17/05/2025
At the start of 2024, I thought it was going to be the hardest year of my life. And in many different ways, it was.
Things didn’t go the way I hoped. Some people that I dearly love the most decided that it wasn’t worth it to stay in life anymore, so they left. Some things I truly cared about fell apart little by little. I felt lost, tired, and even worse—empty. It was one of the darkest years for me—even small tasks felt too heavy for me, like I was dragging my heart through each day.
To others, I might appear like myself—happy, full of dreams, bubbly, brave, and strong. But inside, I was breaking and hurting more than I let on. I carried sadness in silence, and sometimes, I feel so invisible that I wonder if I’m here at all. And in those moments, I can’t help but wonder if I’m slowly fading—if I’m just a ghost in my own life.
But slowly, something started to shift.
Not in grand gestures or in a big, dramatic way. There was no magical moment where my fairy godmother granted me one wish that could fix everything in my life. But there were small signs—specks of light peeking through the cracks. An uplifting sermon from our pastor. A kind word from a friend. A peaceful morning. A laugh that felt so real.
Step by step, I started to feel something again. I realized that I didn’t have to be strong all the time—that I could be soft, I could take my time, and I could still choose peace, even if the world around me was so loud and chaotic.
2024 didn’t ruin me; rather, it showed me who I really am.
When I thought the year 2024 was the bad one—then came worse: the year 2025.
In January, I was admitted to the hospital. It felt as if my body knew that it had reached its limit, and in some ways, so had my spirit. I was tired—not just physically, but emotionally. I thought that would be the hardest part of the year.
But then, in February, my brother passed away. There are no words that can really hold the weight of that sentence. My world changed in just one snap. A kind of silence fell over everything—a silence I haven’t been able to shake.
Grief isn’t loud like I expected. Rather, it shows up in the stillness of the night uninvited. In everyday things. In the way I reach for my phone to tell him something and remember he’s not here.
It’s hard to explain how it feels to lose someone who was part of your roots. It’s like a part of me went with him. I keep moving, somehow. One day at a time. Some days, one breath at a time. And even though I’m still deep in the hurt, I know I haven’t given up—not yet.
Life can be hard, even heartbreaking. But through the pain, we find a way to keep going. Strength isn’t just about being tough—it’s also about being gentle with yourself.
Loss changes us, but love stays. It lives on in memories and in the quiet moments. You can feel broken and still heal. You can carry sadness and still find light. And that’s enough to keep moving forward.
🍃Hinga Muna, Hindi Ka Nag-iisa🍃
🖼: Karri Cioco
