In My Own World

There are days—quiet, random, almost uninvited—when the thought of quitting my job slips into my mind. It doesn’t come with a grand reason. No dramatic breakdown. No final straw. Just a simple, lingering thought:  What if I just stop? Maybe it’s because this isn’t what I once dreamed of. Maybe it’s the routine, the repetition, or the feeling of wanting something more but not quite knowing what that “more” is. The kind of restlessness that doesn’t scream, but softly stays. But then reality has a way of interrupting. Because as much as the idea of quitting sounds freeing for a second, the truth is—I can’t afford to. Not in the most literal sense. Life isn’t exactly cheap, and dreams don’t pay the bills. This job does. And strangely, every time I find myself leaning toward that thought, life seems to gently pull me back. It reminds me—sometimes subtly, sometimes a little too clearly—that I’m actually in a fortunate position. In a world where layoffs are becoming more common, where sta...

There are some people in life you wish you never had to meet. Not because they didn’t matter—but because of how deeply they changed you in ways you never asked for. You were that person for me. You made me hate my job. You made me dread workdays, especially mornings that used to feel like fresh starts. You made something as simple as checking my messages feel heavy—like I was about to receive something that would ruin my entire mood. And slowly, without me even realizing it, you made me doubt myself. I used to believe in what I could do. I used to feel capable. There was a fire in me—something steady, something hopeful. But somewhere along the way, your words, your tone, your presence… they chipped away at that. Until I found myself questioning things I used to be sure about. You didn’t just criticize my work. You made me question my worth. And that’s what hurt the most. But here’s the part I struggle to admit— I know I shouldn’t give you so much credit. Because maybe, if you ever knew...

I didn’t expect to feel this way at 34. Isn’t a midlife crisis supposed to come later, when you’ve lived enough life to question it? But here I am, already questioning everything. Lately, I’ve been reflecting a lot—about where I am, about the life I’m living, and more specifically, about the work I wake up for every day. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful. Truly, deeply grateful. There was a time when this job was the only thing I prayed for. For years, I held onto that hope, trusting that one day I would finally get here. Twelve years of prayers, of waiting, of believing that this exact opportunity would come into my life. And now that I finally have it, I don’t feel the way I thought I would. I thought I’d feel fulfilled. I thought I’d feel like I made it. But instead, I feel stuck. It’s confusing how something you once begged for can become something you feel disconnected from. How a prayer can be answered and still feel incomplete. I show up to work, I do what I’m supposed to do, I ...

Life can really feel overwhelming at times. Moments you don’t see coming suddenly arrive all at once—like a full blow you never prepared for. One minute things feel normal, and the next you’re surrounded by emotions that don’t seem to make sense together. Happy. Sad. Frustrating. Disappointing. Exciting. Dreadful. All at the same time. Sometimes it makes you want to disappear for a while. Like going to some land far, far away… and only coming back when things feel good again. But that’s not how life works. Unfortunately. We don’t get to skip the difficult chapters. We have to go through every bad moment to truly appreciate the good ones. Sometimes we even have to go through them just to realize how strong we are for surviving them. And truthfully, we wouldn’t make it through any of it without the grace of God quietly carrying us along the way. Still, there are days when you can’t help but think about that line people often say: “To my younger self, just stay there. It’s lonely here.” B...

I haven’t felt okay lately. The past few weeks have been tough—uncertain in ways that quietly creep into your thoughts when you’re trying to rest. It’s mostly work-related, the kind of uncertainty that doesn’t scream but lingers. The kind that sits beside you while you’re answering emails, while you’re pretending to focus, while you’re trying to convince yourself that everything is still manageable. And the strange thing is… I look okay. I laugh at jokes. I reply to messages. I talk to people like nothing’s wrong. If you saw me in passing, you’d probably think I’m fine. Maybe just tired. Maybe just busy. But there’s this quiet emptiness that follows me around like a shadow. It’s subtle but heavy. I feel lost, drained, uncertain—like I’m walking through fog, moving forward without actually knowing where I’m headed. It’s a confusing kind of not-okay. Because I’m not breaking down. I’m not crying every night. I’m not dramatically falling apart. I’m just… functioning. On autopilot. Doing w...

I think I’m living in a chapter that doesn’t have a name yet. No bold heading. No clear direction. No summary at the top of the page telling me what this is about. Just paragraphs of ordinary days — blurred together. I am not sure what the future holds, but I know Who holds the future. And lately, that truth is the only thing anchoring me. Because if I’m being honest, I don’t know where this is going. Everything feels like autopilot. I wake up. I show up. I do what needs to be done. I respond. I complete. I survive the day. But I don’t necessarily understand it. It feels like I’m walking through fog, trusting there’s still ground beneath my feet. Maybe I’m just in a hurry. A hurry to figure everything out. A hurry to see if this story ends well — or begins well. I want to flip to the last page just to make sure it’s worth continuing. But life doesn’t work like that. Right now, I don’t feel motivated. I don’t feel inspired. Some days, I just want to quit everything and sleep for the res...

What would you do if you knew someone you love only had two years left to live? Would you still postpone dinner because you’re tired? Would you still choose work over weekends? Would you still say, “Next time na lang”? Two years sounds long — until you start counting it in birthdays, Christmases, random Tuesdays, and ordinary mornings. Suddenly, it’s not “two years.” It’s a limited number of hugs. A limited number of inside jokes. A limited number of “ingat ka” before they walk out the door. And that’s when I realized something. Life isn’t short. If life were short, how do we explain people celebrating their 100th birthdays? How do we explain those who feel it’s too long and choose to end it themselves? Life isn’t measured by length alone. Life is fragile. Fragile like glass — it can last decades if untouched, but one unexpected drop can shatter it instantly. We tell ourselves that longevity is something we can control. Eat clean. Exercise daily. Avoid stress. Stay away from gadgets. S...