My Face Is Having A mini-earthquake! It's twitching so Violently, It Feels Like My Body Is shaking.

I swear nothing has caused more problems for me in my life than my inability to say no or turn people down. Soft and empathetic nature costs you a lot

Today, I blocked someone on Instagram.

I had already cut him off before because he said something I didn’t like. My old self would have tried to understand where he was coming from, rationalizing why people say the things they do. But not anymore.

He’s not the first guy who has told me he wanted to sleep with me. I get plenty of indecent proposals—random, unsolicited messages from men like him.

In the past, I let it slide. I never gave in, but I also never pushed back. I shrugged it off, ignored it, and stayed friends. I even gaslit myself into thinking I was overreacting when their words made me uncomfortable. I told myself it was fine because boys will be boys.

But this? This was too much.

Lately, one of them has been trying to reconnect and meet up. I’ve told him no, more than once. I’ve given excuses, politely declined, and outright refused. But to men like him, no is never enough.

I finally lashed out after he had the audacity to tell me that I “shouldn’t judge people for who they were or what they did.” Sure, I get that. But my reality is different. The things they did made me feel cheap, like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t even a person.

So yes, I will judge people based on how they treated me. And I will return the favor by shutting them out completely.

I don’t care who they are now. I’m in therapy because of what they did to me. The way they viewed me back then shaped the way I saw myself.

Never again.

I was watching a Netflix feature on the Old Testament book of Exodus today when my son burst in, looked at the screen, and asked, "What are you watching?" I told him, thinking that would be the end of it. Nope. A while later, he casually dropped some knowledge about Exodus 10:13 like a tiny theologian. I had to look it up just to keep up. Kid’s putting me to shame over here!

Don't know if I should fight or fly.

Some moments cut so deep they become woven into who we are. Choosing to close the door on someone who brought so much pain isn’t just a decision; it’s survival. In the quiet spaces of my heart, I still hear the echoes of betrayal, disappointment, and heartbreak. Whenever I think of letting him back in, a wave of loathing rises up, reminding me that stepping back into that pain would mean losing myself all over again.

Let’s be clear: there are people who take and take, leaving nothing but a hollow shell in their wake. He was one of those people. The way he twisted my trust into a weapon against me was nothing short of monstrous. I loathe him, not just for what he did, but for the way he made me feel—small, insignificant, and unworthy of love. He took my vulnerability and used it as a means to manipulate and control, and the sheer audacity of that betrayal is enough to make my blood boil.

The memories haunt me like phantoms in the night. I remember the promises made, the tender words whispered in the dark, and the way they all crumbled like ash in the face of reality. He was a storm that wrecked my peace, and now, the thought of inviting that chaos back into my life makes my stomach churn. I would rather drown in despair than suffer through another chapter of torment that he would bring.

It’s infuriating how someone can waltz in and out of your life, leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces of your heart. I have spent countless nights wrestling with the demons of self-doubt and despair he unleashed upon me. I have fought against the notion that I am somehow responsible for the pain he inflicted. But now, with every ounce of strength within me, I declare that I will not let him back in. I refuse to be a victim of his charm once more, a puppet in his twisted game of manipulation.

The agony of betrayal runs deep, and the scars left behind are reminders of the strength I’ve found within myself. The choice to keep him out is not just about protection; it’s about self-respect. I would rather die than endure the suffering of reliving the torment he caused. The thought of opening that door, of offering him a second chance he does not deserve, fills me with a deep, aching dread.

So, I stand firm. I choose to honor my pain rather than let it fester into something more destructive. I refuse to let him back in, to allow his toxicity to seep into my life once more. Every moment spent apart is a testament to my resilience, a reminder that I have the power to reclaim my life from the wreckage he left behind.

To anyone who finds themselves at a similar crossroads: choose yourself. Choose peace over chaos. The road ahead may be paved with heartache, but it’s also a path toward healing and strength. Embrace the emotions that arise—let the anger and sadness wash over you, but don’t let them define you. You are not a product of someone else’s actions; you are a warrior who has fought and survived.

In the end, my decision is not just about him; it’s about my freedom. I will not suffer the consequences of his choices any longer. I will not allow the ghosts of my past to dictate my future. I close this chapter for good, sealing the door with a promise to myself: I am worthy of better.

I honestly do not like peaches but I really have to eat them before they get spoiled

The Realities of Working as a Virtual Assistant: Pros and Cons

In today's gig economy, the role of a virtual assistant (VA) has gained significant traction. The flexibility and remote nature of the job appeal to many, especially those seeking to balance personal and professional lives. However, like any career path, it has its upsides and downsides. Here's a deep dive into what you can expect when working as a virtual assistant.

The Pros of Being a Virtual Assistant

1. Flexibility

One of the most significant advantages of being a VA is the ability to work from anywhere. As long as you have a reliable internet connection, your office can be a beach in Bali or your cozy living room. This flexibility allows for a better work-life balance and can be especially beneficial for those with family commitments or other personal responsibilities.

2. Diverse Opportunities

Working as a VA often means wearing many hats. You could be managing emails, scheduling meetings, handling social media, or performing market research. This diversity can make the job more engaging and provide a wide range of skills that can be useful in various fields.

3. Cost Savings

Commuting costs, work attire, and lunch expenses can add up. As a VA, these costs are significantly reduced. Additionally, you have the opportunity to take on multiple clients, potentially increasing your income.

4. Personal Growth

The virtual assistant role can be a great platform for personal growth. The nature of the job often requires excellent communication, time management, and organizational skills. Over time, you may find yourself becoming more adept in these areas, which can be beneficial in both personal and professional contexts.

The Cons of Being a Virtual Assistant

1. Job Stability

One of the most challenging aspects of being a VA is the lack of job security. Contracts can be terminated at any time, often with little notice. Clients' needs change, businesses pivot, and budget cuts happen. Without a long-term contract, there’s always a risk of losing your source of income.

2. Isolation

While working from home has its perks, it can also be isolating. Without the social interactions of a traditional office, you might miss out on the camaraderie and networking opportunities that come with being in a team environment.

3. Inconsistent Income

As a virtual assistant, your income can be unpredictable. Some months you might have more work than you can handle, while others might be sparse. This inconsistency can make budgeting and financial planning challenging.

4. Self-Discipline Required

Working remotely requires a high level of self-discipline and motivation. Without a manager looking over your shoulder, it can be easy to procrastinate or become distracted. It’s essential to have strong time management skills and the ability to stay focused on tasks.

Given these pros and cons, it's crucial to have a fallback plan. Here are some strategies to ensure you're prepared for any eventualities:

Build an Emergency Fund: Having a financial cushion can help you weather periods of inconsistent income or job loss.

Continuous Learning: Keep updating your skills and knowledge. The more versatile and skilled you are, the more valuable you become to current and potential clients.

Networking: Join VA communities, attend webinars, and connect with other professionals. Networking can lead to new job opportunities and provide support when needed.

Diversify Your Client Base: Relying on a single client for your income can be risky. Aim to have multiple clients to spread the risk.

Working as a virtual assistant can be incredibly rewarding, offering flexibility and diverse opportunities. However, it comes with its own set of challenges, particularly around job stability and income consistency. By understanding these pros and cons and preparing accordingly, you can make the most of your career as a virtual assistant. Embrace the journey, keep learning, and always have a plan B. *wink*

"Papa left, but this time, it’s different."

Growing up, I was incredibly close to my dad. I called him "Daddy" with so much affection, and he was always my favorite parent. Whenever I did something wrong and Mom would punish me, I’d run straight into my father’s arms for protection. Every day, when he came home from the office, my sister and I would play hide and seek. It became a ritual. As soon as we heard his car pull up, we’d hide, and the moment he walked through the door, we’d shout, "Where am I, Daddy? Find me!" He’d always play along, pretending not to see us, even when we were hiding in the most obvious spots like under the bed or beneath his writing table. Those moments were a haven of joy and laughter, the kind of memories that seem eternal in a child's heart.

He was one of my first teachers, next to my mom, and he was the first person who taught me to pray. He introduced us to the church, to God, and he was the reason I had faith. He taught me the importance of prayer and how God hears us, even if we cannot express ourselves too much, He can read our hearts. He also taught me to play musical instruments, his voice a constant guide as my fingers stumbled over the keys. In every note, every chord, there was a connection to him, a bond that felt unbreakable.

Twenty-six years ago, our family decided to move back to the Philippines. I thought Daddy was coming with us and staying for good, but he had to leave. Leaving was always painful. He told me that he had to go back to work so we could go to school, have a good life, and fulfill all those dreams he nurtured for us. I still remember crying so hard whenever my dad left, the ache in my chest as if a piece of me was being torn away. I would say a lot of prayers for him, asking God to keep him safe until he could come home again.

He would make long-distance calls once or twice a month. I really don’t remember how often, but he’d call the school to connect with us (my siblings). We would exchange “I love yous” and “I miss yous,” and the inevitable, “When will you be coming home?” But he would never give us a definite answer. Since he was calling from the school principal’s office, I was too shy to tell him exactly how I felt, too embarrassed to let him hear the depth of my longing in front of strangers. So, I kept it inside, a growing well of unspoken words.

He always came back, like he always promised me. He came home every year (?) —at least, that’s how I remember it. There was a time he didn’t come home for two or three years. The reason? I do not know. But with every absence, a part of our bond frayed, and though I tried to hold onto it, the threads began to slip through my fingers.

As I grew older, my love for him matured, but it also changed. I didn’t get as close to him as I once did. When I was a child, I used to sleep beside him, feeling safe and loved. He was my favorite parent, my hero. But as I grew up and found my own voice, we began to have disagreements. I would occasionally argue with him, and we never reconciled. I would talk to him, but I never said sorry for any misunderstandings we had. Stubbornness? Pride? I’m not sure, but I let the distance grow.

That continued for years. He was no longer the parent I adored, and I had become someone he couldn’t quite reach. I changed, and the person I became was colder, less forgiving. April arrived, and I found myself standing beside his casket, looking back and wishing I had been kinder and gentler with him while he had time. Time—my most relentless enemy. I reflected on all the chances I had wasted and desperately wished I could have them back. Despite all the shortcomings, despite the truth that had hurt us both, none of it matters now. When you lose someone, the regrets come like a flood, drowning out everything else.

I am left with memories of what was, and a deep sorrow for what could have been. If only I had known this time would be different. If only I had known that when Papa left, he would never come back.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and I sat at the dinner table with my parents. I had been waiting for this moment—the moment to talk about him. I smiled as I spoke, telling them what a great guy he was. He was kind, thoughtful, hardworking, and, I believed, someone who genuinely cared for me. I was convincing them—convincing myself, really—that I had found someone good.

Little did I know, while I was telling my parents how lucky I was, my phone was buzzing with messages I hadn’t seen yet. Messages that would unravel everything. He had chosen that very moment, when I was trying to paint him in the best possible light, to break me.

When I finally checked my phone later that night, there it was—a breakup in the coldest, most unexpected way. “I don’t think this is working out,” he wrote. As if my heart wasn’t already racing from the excitement of sharing him with my parents, it shattered all over again reading his words.

How could I have been so wrong about him? One minute, I was talking about how wonderful he was; the next, I was realizing that everything I believed had been a lie. It was like a cruel joke the universe was playing on me—the timing, the irony of it all.

I replayed my earlier conversation with my parents in my head, feeling like a fool. I had spent the better part of the afternoon defending someone who wasn’t even fighting for me. I was pouring out words of love and admiration, while he was silently letting go. And the worst part? I never saw it coming.

It’s strange how blind we can be when we’re in love. We see only what we want to see—the good moments, the gentle words, the potential of what could be. I was so caught up in the idea of him that I missed the reality that he wasn’t as invested as I was.

In that moment, I wasn’t just heartbroken over losing him—I was heartbroken over the version of him I had built up in my mind. The version I wanted so badly to be true, the one I was excited to share with my parents. But he wasn’t that guy. Not even close.

As I sat in my room that night, the pain hit me in waves. The disappointment of not just losing someone I loved but also realizing I had been wrong about him hurt deeply. I felt embarrassed, not only because I had just told my parents how wonderful he was, but because I had believed it myself.

But as the days passed, I realized this heartbreak wasn’t just about him. It was about me, too. About how I had let myself settle for someone who wasn’t deserving of the love I had to offer. How I had been so focused on getting others to see his goodness that I forgot to see if he was good for me.

Looking back now, I realize that heartbreak has a way of teaching us the lessons we don’t want to learn. I learned that sometimes the people we think are good for us are the ones who hurt us the most. I learned that it’s okay to be wrong about someone, but it’s not okay to stop trusting yourself because of it.

He may have broken my heart while I was defending his character, but in the end, I’m the one who gets to decide how to pick up the pieces. And next time, I’ll be more careful about who I choose to give those pieces to.

Life sucks.

And i wanna sleep.