Ad Astra

Dearest KM,

There is something quietly beautiful about staying.

It wasn't the kind of staying that comes from everything being easy, but the kind that comes after difficult conversations, misunderstandings, tears, distance, exhaustion, and all the moments that make you wonder whether love is enough.

Some days, loving you feels effortless. We laugh until our stomachs hurt. We send each other random thoughts throughout the day. We make ordinary moments feel like something worth remembering.

But some days are heavier.

Life happens. Stress happens. Mental health happens. Our individual struggles show up at the door and ask to be carried too. There are moments when we don't understand each other immediately. Moments when our fears speak louder than our hearts. Moments when choosing patience feel harder than choosing silence.

And yet, somehow, we remain.

It's not because we are perfect for each other. Not because we never hurt each other. Not because we have figured everything out.

We remain because every day, in ways both grand and small, we keep choosing each other.

I choose you when communication feels difficult. You choose me when I am not the easiest person to love. I choose you during uncertainty. You choose me during vulnerability.

We choose each other when things are good, but more importantly, we choose each other when things are not.

I think that's what makes love real.

It's waking up every day and deciding, "I still want you here."

It's seeing each other's flaws up close and staying anyway.

It's learning that commitment is not a single decision made once, but a thousand quiet decisions made over and over again.

In a world that often celebrates beginnings, I find myself appreciating endurance more.

For us, because we stayed.

For us, because we tried again.

For us, who learn, unlearn, apologize, forgive, and continue building.

Us.

I don't know what the future looks like. No one does. But today, despite everything we've faced and everything we're still learning, I know this:

I am grateful for a love that doesn't run at the first sign of difficulty.

I am grateful for a woman who keeps showing up.

And I am grateful that, even after every trial, every challenge, every moment that tested us, we still find our way back to the same choice.

Each other.

Every day. 🤍

With love,

I came across my previous blog entry today and smiled.

Because the funny thing about imposter syndrome is that it makes predictions with so much confidence and then turns out to be wrong.

Back then, I genuinely believed I wasn't good enough. I kept questioning if I was in the right room.

I thought everyone else was smarter. I thought I had fallen behind. I thought being humbled meant I wasn't capable.

A year later, I finished my first year of graduate school with flat uno grades. It wasn't because I suddenly became a genius overnight. Not because the doubts magically disappeared.

But because I kept showing up. I attended classes. I read the materials.I wrote research papers. I participated in discussions.

I kept going, even on days when I felt inadequate.

The lesson wasn't that I was secretly exceptional all along. The lesson was that growth often feels like incompetence while it's happening. Sometimes, you're not failing. You're just learning.

And sometimes, the person who doubts themselves the most is also the person working the hardest.

So to the version of me who wrote that a year ago:

Thank you for not quitting. You were right about one thing.

And it hit me today, "hindi naman talaga pala ako magaling."

I entered graduate school a few weeks back, with a bottle full of confidence and dreams. But now, after a number of classes, I realized how little I am compared to my peers.

It's hard not to compare. I've been out of school for 8 years already. It has been 8 years since I graduated college. I feel like I have lost not just my spark but my wit. I used to be an achiever, but now I feel like I'm just average. Graduate school is really HUMBLING.

With this, am I gonna give up? Hell no.

It's just the start, I'm still adjusting.

I'm gonna do it scared. I'm gonna do it anxious. I'm gonna fake it 'til I make it.

Cala Laiya weekend. 🌊🏖️🐚🩱☀️

One step closer to my RPsy dream!!!! 😭🧠🛋️

I don't want to have these bipolar conversations where I threaten, and apologize, and demand, and apologize again. I don't mean to take you through the wringer to make you see violence, and mood swings. I don't mean to scare you when I cry for hours. I don't mean to scare you when I scream and punch things. I don't mean to scare you with my suicidal tendencies. I never meant to do those things. I never meant to drop everything and move across countries with no plans at all. I never meant to hurt myself until my arms were coated in scars.

For all the times I self-medicated and drank away my pain, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken so many Abilify pills. You're right, I was wrong again. I never meant for you to become my caretaker. I hate those words — caretaker. I should be able to take care of myself. I'm sorry I am not managing this illness. I am very, very ill. I'm sorry for the times I couldn't get out of bed, couldn't eat, couldn't move, couldn't go to work. I' m sorry for the times I made tons of post-it notes, filled journals with ideas, bought calendars and notebooks. I'm sorry for getting your hopes up. I really thought I could do it this time. I'm sorry for my diagnosis. I'm sorry I didn't understand how serious this is.

I didn't ask to be bipolar. I didn't ask to be born. I make cases for myself in my head but they're all filed as crazy. I'm sorry I was delusional, paranoid, and afraid. I'm sorry for melting, fading, burning, and still coming back alive —these lowest of lows, and highest of highs.

When you're only supposed to be a support, a resource of compassion, you had to be a caretaker. You didn't ask for this, neither did I. I sometimes questioned if it was harder on you to live with someone with bipolar disorder, than it was for me to live with bipolar disorder.

You wanted to save me but, you made me realize that I can only save myself.

Maligcong, you're nothing short of beautiful.

Grief is a reminder of how much love you still have for someone you've lost. But to be constantly reminded that I still have overflowing love to give and don't know how to send it really kicks me out of my sanity.

It's wanting to cry the whole day, being overwhelmed with company, drowning in sad thoughts from happy memories, only to be forced to recover because life only cares about living.

All in a day, an hour, or even minutes.

I miss you lola.

I hate it.

I hate it how my anxious thoughts easily get to me. I hate how it affects me daily. I hate how I cry about it. I hate how it feels like a never-ending feeling that I’m in danger, when I’m not.

I love how my parents are there to hold me. I love how my girlfriend says the right words to ease my burden. I love how my dad comforts me by saying that I should be strong, and occasionally tells inspiring stories. I love how my mom hugs me and makes my favorite dishes and desserts.

They keep me going.

I’ve been dealing with anxiety lately. Even if I plan ahead and know in heart that I am beyond ready and prepared, my negative thoughts still eat me alive. Work has been extra draining lately because of this. This is how ‘everyday’ feels like when you’re dealing with General Anxiety Disorder and Bipolar I Disorder.

I try not to be labeled by my diagnosis. But sometimes, it’s hard you know? Knowing that the anxiety will always be there.

What’s helping me lately is by trying to redirect my thoughts. I wrote notes on a post it and stuck it on my wall. I’ll share what I wrote in hopes that someone might need to hear this too, and help them out in my own little way.

Things get easier.

If you can’t beat fear, do it scared.

You got to do it. You might do it badly, but you still got to do it.

Sometimes, loving ourselves means accepting ourselves enough to tell ourselves other people like and approve of us. Sometimes, loving ourselves means approving of ourselves even when they don’t.

It takes courage to stop cowering and openly love, accept and approve of ourselves.

Don’t just say the words.