Belated Birthday Blog

This is proof that I am definitely sooo busy. Imagine I didn’t have time to blog about my birthday! Yes, the Missus turned 30-something last September 5 and though I didn’t have plans for any “celebration” of some sort, I found myself scathing my butt on a 20-hour drive from Manila to Iloilo to Boracay (back & forth). So on my birthday weekend, I was able to travel by air, land, and sea. Don’t let me go into the harrowing details on how I ended up on that grueling trip. Maybe that was the reason why I could not find myself blogging about my birthday weekend in the first place. It was too stressful to tell, anyway… let me just focus on the BLESSINGS.

Another year and definitely a remarkable lease on my life!
That weekend when we were in Bora, despite the bad weather, my husband’s family (being Bora first-timers) wanted to try parasailing, which was on half-price because of the low season. And since, you have to fly in twos, and upon my husband’s encouragement, I was prodded to go up with him. I am a maverick in my life pursuits but I am not so much of an adventurous person when it comes to anything sporty or physical. Besides the sky was an evil gray at that time. Typhoon Labuyo was still lingering in the horizon. On a normal day you could not get me up there but blame it on the looong trip that brought in some mounting friction with my husband I decided to go against each unwilling bone in my body to please him and his family, and resisted all urge to be a sourpuss.

My In-Laws up in the air

Minutes before our Take-Off

So off we went. It was surreal and beautiful up there but despite being suspended in air, I felt heavy. All I could think about were my pending projects in Manila. I wanted to go home and work. Imagine that? But thanks to my husband’s ever nakakakilig ways, he gave me a heavenly kiss up there and requested that I enjoy the ride. So kahit papano naman I was able to forget my worries and basked in the bliss.

On our way down, the wind had gotten stronger and worry rushed back into my system. The handlers had to grab our legs or else we could have been blown away to the side and hit the boat. Well THANK GOD that didn’t happen to us. But it happened to somebody else.

Just as soon as we reached the shore, a gale suddenly came from nowhere and we saw with our very own eyes how the remaining parasailers met their death. Maybe this news didn’t reach TV Patrol or 24 Oras but two Koreans died on a parasailing accident on the weekend of September 5… AND IT COULD HAVE BEEN US! I was gripped with disbelief. If we had just lingered a few more minutes… if we were just a little late in our ascent… then this blog entry would not have been possible.

We only found out the exact turn of events the following day. Chill ran down my spine. And that totally changed how I looked at that trip. God always knew how to poke me. For me, it was not only a reminder, but a warning. I realized that I have become so consumed with my own plans that I forgot the Lordship of God in my life. He can really take my life back ANYTIME ANY PLACE ANY HOW. My life is not mine to plan. It was really more than a gentle rebuke. I felt like I received a Memo from God. I was so caught up in becoming my own boss that I forgot about the BIG BOSS up in heaven.

“For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” (Luke 14:11)

As my mom always say, Birthday noodles for LONG LIFE!

What's Eating Jill These Days?

Okay maybe I do owe my readers some updates on my life. Talk about responsible blog ownership! Hehe. Anyway, whew the past weeks have really been sooo busy for me. I admit to have been an absentee blogger. So here’s my make-up post. Here are the things that are currently taking some space in my mind and heart...

1. My “pet” project… the incorporation (SEC registration) of my new enterprise is on-going. Ugh! I totally abhor the bureaucracy of this country’s government system (if you can call it a system to begin with). The paperwork is horrendously inefficient. Oh well, talk about birth pains. The blessing of having my husband as a business partner is that he can be the yang to my yin. I am not very good with government clerks, bank tellers, and customer service agents. I easily lose patience with them. My husband is the complete opposite. He’s so congenial that I swear that BDO New Accounts Clerk was flirting with him this afternoon. Surprisingly, I did not care. I actually found it amusing and thought hey, if it means getting our way faster through the bureaucratic crap then I probably wouldn’t mind prostituting him. Hahaha!

2. Our new car! (and the loan that came with it! sheesh!) First, yehey Praise God for an answered prayer. We got a brand new black Toyota Avanza which we nicknamed Abba (for Avanza and most of all for Abba which means Our Father in Aramaic). We’ve always wanted a car of our own because Manila cab drivers are hell-sent! I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have a taxi horror story. Anyway, we really needed the car for our new enterprise aside from personal comfort. Having a decent vehicle doesn’t only mean mobility in business. Let’s face it! It’s also part of the marketing. Sadly, for clients (especially in the business that we are getting in) it’s mostly all about what clothes you’re wearing, what car you’re driving, and what language you’re speaking. But of course more than mere packaging, we believe that our product will speak for itself. We really can’t wait to launch it. This new business and the car loan have really put me and my husband in a new faith-stretching regimen. Time to power up in prayers!!! (as always)


3. “Wanted: Yaya!” If I could just easily hang that sign and take the first walk-in applicant. In a safe world (say 60 years ago) that would have been possible but this is Manila. I’ve been asked several times, “Why don’t you just get a maid from an agency?” I have three friends who were robbed by agency-hired maids on their FIRST DAY. Yikes! So even if I am desperate – no way! But yes, I really really badly need a Yaya for Kean. There have been days recently when I cannot send Kean to school because I’d be out the whole day in a shoot. My husband’s schedule is just as hectic. So we had to resort to bringing along a seven-year-old to my “business meetings” and video shoots as far as Batangas. And in fact not just a yaya. I think I finally need an all-around helper. I’ve been so busy with a lot of projects and with our new business that it has become a stretch for me to even fold our fresh laundry neatly into our closets. I miss baking. And fine cooking is becoming an event for me. Hopefully, once the business is set up I can re-set my routine and I’ll make sure cooking would be a part of it.

4. My freelance projects in progress! Argh! Let’s not even go to that. They’re all making me lose precious sleep and sanity. Let’s just say I officially hate making corporate videos. I officially hate writing for corporate events. I’ve given myself September as my deadline for accepting such accounts. Enough said.

5. Mostly what’s been keeping me busy are work, work, and more work, family matters, church ministry, and oh yeah I have to include slimming down. Stress has been making me fat. I hardly eat now but I am getting more bloated each day. My work makes me sit on my desk for HOURS. That must be the culprit. I badly need exercise but even that I hesitate to do because it’s time out of my already packed schedule. So to answer that, my very concerned mother sent me a Wii Fit Board. If you know the technology, it actually measures your BMI. And after you go through some body analytics exercises, it gives you your Wii Age. In Wii years my agility is that of a 60 year old! My goodness! Hahaha.

6. Well speaking of health, feeling guilty about being too busy and having lapses in parenting Kean, and keeping my sanity despite being overloaded with work, you would think that there’d be no space left for any other concern but to my surprise there was some news early this week that really had me on my knees. I know this girl who used to be my makeover model for MTV Fashionista from 8 years ago. And well, we didn’t really become that close but we would occasionally bump into each other in parties, events, and thanks to the Internet I got to keep tabs with her through her profile updates. So it was through Friendster that I learned about her pre-graduation pregnancy. It was through Multiply that I got to follow her candid, poignant, and wickedly witty stories in being a single mom to her adorable little boy Mio. In many ways, I fell in love with Mio just by reading his mommy’s anecdotes on him online. I just never imagined that it would also be through the internet (Facebook) that I would learn about five year old Mio’s battle with cancer. The moment I read about that I was crushed. Really devastated. Look, regardless how sad I was about the death of Francis Magalona, Michael Jackson, and Tita Cory, these events didn’t make me cry a river like Mio’s story did. And to think I was not even THAT close to his mother Jasmine. I haven’t even met Mio personally. I just know them through the photos and blogs and yet I am THIS crushed. Ask my husband. I could not sleep that night I got the news. Since I am not that close to Jas, I just texted. And knowing the magnitude of what she’s going through right now, I didn’t expect a reply. Right now Jasmine and Mio need your help through prayers and financial aid. Jasmine has started a new blog to chronicle her son’s battle with leukemia. http://miofightscancer.blogspot.com

But before this blog, she has kept a Multiply blog about her quarter life drama on being a single mom to Mio. How I wish you’d be able to read that too for you to really get to know this mother and son more. I’m telling you, it reads like it was straight out of a movie. Jasmine has always been a gifted writer. Unfortunately, her Multiply blog is only open to friends and family. Anyway, if you want to help just as my family is planning to (Kean's birthday is coming up and he said he wants to give Mio a gift too), the donation details are in her blog.

So there… I think that’s enough update for now.

Hormonal Than Thou

Maybe you’ve already noticed that I’ve been gone from my blog for almost a month now! Come to think of it, I only have one entry for June and that was just to remind my readers that the missus is still online. I haven’t died (not yet). Being gone from the blogosphere this long is definitely a record for someone who lives with her laptop every day. The Tagalog slang words “windang” and “ngarag” would not even suffice to describe what happened to me the moment we entered the month of June. I just didn’t fly off the handle… I really snapped!

During the 1st week of this month (when classes began), I was in a manic rage. The smallest things irked me. It was as if an evil version of me took over my body and cried my eyes dry, screamed my throat hoarse, and just choked my heart and soul. My mind went totally blank one specific day and with my eyes blurred in tears, I hailed the cab, sent a text message to Joseph saying I want to be away from everything, and just took off! The sky was in its grayest gray and my spirit felt as ashen and burned out. The cab driver asked where to and I just said, “I don’t know manong… far away…”

At that time I didn’t know exactly what was going on. I was extremely sad, quasi-suicidal, and ultra-sensitive that I ridiculously cried at every HBO movie that was on… even “You’ve Got Mail!” Looking back, I can now qualify that the reasons for my breakdown were a lethal combination of so many things happening at the same time in that dreary gloomy depression-perfect weather.

There was the stress, frustration, anger, guilt, disillusionment about the church’s commemorative book project that I was heading… Financial pressures and expectations from our families… Our nervous pending 1st bank loan application as husband and wife… Kean coming back from Davao and starting Grade 1 on a very early 7AM class (which meant I had to get up at 5AM to prepare his breakfast & baon; wake him at 5:30; get him all ready for a measly hour that speeds by like a flash of light before his school bus picks him at 6:30!)… And then of course on top of waking up way too early is losing a lot of sleep over my work (as a freelancer, only one principle holds out: no project – no pay)… Worrying about my husband’s growing dissatisfaction with his career… The sad bed weather… Cabin fever… Lack of “actual” human contact… Desensitized by hollow cyber communication… and most of all my HORMONES!

The epic saga of my hormonal battle lives on. After taking some time off from the stressful and expensive fertility treatments late last year, my doctor put me on my hormone treatment again a couple of months ago to stabilize my hormone levels since I’ve been missing my periods again (not due to pregnancy, sorry to disappoint you). The treatment’s supposed to impede my weight gain too. This is all too technical, really. Explaining how hormones work in lay terms is too tedious because nothing is really cut and dried in defining these conditions. A lot of women don’t have troubles with their hormones at all while some just flip out – Example: Me.

I texted my doctor a days after what happened to me that horrible week. I knew I had to consult her because right after the height of my hissy fit, my long overdue period finally came. I knew right then and there that my train wreck episode last week wasn’t JUST about the immediate crises in my life and the dark clouds up above –my hellish hormones did some major damage.
She told me that based on my latest hormone tests I am vaguely somewhere in between having some premature ovarian insufficiency (or premature ovarian failure) and polycystic ovarian syndrome. In very loose simple terms, it means that my eggs ain’t growing and my pituitary gland and hypothalamus are not in synch which in textbook terms gives me symptoms of extreme PMS which could lead to early menopause!!! Huwwaaattt! This even makes me worse than my mega-moody mom!

Anyway, that’s the scientific explanation of my recurrent bi-polar tendencies. While I was in that cab, curling myself warm in an old cardigan (the first one I could pull out of my closet as I was rushing to flee from our apartment), staring irately out the windows as we drove past Gretchen, Angel, KC, with their sucked-in cheeks matched with either stoic looks or dolphin smiles, I thought everything around me just looked grating. I was so antsy that day that I couldn’t even resist e-mailing the management of this chi-chi restaurant at Boni High Street to nitpick at their grammatically-wrong electronic flyer which my inbox received that morning. It said, “… it’s our 2nd Year Anniversary!” to which I replied, “I am concerned that a high-end restaurant like you would be careless about your marketing copy. It’s supposed to be just ‘2nd Anniversary’ and not ‘2nd Year Anniversary’!” I know it was entirely not my business. In fact who cares about some ridiculously pretentious expensive restaurant who doesn’t even know basic grammar? Well on that day I cared. I cared because I wanted some sense of order and control in my very chaotic world. Sigh…

So there I was – crying inside a cab going to nowhere. And then suddenly God spoke to me. While we were crawling on EDSA, my cab driver was actually reading the Bible! Wow, that was a first! Have you ever seen a cab driver do that? It was rare indeed. My husband was calling me. His text messages were pleading for me to come home already. I caught a glimpse of the verses that the driver was reading. He was on Colossians, and my eyes landed on the words “Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord. Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh to them.” I knew it was God telling me to go home to my husband, and it was an assurance that despite what I did that day, Joseph would understand and his love would just overflow for me because no matter what happens, no matter what I’ve become that day, he still loves me because he promised to do so right before God.

So I asked the driver to turn around, and the moment I got home, my husband greeted me in a warm bear hug and said nothing but, “I LOVE YOU!” We prayed together and I just felt truly blessed for having him as a husband. God really gave him to me ‘coz I couldn’t imagine any other guy capable of handling ME.

June is almost over. With fervent prayers, I survived. Now, my body clock has finally adjusted and in fact I even wake up a minute earlier than my set alarm. Kean and I don’t recreate WW3 during mornings anymore. The commemorative book is finally on its way to the printer. A new career prospect is presenting itself to my husband (please pray with us about it). The weather’s still crazy but my hormones aren’t anymore. The hormonal Jill is trying her best, by God’s grace, to be holier than that Jill who flipped out early this month. Pray. No more preys. Amen.

Being the Other Mother

Is the badge of motherhood only earned through birth? I tell people that I have a son even though he’s not my own. Technically, I am only his aunt, his mother’s older sister to be exact, but I have already officially declared him to be my first-born… borne not out of my womb but from my heart.

Kean came to me when he was only 3 years old. At that time, my sister Cindy (Kean’s birth mother) had been obligated by US Immigration Law to join our mother in New York. It was an abrupt trip… a sudden detour in our lives which almost made the whole family fall off the cliff. Such is the scenario for most of the petitioned families here in the Philippines.

At that time, my sister then just a 20 year old, was already separated from the father of her child, and was already dating somebody else. My whole family was in Davao while I already made my permanent residence here in Manila. When the summon letter came, there was nothing else to do but to drop everything she was doing in Davao and proceed with the immigration process. She didn’t want to go but she had to before she turns 21 in a couple of months. Non-compliance would make her case null and void. She decided to go for her son’s future.

Leaving the Philippines for greener pastures and green bills would have been easier for my sister if she didn’t have Kean. Unfortunately, the Law says that our mother could not file for Kean’s petition because immigrants can only file for their children. Therefore, the responsibility of filing for Kean’s immigrant application should be done by Cindy. So that meant another good 5 years of waiting (if we’re lucky!)

The first question on the table was: when Cindy leaves, who’d look after the child? Surely, she wouldn’t want to send him back to his father 'coz she hates his guts. Our dad’s not financially capable either. And our other sister Marla just had a different agenda for her life. There was really no one else left in the picture but… ME!

To become an instant mom was far from my wildest dreams at that time. How could I possibly take care of a fragile toddler when I was at the worst downward spiral moment of my life? But Kean needed more than just a caregiver… he needed ANOTHER MOTHER. Cindy left for New York with tears in her eyes and a shattered heart, while I promised to take care of her baby… Sounds like a scene from a movie, huh? Well art imitates life imitates art…

I’ve been a mother for about 4 years now and you know what, Kean saved me more than I saved him from being motherless. It only feels like yesterday when I was still training him off nappies… weaning him off the bottle… teaching him how to read… losing sleep on the eve of my birthday because of his asthma… rushing him to the ER at 5AM because of a neck injury… his first day in school… the first time he called me “mommy”…

My memories of Kean growing up are all wonderful and countless. And when people take notice at how precocious, smart, funny and loving he has become, I can’t help but be proud that I had the privilege of being with him during his formative years. And then suddenly, my bubble had to burst.

Lately, Cindy and I have been fighting more regularly than usual. Mostly it’s all about Kean… Of course having been with Kean for a considerable time already; being there when he was diagnosed with asthma; when he learned how to read, to draw, to converse fluently in English, and all of these landmarks in his life, I can’t help but be naturally inclined to be affected by my sister’s “misguided” decisions when it comes to her son. I can’t help but feel that I have a right to “co-decide” what’s good and bad for him... And then my sister tells me that Kean is not my child… that she’s the mother and I’m not. Surely, nothing was more hurtful than that.

When I took Kean under my wing, I never expected to be more than just an aunt. I became a mom overnight and life turned 180. And now I feel that there’s no turning back. She’s right. I am not Kean’s mother. I don’t have any right at all. And one of these days, he will leave our home -- his Tito Joseph and me -- and leave behind nothing but memories. There’s nothing I can do but to move on and live each day with him in my thoughts.

I realized that my sister was only picking fights with me because she was jealous of the lost time and opportunity between her and Kean. I don't blame her for that. And then I also realized that the reason why I was poking my nose more than what’s required of me is because of my own envy too. My desire for motherhood is even larger and deeper than I thought.

In reality, we were both mothers competing over Kean’s love. The sad thing is Kean would see and hear us fighting. Shame swallowed me when he said to me one time, “Mom, Mommy Cindy is your sister. You two should love each other.” It’s amazing how a 7 year old can have so much more wisdom than adults.

At the end of it all, I know I just have to live with the fact that I am JUST the OTHER MOTHER. Looking at how Kean has grown up and listening to him talk with innocence and maturity in his words, my heart swells in praising God. Truly, we are both miracles! Even if he’s not mine, and soon will leave my side, I am not worried because I know that I have already planted enough good seeds of love in his heart. I thank my sister and most of all God for the privilege and the blessing of being Kean’s Other Mother.

Christmas Came Early

Last night I was too happy that I broke in tears (secretly). My sister Marla and I have reconciled after how many months of no communication, even to the point of removing each other as contacts in Multiply and Friendster. And what could be the ONLY time ever for this year – my family: my father, two sisters, Kean and I were together AT LAST after a long time for a special but humble dinner.

Ever since Mama left us 20 years ago, it has always been the four of us – Papa, Marla, Cindy and I – through thick and thin. Times became tough for the sudden single dad, but Papa managed to make us finish our elementary and High School years in Davao City’s best schools, though I remember that Papa always had to make us deliver promissory notes to the school cashier. We were always late in paying our tuition fees. Looking back now, I am amazed at how God was continuously working in our lives – providing for all our needs – even though we didn’t still recognize that time that it was God pulling us through all those cash-strapped times.

We were still kids. We had simple joys then. For us that time, it was enough that Papa was there and he didn’t leave us just like Mama did. I would remember our Christmases to be so simple. But somewhere down the road, our little family also fell apart. When my father sold our house and we were suddenly displaced and moved from one lola to another like a ping-pong ball, that’s when our simple sweet life turned sour, and left a bitter taste in our mouths.

Soon after, we found ourselves totally separated from each other. Papa could not keep up with raising us anymore. Mama on the other hand had just gotten herself finally on a stable financial condition in the US so she “came back” in our lives by being the “financer.” But since she has become our sole supporter, she insisted that we should stay at my maternal grandparents’ house away from Papa.

We were sad to be separated from Papa but at the same time we also resented the fact that he sold our house and threw out all the stuff that reminded him of mama, including our toys and collections, (CLICK RELATED BLOG HERE) just so we could start on a brand new slate. We were upset that Mama had the nerve to just pluck us out of Papa’s life because he finally couldn’t support us while she has become the one with all the money. And yet we were also quite happy that she was finally “back” albeit in a non-maternal way. Just having her back and being able to see her and hear her voice again after how many years was already a joyous moment for us children who have been missing their mother dearly.

It was just a very confusing and sorrowful time. Our parents were on a vigorous tug of war. I think I was just lucky to have a ticket way out. It was time for me to go to college that time so I decided that I must pass the UPCAT, become a scholar and finally be away from Davao and all these drama. Have you ever been in that experience when something was too painful that your mind and heart numbs in hurt and you suddenly find yourself in autopilot mode and that painful moment gets lost or misplaced within the rubble of so many myriad memories inside you?

My sisters and I went through that. We’ve been through a lot. We share a lot of memories together – happy and sad. And of course, we’ve all grown up to be adults and unfortunately, the years of separation; displacement and all the confusion have created a big gap between us. We’ve grown apart. We have a HUGE love-hate relationship. Well, I know all siblings have that. Ours is just more volatile than others, I believe. We only have our childhood memories to bond us together. It’s just a paradox that the same memories that make us laugh are also the ones that open up wounds.

Over the years, it has become hard for us to be together for a long period of time because the more we chat and find our selves taking that trip down memory lane we would always stumble into tripwires of really heart-wrenching recollections. Our memories are such big traitors. The heartbreaking ones always had a way of sneaking up in between the happy ones.

But last night, I prayed to God that just for one evening, can He please make the sad memories take a vacation for a while. And as usual, God approved my request. Why wouldn’t He? He is after all the God of Love.

Kean’s entry into our lives became the new adhesive that glued our separate lives back together. Ever since he was born, he has always been the reason for us to put aside all our resentments, hurts and selfish pursuits. We promised that we would try our best (whatever that means) to make him feel that he is still part of a family, and that he’s even got three mommies loving him very much.

Christmas came early to us last night. I know it was God’s surprise gift. Marla dropped by unannounced here in Manila. She just had last night to spare because she’ll be busy competing in another new extreme sport she’s currently in love with. And since Papa, Cindy and Kean will already be flying to Davao early in December, and Joseph and I won’t be able to visit them there for the Holidays, last night indeed became our Christmas celebration.

Last night after having dinner @ Italiannis, we strolled around Araneta Center
and posed in front of the giant Christmas Tree.

Christmas 2006 in Davao City

Christmas 2001. The last one when it was just the 4 of us. The next year Cindy gave birth to Kean.
(Don't ask me why I had red hair back then, hahaha)

Circa 1993. (Bad mood day for me)

Forgiving my Father

Blogging about decapitated Barbie Dolls in Cubao in my previous entry and how they reminded me of my childhood kind of brought back issues that I have already shoved at the back part of my memory closet. It all suddenly came back to me. I lost all my Barbie Dolls when my father surprised us with the sale of our house back in the early '90s . I just left home that time for college life here in Manila so I wasn’t even around to clean up my bedroom which I had plan to come home to during my 1st sem break. I didn’t know that he was selling the house that we have been calling home all our young life. I was so angry. It was all too sudden. Although I knew that my father had expressed some financial crisis in our family, I never thought that he would just pack everyone and everything up in a snap. Worse part was he also didn’t tell my younger sisters about his plan. What they thought was just a normal weekend at our lola’s house turned out to be a dreadful “forever”. I felt bad that I wasn’t there for my sisters, and at the same time I felt relieved that I wasn’t there to witness the great move that totally flipped our lives and started that long dark chapter in our life.

I was so angry at my father for being so insensitive about the memories that we, his children, have kept in that home. I found out that my personal belongings and collectibles – books, board games, our family photos, my school yearbooks, my scrapbooks, my journals, my notebooks filled with my unfinished short stories, and yes my Barbie Dolls were all gone. They all got lost in the rubble of stuff-filled boxes inside my paternal grandmother’s bodega. Since they were taking up so much space, I think my father (or my lola) sold them, or threw them out. I really don’t know what happened to all of them. If those things were just trash to him… to them (my relatives), they were in fact our treasure. I couldn’t understand why he was able to do that. If he was angry at our mother, why take it out on us? She left us too!

At that moment, I just felt that my own father erased my childhood just like that. How could he? If his intentions were to make everyone start on a new slate, then he should have at least asked us first. Even if we were all still below 18 at that time, I felt that we had just as much right to voice out about where our family was supposed to go to. If he wanted to start over again, he didn’t have to take away what was precious from us just because he couldn’t bear to go over painful memories again. I knew that he was badly hurt from the separation but he didn’t have to add insult to injury. We were hurt too. I was really so angry with him that I could not bear coming home ever again. And that’s what exactly happened. Since I thought we didn’t really have our “own home” to come home to anymore, I just decided to make Manila my new permanent address. Since then, Davao became a place of dread for me. Coming home on my very first college sem break was a pain. And so I promised never to come back again. If I did pay a visit, it was only for very brief Christmas breaks. Nothing more.

Now who would have thought that I could make this poignant connection between Cubao, Barbie Dolls and my lost childhood which ultimately led me to write about my seething and obviously unresolved despise of my father? Whew! Writing it now even makes me shed a tear.

In some way, I think I still haven’t fully forgiven my father for sort of deceiving us about that “great move-out”. It was like the end of the world for us at that time. Growing older as a young adult, there were a lot of times when I couldn’t understand why I have this unexplainable resentment over him; why there were times when he just really pisses me off for no exact reason – and now I know. And now this is the part where we can actually go Freudian about it. Hmmm…

I suddenly asked myself – Have I really forgiven him already? Did I feel so unloved by his careless actions that ultimately led to my destructive history of bad boyfriends? Aaaaccckkk! Stop it! I feel like I’m sitting on my shrink’s couch again.

Forgiveness was one of the things I learned (painfully) when I accepted Christ in my heart. Just as He has forgiven me and saved me through His grace, I slowly started forgiving the people who I “thought” hurt me all those years.

Papa is in fact is with us now on what seems to be an “overstayed” vacation. The moment he got here, I knew God had a reason. I knew that God wanted me to resolve my issues with my father once and for all. There are still a lot of issues between us that don’t sound well for public reading. I realize that he’s the last person on my list that I have yet to forgive. I thought that I have already forgiven him but it’s quite obvious that the reality is quite au contraire, given the fact that I am purging about him now. I guess that little wound of hurt is still inside, and it swells up whenever I trip upon… uhm… Barbie Dolls? Hehe. Labo noh?

So how do you forgive someone who you thought you have forgiven already? How do we really define forgiveness? Do we really know how to FORGIVE and FORGET? In my case, I think I have only FORGOTTEN but never really got around to FORGIVING.

It’s quite ironic that I have forgiven my mother far more easily than my father. Well, not THAT easily though, but to have forgiven her first before my father is quite off the charts. Everyone who knows me too well is aware that my mother drives me nuts and my father’s just… there… sort of. I guess that was it. He was just there consumed in his own strife that he forgot to BE WITH US. So even if he was physically present, emotionally, papa was more absent than mama. And that hurt me more than mama bickering from the other side of the world.

The Apostle Paul wrote with urgency about “forgiveness” in his letter to the Ephesians. (4:25-41) and I really feel convicted every time I encounter these passages. If God was able to forgive me then who am I not to forgive?

I love my father, despite the fact that I strongly associate him with a lot of sadness from the past. But sometimes, even if we declare that we are already Christians, and loving Christ with all our hearts and minds, there are certain hurts that we cannot grasp… pain that we cannot put a finger on… sadness that’s rooted in air… and the only thing that can really heal us is God’s unconditional love.

Smothered by my Mother

My mother… Oh she’s a handful! Anybody who knows me too well would definitely know about me and my “Mother Issues”. I had mixed emotions about her when I was growing up. Early in my life, I already knew I was the apple of my mama’s eye. I remember always getting the prettiest gifts when I was an Honor Student. When I was sick, I would surely get a Barbie Doll to make me feel better. I was always the “bida”. I was definitely my mother’s darling.

But things changed when I witnessed my parents’ split in March 1988. At that time, I was about 10 years old. What did I know about my parents’ marriage being on the rocks? I didn’t see them fighting. I thought we were a perfect happy family. And I even remember saying that those broken family stories in movies will never happen to us. I was wrong of course. LIFE happened to me when I was 10.

It was like a scene from a movie… My dad practically threw my mom out of the house while burning her clothes in the yard. She was crying. I was kicking and screaming while my father held me. Our helper was in the bedroom holding my two baby sisters. I cried out “Mama! Saan ka pupunta? Sama ako!” But she just walked away. That was the only time I saw my father in rage.

At that time, I only heard one side of the story. My parents split up because my mom had an affair with another man. I remember not attending school for a few days after that fateful night. I was stunned. I could not believe that this was happening. I felt ashamed, rejected and cheated on. In my head, I was thinking “None of the other kids in school have broken families… Didn’t she love my father?... Why did mama leave me?... Didn’t she love me?...”

Nobody among my relatives talked to me about what really happened. And papa was probably not in the right emotional state also. Our yaya was my source of information. So there… At 10, the only explanation I had for what has become in my life is this – Our mother left us for another man. How do you think I felt after that?

I grew up angry and resenting my mother. I had so much hate and aggression in my heart growing up. But at the same time – I MISSED HER SO MUCH. I envied my friends who had their mothers by their side. Growing up, I remember crying myself to sleep. After my mom left us, seeing her was rare. Months would pass and sometimes years before we heard from her again. And then we would just learn about her whereabouts when we would receive something from her that flew in from Manila… and then later on from the States…

Growing up without her was financially tough for us. My father single-handedly raised us and sent us to private schools. It was hard for him… hard for us. All those years, of course my sympathy went to my father. But deep inside my heart, I was longing for my mother. Growing up female just wasn’t complete without her. Although my father was the best, deep down I still needed my mom and I hated her for not being with us.

My childhood friends and my High School friends would know everything about the emotions I dealt with regarding her… the venomous letters I sent… the phone screaming… everything, but despite all that, I still wanted to understand my mom… hear her story… and be with her.

It’s amazing how one’s experiences in love and relationships in young adulthood can transform you. While I hated my mom growing up, I was beginning to see some light in our relationship when I finally became an adult. As I went through my own follies in love and catastrophes with men, I slowly wondered why Mama really cheated on my father. I started to think about my mother’s feelings, emotions, thoughts … What did she need that my father could not provide? What were her heart’s desires that remained unfulfilled with my father? I was suddenly asking questions that were oblivious to a 10 year old but significant to a 20-something young woman in search of Love.

It was only when I was in my quest for Love that I began to understand my mother’s spirit. I have forgiven my mom already. And in fact my father has forgiven her already years ago.

As I am growing older now, it’s quite alarming but generally funny to realize that my mom and I are so alike in a lot of ways. And in fact, people are saying, I actually look like her. When I was a child, I knew I looked like my dad but when I was growing up, it was quite evident that my face features were becoming more like mama’s. But of course, we both know by now that we cannot deny the fact that we certainly have the same temperament thus we clash – most of the time.

I’m turning 30 and I haven’t had a “mother” for 20 years now. I don’t have the kind of mother that most normal people have. Mama and I know that we can never be a “normal” mother-daughter team. She calls me a spoiled brat and I lovingly call her difficult. She only calls to complain, but I do find it weird and lacking when she doesn’t have a tantrum.

It’s ironic that although my mom paid for most of our wedding expenses, she’s always the first one to forget that I AM ALREADY MARRIED. I guess my mother will never understand what marriage is really all about. She failed miserably to uphold her own. My mom and I had a big fight soon after Joseph and I got home from our honeymoon. I just could not take the fact that she was still trying to control me despite my new status in life. She railed against the fact that I have already put my husband on top of my priorities. And she even resented our decision to move out of the condominium that she gave me when I was still single. She knows that our reason for renting it out is to have a much bigger space for me, Joseph and of course my nephew Kean. Of course, she thinks that it’s another one of my ways to spite her, which is definitely not true! But who wants to argue? So for more than 3 months now, my mother and I haven’t talked. This is by far the longest we have gone without communicating.

My mom has been driving me nuts ever since I can remember. But despite that I miss her… and of course I still love her. I miss her makulit messages on the answering machine. I used to get an average of 5 messages from her everyday. She immediately panics when I don’t text back. “San ka ba???” As if she's the only important person I should be corresponding to. On the other hand I’m also kind of wary to call her or text her because I’m afraid I might trip on a landmine of issues and I might lose another part of me again as we explode into another fight.

But I’m praying for that blessed day to come when we can finally talk again. Every time I encounter Matthew 5:24, I am convicted to be humble and seek reconciliation with my mother. I want to say sorry… I want to say I Love You Mama… Oh Lord, clean my heart of any pride, anger, or fear.