than an hour of pleasure. That is why, I make sure to be intentional with how I spend my time.

The forsaken creatures of disdain. Mentally unable to comprehend differences, physically unable to wave pleasant deuces. Sad, I know, but the world isn’t built by the rules of basic human decency. Nor is it guided with principles governed by kindness.

It is, however, infested by a specie of unapologetic keyboard warriors and insecure crabs who pry on the 1%. These same species, believe it or not, are the same species who’s ego will be fed by lethal injection, throwing rocks and burning stakes; all the while condemning others wherein fact they themselves should be condemned first.

I almost died.

3 years ago I conquered my fear of the ocean by studying how to become a certified scuba diver. I did, and it was the proudest I've become. Being able to breathe under water with the help of tanks and equipment; swimming with creatures far beyond our lungs could reach, the serenity of the deep sea and quietness that it comes with truly feels surreal.

So, fast forward to 2025, I decided to make use of my Open Water Certification and dive again. This time around there wasn't anything I needed to conquer. I wasn't afraid anymore, I am well trained, and I'll be diving with the love my life. What could possibly go wrong? Or so I told myself. But I guess, the years of lapses triggered an incident that no divers would ever want to experience - and that is direct and abrupt ascend.

At 15 meters under water, I involuntarily ascended. I honestly loss control of my buoyancy, maybe because of panic or a malfunctioning BCD, but for some reason I couldn't get a hold of myself. I ascended straight to the surface. Without any warning, without anything to hold onto, and without any safety stop (which is a MUST to prevent Decompression Sickness). It felt like I was falling but in reverse - and right there and then, I knew I fucked up. I knew I could die. I knew this could be the end. And it was scary.

This year I promised myself to explore more. Not that I haven't been doing that in 2024 - but I mean a lot more. So, for the first week of the year I decided to go on a solo trip to Tbilisi, Georgia. It's been a while that I did this - and I have to admit I was scared for a little bit. I was so used to the company of colleagues, family or friends whilst exploring an unknown territory that I had completely forgotten how liberating it is to explore solo.

It was 12 midnight when I asked my handy dandy ChatGPT for suggestions on where to go that is 1) Close to Doha and 2) Visa Free for Philippine Passports - and it listed Georgia as its top 1. Right there and then, without even researching where the hell is Georgia - I booked a flight. Next thing I knew, I was rummaging Georgian cuisine and emerging myself in Georgian culture.

What made my trip even more interesting was that I flew there on a Christmas eve. You see, Georgian people are predominantly Orthodox Christian and they celebrate Christmas every January (as opposed to the usual December 25th like the rest of the world). It's amazing I get to celebrate Christmas twice - and is even more amazing how subtle the differences of their tradition from my hometown.