A Mother’s Love
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Living With the Unseen Battle: Loving My Son’s Twin Brother
In the movie Venom, Eddie Brock is an ordinary man who one day becomes host to an alien creature called a symbiote. From that moment forward, they share a single body. Eddie is himself most of the time — thinking his own thoughts, making his own choices — but Venom lives inside him. The alien… Read more
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THE THIRD TIME: Reckoning with Rage, Relapse, and the Quiet Weight of Being Loved
This is the third time I have entered the rehabilitation center. I thought I was done. I thought I had finally made it out. After eight long months inside these walls, I walked out those doors — and for two weeks, I breathed free air. Two weeks. That was all I got before everything fell… Read more
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A Stranger Wearing My Son’s Face
“May isang tao na nagnanais na makuha ang ulo mo” Sinabi niya ito na nakangisi. Ang uri ng ngising nakikita ko lamang sa mga mukha ng mga mamamatay-tao sa mga anime na minahal niya noon. Labintatlo siya nang mapansin ko ang ngising iyon sa unang pagkakataon. Nang panahon na makilala ko na ang kahulugan nito,… Read more
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Not Yet: A Story About Wings, Roots, and the Space In Between
Dumating ako sa puntong punô ng galit ang aking dibdib sa labis na paghihigpit ng aking mga magulang. Pakiramdam ko noon, ako’y isang ibong ikinulong sa hawla—may pakpak ngunit hindi makalipad, may pangarap ngunit hindi matupad. Sigurado ako sa sarili ko, hindi ako magkakamali, hindi ko sisirain ang aking kinabukasan. Ngunit sa kabila ng lahat,… Read more
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The Lot Lady’s Daughter: How My Mother’s Land Obsession Taught Me About Real Freedom
It’s really fun being a financially independent woman. Not just fun—liberating. It’s waking up and realizing that the choices you make today are truly yours. It’s knowing that the worst-case scenarios that keep other people up at night don’t have the same power over you. Read more
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The Empty Seat: The Slice of Mother’s Journey Through Tears and Hope
Tinitigan ko siya nang may luha sa aking mga mata. Siya ang aking anak. Isang marka ang nabuo sa aking kamay—maitim, pangit, at hindi mabubura. Isang sugat ng kawalang-galang. Hanggang ngayon, minsan ko pa rin itong hinahaplos, binabalikan ang sandaling unang itinaas niya ang kanyang kamay laban sa akin. Ang unang pagkakataong ang pagmamahal ay… Read more