Freefall Writer

I’ve been all over the place these past few days, and I couldn’t pinpoint why I couldn’t focus at work. Then today, it just hit me—and now I’m wiping my tears while typing this.

I know I’m okay and I’ve been feeling better these past few months. But Christmas season… maybe it’s the “familial” feeling. I genuinely love seeing my friends post about their families. I’m so happy seeing them raise wonderful kids.

I guess there’s a sadness that’s been lying subconsciously in me—a kind of longing. It’s no secret that Kuya and I didn’t grow up with our parents; our mom died when we were just 8 months and 4 years old. Our lolo and lola raised us, and honestly, we never felt like anything was missing.

But today, I feel scared. What if I’m not living up to how lola and lolo raised us? What if I’m failing as a parent? What if I really can’t do this alone? Sometimes, I feel like I’ve already failed bb because we can’t give her a “whole” family.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m truly at peace with our current setup. And while everything might feel unfair, I genuinely appreciate my ex’s current partner for taking care of bb when she’s with them. It’s just… I always ask myself, “Is there anything more I can do for bb?” Because our setup isn’t exactly normal.

I also don’t understand why it feels so much harder for women. Obviously, I wouldn’t leave bb with her dad—my maternal instinct wouldn’t let me. But when men walk away from the family they built, it’s often seen as normal. People even say, “He should choose his happiness.” Can you imagine if it were me walking away? I’d be condemned.

Women are expected to keep their kids and their s**t together while their whole world falls apart. And honestly, I did that for months. (Well, my world isn’t falling apart anymore.)

I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I’m sorry if it makes anyone sad. I guess I just need to share it because sharing helps me stay sane—it’s a way to release.

So yeah, here’s my question: “What if I am actually failing as a parent?”

This season really gives me the blues. Sorry to my bosses—I promise I’ll finish my work. It’s just that my mind is all over the place right now. I’m peaceful, sure, but there’s this sadness I can’t just brush off.

Perception.

I don’t know why, but this popped into my head and decided to annoy me today. Sometimes I feel like people—especially guys—might be getting the wrong impression from the way I talk or act.

Here’s the thing: I don’t actually like a lot of people. I’m an introvert… but also a natural talker. It’s weird, I know. So minsan, may nagcha-chat na feeling nila I’m into them… when in reality, I’m just being my usual conversational, makuwento self. I talk to almost everyone the same way—whether you’re a colleague or a close friend. The difference is the level of closeness, but the vibe stays the same as long as I feel safe to be myself.

After my last relationship ended a few months back, there was only one guy I genuinely liked—but I’ve already moved on from him as well. So for the male friends who might be quietly wondering if I’m lowkey making a move… I’m really not. I promise, if I like someone, ako mismo makaka-feel nun—yung legit butterflies. And lately? Wala. As in… zero fluttering insects.

So if at any point you thought I was flirting—sorry if it ever felt that way. I’m just naturally engaging and mahilig sa madaldal na banter. Especially at work, I just love bouncing ideas around and having fun conversations.

The truth? I don’t like anyone in particular right now. When I post “I wish I had someone special”… it’s not a secret message to anyone. It’s just me manifesting, imagining, maybe playfully wishing the universe will slide someone interesting my way. Someday.

The Universe is funny sometimes — anyway, this is not a love story.

There are encounters where we think, this person might be the one. Crazy, isn’t it?

I’m writing this while laughing at myself, because the whole reason this even came to mind is a food — Dinuguan — which happens to be my favorite.

Months ago, I started using a dating app. Of course, there were a few matches here and there, but no one really stuck… you know? Until this one person. I thought he was cute. I think he also wore glasses in his profile, and he didn’t live too far, so I tried to match with him. I’m pretty sure I was the interested one first — I’m the one who tried to match, not the other way around.

And so, we matched. We talked on the app. And I don’t know what got into me because after just a few conversations, I invited him to message me in a different chat app. I waited for him to reply on the dating app but he never did! Haha. So to save my dignity, I unmatched after 24 hours, thinking maybe he wasn’t interested. It wasn’t that I didn’t like him, it’s just that I’m protecting myself now — any little inconsistency makes me run the other way. (I mean, I had to learn something from my ex, right?)

Moving forward, I thought it was just a brief encounter.

About a month later, I was looking for our friends’ group chat in that same chat app because I got moody one day and left the GC, and of course they added me back 🤣 While scrolling through the messages, I realized the group chat went to the spam folder — and there was also a message from someone I didn’t know from weeks ago. Curious, I messaged the person asking who he was, because his profile picture was just a white cat 😂

I honestly didn’t mind whether he would reply or not, but he did. He told me who he was and that I gave him my chat account from the dating app. I was surprised. I asked why he disappeared and he said he thought we were moving to the chat app, so he uninstalled the dating app — but I never replied because his message was stuck in my spam folder.

So there, we started chatting again. And we instantly clicked. It was funny because at one point I asked him about his birthday (today — November 22), and even his birth time and place so I could check our chart compatibility. (Again, based on me and my ex’s chart, we weren’t a match. I was just making sure, you know?) He was cool enough to give the info, and the chart said we were somewhat compatible — though it would need work. What’s funnier is that we even have the same life path number: 6.

So why did I suddenly remember him? Like I said earlier: Dinuguan. When I told him it was my favorite, he started craving it every time we chatted 🤣 I bet he really likes it now too. And that’s why I think I’ll always remember him because of Dinuguan.

I really liked that guy — like a potential, you know? But it seemed he wasn’t ready. He even told me he was only on the dating app to find someone to play a mobile game with. Honestly, that crushed a tiny part of me 😂 And I think it might be because it's a little hard to date me? I don’t know. I’m a mom already, so obviously he wasn’t ready for that either. Still, I told him I liked him.

The Universe is funny, really. I thought there was something there — like the Universe allowed us to meet. There were so many coincidences and similarities between us, not just the Dinuguan. He also likes pochero (my number one favorite). He worked in a survey company at the time — just like my very first job. Our courses were similar. He does programming — that was my college course too. And hear me out: his mom and my dad have the same birthday. I was freaking out. So yeah. I really thought there was something there.

But we don’t talk anymore. Maybe he didn’t actually like me, or maybe I did something — though I can’t remember anything. One day, he just stopped responding. He told me before that sometimes he goes offline for days or even a week, but after a while, I messaged him maybe 3–4 more times. Then I let him go and blocked him. I didn’t want to block him, but I can’t keep waiting. I have that tendency to wait for messages, even from friends.

So that’s it. That’s the story. I don’t think he’ll ever read this, but if this somehow reaches him — happy birthday, you. And yes, your birthday is still on my phone calendar. Just because.

People think it's okay until it happens to them. 🙃

Empathy. Values. Upbringing.


I broke down today, but I had so many realizations.

And those realizations go back to something my therapist told me back then.

During one of our sessions, of course, I opened up about what was bothering me. I asked him if something was wrong with me, or if I was wrong for feeling that way. My therapist told me there was actually nothing wrong with me—and that the reason I couldn’t fix my problem was because I wasn’t the problem. He told me that to somehow lighten what I was feeling, I had two choices:
1. Even though I wasn’t the problem, I could keep trying to understand the person and compromise to keep the peace (which meant walking on eggshells).
2. Or, I could let that person go.

I remember back then, therapists don’t really tell you what to do. What they do is help you realize what you can do to move forward. There was even a time when I told him that I kept begging, and he said he couldn’t tell me to stop. If begging was what I thought I needed at the time, then it was up to me to do it.

Having empathy means you can understand how it feels to be in someone else’s shoes. And I get it now—why some people suck at giving advice or insights. It’s because they don’t put themselves in that situation before opening their mouths. The other reason is that they simply don’t share the same values. They weren’t raised that way.

I’m not a perfect person, you know. I also do s**tty, stupid, totally human things sometimes for my own satisfaction. But I can honestly say that these past few years of being an adult have taught me so much about accountability. And with a clear conscience, I can say I’ve always been responsible and accountable for my shortcomings as a human.

I hope Lolo and Lola are proud of me, you know? Because if there’s something I learned from them, it’s that values come before family. I once had a leader who didn’t want to call our team a “family.” Why? Because in a family, there comes a time when you might cover up for someone’s mistakes. But in a team, you hold each other accountable. I loved that. That’s integrity.

While I love the idea of a complete family, you can toss me out if our family doesn’t uphold values and just covers for each other. I don’t want that. I don’t want my child to grow up thinking it’s okay not to hold people accountable when they do something wrong.

I understand now why my circles feel more genuine than ever. It’s because we don’t tolerate each other’s nonsense. We hold each other accountable. We call each other out when we’re on the wrong path. And as much as they’ve been nothing but supportive of me, I’ve always loved them for telling me things like, “ang tanga-tanga mo,” “papatayuan ka na namin ng rebulto sa sobrang martir,” or “hindi ka dapat pumapayag na ginaganon lang.”

Honestly, if they ever kicked me out of our GCs, I wouldn’t be angry. Why? Because I could never be angry at someone for upholding their values over me. If our values no longer align and you want me out of your life, that’s okay. And I think that’s something most people struggle to accept.

Going back to my therapist—he told me the real problem in that relationship was that our values no longer aligned. The other person didn’t see what he was doing as morally wrong. For me, it was. And that’s why the misunderstandings never ended.

So what’s my point in all of this? To truly understand what someone is going through, we need empathy. And empathy isn’t just a skill. If you were raised in a home where emotions were brushed off with “Okay lang yan, si ano nga…” or “Buti ka pa nga ganyan lang…,” then it’s understandable why you might struggle to have the kind of values that help you commit fully in a relationship.

I’d rather lose anyone over my values than be treated as their friend or family simply because they tolerate me.

Today, I woke up missing the version of you that I loved.

It was just a normal weekend. The kid and I were at home. Last night, I had a little karaoke night with some friends. We ate, drank a little, sang, and had fun. The kid even taught us how to play his favorite game. I didn’t learn. I didn’t get it.

Maybe there’s still a part of me that remembers why the three of us always worked—and belonged—together. Because when you were still with us, we really were "that" family. I was the mom who made sure everything was put together and organized. I made sure we didn’t forget anything—bills, groceries, school items, everything.

You? You were always the cool dad—the one who taught him how to play computer games I could never understand. You were the creative one. Fixing school costumes? That was all you. You were also the generous one. Me, being the frugal one, wouldn’t even think of buying a new television if the old one still worked. I admit, though, that I’ve kind of adapted now—buying things when I know I deserve them. Life’s too short anyway.

I had multiple dreams about you last night. The first one was of me wearing a spaghetti-strap pink top, and you asked if I was really going to wear it outside. I remember when you still loved me—how you cared a lot about how I looked, but in a good way. Then we embraced in that dream, and I woke up. You always wanted the best for me. Maybe that’s how I knew something had changed in the last two years before you left us—because you stopped caring. You just kept saying I knew what suited me, which was your way of not giving an opinion anymore.

I fell asleep again. The second and third dreams were similar. It was strange—it felt like it was happening now. I knew we weren’t together anymore. Your family was having an outing, like the swimming trips we used to have, and we were at a resort. Then the scene shifted, and suddenly I was picking out a car to buy. You were there, but we weren’t together. I woke up again. It was all a dream.

I know I don’t really miss you—not the “you” that exists now. I miss the old you. The one who stood up to my grandpa when you got me pregnant. The one who worked hard for our family because our child was too small to be left alone and I needed to stay home. I miss that version of you—the one I’ll never get back.

I miss the way you laughed. I miss the way you looked at me. You knew how to look at me in a way that melted my heart—and you’d laugh because you knew it gave me butterflies. I miss your cuddles when the nights got cold. I miss our long talks—about politics, people, life, and plans. I miss your “tea” after work.

I miss your generosity and kind heart. I still tell that story about the company car from your old job—the one where I kept a blanket inside. One day I couldn’t find the blanket, and you told me you’d given it to a homeless person.

But maybe that version of you never really existed. Maybe the “you” now is the real one, and everything before was just a mask. After all, if you truly loved me and our child, nothing could’ve come between us. But she did. And you let her.

Circumstances changed, and something in you switched on—a version I never knew existed. It hurts to realize that maybe there was never really an us to begin with.

Were you ever mine?

I am just alone, not lonely.

Let me make this clear: I know I just ended a relationship. I know I may look like I’m alone, sad, and all that—but if you’re someone I haven’t connected with in a long time, my “alone” phase doesn’t give you a ticket back into my life.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a family member I’ve already cut off, an old friend, or a former colleague. I didn’t need you before, and I don’t need you now.

Some might say, “But no man is an island—you’ll eventually need help.” Why? Are we living just to please other people? I don’t think so. I didn’t like you before, and I still don’t. You don’t get to walk back into my life. That’s just how it is.

I just noticed this one person—he’s starting to feel comfortable talking to me again. The audacity is unreal. After everything he said before, after how he made me feel helpless over the smallest things? I’d rather die alone than talk to him again.

Not today, uncle.

Peace vs Boredom

Most days, I mistake peace for boredom. It’s strange, living after years when your mind was always in fight-or-flight mode. I realized I had never really felt peace before — that’s why I now think I’m just bored all the time.

It feels great that I’m writing this not from boredom, but from peace. Peace can look like boredom when you’ve spent years in chaos. I didn’t even know my brain could feel this calm. I used to think I could only feel at ease around my favorite person. I had been anxious for so long whenever he wasn’t around that I thought he was my calm — that love was supposed to feel like that.

Now I understand that peace is a choice. You have to choose to let go of the things that weigh on your mind. Boredom, on the other hand, happens when you lack something — a hobby, a goal, an activity. Sure, you can be bored and peaceful at the same time. But you can also just be peaceful, do nothing, and not be bored. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.

It’s hard to heal when your heart isn’t at peace. You have to find that sweet spot where your mind can rest — where you can return to being your own person, no longer needing anyone to feel whole. That’s how I find my little moments of peace now. They come when I feel complete on my own.

When you don’t feel whole, part of you is always searching for that missing piece in someone else. That’s where the chaos begins. But when you’re whole, peace starts — because you’re no longer waiting for a love you no longer need to chase.

This page is for the thoughts that never made it to the group chat.

I honestly don’t know how to start this page. It’s just that there are so many random thoughts in my mind these days, and sometimes I feel like they might be too much to share with friends.

My friends? They’re wonderful. I can tell them the most unhinged thoughts, and they’ll still agree that I somehow make sense.

It wasn’t too long ago when I stepped out of a 16-year relationship. I’m 33 now, so just imagine — I spent almost half my life with one person. He did too. He’s just a year older than me.

This isn’t the first time I’ve created a page for my thoughts. It’s just that this time, I feel like I’m in a healthier space — a place where my thoughts come from someone who’s healing. I know I must have been pretty toxic at some point when I was still dealing with all the heartache.

And so, I think it’s only fair that my healthier thoughts have a space of their own. I know it’s a little weird. I could have kept all of these in a diary where no one would ever read them. But somehow, it feels better knowing there might be someone out there who’ll read my thoughts and find something familiar in them.

If that ever happens, I hope you relate more to the good parts — not the heartbreaks. I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone.