#thoughtsunleashed

This Lenten season, I made a quiet but firm decision—to stop stalking, to stop comparing, and to stop trying to figure out why others seem “greater” than me. I realized that these habits were only feeding my negativity and slowly affecting my mental health.

It wasn’t easy. If I’m being honest, it had already become part of my daily routine—something I would do without even thinking. Letting go of it felt uncomfortable, almost like breaking a habit I didn’t know I was so attached to. But deep in my heart, I knew I needed to choose peace over pressure.

So I started to refocus. I began letting go of the things—and even people—that no longer bring goodness into my life. I chose to protect my space, my thoughts, and my heart. It’s still challenging, and there are moments when I feel tempted to go back, but I remind myself why I started. I remind myself to stand firm.

This season, I am choosing to focus on what truly matters—my family, my growth, and my faith. I reflect on Jesus’ life, His love, and the sacrifice He made for us, even though we are imperfect and sinful. That kind of love humbles me. It reminds me that I don’t need to measure up to anyone else, because I am already seen, loved, and enough in His eyes.

And maybe that’s what this journey is really about—coming back to what is real, what is pure, and what brings life to the soul.

I was tired. The house felt loud. Someone needed to sleep. My toddler didn’t want to rest and just wanted to play. My baby needed me too. And in the middle of it all, I got overwhelmed. I raised my voice. I lost my patience. I did things I wish I could take back.

Now the room is quiet… but my heart isn’t.

It’s heavy with guilt. The kind that whispers, “What kind of mother am I?”

But as I looked at my children sleeping, something in me softened.

I am not perfect. But I love them—deeply, endlessly.

And maybe motherhood was never about getting everything right.

Maybe it’s about what we choose to do after we get it wrong.

So tonight, I choose to come back softer.

I choose to be the mom who says sorry.

The mom who learns.

The mom who tries again tomorrow.

I gently brushed their hair, held them close, and whispered—

even if they couldn’t hear me,

“I’m sorry, my love. I love you so much.”

And tomorrow, I will try again.

More patient. More gentle. More understanding.

Because my children don’t need a perfect mother—

they just need a mama who keeps showing up with love.

A Seed of Wisdom from My Mom

When I was younger, my mom would often tell us, “Matuto kayong magtanim.” For her, planting was never just a simple hobby. It was something she truly loved. I remember watching her tend to her plants with so much care and patience. People would often say that she has malamig na kamay—because almost everything she plants grows beautifully. It’s as if life just listens to her hands.

Back then, I didn’t think much about it. I just thought it was one of those things that moms say.

But now that I’m a mom myself, I finally understand what she meant.

These days, I find myself looking at small spaces around our home and imagining little pots of vegetables growing there. Simple plants. Maybe some leafy greens. Maybe a few herbs. And suddenly, I realize that I’m slowly becoming a student of my own mother.

Life has changed so much. Prices of basic goods keep rising, especially vegetables. With everything happening around the world, even the cost of gas affects the price of food we bring to the table. As a mom who prepares meals for my family, I feel it deeply.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking about how blessed people in the province are—those who wake up and simply pick vegetables from their backyard, or those who have chickens and pigs they raise with their own hands. There is something peaceful and comforting about that kind of life. A life close to the soil, close to simplicity.

Maybe that’s why a part of my heart longs for that kind of life too.

Still, even here at home, I believe small beginnings are possible.

I’ve always loved learning. There’s something beautiful about gaining new knowledge and adding new skills in life. And now, this season of my life—being a mother, caring for my children, managing our home, and soon preparing myself to return to work—has made me realize that learning never really stops.

My days are already full. Taking care of my little ones, making sure everyone is okay, thinking about the future, and carrying the quiet responsibilities that come with motherhood. Yet somehow, the idea of planting—even something small—makes me feel excited.

Maybe because planting is also an act of hope.

You put a tiny seed into the soil, not knowing exactly how it will grow, but trusting that with care, patience, and time, something beautiful will come out of it.

And in many ways, motherhood feels the same.

As I begin this small journey of learning how to plant, I pray for the Lord’s guidance. I ask Him to bless the work of my hands, to give me patience when things don’t grow right away, and to remind me that every small effort we make for our family matters.

Maybe one day, just like my mom, I will also have those malamig na kamay that can grow life from the soil.

For now, I’m simply a mom learning, trying, and trusting—planting seeds not just in the garden, but also in my life and in the future of my children.

One seed at a time. 🌱

(Photo from Pinterest)

Growing alongside my children has been one of my greatest teachers. Every day, I learn something new — about them, and about myself. I am learning that strength does not always look loud. Sometimes, it looks like staying calm when you could easily react. Sometimes, it looks like walking away. Sometimes, it looks like using your voice — steady, firm, and clear.

There are moments when I feel the need to protect my role as a mother and to guard my children from anything that may harm them, even in small ways. And when that happens, I don’t stay silent anymore. Not because I want conflict, and not because I am naturally confrontational — but because I have learned my worth. I have learned that protecting my peace and my family is not being “patola.” It is being responsible. It is being brave in a quiet way.

I used to say, “I forgive, but I never forget.” Maybe before, it came from pain. Now, it comes from wisdom. I forgive so my heart won’t be heavy. But I remember so I can set boundaries. I remember so I won’t allow the same hurt to enter my home again.

Motherhood has made my priorities clearer than ever. My mental health matters. My physical health matters. My peace matters. Because when I am whole, my children feel it. When I am calm, they feel safe. When I choose gentleness, they learn gentleness too.

I am still learning. I still have days when I doubt myself. But I am no longer the woman who shrinks just to keep others comfortable. I am becoming someone softer yet stronger — someone who chooses peace, but will stand firm when needed.

And at the end of the day, everything I do — every boundary I set, every tear I cry, every lesson I learn — is for them.

There’s something beautiful about focusing only on my own little world—myself, my children, my husband, and the home we’re building day by day. Iba talaga ‘yung pakiramdam when I pour my energy into the people who matter and the blessings God trusted me with. Mas ramdam ko yung presence ni Lord sa everyday moments… yung simpleng gising ng mga bata, yung tahimik na kape sa umaga, yung lambing before bedtime.

It’s like life slowed down in the best way.

I’m more present now. Mas napapansin ko yung mga maliliit na bagay—Maddy’s random hugs, the soft kicks of my baby inside me, the warmth of our home even on chaotic days. Before, my mind would wander everywhere, thinking about things that weren’t even connected to my life. Pero ngayon, parang nagbago yung hangin. It feels calmer. Softer. Kinder.

I guess this is what peace feels like.

It’s choosing not to chase noise.

It’s letting go of what doesn’t belong to me.

It’s staying grateful for what God gives, even the small pieces.

And for the first time in a long time, ang saya pala mabuhay nang simple lang.

When My Knees Hit the Ground — My Reflection from “Touch the Sky”

There’s something about “Touch the Sky” by Hillsong UNITED that always stirs my heart. Maybe it’s the reminder that when life feels heavy — when I’m tired, juggling motherhood, caring for two little souls, and trying to find myself again — the best thing I can do isn’t to keep pushing harder, but to pause… and kneel.

The line “I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground” means so much more now than it did back in college. Before, it was about chasing dreams and surrendering my plans. Now, it’s about grace in the middle of sleepless nights, messy rooms, and moments of overwhelm. It’s realizing that even in exhaustion and uncertainty, God still meets me there — in the quiet, in the tears, and in the whispered prayers I say while holding my babies.

Motherhood has humbled me in ways I never expected. “Touching the sky” no longer means reaching success or perfection, but finding peace in surrender. It’s allowing God to fill the spaces where I fall short and seeing His grace in everyday moments — in my child’s laughter, the calm after tears, and the quiet strength that greets me each morning.

Still, there are days when fear creeps in. Sometimes I get scared to take risks or face the unknown. I overthink, I cry, and I worry about falling into the kind of sadness that once felt too heavy to escape. I never want to lose myself again in that darkness.