I'm Rawdogging Life Right Now & I'm Doing Okay
A lot of things are going on right now, both personally and externally. Mostly personally and I haven't had some of my medication (Prozac and Seroquel) since my return (Dec 27). I am, as I like to call it, rawdogging life; living life without medication just to see what happens. Just kidding because I didn't have a choice! For some internal system reason, I lost access to my disability insurance, or SSS (Social Security Subsidiaries) Additionally, I've been jet lagged and generally exhausted. I needed this time to recalibrate my life and body and it sucks that most people do not have this recalibration period. For the disabled community, we are so hyperaware of our immediate environment and sometimes have to think ahead before going out.
*My vagina DOES NOT belong to the government!
Most of my close and oldest friends know this about me, but even before I was physically disabled, I like to be 2-3 hours before a hangout or dinner. I like to scope out the environment, have some alone time, maybe talk to a stranger and get to know how they found themselves in that bar-resto at that exact date and time. Now I have to account for parking availability, if I need to prep for an unexpected hill, or if the only available place to sit is at a bar stool. It's tedious and could be a sign of undiagnosed OCD, but can America please me more accessible? Surprisingly, besides the physical signs of withdrawal with the combination of jet lag, I'm mentally managing these obstacles well. I'm aware that I need to be more physically active and walk more, and this isn't me making excuses, but being outside in the rain sucks and terrifies me when I'm driving. My caretaker also removes the disability device that allows me to drive, limiting my car usage. I cannot live anymore north of San Francisco because it's already wet enough here!
- January 22, 2024
I haven't been having a good time with life lately. I am just now, post-4 weeks of returning from the Philippines and Taiwan, getting my sleeping schedule fairly regulated. I say, “fairly,” because I find myself sleeping from 1:00 p.m. up until, at most, 7:00 p.m. It's currently January 29, 2024 at 9:17am and I have fixed all of my health insurance bullshit. I'm thinking about going back to talk therapy to avoid medication because, holy shit, I didn't realize how much my libido is suppressed by my meds. All my vaginal glands are working overtime to achieve this WAP (wet ass pussy). My toys have been dying on me and I need to charge almost all of the chargeable sex toys.
The rain in the Bay has ceased and I intend on going to a free screening of the latest Mr. & Mrs. Smith on Wednesday with Maya Eskrine and Donald Glover. I'm also going to finish my sex coaching program by April and am already looking for participants. I've stopped drinking alcohol and limited my weed usage, and I've lost body fat through change of diet alone. I do not believe in time as a construct, but I do believe it's linear. With all that being said, 2024 is going to be a fun year.
My 1st Christmas Since Moving to America in 2000
(CW: RAPE CULTURE)
A lot has changed, yet a lot has not, this Philippines holiday season both positive and negative, since immigrating to America. The Philippines is still a third world country and the majority of Filipinos are misogynistic. Why? Because I've seen their eyes following me. Truly, I do not think I can live here alone due to sexual safety. Not all things were bad so I'm going to make a pros and cons list and this is for me and only me. However, if this can be helpful for other queer and disabled tall Asian womxn, here was my experiences:
Pros:
Filipino hospitality. A local tricycle driver would always give us the correct directions whenever we get turned around or lost. Even in the busy cities, we locked ourselves out of the car and this stranger opened it for us and walked away. We had to hunt him down because I was the one who saw it, thanking and asking him, “how did you do that!?" He shrugged and gave us a trick to open the car if we accidentally left the keys in the car again.
Learning about my ancestors. I learned so much about my family because I'm finally at that age where I'm part of the adult conversations now! My family is a bunch of unknown activists; my mother and brother question authority, my maternal grandmother was deeply hated and I'm very much like her, my maternal grandfather had so much confidence and land, and my family has always been led by strong people.
My parents clean everyday and that's their key to a healthy life. Every morning, my mother goes to the market to buy fresh meat and produce for the meals of that day. The mangosteens and green mangoes were deliciously sour and the fresh coconuts were refreshing on most humid days. We have a malunggay tree in your yard and it was cooked on days when we wanted a break or had a stomach bug.
Being dollar earners. $1 roughly equates to 55.39 Philippine Pesos, therefore, we have an extra advantage. It's also a big ass privilege.
Having a car and people who are able to drive. The public transport in the Philippines isn't bad unless you are disabled. There are tricycles, buses, and even Uber and Grab.
Discounts for the elderly and disabled. If you have the proper identifications, you can be qualified for significantly cheaper meals and even products. Free-of-charge spaces for parking and a plethora of discounts are available.
Cons:
I could feel every person's stare and would have to correct people on disability rights. Sometimes, when I wasn't in the mood or it was too hot, I would say, “would you like a picture," and ask if they wanted to take one on their phone, or simply state that staring is rude and follow up with, "do you stare at people in wheelchairs?” It got tiring.
Speaking of staring, the men there need to stop with the rampant rape culture. The tricycle drivers in my area talked about women being bitches and even publicly verbally harassed some of them. I wasn't shocked because I would hear the same words come out of my misogynistic parents’ mouths. My eldest brother telling me that he could see my nipples through my bathing suit or my father openly slapping my ass as a joke would simply laugh when I called them out that I am their sister or daughter. Even my mother would have conflicting opinions on my appearance, swinging back and forth from, “wear something sexy," to, “you're gaining weight, cover up your rolls of fat." It did not help that my disgusting brother would talk to girls closer to his 15-year-old daughter's age than my almost 30-year-old self. Barf.
Accessibility. I rarely saw people with disabilities walking around independently. If there were, the roads were uneven, cars parked on sidewalks, and cars and pedestrians creating their own driving laws. You have to be well-off if you want to live with a disability in the Philippines.
Check your receipts before you pay. We had to return the receipt at least 3 times because they added things we didn't order. Knowing that most people do not check receipts, survivorship takes over and some restaurants (especially the ones inside the mall) add items that we didn't even order.
The humidity with the heat. My brother and I both suffered from heat exhaustion during our first few weeks. Not just that, but we had food poisoning too. I threw up and was the only one who threw up due to food poisoning. It was because my gross brother didn't wash his hands after using the restroom and never cleaned after himself.
I didn't recognize the Christmas carols. Where did the Filipino talent go!? Only one group harmonized and sang a different song. Curse you, Coca-Cola!
Those were my big ones for this trip and my mother is expected to visit us in SF in September. I would have been done with school and I will have to walk a lot before then because she wants to go to Europe.
I Visited My Nieces in the Philippines
My soon-to-be 15 year old niece (let's call her C) whom I'm closest to is so much happier, but I was taken aback when I saw her scars on her arms. As she was telling me a story about her school adventures in the Philippines, I was fighting my tears and focused on her story. I briefly fought back my tears when I asked her about it, why she never told me, and she was hesitant to talk about it. When my family discovered that I was doing Onlyfans, I spent a lot of time with her because her father, let's call him, “G," let me stay with him when I was kicked out. I feel so ashamed of myself that I never noticed or that she never told me. I mean, I noticed and encouraged her that I'm always there for a chat, but how can I not have noticed!? I feel like I failed.
My younger niece (from another brother, but uhhhh, my family is complicated; my eldest brother dated his subsequent brother's niece-in-law. I told you it was complicated. Let's call her P) is incredibly neglected when it comes to mental health. She is neurodivergent and before you tell me that I don't know what I'm talking about, I WORKED AS A PARAPROFESSIONAL AND I'M ALSO DISABLED WITH VARIOUS MENTAL HEALTH CONCERNS!!! ANYWAYS! I wrote this as a draft, unknowing that she has an ADHD diagnosis; lacks eye contact, hyperactivity, and delayed speech development. The last part is a bit confusing because she's Tanglish (Tagalog and English) and I am not able to distinguish if it is her delayed speech or if that's just what she's saying. Her hyperactivity and brief attention span are very visible, but it broke me when she said, “my mom and dad left me when I was a baby.” She would always ask, “are you my papa's sister?" Her father, my eldest brother (let's call him B), and her mother, G’s niece-in-law (told you it is messy) are her parents. Her father, B, is in complete denial and I am not surprised if he has other neglected children because he's an absent father who lacked proper sexual education. Additionally, G is also too woman-focused; constantly telling his almost 15 year old daughter (C) about the women he's fucking, and they are often younger than me, his youngest and only sister.
Y'all know how much I love my children; these are MY CHILDREN because I helped raise them! I shouldn't need to have biological children to feel maternal; I took care of my nephew (K) since I was 13! Now at 17, he has a job at Starbucks and both him and my aforementioned niece (G’s child, C) are waiting after high school for their sexual debut. C is also in the talking stages with a classmate, I asked if she's practicing safer sex, and she's also waiting after high school. I DID THAT. I TALKED TO THEM ABOUT SEX. I BROKE THE CYCLE. Are you telling me that these aren't my children? Why are my maternal characteristics dismissed when I've literally done more for these children? Fuck off.
The Importance of Community and Staying True To Yourself
Lipa, Batangas, my mother's hometown. She started working at 4, school at 5.5 and was 11.5 when she started high school; a hella positive trait along with having photographic memory. It's also where my grandparents hid a Japanese soldier during WWII (so that's where I got my activism from). It's where me and my cousins walked until dark and literally reached the edge of our street. Everyone is related and the chismis is rampant. Lipa is where my favorite person was born (he still has his dried up, crusty umbilical cord) and my Inay (grandmother) Rosita, told my mother, “oh Aida, your child is hideous," (so that's where I got my brutal honesty). I am so happy to be surrounded by people who are so hilariously loud and petty. I'm just now realizing the importance of community and family connections. I cried when I saw the picture of my grandparents hanging in their now-renovated house (the old house was so much more open and breezier). My heart is so fucking full of love.
I used to visit the Philippines more often when I was a kid because one, flights were cheaper and two, I was still able-bodied. Actually, the second to last time (the last time was in 2017 for our renovated house party in San Pedro, Laguna) was when I took my literal microscopic brain slides to the Philippines to potentially get answers with my mystery encephalitis blessing. Yes, my disability has positively changed my life. There, I said it. I wouldn't have it about other way. ANYWAYS. My mother's childhood home is a very special place for community. Almost all of my maternal bloodline are still there; my cousin has a dental office in front of her home.
I'm not going to lie, my ears hurt from all the yelling and constant chatter. Want to know how we kill time? We eat, drink, and talk on a terrace; or clean! My mother's first cousin-in-law is 80 and the way she does laundry is insanely clean. She handwashes clothes and then puts it in the washing machine. Growing up, I obviously didn't understand shit because I was a child. Now that I'm older, I'm seeing the importance of community and family (chosen or not). I've been having many conversations with friends about friendships and adulthood. We really have to be intentional with our relationships.
Check-in with each other. I'm not afraid to reach out, unlike my parents and brother who just make assumptions. They tend to tampo, or hold grudges. For example, I wanted to experience drinking with my father as we listen to live music (I realized that it was better he stayed home because of the environment). He's a stubborn motherfucker (ha! LITERALLY) and I'm elated that I no longer hold this trait. I never got a chance to apologize because he was already asleep when we got home. The next morning, I slipped on my way out of the humid bathroom. I yelled for help and thankfully, my HOH father was nearby. Naked, He knows that we have limited time and I explained to him that I only have a month here and we don't know when we'll next see each other. I always have to remind them that we are adults with lives; we're busy! And you never know what's going on in someone's life. One of my biggest pet peeves are people making assumptions. Don't assume, just ask! It's not that fucking hard! If you are too afraid to ask; vulnerability is hella sexy. What are you going to lose? Your friend? Honey, they are no longer your friend. Don't be afraid to set boundaries. Most importantly, stay true to yourself and approach ever situation with compassion and an awareness that you're not all-knowing.
I've been here less than a week, but I've already learned so much about my bloodline and culture. I'm Eat, Pray, Loving the fuck out of my life right except I'm actually Filipinx. My spirit is elated with joy being surrounded by people who [sort of] look like me; I'm tall, light-skinned, and people always assume I'm Korean or Japanese. I smile and wave at people who stare to create change or, at least, lessen the stigma of disability, relationships, and sex. I'm very comfortable with myself and who I really am. I have ascended into my ultimate form. Just kidding! I don't believe in stagnancy; there's always room for improvement. Yes, there are still so many problematic people, but they are literally going extinct. You know what I say? GOOD, STAY DEAD, YOU XENOPHOBES.
Masking 101
I hate masking and have fully embraced myself, but that does not guarantee my safety in the trip to the Philippines, literally tonight around midnight [currently 11am on Nov. 27, 2023]. Which is why I've decided for my mental, physical, and emotional safety, I'm going to have to mask my entire personality. I don't want to waste my energy arguing with family members who refuse to listen to my struggles. They will never understand until they themselves come out as queer or non-monogamous or. drastically become disabled. I will just shut the fuck up, read, write, work, and eat. I'm also worried about relapsing and realizing that my access to medication is a gigantic hurdle when traveling. Once you become disabled, there’s no manual. I have repeatedly mourned over the loss of my body through the last 7 years of my life, reclaimed it after years of self-loathing, but my family thinks I’m being “too much” whenever I respectfully tell others that I could have a better life if the disability laws are properly adjusted to living a happy and healthy life [ex: calling out a lady at the airport who didn’t know I understood Tagalog at NAIA {Ninoy Aquino International Airport} and said she felt sorry for me and I responded with “I am fluent in Tagalog, tita, please apologize.”]. I’m hoping that my family sees me suffering, the neglect and turned heads from other humans, remind them how we became the people that we are, and finally realizing what it's like to be in my disabled body.
What is masking? “Masking, as a coping mechanism, involves concealing one’s true emotions, thoughts, or struggles as a way to navigate social situations or cope with internal difficulties.” Many queer, neurodivergent, mentally-ill, and people with invisible disabilities (chronic pain, back injury, concussions, suicidal ideation, etc.) are incredibly marginalized groups. The unhoused population is strongly affected by these factors due to the mistreatment of the government. Hence, we tend to see the downfall of society by neglecting our veterans, healthcare workers, and hell, even actors are being affected! Which leads me to think, can I be openly and authentically myself in the Philippines whilst staying safe? I don't think so… Having to hide my true and, essentially, unapologetic and authentic self will take me 10 steps back in my progress towwards self-improvement. I'll have to bite my lip and hopefully not draw blood in order to survive. If you didn't know already, the Marcos regime has returned to the Philippines (think about Trump/Pence, but add in dictatorship and religion). Considering Marcos’ father (Snr.) was a literal dictator, “martial law saw at least 3,257 extrajudicially killed, 35,000 tortured, 70,000 unjustly detained and close to 1,000 persons involuntarily disappeared on the pretext of ‘saving the nation’ and ‘forming a new society.’” These numbers are beyond comprehension and additionally, “we must stand against Marcos Jr.’s repressive measures, just as we stood against the Marcos Sr. dictatorship of the past. From the regime of the dictator-father to that of the son, we have endured and fought against tyranny.” I can't fight back if I'm dead. I have to mask.
I leave tonight for the Philippines and my heart is beating so fast, but that just might be my recent caffeine intake. I can't stop thinking how much this trip will mentally challenge me, but I'm still excited to see my niece, eldest nephew who was born when I was less than 5 years old, and eat meat again! This will be the first holiday season since immigrating from the Philippines in the year 2000. Dear Goddesses, please keep me sane during my stay in an incredibly traumatic setting. Oh and no plane drama, please! OR MAYBE YES TO PLANE DRAMA BECAUSE THAT SHIT IS GOING VIRAL RIGHT NOW. Ttyitp; talk to you in the Philippines!
Whitney Was Right
Children ARE the future. Seeing my nephew start a job at Starbucks and my best friends having their first child, it's hope for me and the future. My niece is in the Philippines where I trust she is making wise decisions because she's not spending it on her phone. Since I'm making a profit now (barely, but that's how small businesses start), I'm going to do what my favorite uncle did to me and give this blank slate $20-$40 every time I visit. I intend on visiting a lot! Because I want to be there when he grows up just like how I was with my nephew. There are children dying because of genocide and that's why I can't, won't, don't not care. The literal future is on the line and politicians are doing fuck-all. Palestinian children are being slaughtered and you're still choosing to look away? What the fuck is wrong with you? There have been at least, not including the ones still missing in the rubbles of war and genocide, 4,609 child deaths in Gaza from Oct 7 to Nov 13. Your denial is killing innocent children. What if it was a child you knew who was affected? Why are children deemed less valuable once they are born than those who haven't even developed a brain yet? We should look up to these cultures with how they treat their own people.
Palestinians love their children and Americans can learn a thing or two from this beautiful culture. When an infant is born, “[the] baby is a particularly joyous occasion in Palestinians society. For several weeks after a baby is born, family, friends and neighbors will visit the new parents and grandparents to offer their love, support and best wishes. A traditional dish, mughli - a pudding made of semolina flour, sugar and cinnamon, topped with fresh nuts - is served, along with coffee or tea.” What does America have? According to 2021 statistics, the CDC shared the following as it relates to race and infant mortality rate per 1,000 live births:
Non-Hispanic Black: 10.6
Non-Hispanic Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander: 7.8
Non-Hispanic American Indian/Alaska Native: 7.5
Hispanic: 4.8
Non-Hispanic white: 4.4
Non-Hispanic Asian: 3.7
Racial genocide is no stranger to history, in fact, most of the world was built upon it. From the genocide from Christopher Columbus to the genocide of the black community through institutional racism, how can you still not believe in what is being shown to you? Are you really that insecure and self-centered to ignore dying children? My answer is yes, for most Americans because history keeps repeating itself. But history also wins. Yes, we are living in the dark ages, but we still need to recognize the big changes America has had. I've always raved about America's divorce rights because that's not the reality for other countries. Though divorces are expensive and still a privilege, it's still one step towards access, while most countries only allow for an annulment of marriage or, unfortunately, stay in a loveless marriage and be sad for the rest of their lives (or go off-heteronormativity and stay married while practicing [ethical] non-monogamy). But being able to hold your loved ones’ hands is not ideal when it comes to war. There are martyrs sacrificing themselves for the sake of saving as many lives as possible. As many children's lives as possible. I truly hope that those who did pass during this filth of an event have died a painless death, holding onto their favorite toy, and died in their sleep. I have seen the pictures of children suffering and it pains me inside that I cannot assist with my own body.
This weekend, there will be a conference held in San Francisco with major politicians, including the tyrant, Marcos of the Philippines, will be there. Honestly, someone better not assassinate him because the current VP of the Philippines is so much worse. If you're going to go for it, just do a 2-for-1 special. “The Standard indicate the city [San Francisco] could spend anywhere from $600,000 to $800,000 for hotel rooms, among other things, the Controller’s Office said. Mayor London Breed’s office later retracted that number, saying the city still needed to calculate the cost of paying for security.” What about the unhoused population of San Francisco or starving American children? Why are our tax dollars going to the corrupt police and not aid the people? Lastly, why are you giving them free accommodations when they can pay for it themselves? Oh right! Because they're politicians who don't care about our children and future! THEY DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE PEOPLE! HOW CAN I FORGET!?
My Belief in a Higher Power
I am no stranger to religious trauma, especially when it comes to Roman Catholicism. Organized religion has taken so much away from me, my culture, and brainwashed my beautiful country. I was forced to go to church every Sunday and even when I was a child, I questioned God. I do not believe in a God that allows suffering and pain, nor do I believe that the world is fair. If there truly was a God, why do so many good people suffer and the malignant bloodsucking billionaires get no consequences? Why are my friends dead due to HIV/AIDS and the deprivation of ample support? Why do we only care about pregnancy, but neglect the new human and recently physically taxing of childbirth on earth, specifically Amerikkka? All of these have turned me into an atheist, but I've been watching and listening to my ancestral, pre-colonized roots lately and doing a lot of "spiritual" practices that are appropriate to my culture.
“What does spirituality mean to me,” is a question I've been asking myself because of my studies. Spirit is the S part of the MEBES© model, coined by Dr. Patti Britton and emphasizes that, “[S] encompasses two aspects: the spirit of who the client is inside—their inner identity—and a path of spirituality.” I have learned to separate religion and spirituality and it has changed my life positively. Essentially, I treat myself like a God(dess) during times when I feel sad. I have practiced dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT), particularly something called opposite-action; making the conscious decision and effort in the decision to do the opposite of how you are feeling. This rewires your brain to anticipate future negative situations in order for you to make a positive decision. Yes, I said I am God and I am. Why can't I self-identify as a God; I'm helping people by holding space for others to heal and reframe their narrative. Isn't that God-like?
Yeah, I think I'm a God(dess) because I know my purpose here on Earth; to heal and teach with kindly hidden anger. Anger fuels me, but love heals me so much more effectively than anger. There are many things to be angry about, but coming from a family with a history of violence, I have to keep it under control. Which is why I know I should not own a gun! Self and mood regulation are two things that I'm so proud of and I have to thank my spirituality for that. Meditation, journaling, singing, and healing are all spiritual to the Church of Tallasianchick. A(wo)mxn!
Ending my Birthday Trauma
When I first came to America in the year 2000, my family stayed with a cruel paternal aunt. My father's eldest sister petitioned my family to become immigrants, but at a cost. Those memories, however, are unreliable, as I'm unsure of the details due to age and constant storytelling. What I do remember was being abused in that household and my family sharing stories throughout the years about my auntie's mistreatment. Like the time when it was my birthday and my newly-immigrated family wanted to celebrate with a cake. My aunt told my caretakers, "she doesn't deserve a cake, she's unlovable." Or the time when my cousins were playing a game, asked if I could play and ended up losing my two front teeth because my cousins played a trick on me; I lost my two front teeth because my cousin intentionally caused me to trip and hit my teeth on a wooden table. Additionally, my first love bought me my first legal drink and ended up having breakup sex. 21 was a wild year. I have one year left in my 20s and intend to take what I’ve learned, do better, and leave the negative memories behind and enter my 30s with better memories. Lastly, my atrocious surprise birthday party that left deep, emotional scars and solidified my birthday trauma, but I'm ready to get over this shit for my dirty 30s.
After the hype of Halloween, people are usually hungover or tired on my birthday, which is fine because I've dealt with it too. My family would always joke about how my birthday was a sad day and I'm not going to lie, reflecting on it now, that shit really affected me. I was essentially not given permission to celebrate my birthday. I don't remember when my child-like magic went away, but I had to grow up faster than most. My birthday is all soul's day in the Philippines, a very similar concept to dia de los muertos, but make it depressing. It's a very solemn holiday for us, offering food to our dead relatives and ancestors, and general reflection on life. It's a beautiful holiday, I just strongly dislike that it is also my birthday. 21 is the legal age of drinking in America, but it's also the age when my symptoms started! Imagine, you're taking your regular jog when you notice yourself tripping on your own right foot and have to be cautious about falling for 2 miles; I loved the runner's high though. When I limped back home, I examined my feet and noticed that I had a harder time moving my right toe. No matter how hard I tried to neurologically connect with my right toe, I could barely wiggle it. This is the beginning of my disability story which is a completely different blog!
My birthday year leading up to my 21st was my intentionally messy year. I had no (and still have none) desire to go to Vegas due to my gambling addiction genes. Instead, I had a babysitting gig in the city which paid $50/hour because it was the parent's night out. I remember the little infant too, only waking up once during my 4-hour shift. I had plans to meet up with my friends, but they had switched plans on me and I was rightfully pissed. This led me to go to Alameda where my first love lived and he ended up buying me my first legal drink and ended up having make-up sex. Like anything in my past, I don't regret anything because I wouldn't be the person I am today if it weren't for these events. When I became officially disabled, my family threw me a surprise birthday party. There was this cafe that I frequented in Downtown Pittsburg, CA, near the water. My brother, bless his heart because I knew he had good intentions, but I didn't want a surprise party (at least not back then. I would love a surprise party now) and invited some of my friends. I don't like to live with regrets, but my God, was it the worst experience in my life. Not only were my friends intermingling, which I was at an advantage against at the time, but they filmed me and I saw myself as a disabled person for the first time. I started sobbing, mourning the loss of control over my body. I was inconsolable and this affected my body image for the next couple of years.
Add in car accidents, family trauma, and ending friendships into the birthday cake! Each year, my caretaker/brother knows now to ask for what I want for my birthday and vise versa; we're both Scorpios. Honestly, I cannot wait to age and die happy, and hopefully, surrounded by the children I helped raise. I've gotten through so much that I should be living my life to the fullest, but also keeping in mind the purpose for living. My personal purpose in life is healing and calling people out when they are being rude as fuck. Our society is sick and riddled with malicious leaders that need to be stopped (or dare I say, assassinated). They should be held accountable for the harm they have caused others and that's why I'm still alive. I'm, as Samara Weaving's line in Scream 6, "a voice for the voiceless, you might say…" Please tell me y'all have seen Scream?
15 Amazing Things About My 45-year-old Best Friend
You all know him by now; he's my brother, my annoying housemate, and my primary caregiver. His day of birth is tomorrow and I want to make another gratitude blog. He is so annoyingly positive sometimes and he are 15 things my best friend has given me:
Unlimited care. This man was 16 when I was born and he took care of me and still continues to do so. Even when it gets annoying, for example, pointing out possible walkways even though I have been disabled for almost 7 years. He has supported me and trusts me enough to be his Grammarly before sending an moot email to his boss who also happens to be the CFO.
A house in San Francisco. I didn't know this until a couple months into living in this space; I found out through our mother. "He bought that house as insurance for you. He has a year or two left until it's fully paid off," she told me. Who buys their sibling a house!? Like seriously, that's some badass shit!
Dropping EVERYTHING if it's an emergency. I've had two 5150s and he (and my gambling addict brother) visited me for the first one before the pandemic got really bad in early 2020. They knew I was raped and were shockingly supportive. This was when I found out that I am not the first in my family to be 5150'ed; two of my brothers have been institutionalized and knowing this gave me a lot more perspective and understanding on my family members’ behaviors.
Humor. He is the only one who can make me laugh until I can't breathe. I swear, we're so funny together and we're both delulu for wondering why we aren't famous yet. We tried (and might try again) to revive our reaction channel on Youtube. He makes the worst dad jokes and I don't think he understands what a pun is, which makes it even funnier.
Grounded and self-disciplined. He has no vices and only drinks when he goes camping or doesn’t have to drive.
The hardcore traveller and backpacker. My brother has so many wild stories (now that's a pun) about getting lost, near-death experiences, yet he loves nature so much. Much. We are the only people in our 4-unit building who actually composts. He uses the water from boiling shrimp as ramen broth for future meals.
Unattainably big brain. Like our mother, he inherited her photographic memory. Our father also told me that when he would drop my brother off at elementary school, he would be sitting properly with a straight body and interlocking hands on the desk. When it was pick up time, he would be in the same pose, as if he were an AI seat warmer.
He provides free shelter for travelers through couchsurfing. We've had people from all over the world stay with us and this is his way of sharing his resources and learning about the different countries he has visited or wants to visit.
Fashionable. That's it. My brother is super fly, my gays. I borrow his clothes a lot, especially his 80s and 90s clothing.
Going off of 9, he made an effort to dress me when I was a child. Looking back at old pictures, I would always ask, where did y'all get this and they said, "your papa dressed you and bought you Oshkosh b'gosh clothing." Iykyk.
Yes, chef (no spoilers for Hulu’s “The Bear," please)! I swear, that man can make a delicious meal with only using a hotdog and cilantro. He will always find a way.
He annoyingly does things before I’m even able to do it! Clean my bathroom…? Nope, he read my mind and did it before I planned on doing it.
Passionate. One of my dislikes about him is his tone, which I've asked him to change, but I'm adapting to not take it so personally. I hear this man yelling in a meeting upstairs where the CEO is present and they all understand that he is not angry, but really passionate about his work.
He is the godfather of all godfathers; he hasn't even met a few of his godchildren! THIS IS HOW AMAZING OF A HUMAN HE IS!
I'm convinced he's a vampire that can survive the sun; he kind of sparkles because of his sweat from speed walking. Sometimes, which my brother and I don't understand, people will say I look older than him. He has taught me the power of daily facial sunscreen, even when I'm just working at home. This man gets 24 and I get 30!? Blasphemous, but aging is one of his biggest fear and I can understand that.
He really started living in his 30s and I am on that same path. He is one of the few reasons why I haven't unalived myself because I know how much he loves me and how hard that will be for him. I know because he has literally been with me all my life and I truly believe that he is one of my soulmates. We fight, but always go back to laughing at a fart. That's the true lesson: farts bring siblings together. My absolute favorite thing about him is his existence and every time I think about him dying, I start tearing up. Great, now I’m crying!
Thanks for all the lessons you’ve given me and continue to give.
Labadyu, Pa, I’ll always harmonize with you!
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.