Privisim/ This blog is my privism. Enter softly

I was running on adrenaline from Saturday until Tuesday. I've now completed 117 applications. I even turned down one interview because it required two weeks of unpaid training, and that's something I just can't afford right now. I have bills to pay, and my husband and I are carrying those responsibilities together.

I know he's been working hard, and I can see how exhausted he is. I'm truly grateful and thankful that I have him beside me.

Lately, I don't feel like I'm riding the waves anymore. I feel like a boxer standing in the ring, taking one punch after another.

Every rejection feels like another hit. Every assessment and every interview drains me. It's like getting punched in the stomach, in the arms, over and over again. But I'm taking every blow, even through the disappointment and the pain.

Then I remembered my college days.

Back then, when I joined the dance company, our training was brutal. We had to learn front splits, left splits, right splits, and all kinds of flexibility exercises. I remember a teammate holding my legs while stretching me beyond what I thought I could handle. The pain was unbelievable.

I would close my eyes and breathe through it.

For months, I could barely walk properly. My knees and thighs were covered in bruises.

But I endured.

That's what I want to do now.

I want to endure this season, no matter how painful it feels. I'll keep moving forward, do my best, and leave the rest in Your hands.

Because I remember that scared college student who couldn't even do a split. I remember the fear in my own eyes.

Years later, I became a dance scholar and eventually the president of the dance company.

If You could bring me through that season, I believe You can bring me through this one too.

Every rejection is simply a redirection.

I am Yours, Lord.

I pray for my loved ones, for my parents, for my husband, and for our family. I pray that You'll continue to provide for our needs.

In Jesus' name,

A month ago, I found myself back in the Philippines, navigating a chapter I hadn't expected. After years of building my career in the UAE, I returned home and began searching for a remote job.

Like many job seekers, I knew the process would require patience. What I didn't know was how much resilience it would take.

From May 18 to June 18, I submitted 84 job applications across various platforms, including JobStreet, Indeed, LinkedIn, Cloudstaff, and Emapta. Some applications were for Executive Assistant roles, others for Operations, Administration, Project Coordination, and Virtual Assistant positions.

The numbers looked something like this:

84 applications submitted

Around 10 interviews and screenings completed

2 active opportunities still in progress

Countless customized resumes, cover letters, and application forms

There were days when my inbox was quiet. Days when I refreshed my email more times than I care to admit. Days when rejection emails arrived, and days when no response came at all.

But there were also wins.

I successfully passed initial interviews with Pineapple Staffing and progressed to the next stage, where I am currently awaiting further updates. I also completed the interview process with The Freedom Geek and am now waiting for client matching opportunities.

Not every opportunity moved forward. One role reached an advanced stage but did not result in a training invitation. While disappointing, it reminded me that every interview is also practice, preparation, and proof that my experience is being recognized.

Looking back, one thing stands out: job searching is a job in itself.

It requires discipline, consistency, and the ability to keep showing up even when results are delayed. Some days are productive. Some days are discouraging. Most days are a mix of both.

What keeps me going is remembering that every application represents possibility.

Behind each submission is nearly nine years of experience in administration, operations, client support, and corporate services. Behind every interview is a chance to share my story, my skills, and the value I can bring to a team.

For now, I continue applying, learning, and trusting the process.

If you're currently searching for a remote job, know that you're not alone. Progress doesn't always arrive as quickly as we'd like, but every application, interview, and conversation moves you one step closer to the right opportunity.

As for me, the search continues. And hopefully, when I look back on this blog months from now, it will be a reminder that persistence eventually pays off.

It will always be your arms around my shoulders.

I will always lean on you when things get hard and shitty.

I will always run to you with every small win I earn in life.

It will always be your words, " Siya Apo Nawa."

When you’re younger, you don’t really understand why adults always choose the laid-back life.

Why do they always choose somewhere slow and boring?

I used to hear about old people settling down in quiet provinces far from the crowd, living with their dogs or cats or partners, or whatever kind of life they chose for themselves. Leaving behind their big-shot lives in the city.

And I never got it.

Why would someone spend years chasing freedom, only to end up living a few blocks away from their parents again? Especially after hating being told what to do when they were younger.

But can I say this now?

I kind of get it.

When I was fifteen, all I wanted was to leave my country, get a high-end job, become some corporate hotshot, eat expensive meals, wear signature bags and clothes, and build this glamorous life for myself. Back then, success looked loud to me. Busy. Expensive.

I’m thirty-one now, and all I really want is my humble house far from the city. Somewhere close to my mom and dad and the rest of my family. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere far from the noise and the expensive kind of life that slowly leaves people lonely and exhausted.

I’m thirty-one now, not some hotshot corporate babe, but a writer with a sideline job and honestly the coolest boss in my remote-work life. Most days are quiet. Just me and my husband while the rain hums outside.

And weirdly enough, it feels complete.

Peaceful. Simple. Real.

I’m terrible at goodbyes, and even if I chose to leave behind the life and career I once thought I wanted, I can still say I’m thankful to God. My life isn’t perfect. There are still struggles, there always will be.

It's not about the shows, the anime, or the movies we watch together. It’s not about the quiet after our fights or the calm that follows the tears we cry. It’s about you. It’s always been about you—how you make everything better. How one look from you can make me feel whole again. Just knowing you're there, knowing someone like you loves me, makes me feel safe. You are my safe place.

I know I may seem nonchalant, and sometimes my face might say I don’t care, but deep inside, I’m thankful. I’m thankful for every argument, for every lesson, for the way we push through it all. I feel loved in the midst of it.