Don't Know If I Should Fight Or Fly.

I miss going out. I miss wearing shoes and jeans. I’m tired of wearing house clothes 😂

It was 2021, and I had just come out of a relationship with someone who was extremely possessive. It was like I could finally breathe again. For the first time in years, I felt free—free to hold my phone without constantly glancing over my shoulder, free to choose what I wanted to wear, free to spend time with friends, and attend parties without the weight of someone else’s control. It was empowering.

But that freedom didn’t come without its struggles. In the first few months of being on my own, I was hit with a wave of anxiety and uncertainty. I had been so used to someone else dictating my life that I didn’t know how to fully navigate it on my own. It was a strange feeling—after fighting so hard to get out of a relationship that stifled me, I found myself a little lost.

No longer having someone control me was a relief, but it also meant I had to adjust to taking responsibility for everything myself. The simple things I’d once been comfortable letting him handle were now on me. It was daunting, but I reminded myself that I’d fought for this freedom. I wasn’t going to let the discomfort pull me back into old habits.

One of the hardest parts was getting back online and socializing again. I had fallen off the radar for almost two years—no social media posts, no updates, nothing. So when I finally reappeared on Facebook, my friends were shocked. The first messages I received were along the lines of, "Wow, where have you been?!" They were right—two years is a long time to go dark.

Reconnecting wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I struggled to respond to messages and reach out to people. It was like I had forgotten how to socialize after being isolated for so long. I felt out of place, like I didn’t quite belong in the world I’d left behind. I wanted to rekindle friendships, but I was afraid. Afraid of rejection, afraid of the awkwardness, and afraid of not being the same person they used to know.

But little by little, I’m finding my way back. It hasn’t been smooth or easy, but I’m learning to embrace this new chapter of independence. Every day, I remind myself that this journey is mine to navigate, and no matter how slow the progress, I’m moving forward.

Depression is an odd thing. It doesn’t always stem from a single reason, and it’s not something I can just “snap out of.” There’s a common misconception that people are depressed because they’re constantly sad, but that’s not always the case. For me, it feels like a heavy weight that sits on my chest, something that zaps my energy, motivation, and joy—even on days when everything is going okay.

Some days, it’s the little things that pile up: unanswered emails, personal doubts, the pressure of being a parent—especially to a son with autism—and the overwhelming sense that I’m just not doing enough. Other times, it’s bigger, unresolved issues, like dealing with loss, past traumas, or feeling like I’m constantly underperforming in areas of my life, despite my best efforts.

Living with depression also makes relationships tricky. I often feel disconnected from people, even those I love. Sometimes, I withdraw, not because I don’t care but because I just don’t have the energy to keep up. Other times, I overcompensate, trying too hard to be present, only to feel drained afterward.

As a single mother, I’m responsible for more than just myself, and that pressure can be overwhelming. While I love my son deeply, managing life on my own sometimes feels like walking uphill with weights tied to my legs. It’s not about him—it’s about the relentless pressure of trying to be everything for everyone while still battling my own inner demons.

I go to therapy because I know I need help unraveling everything that’s been tangled up inside for years. There are days when I feel a glimmer of hope, when I feel like maybe things are turning around. But there are also days when I just need to ride out the storm, trusting that even though it feels endless, it will eventually pass.

So if I seem distant, tired, or not like myself, it’s not that I’m avoiding anyone. It’s just that I’m doing my best to survive the battle that’s happening inside my own head.

Life sucks.

And i wanna sleep.

i miss going out.

Depression is crazy because If you don’t actively combat it daily you’ll find yourself a week after having the best week of your life laying on the floor for two hours wondering why you can’t get up @le_debut

What do I like the most about my city?

Kidapawan City, once a small town nestled in the misty mountains of North Cotabato, holds a special place in my heart. I still remember being 8 years old when my family moved back to the Philippines, greeted by the cool mountain air and the warmth of this vibrant city, just a couple of hours away from bustling Davao.

Adjusting to the weather here was tough at first—I found myself in and out of the hospital yearly until I finally adapted. The nights were chilly, and the days could be warm, but not oppressively so—just the kind of pleasant warmth that feels comforting.

As I grew older, so did the city around me. We welcomed franchises of beloved fast-food chains, watched hospitals upgrade, and witnessed roads being reconstructed and experienced numerous other developments that have transformed the city. Old buildings, standing proud, were gradually renovated to blend seamlessly with the changes. Progress was palpable.

In the simplicity of life here, I found comfort. I could just walk to my destination without worrying about sunburn, thanks to the shade provided generously by the trees. Everything I needed was within walking distance, fostering a sense of closeness and community.

Kidapawan City isn't just a place to me; it's home. It's where my heart will always reside, where the memories of childhood and the warmth of family intertwine. It's a sanctuary where the pace of life allows me to appreciate the little joys and the beauty of each day.

Daily affirmations

I am healthy, I am wealthy, I am rich, I am that bitch I am gonna go get that bag and I am not gonna take your shit I am protected, well respected, I'm a queen, I'm a dream I do what I wanna do and I'm who I wanna be 'Cause I am me

Thanks, Flo Milli!

I mourn my youth

I mourn my youth with a sorrow that feels almost unbearable. Not because it’s gone but because I realize I never truly lived it.

I ache for all the moments I let slip by, the countless chances I ignored, thinking there’d always be more time. I regret the nights I should have spent out, surrounded by laughter and people who would have helped me feel alive. Instead, I stayed in the shadows, clinging to comfort and safety, only to find out too late that those things would cost me the memories I could never make.

I think of all the times I chose sleep over adventure, the days I kept my life small and predictable instead of going somewhere new. I missed the thrill of being spontaneous, of packing a bag and leaving without knowing where I’d end up. I missed places that could have shown me how vast and beautiful the world really is, places I’ll only ever know through the stories of others who dared to go.

And the people—I mourn them most of all. I wonder about the friendships that never had a chance to grow, the faces I never got to know because I was too scared to take a step toward them. There were probably kindred souls, people who would have understood me better than I understood myself, waiting somewhere in the world. But I kept to my familiar circle, never daring to reach out, and now they’re strangers I’ll never meet.

I look back, and it’s almost unbearable to realize how much I lost. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self to be brave, to take the risks, to live as if these days would eventually run out. But all I have now is this ache, this haunting feeling of a life half-lived. And the hardest part is knowing that these missed moments will forever be just that—echoes of a life I could have had but never did.