Perfect Sense

There are two years in my life that feel like open wounds: 2022 and 2025.

2022 broke me in ways I didn’t think were survivable.

My mom passed away. My depression deepened into something darker. I later learned I was being cheated on by the man I trusted. Work felt unbearable. Every part of my life felt like it was collapsing at once. I truly believed that was the lowest point I could reach.

But 2025 proved me wrong.

That year, I was harassed and emotionally tormented by someone who kept feeding me rumors about my husband’s alleged infidelity. My body weakened. I was dismissed and taken for granted at home. Eventually, I discovered I needed major surgery — and nearly lost my life to sepsis.

I tried to heal quietly.

I carried the pain alone.

I didn’t tell my husband because I already felt unheard.

I didn’t tell my family because I didn’t want to be a burden.

I kept everything inside — until the weight became unbearable.

I reached a point where I felt spiritually empty, mentally exhausted, emotionally numb, and convinced my life had no purpose. I tried to keep going. I tried to fight. But my mind became a battlefield, and dark thoughts began whispering an “easy way out.”

Eventually, I found myself in the hospital, speaking to the mental health crisis team. Since then, I’ve been trying — therapy, medication, check-ins — even when progress feels slow and uncertain.

Recently, I left home because I felt emotionally drained and unsafe in my own thoughts. I needed space to heal. And in that space, I began to feel like myself again — clearer, stronger, more alive.

But when I reached out, I was met with anger. With threats. With blame.

And now I’m left with this question echoing in my mind:

Was I wrong for choosing to survive?

Was I wrong for choosing to breathe?

Was I wrong for choosing to heal?

Sometimes, dreams feel like the only places I can visit her.

Last night, I was walking along a familiar beach with my mom and my brother. The sun was soft, the waves gentle, and it all felt normal — like a memory I could step into. We laughed, we walked, we were together.

Then, she changed. Suddenly, my mom became fragile, like a child again. My heart tightened. I told her to move slowly, warned her she might fall. And she listened. I carried her — careful, protective.

Inside the car, sitting in the house we once called home in the Philippines, I realized I was dreaming. I held her arms and began to cry, softly at first, then like I couldn’t breathe. I hummed a song, trying to soothe her, trying to soothe myself, holding onto a fragment of her that felt so real.

Lately, I’ve been struggling to understand my purpose. It feels like everything in my life is slowly falling apart, and I’m no longer the person I used to be.

During my night shift in the ICU, I was assigned to a patient who tried to end his life through overdose. As I stood there watching him intubated, I felt this heavy sadness in my chest — wondering what he must have felt to reach that point. Later that night, his daughter called to ask how he was doing. Before hanging up, she thanked me for taking care of her dad.

And that moment hit me hard. What if I were the one lying on that bed? It’s heartbreaking to think of the people who love you, worried sick, praying you make it through, when deep down you once wished for the opposite.

Life isn’t perfect. We all have our own struggles, and it’s sad that depression even exists. It’s different from normal sadness. I’ve been sad — when I lost my mom, when I failed at something, when I was treated unfairly, when I couldn’t help others, and worst of all, when I felt like a burden to the people I love. All those moments of sadness, mixed with that deep feeling of worthlessness, started to consume me. I began thinking maybe something inside me had changed — that I wasn’t myself anymore.

People always say, “Call for help if you ever feel like hurting yourself,” but the truth is… if someone really plans to do it, calling for help feels like ruining the plan.

Right now, I can’t hurt myself. My faith in God is stronger than the darkness in my mind. I used to be able to handle all this on my own, but this time, it feels different — heavier and scarier. So I asked for help. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I did it because I know God and my family love me. And just like that daughter who called about her father, I don’t want my family to go through that kind of pain because of me.

It’s just frustrating when life feels unbearable — when all I want is to escape the pain, yet I end up blaming myself, thinking I deserve it. But for now, I’m still here. Still fighting. Still holding on.

Today, as I lay in bed and reflected on everything that has happened lately, I looked back and smiled — quietly praising myself for being strong enough to survive it all.

I used to live for others. Even when I was exhausted, I still found happiness and a reason to keep going. But I’ve come to realize I’m not a robot. I’m human — fragile, limited, and allowed to rest.

They say, “you can’t pour from an empty cup.” I guess I kept pouring even when my cup ran dry, and that’s when I shattered.

This time, I promised myself that I would take care of me. But healing is hard. I keep falling short of the strength I once had. When I stand before the mirror, I see someone else — disappointed, defeated, and unsure. My confidence has vanished.

Some days, I can’t stop the tears. I question my purpose. In my head, I want to do so much… but I can’t. And sometimes, the darkest thought whispers that maybe it would be easier if I wasn’t here. But even that, I can’t do.

I feel stuck — trapped in my own frustration, living a version of hell I never asked for. My worth feels invisible. Negativity started as a whisper inside me, but now it echoes through my environment, feeding on every mistake I make. I punish myself and say, “I deserve this.”

My body is tired. My soul is bruised. I’m hanging by a thread. I prayed to God to save me — and then I wondered if I even deserve saving. Have I been a good child? No. I am the least, and I tell myself I deserve punishment.

Throughout my life, I’ve learned an important lesson that I think every person in their 30s should be aware of: it’s okay to pause, look back, and reflect on how far you’ve come.

Lately, I’ve been battling a thought that keeps whispering, “You’re not good enough.”

I recently returned to work after a long sick leave, and this month, I’ve started doing full 12-hour shifts again. During my phased return, I already struggled — not just physically, but mentally. I was dealing with forgetfulness, headaches, body aches, insomnia… all symptoms of my mental health struggles. These made me feel incompetent at work. Even short hours felt too heavy, and at one point, I truly wanted to give up.

I sought help, and now I have weekly counseling sessions. Nights at work are manageable, but day shifts — they drain me emotionally. They’re busy, chaotic, and that voice inside me keeps coming back: “You’re not good enough.”

The past two months have been some of my hardest. I cried at work — in the locker room, in silence — questioning if I’m really meant to be a nurse. I cried out to the Lord, telling Him that the weight is too much to bear. And then I punished myself again, saying, “Maybe I deserve this.”

This morning, I woke up crying again. Tears feel like my new normal. I don’t know if it’s hormones, part of healing, or just the weight of being wounded in all aspects of life.

But today, as I prayed, I felt the Lord speak to my heart. I asked Him, “Am I really cut out to be a nurse?” Then He reminded me of a moment back in Dubai — a time I almost resigned because someone at work made me feel small and incapable. I remember sending my resignation letter, and my boss said, “Why are you resigning just because of one person’s words? Don’t you know that everyone else sees how exceptional you are? We don’t want you to go.”

That memory made me realize — one person’s negative opinion doesn’t define me. And if even one person believes in you, that already means you’re capable and worthy.

Then I asked again, “Lord, what if everyone around me is negative?”

And He reminded me of Jesus.

Even He — the Son of God — was rejected, mocked, and left alone. Yet that never changed who He was. Being unliked doesn’t make Him any less the Lord.

There are moments in life when the weight of the mind feels unbearable. Anxiety and depression creep in silently, often unnoticed at first, until one day it builds up and suddenly it feels overwhelming.

I know this battle all too well. Negative thoughts disrupt daily life, whisper lies that shake even the foundations of faith, and leave me exhausted to the core. At times, I have wondered: If I have faith in God, why am I still suffering like this?

Reading the testimonies of others who walk the same path makes me both sad and comforted. Sad, because I know the difficulty of living with a troubled mind. Comforted, because I realize I am not alone. Their stories remind me that there must be a reason — a deeper purpose — why God has allowed this journey in my life.

Despite the exhaustion, despite the desire to give up, one truth remains: God is here. Always here. Perhaps this season is another test of faith. Perhaps the enemy has turned its attack toward my own health. But even in the shadows, I am reminded that my survival is already a form of victory.

Three months ago, I faced a life-threatening illness and came frighteningly close to death. Yet I survived. I believe that was no accident. I was not meant to face death then, and the fact that I am still here — breathing, writing, and praying — means my story is not yet finished.

Yes, this illness of the mind feels terrible. It makes me question whether I am truly sick or just caught in something that will “go away tomorrow.” The frustrating truth is, it has not gone away. I’ve spoken with doctors, counselors, and sought answers, but the heaviness still lingers.

And yet, there is hope. Because even when my thoughts tell me to surrender, something within me whispers to step back, to pray, to hold on. And that in itself is a victory: choosing life, choosing faith, choosing to believe that death has no power over me.

There are moments in life when the outside doesn’t match the inside. I’ve learned this through my own experience—where my body or face appeared fine, but deep within I was struggling. Before my surgery, I knew something was truly wrong, yet the medication I took masked the severity of my symptoms. Because the doctor only noticed what appeared on the surface, the deeper problem went unrecognized. It wasn’t until my condition worsened that the truth came out.

That memory taught me something important: what I feel inside matters, even if it doesn’t look urgent to others.

The same is true in my recent appointments. Sometimes I smile, or try to look composed, but behind that smile are troubled thoughts that are heavy to carry. When they don’t seem alarmed, I start doubting myself—wondering if what I feel is even real. But deep down, I know my experience is valid, because I live with it every day.

This tension between how I appear and how I truly feel has shown me how easy it is for suffering to be overlooked. Yet it has also reminded me of the importance of trusting my own voice and body. Even if others don’t fully see my pain, I do. At times, I find myself holding back from seeking help, feeling that my struggle might go unnoticed or misunderstood.

It’s been more than 3 years since I lost my mom, but now I think I have gathered enough courage to talk about it. She was the most loving, generous, and selfless woman I knew—always working hard to provide for us, even while battling illness.

I’ll never forget when we lost our home. She cried, and I promised her that one day I’d give her something better. That moment became the start of my dreams. When I worked abroad in Dubai, every goal I set was for her and our family. Together, we celebrated milestones—my sisters’ debut, family vacations, and even traveling to Dubai as one complete family.

But soon after that, came the hardest chapter of my life. When I returned to the Philippines, I saw how thin and frail my mom had become. Frequent hospital visits followed. I was the only one with a negative COVID test then, so I became her watcher in the hospital. I’ll always treasure how, even in her pain, she still sang and spoke to me with calmness.

I prayed earnestly for her healing, but on that final morning, I had to surrender her to God. Watching the medical team try to resuscitate her left me frozen, heartbroken. When the worst news came, I lay beside her, hugged her, and thanked God for the gift of salvation—for I knew she was now in heaven and her pain has finally ended.

The days after were a blur of grief and trauma. Alarms, crash bells, and reminders of the hospital haunted me, and I struggled to find purpose again. But as I look back, I still feel blessed. Though I worked away for years, God gave me the privilege of being with her in her last days—not just as her daughter, but also as her nurse, the very path she encouraged me to take.

Recently, after my own emergency surgery, I dreamt of her again. Her last words to me in that dream: “Bumalik ka na, Ate Gen.” Those words stay with me as I slowly find my way back to myself.

From Hardship to Appreciation: My Nursing Journey Across Borders 💕

Two years ago, when I was still in the Philippines, hospitals were severely understaffed, and healthcare teams were constantly struggling. There were countless instances of being pulled to another unit, handling more than 10 patients, or extending shifts to 16 hours, five days a week! (Such a huge difference compared to working in the UK.)

Despite all of this, I’m grateful for the training I received and the opportunity to explore different units—from pediatrics to adult care, from the ward to the CCU—until I was entrusted to be the charge nurse. 😊

Before this, I worked in brand management in Dubai and only had my first nursing experience in 2021 in Davao, even though I had been licensed since 2012. I never imagined I would return to nursing, given the hard work and salary challenges in the Philippines. But I survived! 💪🏻 All of this was possible with God’s guidance! ❤️

I felt fulfilled during my 7 years in Dubai, but my profession called me back. I took the risk and returned to the Philippines to pursue my career as a nurse. Along the way, I faced trials and challenges. Salary-wise, everyone knows how much nurses earn in the Philippines, and overworking due to staff shortages made it even harder. I relied on some of my savings to get by, and adjusting my lifestyle was difficult. Then my mom passed away, and I went through a period of depression.

Even though everything seemed to be falling apart, I held on to God’s promises. Amidst the pain and hardships, there were also beautiful moments: I met the love of my life, got engaged, and even traveled to the UK with him. My friends and family were always there for me, and I couldn’t ask for more. It was a journey full of lessons and surprises. After almost two years in my hometown, I praise God for victory and new beginnings. 💕 God’s plan is truly amazing!

Now, here I am—back as an OFW, working as an ICU nurse, celebrating 2 years in the UK! 🇬🇧

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I never knew I had Cleithrophobia—the fear of being trapped—until it started showing in weird ways. Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe in a cinema, an elevator, or even my own room! I once woke up in the dark on my top bunk, panicked, and opened the window because I thought I couldn’t breathe. My roommates woke up worried, and only when I realized I was in my own room did I calm down.

Another time, I rode in the back of a moving mini van and started hyperventilating after just a few minutes. My roommate had to open the sliding door for me while the van was moving! I even joked, “This happens because I have weak lungs” 😂.

It’s not just confined spaces—I once panicked over a theme park wristband, convinced I couldn’t take it off. I was hysterically pulling it off even as it tore my skin. Since then, hospital wristbands have to be loose! 😅

My anxiety got worse after my mom passed in 2022. Flashbacks now trigger panic attacks too.

I remember last year, I had already thought about going back to my home country—not for vacation, but for good. Still, I never really believed that plan would turn into reality. I entertained the “what ifs,” but I wasn’t 100% sure about it.

At that time, I felt like I had everything. I thought I didn’t need anyone’s help because I was so used to carrying responsibilities on my own. I was independent and self-sufficient to the point that I felt like I had no earthly dreams left. I didn’t even know what else to ask for.

But then, the Lord made me realize something… I was blessed with wonderful jobs and achievements, yet deep inside, something was missing. I felt like I belonged somewhere else.

I can truly say that nothing in my life is a coincidence. The Lord makes everything happen for a reason, and prayers are never in vain. When I decided to return home, I faced many obstacles before my flight. One of them was that the UAE was still on the Philippines’ red list, which meant there were no commercial flights available. But by God’s grace, I was able to secure a special chartered flight with Philippine Airlines. Upon arriving in Manila, the process was smooth and well-organized, thanks to OWWA and the government. ❤️ Hotel accommodation, transportation, meals—everything was free of charge. I was even assigned to a very pleasant hotel in Makati and was blessed to stay in an executive suite (photos below). The meals were delicious (kudos to the chef!)—served three times a day with generous portions of mains, soup, dessert, and bottled water. The servings were so big that I still had over 20 unopened bottles of water left by the end of my stay. 😳

Quarantine in the hotel for 14 days turned out better than expected. The room had super-fast WiFi, cable TV, a fridge, a kettle for coffee and tea, and even allowed food deliveries for cravings outside the menu.

Although my cleithrophobia made the first couple of days a little difficult, overall, I’d still rate my stay a solid 9/10. 😊

I took a personality test twice and got the same result. This video is so legit and accurately describes me. 😅

1 In Thee, O Lord, do I put my trust: let me never be put to confusion.

2 Deliver me in Thy righteousness, and cause me to escape: incline Thine ear unto me, and save me.

3 Be Thou my strong habitation, whereunto I may continually resort: Thou hast given commandment to save me; for Thou art my rock and my fortress.

4 Deliver me, O my God, out of the hand of the wicked, out of the hand of the unrighteous and cruel man.

5 For Thou art my hope, O Lord God: Thou art my trust from my youth.

6 By Thee have I been holden up from the womb: Thou art He that took me out of my mother's bowels: my praise shall be continually of Thee.

I’ve learned that as genuine Christians, no matter how much negativity surrounds us, we are called to respond with goodness and positivity. We are saved to glorify our Lord, so we must not allow anyone to destroy our testimony. Never give people a reason to doubt whether we truly belong to Christ.

The Bible reminds us to put on the full armor of God and never compromise. People may wrong us, but forgiveness is always the better way. “Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” (Romans 12:19 KJV)