Today I had the privilege to speak for 5 minutes uninterrupted, unjudged, and accepted by my peers in an intimate space meant for personal development.

I was given a week to prepare. And I could have talked about anything I wanted.

It was actually, at the back of my mind, an opportunity to enlighten people about something that has been sitting in my mind for a while. Something about effective blaming, God, the universe, life. It was big, but I believed I could say enough in 5 minutes to ignite something.

But right at the few moments before coming online, I felt nervous and needed something to hold, to ground myself. And i saw this teddy bear we have at home for display. I touched it, and in an instant my own Taddi flashed in my mind.

My teddi bear, the teddy bear I had since I was 11, that I would not sleep without every night, the bear I brought with me in all my travels, in every major decision-making in my life. The only teddy bear I ever truly held. And the one that I lost.

And I knew, this was the appropriate story.

Because this was me.

Not an opinion, or a perspective of an idea or an argument.

This was my history, my life, what made me Me.

So this is my story:

When I was 11 years old, my mom came home from divisoria with her paninda. In a big plastic bag was a bunch of teddy bears in red that I found adorable and desired so much. But I didn't ask her to give me one, I normally would, especially when it came to toys. But I had I had this moment of understanding that, so many lonelier kids needed a teddy bear more. So I just hugged one and put it back in the bag, thinking, someday I'll have a nice teddy bear for my own too, like the lucky kids who would get them The next day, mom suddenly called me into the room and... gave me one, for whatever reason. She never gives us any of her paninda.

And it was such a special moment for me. It was a divine moment, I felt, that it was meant to be. That he was mine and I was his.

The truth is, I needed somebody. I was, at 11, dying inside - hating myself, hating the world, hating everyone in my life. Anguished and alone.

That teddy bear was my best friend. I told Taddi my secrets, my pain, my anger. See, for as young as I could remember I had been molested up until a few days before my 18th birthday. Funny, right? Growing up I knew it would devastate the people I love and shake my life down to crumbles. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I was also self-loathing that time because in my younger years, I actually liked it, not knowing it was wrong. And the shame ran deep, I couldn't even blame the person because I felt I was part of the crime. I don't believe either that anyone could understand the feeling of being in that dynamic. In that situation, as me. So I suffered in silence, for others and to punish myself.

Each time I cried I made sure my tears would fall on Taddi's eyes, so he could absorb that moment, that emotion, that memory - and keep it for me. Hold it. A testimony of my pain. A token of my childhood. Validation. That what I feel is real, that it was true, and that it mattered.

I kept him with me over the years, through ever major event in my life he was there. In all my travels I held him with me. He never missed a turning point in my life.

But for some reason, the year before I moved to the UAE, I lost track of him.

I was at a time in my life then that I was healing immensely, and I was - for some unknown reason or inkling - I was so cautious about losing Taddi that I decided to keep him safe somewhere, in some corner, or box, or secret place, that only I know of. To protect him, protect the childhood me, somehow, preserve her. For whatever reason. To always know where I came from, what I have been through and what made me, me.

Moving to the UAE was a major life decision, I was uprooting the life I had built on my own as a person that painstakingly rebuilt herself through heartbreak and found self-love in unexpected places. All of this, sacrificed, to come back to something that was not even clear or sure. What am I doing?

I needed my Taddi with me.

Weeks before our flight, I frantically searched for him. Everywhere, all corners, inside, outside, underneath, above, within...without... and... Nowhere.

Nowhere.

Taddi was nowhere.

I couldn't remember the safe place I forged in my mind to preserve everything he holds dear. I couldn't, for the life of me, remember where I put him.

This part I didn't get to share with my peers, but I anguished for days. I thrashed my bedroom closet, the drawers in every room, the boxes and bags all over the house.

Nowhere.

Taddi was just. Nowhere.

I grieved, actually.

Some days I let go, and said it's okay... and some days I grasped at the meaning he represented. this is my childhood, this is ME.

Eventually days fast forwarded to the day of our flight.

Everything I needed was packed. My favorite clothes, my drawings, my favorite watercolor set, two books, my journal... but no Taddi. An emptiness in my heart echoed all over.

So I try to make sense of it. I had to, I needed some form of closure. I lost an integral part of myself' my childhood.

While travelling to the airport, I was thinking back on the last two years leading up to this decision. How I have met these amazing people who lifted me up out of dark times, how I've grasped at my sanity, and survived, how every session in every therapy was a battle of my past and my future, how in the in-betweens I keep wanting to be my best self for my son and how at the end of it all -  I made it this far without anyone telling me what is right, or what is good for me.

And somehow, in that last two years, I don't recall ever holding Taddi, or letting my tears fall on his eyes, or talking to him at all. He was just there on my bed. Just witnessing.

And I thought about how, all the things I've put into him, were the saddest, most agonizing moments of my life. My childhood wasn't all bad, but Taddi only ever held the difficult moments, never the happy ones. And in a way, that's what he ended up representing.

The molestation, the heartbreaks, the betrayal, the abandonment, neglect and rejection.

And at that moment, in my mind was, "Do I have to bring this with me?"

"Isn't it heavy enough to go through a new chapter that promises so little?"

And I understood... Taddi was my safe space. He held me when I needed that place to be understood, to be accepted, to not be judged. To be able to feel and think freely as my true, vulnerable self.

And now he's nowhere.

Because I don't need a safe space anymore. At least, not the one that he holds for me. Because it's already filled with pain that I can't make use of anymore. Where I'm going is another quest to figure out My Truth. Who I Am. What I Want.

And the only space I'll ever need, is the one I hold within me.

Because that's the one that I've built, that I'm continuously building, a home in my heart where I don't judge myself. Where I accept myself. Where I allow myself to feel and think freely. A space tailored for me, a space where I am loved, unconditionally.

So I concluded then and there... that it was probably for the best that Taddi is nowhere to be seen or held right now. Because everything he held - it won't be useful where I'm going, it can't define the person I am trying to be and while it is all valid and true -  I don't want it to be true anymore.

I want a different narrative in my life.

And we need to lose some things from our past, regardless of how long we've had it with us, in order to make way for things that will aid us in the NOW.

And NOW.

I am okay. I am fine. I am not crying about my childhood anymore, or anguishing about breakups and betrayal or abandonment and rejection.

Right now, I just understand that's just how the world is and how people are. And no, I can't blame or thank any one person or circumstance in my life for how it all turned out.

It's just absurd.

How can you explain Life?

In our group chat for our personal development program, I shared Taddi's photo, one classmate asked, "Would I be willing to see him again?"

I said, "Yes, but not because I need him."

Because I would like to reunite with Taddi someday too of course, wherever he is, and come face to face with him without triggers or regrets and jus pure acceptance.

That this is my childhood.

This helped make me.

But it's only a fraction. And it's time is done.

The purpose is served.

And I am still evolving.

And for once, I am coming home.

I told Maricel Johny Motio (Make-up Artist), “I want the photo to speak for itself, but I need your help to make me look the part even more.” Bev Pablo (Photographer) asked why I thought of this concept. At the time, all I could say was, “Because I love painting.” That was partly true, but it wasn’t the whole truth—because it was hard to explain at that moment.

The truth is: I AM MAKING A STATEMENT.
I chose paint because I am an artist. That’s the one thing I’ve always loved about myself. Art has been my saving grace—my way of coping and expressing myself. It got me through my darkest times when I had no one. When I didn’t know about therapy, friends, community, and love. I STRUGGLED.

Always thinking I wasn’t enough. That I didn’t matter. That I wasn’t worth anything. Not knowing who I was, what I was for, or why I was even here.
I could easily blame it on 15 years of childhood trauma. I could also blame my many mental health disorders, my suicidal tendencies, my self-harming. I could even say it was my toxic marriage.
But none of that is who I am. Those aren’t reasons to just exist.
Yes, they shaped me—but they do not define me.

I want to define ME. Through therapy, medication, and years of working on myself—facing my traumas, addressing my issues—I STRIVED.
Then I found support and love from the In Touch community (a mental health organization). The first community that made me feel seen, heard, and valued. I THRIVED.

It was slow but steady progress, and I was satisfied...
But then I had to leave them because I moved to the UAE to rebuild my family—and that’s when I felt like I lost everything I had built. Because I lost my support system. I felt so much loss.

I REGRESSED. I fell so far back that I thought I was gone—completely.

Then I joined KAIZEN, and I didn’t realize it at first—but it was the community I needed. The push that would propel me forward. I didn’t just thrive—I FLOURISHED.

It took me two seasons to realize that, like I said, progress was slow…
But eventually, I realized:

I didn’t lose my progress after all. I wasn’t lost.
I just needed support—a healthy environment, the right people to nurture and nourish me.

Now, I smile at people. I approach them. I have conversations. I ask about them. I make jokes. I tease. I find myself actively engaging, offering support, advocating for mental health.
There’s sunlight above me. I look people in the eyes. I don’t shy away anymore. I don’t apologize for things I shouldn’t even be sorry about...

I see myself in the mirror—and I’ve never seen myself this bright.
Someone loved. Someone loving.

I told the Kunafa Kweens (Nanay Shi, Mazzy L Calderon, Maria Camille Balisnomo-Arguelles, Grace Ababan, Jane JP) that in my solo shoot—my transformation photo—I still wanted them to be part of it somehow.
Because they were the ones who pushed me to be better, to shine brighter. They are my inspiration. My standard for kindness, for helping others, for embodying what it means to be a Champion.

They also represent the Kaizen community, the UAE community, the In Touch community—the few true friends who believed in me, my sisters and brothers—who became my nourishing grounds in finding and accepting myself.
I got to this point in my life not on my own—but with support and love and a whole community behind me.

From always thinking I’m not enough. That I don’t matter. That I’m not worth it. Not knowing who I am, what I’m for, or why I’m even here—
Now I see myself clearly—that I am more than enough.
That I am worth every bit of love and blessing.
And I… I have the ability to pay it all forward—to pass it on.
So I will.

So I will keep doing this every day—this habit of showing up.
Not just for myself, my family, and friends—but for others, too, in a balanced and healthy way.
Because now I know—I am capable of so much more.
And there are no true limits.

So, what is the statement?

I WANT TO BE SEEN—THE WAY I SEE MYSELF NOW.
It’s not about showing skin, shocking anyone, or flaunting my body.
I’M BARING MY SOUL.

This is no longer about hoping or longing.
This is me ACCEPTING.
Owning my journey.
Owning my presence.
My value.
My worth.

I will always be on a journey of self-acceptance and self-discovery—of becoming who I am.
I will never be perfect.
Depression, mood swings, conflicts, challenges—Life—will still bring me down.
I will still lose things. People. My way. My strength…
But I will never stay down again. Never in a corner again. Never hide again or say, “That’s not me.”

I want you to know—
This is who YOU nourished.
This is who YOU supported, included, encouraged, and helped.
Who YOU lifted up and kept steady.
I love you. And I am grateful you’re part of my life.

This is who I want to keep being—who I will continue to create every day.
The result of love, kindness, understanding, and acceptance.

A transformation beyond words or photos.

This is not about the kind of fresh love that rejoices discovering each other and bathes in the details of the person who you've been with for a few months or a year. I'm not talking about those breathtaking, giddy moments where you say, "this could be the one." nor fate bringing two souls together to kindle each other's fire. Not the passion ignited between two souls.

No.

I'm talking about time.

And Sisyphus; the god damned boulder and the never ending uphill trek.

I want to talk about what it means to love, time and time again, in spite of everything.

Love

I am, by no means, an expert. Not on this topic, not in marriage, relationships or what-have-you. I'm your average human meat pondering on these thoughts, with an intention to understand and learn something I can better my life with.

What this is is an internal discussion, an exploration, and maybe my way of achieving some form of closure. But I need to write this, because where I am in life right now is I am Sisyphus with the motherfucking boulder, going uphill, thinking What is this all for? To what end?

That may sound gloomy, and probably tinted with angst, but more than anything it's just me trying to make sense of this... Thing. This life-encompassing thing we call Love. 

TIME

Some people move forward in their relationships after just a few months, settle into a cozy life together, and plan things without doubt or fear of things not lasting after all. Some people take years before they even move in together, while others get married in 2 years or less, others take decades. It's different each time, each person, each situation.

Regardless of your relationship's age, time proves love. It's not in the intensity of the feeling, or the amount of gifts or cuddles you give, but the number of times you show up for your partner when it matters most. How often did you forgive? How many times were you patient and understanding? How many times, in every unique, trying situation, did you choose to stay?

"For better or worse" does not hold itself without the passage of time.

It's not just time: length - but time: frequency + length.

How many times did you set aside your personal interests, emotions, point-of-view or side-of-the-story, to put yourself in someone else's shoes, hear what they have to say and really listen, or simply forgive? How often do they do the same?

I guess it's not about time as in how long you've been together. But time as in how often do you come through for each other that really speaks about the strength of your love, or rather the quality of it. This is where long-term relationships do have an advantage over newer ones as it provides them more moments to experience these opportunities to show the quality of their love. And it provides them enough data to determine what works and what doesn't. Of course, some relationships, despite being quite new can have a lot of moments spent together where situations demand showing up for each other.

Either way, some time is required to have passed by at the very least, for us to have the opportunity show up for our loved one.

COMPREHENSION

We can spend all our lives trying to teach our partners how to love us or what makes us feel safe but if they can't comprehend that puts extra obstacles in our course. Maybe that's what marriage counseling is for, or well-meaning friends. You know, trying to find a translator so you both understand the mysterious "point" that the other is trying to make. Although that's kind of an issue isn't it? Maybe they're not making a "point"... maybe they just want to be heard, and seen, for who they are, what matters to them, what they value. And here you are, counting eggs in the basket.

EFFORT

It's not always the chocolates or the flowers. It's time spent dedicating yourself to your person, and it's for the menial things - not your scheduled dates - like accompanying them to their mother's, or picking up materials for a renovation. Even staying up just to listen to them talk about how they don't feel right in this world. What do you do that says, "You matter enough to spend time and effort on."?

What does Effort mean anyway? What effort is to me might be peanuts to you. That's such a bothersome enigma, isn't it? I guess this is something worth discussing together, since not all relationships have the same needs and wants. For some, effort is not just meeting your partner halfway but all the way through when they're momentarily incapable. For others it's going beyond what's usual for you, going out of your own way, changing your perspective - all for the sake of your partner's well-being. Or maybe it's simply choosing to make an effort to learn what makes your person feel loved, and adhering to it, instead of following trivial acts of how society thinks love looks like.

In any case, the makings of our relationships lie within our choices.

CHOICE

Sometimes you can spend over a decade giving your all to someone and they wouldn't even notice it's there. Sometimes you meet online and in just two months you're holding hands, making love, and forgetting everything and everyone else. Infatuation is such a precursor to Love that it's difficult to know that something will last long until it's fully dissipated. And Love is such an obstruction to your deep emotional needs, it's hard to see whether what you have is something that is right and good for you.

So how do we know?

We choose.

Time takes us across as we make effort to comprehend each other during our most unlovable moments. In between all these conversations, circumstances, opportunities and problems - we make our choice. Over and over again, we choose.

To move on, or let go.

To forgive, or forget.

To change, or walk away.

To hurt, or to heal.

WHAT IF

What if they don't choose us? After all the ways we've changed, improved, adjusted and compromised - in the end, we are not the choice? We can count all of the ways we've been the bigger person, have swallowed our pride and took the most risk - just for this to happen. Just for this to work.

And no matter how much of a saint or a martyr you've been, that still won't change the fact that it didn't work. It didn't happen. What now?

How do we love?

What do we do in response to the people that hurt us? That use us? That come, that go, that bring in happiness, and then bring in pain, and leave it there for you to deal with for months or even years. How do we come out of this?

And that's where it gets interesting, really. The more we cope through the absence of "love" the more we find that there's an abundance of it elsewhere - in different forms. There's love from your family, love from your friends, hell - even from your pets. We find love in a book, or an artwork in a gallery, by an artist you don't know but feel connected to. We find love in the mountains, while the sun breaks through the summit. In a beach, during high tide under moonlight. In a busy city street, eating Chinese, watching people pass by on the way to their lives.

In ourselves.

In the way we brush our hair after shower.

How we make ourselves a cup of coffee before work.

How we set time for movies and tv series.

How we treat ourselves to our favorite things.

How we allow ourselves to cry, when things swell up.

How we tell ourselves, "It's gonna be okay. You're okay."

And it's still a surprising thing, despite it happening often - it's not how we love them but how we love ourselves that brings meaning to the experience.

And maybe this is what it is.

It's not a love story between two people, but a love story of the self...

damn.

The wonderful part about playing indie games is that you can expect a unique perspective in every one of them, and there's certainly something about Robotherapy that makes it worthwhile.

Brought to you by Lucas Molina, Robotherapy is a dark comedy game about robots doing therapy. Interesting yet? It takes place in a dystopian society that killed all the humans who thought that it could make them happy. And yet they aren't - so the question goes, If killing all humans doesn't bring happiness, then what does?

The Story & The Game

Enter: Smokes, who is a self-proclaimed Robotherapist who also happens to be the best one in the world - claimed by him, of course. You play as him and talk to robot clients to deal with their depression. You meet interesting characters throughout the story who - I'd have to assume - have quite the personality chips. They are funny in their own way and the interactions with Smokes is like this conversation at a dry bar. Smokes himself is quite the character - he's a cynical, oddly narcissistic, speaks-his-thoughts-out-loud and short-fused robot.

I think Robotherapy is a dark comedy mostly because that's how the interactions are between each character - comedic, splash of dark jokes: killing animals next and all. However, despite its quirky take of meaninglessness of life without humans, it does manage to touch on mental health. It even features some strategies that is used in therapy to deal with depression and anxiety. It surprised me that some of the thought processes included in the game somehow reflected how present mental health interventions happen. That's amazing, isn't it?

The story does take an interesting turn as we go further and the focus shifts to Smokes' life, from depressed robots post-human annihilation. And this is where I pause and hope the stuff I've mentioned above are enough to give you an idea of what adventure you're going into and whether it might be true that Smokes is the best robotherapist in the world.

As for the aesthetics and the environment, it gives me the retro feels. Very simple graphic elements and not a lot of effects really to expect. It is overall pleasing and the soundtrack is pretty funky and cool - retrowave-ish? Some scenes have a good beat going but they are mostly recycle throughout different scenes.

The writing done in this game is just profound. It just emits existentialism from a comedic, inhumane, point of view. Plus - it brings therapy in a good light: showing it as a means to feel better or just move forward.

Mechanics

The game is presented as a visual novel or narrative so the only interaction is clicking - either to the next paragraph or the next scene. There are minigames here but, again, interaction is by clicking. Throughout the game you are presented with choices, you can either go the dark path of being an unempathetic therapist or one that tries to connect with the robot clients. Or you know, just to be funny. It affects the story to some extent but not completely that the end result is altered. From what I know there's only one ending.

I don't want to say any more because I tend to overemphasize and the message gets lost in all the words, so I hope the ones I've written above are enough. If you're looking for a unique, emotional, dark comedy-laced, 2D game and don't mind just clicking - put Robotherapy on your list.

It just released this August 7, 2023 and might still be on an introductory price on steam. Don't hate on me if you miss it.

Toodles.

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If you're interested in a gameplay (spoilers ahead) I have one uploaded on my personal channel, feel free to watch:

The Value of Video/Online Gaming

Surprisingly, online games are not the waste-of-time, eye-damaging, violence-promoting things that some people paint them out to be. In fact, there are plenty of valuable lessons and even skills that you gain from playing online games. I honestly want to dive deeper into the benefits of online gaming, not just for entertainment but for your mental health even, but that's another whole article so I'm pausing here. Let's get to it.

July 24 is International Self-care Day (yes, I am late to the party) and while there are a lot of self-care tips and checklists, routines, what is self-care, self-care importance, etc. content out there - have we really taken a moment to ourselves to look at the parts that need tending? A fair warning, this is not your laid back self-care post, this is an article about the deeper forms of self-care we need in life. Let's see how online gaming connects, here are some lessons you learn from online game that you can incorporate into your self-care.

via Gfycat

via Gfycat

Actually, asking for help is something that's normalized and is reflected well in the gaming community. Looking for a specific build? Ask for help. Wanting some tips and tricks to rank up on a specific hero? Ask for help. Need a guide to surpass an impossible level? Ask for help. The gaming community spawns countless content on gameplays, guides, tutorials, tips, suggestions and reviews for any and all gaming needs.

While they are all accessible enough, players themselves are willing to help other players because we all know what it's like to struggle through a game, we've all been there. We've all been a beginner, we've all been a noob. We all want to be able to enjoy the game in a state where we feel capable, when we get stuck, we don't necessarily ask for a cheat sheet but a small boost to keep the ball rolling because we know, we have it in our heads, "I can clear the game."

via Gfycat

I wish this kind of openness and normalization of asking for help in game is as easy and accessible in real life. It has it's own challenges, but it doesn't mean real-life help isn't available. Sometimes you just need to find the right community, person or even service provider. Being honest about the support you need or generally asking for help gives you a chance to feel a little more able. You know, that break you gotta catch, that small push, in order to find satisfaction in life again. Maybe it's not asking for help specifically that you need but simple, honest communication to either set boundaries or state what you really want or need from your job, your relationship, your family, friends or yourself.

So... there. Those are some, not all, of the lessons you learn in gaming that you can incorporate into your self-care regimen. Like I said, it's not your usual everyday self-care mini activities, gaming itself covers you on that.

Anyway, I most definitely just wanted to capture the importance of self-care while highlighting gaming as a source of such lessons. There's a whole lot more to this topic, for sure, but I hope this article helped open doors for you in terms of considering the nitty-gritty kind of self-care more and not just your usual hobbies kind of self-care.

By all means, continue the self-care activities that you do to uplift your mood and what not, just keep an open mind about deep-cleaning kind. Having laid that out on the table, tara, let's get back to the usual gaming and social media scrolling. Baboosh!

B R E A T H E

You have got a lot going on, and it's fucking tiring and tough and, yes, there's no other way than forward and through it.

Keep going.

It's painful, it's frustrating, it's debilitating and it feels like it goes on forever.

It doesn't, it's bound to stop somehow. Just as things can get worse, things can get better and right now it's a streak but streaks end and there has to be a break somewhere sometime.

Keep going, but don't forget to Breathe.

Don't get lost in the shit your mind makes up to add to the nonsense that is going on around you, make your own set of go-to thoughts to help ease this hell-hole you're in right now.

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So let's list it down.

First of all, you're more than enough - you're everything you're supposed to be plus potentials. Your mistakes in the past, your relapses, those regrets you keep slipping back into... those are not you. What you do afterwards to make up for it, to move forward, to catch yourself and rebuild yourself... that's you.

When was the last time you came out of something heartbreaking or traumatizing? What did you do in response to it, in order to protect or help yourself recover? What would you say is your best self-protection/ self-care/ self-loving method is?

You've got experience and you've come out of difficult times before, probably worse, don't sell yourself short. You're a warrior in your own right and have got the kit to survive this too.

Secondly, people love and care about you. Maybe friends and family have their own thing now or are not as available as you'd like but it doesn't mean they don't give a shit. It is true everyone has their own lives, and it is easy for attention to be placed elsewhere and even easier to forget remembering a person when things are tough for you too. Don't get disheartened when you try to reach out, they may not be able to respond now but when they're ready and free they'll definitely put things down and see how you are. Can you remember the times when friends came through for you? Who are those people that responded? How do you think they'll react when they find out you're not okay and what do you think they'll say?

Your loved ones care, maybe it might take a little more straightforwardness to ask for help but that's worth giving a try, right? Give them a chance to care for you.

Third, if things are that bad it's okay to do nothing, to sleep all day, sulk and summon the darkness down on your house and kill all the light that bears hope. Some days are just not winnable, and these days also sometimes need to be lost so your body can recuperate. Your mind is tired, your body will thank you for the extra rest and sleep and if it helps to pamper yourself with all manner of comfort food, music, movies and online shopping - please do. Go for it. Cope, however way you can.

And when things get a little easier, you'll be able to move to better coping mechanisms and shift to more helpful activities. But when things are just not working and nothing helps, rest. It's okay, there's tomorrow, there's next day. Take the day/s off, turn off your phone, curl up in bed, play your melancholy playlist, cry... it's not giving up - it's simply feeling. And maybe for a while that's what your body needs, to just feel and let it all out, let the depression run its course until it wears off.

But all throughout, as you surrender yourself to the moment, remember that you are loved and that this is not permanent. This will pass. And things will feel lighter again, and easier.

You are not this. Not one bit.

So breathe...and hang in there.

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If you do feel like you need to talk to someone, anyone, and nobody you know is available (and you are in the Philippines) try calling Crisis Line, it's Free, 24/7 and can be anonymous, responders provide immediate emotional support.. here are the numbers below: