Focusing on the Good

Everything is on fire right now, internally and externally. But that's not what this blog is about. Today, I'm going to ignore (yes, ignoring real issues for your mental health's sake is completely valid) all the negative and focus on the positive. I've experienced a lot of joy in 2023 and I want to be reminded of that. I want to be around to see the children in my life grow and be there for them whenever I am able. I should not have to feel guilty because my body decided to go against me, which it often does. Here are some of the good things that happened in 2023: 

My besties' first pregnancy and child. Maybe I’ll share their unique love story one day, with their permission, of course. These two are natural care takers and they have taken care of me at my lowest of lows. From my early, messy 20s when I would get black out drunk to the point of these 2 angels taking care of me and being there for their disabled siblings; they have experienced so much tragedy in their life, but they keep going. They give me so much love and support whenever I come over and now, there's a new factor, a child. A blank slate, if you will. "This child will not know who their blood family is because everyone will either be an auntie, uncle, caretaker, babysitter, etc.," the father of the child texted me when I asked about their chosen parenting style. Also, not to diss on newborns, but I think they’re ugly af. This newborn is so beautiful, with a fitting gender-neutral name; I was genuinely concerned that my disability would deter them from me their child, but disability can occur any moment. I am so incredibly excited to meet him(her/them). This gave me hope for the future because despite what we see in the news and media, this is the most liberating time to be alive.

I love being there for my nephew, mostly because he isn't embarrassed of me. This past month, I met the girl that he has been talking to (no, they are not BF/GF yet) and she is so sweet and isn't shy at all. When he explained my maternal relationship by explaining, "I was born when she was still a young [16] and legit took care of me when I was little. She's my favorite aunt, like legit." I sobbed in the car on the way home after I dropped them off at my favorite sushi place because I knew killing myself would destroy him. Last week, his high school band performed at the Golden Gate Park and when I found him after the performance, he was so happy to see me. "Tinang," he yelled, as he ran towards me for an immediate hug. "You're not staying," he asked and I said no because I was afraid of losing a parking spot on my street! He is my son, my child, and I even asked if I could yell, "labadyu bubog [his nickname given by my caretaker/brother and I]! That's my son, I was 16 when he was born!” He's also disabled by being born deaf in both ears; genetics on my father's side and even I'm starting to get affected. He sees me as his tinang, not just his disabled Tita. I know I’ll get to the point where my pre-disabled life will be shorter than my disabled life and that’s okay as long as I am still a caring human being and I must stay alive to watch him grow up.

My niece moved back to the Philippines where I know she's much happier even though it hurts not being able to contact her. I've noticed false stereotypes with my children; they are barely text back, really mature for their age (I blame familial and generational trauma because one of my nephews was literally shot in the face [it was a miracle that he barely has any long-term negative physical health effects]), and celibate. My mother, her grandmother, would always comment on her fashion and choice of clothing, telling her to put earrings on, and talk about her mild, charming underbite in front of my her own granddaughter. Considering I'm the "floozy" of the family, they are the ones telling her to show more skin, ask about her love life, and mocking her for not having a crush. Adversely, when Grandma found out that she was "dating" at 14, chaperoned or not, she flipped and said she would end up pregnant. This is why I'm very relieved that she is with her mother's side of the family who are pro-choice. They do tend to groom the girls on their side of the family to marry old, wealthy men; prioritizing beauty, and what’s so wrong with that?! Filipinx womxn have been sexually repressed since Catholic colonization. I trust my niece enough to remember what I taught her and she'll be one heck of an adult in the future. Funnily enough, all of my niblings are religious and I do not mind it because I know I provided important life advice to them.

I met Janelle Monae and have a signed vinyl of their amazing album, "Age of Pleasure." Living in SF is still a pain in the ass, but the opportunities here are endless. Leading me to my shift in spirituality, but not in the organized religion kind of way. I've been thinking about karma and manifestation and how they've worked for me this year. Now, living in San Francisco is definitely a huge factor, but leaning more into intuition and gut feelings rather than what I used to do which was purely analysis and linear problem solving. I've been more in tune with my emotions which is a big part of sex coaching. I sometimes feel like I'm going crazy with all of my emotions, leading me to seek help. I asked my case manager if I can sign up for talk therapy, but she decided to increase our scheduled appointments and for it to be every two weeks (instead of once a month). Accountability is sexy. 

I'm not going to lie, but I live off of purpose and spite. If you hurt me or someone I care about, you're pretty much fucked. Sometimes, I feel like I am supposed to be a martyr, but that goes against my harm reduction beliefs. What if I can't help it? Last Wednesday, I saw someone hired by the city, laughably claiming as city ambassadors, literally use a leaf blower to make my unhoused neighbor leave. I yelled, "leave him alone! He doesn't even have a home," and when I stood up to this big, muscular man (who I even thanked prior to the incident because I had to move my car for street cleaning), he was shocked. The heartless city ambassador started giving excuses when I asked Oprah’s famous question about trauma response, “what happened to you to treat someone literally living without proper shelter,” and even he had the audacity to ask, "why don't you take him in then?" I was shocked and horrified at his embarrassing comeback because he knows it's not that simple. I asked the unhoused person if they were alright and he thanked me and even offered to play chess with me. "I don't know how to play chess," I said and he replied, "I can teach you! Thank you for stopping him and saving my stuff." I think I was born to be a defender or a warrior. Don't religious people say, "God gives his toughest battles to his toughest warriors," or something like that? Another reason why I don't believe in God is seeing innocent people suffer while evil prevails. If God were indeed real, then he would want everyone to be happy and healthy, right? 

This is why I was put here on this Earth. I am going to be that bitch that calls out my racist mom, doxxing rapists, and help alleviate the suffering of others while finding my spirituality along the way. Just because I have broken a few eggs this year, doesn't mean I can't have my perfectly sunny-side up eggs every time for the rest of the year; of course I'll break a yolk or two along the way. Because at the end of the day, life is a silly joke and we must laugh to survive. Damn, I really wanted to end with a rhyme, but I don't have the time. Comedy.