The Space In Between

There are moments in life when everything around you continues moving, yet inside, you feel completely still.

That’s where I found myself lately.

A few nights ago, I was sitting quietly, staring at nothing in particular. The room was dim, the kind of silence that almost feels loud. I had my thoughts keeping me company again, thoughts I’ve been trying to outrun for weeks now.

I kept asking myself the same question:

What am I supposed to do next?

And the truth is… I don’t know.

Not in the dramatic, movie-scene kind of way.

Not the kind where everything falls apart overnight.

It’s quieter than that.

It feels like waking up one day and realizing that the version of yourself that once knew exactly what they wanted has slowly disappeared somewhere along the way. It feels like standing at a crossroads with no signs, no directions, and no certainty about which path leads to peace.

Lately, I’ve been carrying this strange heaviness inside me. Not sadness exactly. Not emptiness either. Just… confusion.

The kind that lingers in ordinary moments.

While washing dishes.

While scrolling endlessly through my phone.

While trying to sleep at night.

It follows me everywhere.

And maybe what makes it harder is that from the outside, life still looks normal. People still see me smiling, working, showing up, responding, functioning. But internally, it feels like I’m standing in the middle of a fog, trying to recognize who I am becoming.

Sometimes I think about how different I was before.

Back then, I had certainty. I had plans. I knew where my energy was going. Even pain felt easier when there was direction attached to it.

Now everything feels suspended in the air.

Like life pressed pause without asking me first.

I try to force answers out of myself sometimes. I sit there thinking maybe if I overanalyze everything enough, clarity will suddenly appear. But instead, I end up feeling more exhausted.

Because some questions cannot be rushed.

Some seasons are not meant for immediate understanding.

And maybe this is the part nobody talks about enough — the in-between phase. The chapter where nothing fully makes sense yet. The part where you outgrow old versions of yourself before new ones are fully formed.

It’s uncomfortable here.

There are days I feel hopeful, convinced that something beautiful is waiting ahead of me. Then there are days where I feel completely disconnected from everything I once believed in.

It’s strange grieving versions of yourself that once felt so certain.

But somewhere in the middle of all this confusion, I’ve started realizing something:

Maybe I am not lost.

Maybe I am just changing.

Maybe this discomfort is what growth feels like when it’s happening quietly.

Not every transformation arrives with confidence and clarity. Sometimes it arrives looking like doubt. Like restlessness. Like long nights filled with unanswered questions.

And maybe that’s okay.

So these days, I’m learning how to sit with uncertainty instead of fighting it. I’m learning how to stop demanding immediate answers from myself. I’m learning that life is not always about knowing exactly where you’re headed.

Sometimes it’s simply about continuing to walk, even when the road ahead looks blurry.

Right now, I am still in that blurry space.

Still figuring things out.

Still carrying questions.

Still searching for direction.

But maybe healing, growth, and becoming are not always loud things.

Maybe sometimes they happen quietly…

in the middle of confusion,

in the middle of silence,

in the middle of not knowing.

And maybe that is exactly where I am meant to be right now.

What if not knowing is not something to fix, but something to sit with until it slowly turns into clarity on its own?

xo

A Mother's Rebirth: My Son Turns 17

Last March 18, my son turned 17, and as I celebrated his birthday, I realized that in many ways, I too was being reborn.

Every year when his birthday comes, I feel that motherhood brings a new version of myself into the world. Being a mum is not just about giving birth once; it is about continuously giving birth to new parts of yourself. Your patience, your love, your strength, and your understanding. With every year of his life, another part of me is born again.

I have been gifted with a truly wonderful son. At 17, he is such a head turner, a dashing Romeo in his own right. But beyond the charm and youthful confidence, what fills my heart with pride is the young man he is becoming. I see responsibility in him. I see maturity in the way he takes each step through his teenage life. Watching him grow into himself is one of the most beautiful journeys I have ever experienced.

As his mother, my deepest wish for him is simple yet profound: that he lives a life filled with contentment. I pray that his heart will always carry faith in God, and that this faith will guide him in every decision he makes. I hope he continues to nurture a pure heart,one that allows him to genuinely connect with people, and most importantly, remain connected with himself.

Raising him has been one of the greatest blessings of my life. I am so grateful that I have had the privilege of guiding and nurturing such a wonderful young gentleman.

At times, it feels emotional to see how quickly he is growing up. The years pass faster than a mother's heart can prepare for. Yet no matter how tall he grows or how independent he becomes, he will always be my Jasiu, my Janek, my little boy and my heart.

Happy 17th birthday, my dear son. Your life is just beginning, and I will always be cheering for you every step of the way.

love,

Aixx

What 20 Years of Marriage Taught Me About Life and About Myself

Twenty years of marriage have been my ultimate teacher. Not because it was perfect, it wasn’t! But because it forced me to face life, love, and myself… often with coffee in one hand and a sigh in the other. And oh! coffee is our love language. When we call each other for “coffee talks,” it usually means we need to discuss something important… or that one of us is dealing with life’s chaos and needs a listening ear.

So grab your coffee and let me spill the tea! :-) ☕

1. Life is messy, and marriage is messier

Love isn’t neat. There are misunderstandings, frustrations, and those “why did I marry this person?” moments. Coffee talks help. Sometimes they’re about big things, sometimes about tiny annoyances like leaving dishes in the sink. But the act of sitting together, mugs in hand, beans freshly ground, brewing the perfect cup makes the chaos feel manageable. Life and love are messy, but having a partner willing to share the mess with you makes all the difference.

2. Commitment is more than comfort

Choosing to stay through hard times isn’t easy. True commitment is intentional a daily “yes” to growth, love, and figuring out how to share one bathroom without war. Coffee talks often happen here too: one of us venting, the other listening, sometimes with advice, sometimes just with silence and a sip of freshly brewed coffee. That ritual grinding, brewing, talking it out is where growth really happens.

3. Self-discovery never stops

Marriage is the ultimate mirror. It reflects your strengths, your quirks, and your shadows. I’ve learned where I shrink, where I overgive, and where I need to speak my truth. And yes! some of those discoveries happen mid-coffee talk, when we’re honest about our fears, frustrations, or dreams. Long-term love shows you that evolving as a person matters just as much as growing as a partner.

4. Friendship and laughter beat romance every time

Let’s be real: lasting love isn’t just fireworks or Kama Sutra positions. It’s inside jokes, quiet mornings, honest talks, and mutual respect. The things that actually hold a marriage together. And often, those laughs happen over coffee. Spilling a little, making a mess, teasing each other about who can grind the beans or brew the coffee, and that’s love in action.

5. Gratitude makes the ride worth it

After two decades, I appreciate the memories, the resilience, and the lessons. Life and love are richer when you celebrate what you’ve built instead of only worrying about what you hoped for. And nothing reminds you of that more than a quiet morning coffee together. It's a simple ritual that says: we’re still here, still choosing each other, and still laughing about the chaos.

My Takeaways?

Marriage teaches you about life, love, and yourself… and also that the secret to surviving 20 years together might just be: laughter, snacks, coffee, and letting them think that being “okay” is right.

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This post is my tribute, my dedication to my husband, G, and our 20 years of marriage. He has been my guiding light, helping me navigate life, myself, and everything in between throughout our relationship and as we’ve grown together as parents.

much love,

Ai

When Your Body Is Tired but Your Mind Refuses to Sleep

Last night was one of those nights that remind you how complex rest truly is.

My body was exhausted after a long, hectic day at work. On top of that, my spine pain was intense — the kind that drains you quietly but deeply. I crawled into bed before 10PM, hoping to give myself the gift of early, restorative sleep.

Midnight came.
I was still awake.

2AM came.
Still awake.

My mind was telling stories like random scenes, different situations, unfinished thoughts replaying themselves as if it didn’t get the memo that it was time to rest.

I even took a melatonin pill, thinking it would gently guide me into sleep. But it didn’t “kick in” the way I expected. Eventually, around 2 or 3AM, I drifted off not deeply, not peacefully. I woke up at 6AM with my alarm, turned it off, and crawled back into bed until past 8.

It was a restless night.

And it reminded me of something important.

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Sleep Is Not Just About Being Physically Tired

We often think that exhaustion guarantees sleep.
But that’s not always how the body works.

Sometimes:

• Your body is tired.

• But your nervous system is still alert.

• Pain signals keep your brain on guard.

• Mental overload continues processing in the dark.

When we experience long workdays, physical discomfort (especially back or spine pain), or emotional and cognitive stress, our bodies can stay in “survival mode” even when we are desperate to rest.

Melatonin can support sleep timing, but it does not override an overstimulated nervous system.

And scrolling on the phone something many of us do when we can’t sleep often stimulates the brain even more. The light, the information, the endless input… it keeps the mind in motion.

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Why the Mind Becomes Active at Night

When the day is busy, we don’t always process everything in real time.

At night, when it’s finally quiet, the brain sometimes uses that silence to:

• Reorganize thoughts

• Replay conversations

• Imagine future scenarios

• Release stored stress

Add physical pain to the equation, and your system becomes even more alert. Pain activates stress pathways. The brain reads it as a signal to stay attentive.

It doesn’t mean something is wrong with you.
It means your system is overloaded.

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Gentle Wellness Reminders After a Restless Night

On mornings like this, it’s easy to panic:

“I didn’t sleep enough.”
“Tomorrow will be ruined.”
“I need to fix this.”

But here’s what I’m learning:

• Rest is still rest, even if it wasn’t perfect.

• One bad night does not destroy your health.

• The body is far more resilient than we give it credit for.

Instead of forcing recovery, I try to respond gently:

• Light stretching for my spine.

• Warm compress to ease tension.

• Writing down thoughts before bed the next evening to “empty” my mind.

• Replacing scrolling with calming audio.

• Practicing slow breathing to signal safety to my nervous system.

At this stage of life, I value sleep deeply. When I sleep well, I feel grounded, clear, emotionally steady, and strong. Good sleep feels like greatness from within.

But I am also learning that sleep cannot be forced.

It needs safety.
Not pressure.

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A Weekend Reset Ritual

As the weekend begins, this feels like the perfect reminder to slow down.

Instead of carrying the week’s tension into Saturday and Sunday, try creating a small ritual that tells your body: “You can relax now.”

For me, that ritual is simple but intentional.

It’s deep cleansing time for both body and face.
A proper deep cleanser.
A mask on.
Eyes closed.
Slow breathing.

It’s not just skincare. It’s a nervous system reset.

In those quiet moments, I allow my body to soften. I let the week go. I prepare myself not only to sleep, but to restore.

Sometimes wellness isn’t about grand gestures.
It’s about small, consistent signals of care.

How about you?
Do you have a weekend ritual that helps your body truly unwind? 

Position: Ate - Resume of an Eldest Sister/Daughter

Position: Ate – Resume of an Eldest Sister/Daughter

Yes, I am an Ate - a leadership role assigned at birth, with strength tested daily.
Full-time stabilizer, emotional shock absorber, and pillar of the family.

An Ate in Filipino culture is more than an older sister. It is a title, a role, and often an unspoken contract. It carries warmth and authority, love and leadership. It means being the firstborn daughter, but also the quiet second parent, the emotional bridge, the steady ground everyone steps on.

There is a reason why Sinong Magmamahal Sa Akin? by KZ Tandingan resonates so deeply with me. When she sings:

you can listen to it here: Sinong Magmamahal Sa Akin?

“Iiyak lang ng mahina
’Di pwedeng magmukhang mahina
Wala bang takbuhan ang takbuhan?
’Di pwedeng sumandal ang sandalan?”

it feels like the performance review of an Ate.

If I were to write my experience formally, the way I would, as an HR professional write it, it might look like this:

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Position Title: Ate (Eldest Daughter & Only Girl)
Department: Family Operations
Employment Type: Full-Time | Permanent | 24/7 Availability

Role Summary:
Appointed at birth to a leadership role requiring accelerated maturity, advanced emotional intelligence, and high-capacity burden management. Accountable for maintaining family stability, modeling resilience, and protecting household harmony during periods of uncertainty and crisis.

Core Responsibilities:

• Fast-tracked emotional development to meet early leadership expectations.
• Provided psychological safety and emotional readiness for younger siblings and extended family members.
• Served as Quiet Stabilizer during family crises, ensuring continuity of peace and functional normalcy.
• Acted as Primary Role Model, setting behavioral and moral standards for siblings.
• Functioned as Emotional Shock Absorber, discreetly processing tension, conflict, and fear to shield others from distress.
• Protected Parental Peace through mediation, silent support, and proactive burden-sharing.
• Assumed additional responsibilities without formal delegation, driven by intrinsic obligation and loyalty.
• Demonstrated composure under pressure; limited visible vulnerability to sustain collective morale.

Key Competencies Developed:

• Advanced Emotional Intelligence
• Crisis Management & De-escalation
• High-Pressure Decision-Making
• Silent Endurance & Compartmentalization
• Leadership by Example
• Resilience Under Continuous Expectation

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And yet, behind this “job description” is a human story.

When my brother went through difficult years, I did not simply observe, I absorbed fully: the pains, the struggles, the challenges. I carried the worry, the fear, the unspoken tensions in the house. I learned to navigate emotional storms at full speed and steady hands, controlled breathing, no room to break down. I mastered the art of crying quietly. I understood that looking weak was not an option because someone might collapse if I did.

“Iiyak lang ng mahina.” (cry silently)
Crying became private.

“’Di pwedeng magmukhang mahina.” ( you can't look weak)
Strength became mandatory.

But the line that echoes the loudest remains:

“Wala bang takbuhan ang takbuhan? ’Di pwedeng sumandal ang sandalan?” (“Is there no place to run for the one who always runs? Can the pillar not lean on someone too?")

In HR, we talk about sustainability, support systems, streamlined processes, capacity planning, and burnout prevention. Yet as an Ate, I rarely applied those principles to myself. The stabilizer carried everyone else. The sandalan (the one meant to lean on) carried the weight. The leader remained composed.

Being an Ate is a privilege. It builds resilience, empathy, and strength. But it also creates an internal standard that says: You must hold it together.

Perhaps the deeper reflection is this:

If I can professionally articulate boundaries, capacity, and support frameworks at work or for organizations, can I also design them for myself?

And for everyone who has ever been the strong one in their family:

When the stabilizer reaches capacity, do we allow ourselves to seek support, sent support ticket ( like how we does at corporate work) or do we keep performing strength because we believe love depends on it?

xo,
Ai

 

Between Compliments and Slurs

I have lived in Poland for twenty years now. Long enough to feel rooted, and yet long enough to feel suspended between who I was and who I am becoming.

People often compliment me with my skin color, my hair, how “cute” I am. They tell me I don’t look my age. Some joke that I am immortal, a vampire who does not age. I am 48 this year. Yes, I almost 50.

I know these words are meant as compliments, and sometimes I try to receive them that way. But there is another side to them one that presses quietly on my chest. My mind whispers: Keep up. Don’t disappoint. Stay young. Stay beautiful. Stay worthy.

That pressure is real, even when wrapped in praise.

There is no doubt that in some phases of my life here, I questioned my identity, myself, and where I should be. I often defined myself as stuck in between.

I was born and raised in the Philippines, yet I have built a life and a home in Poland. For a long time, I didn’t know where I truly belonged.

Living here widened my perspective. Being far from where I came from taught me how to see the world with softer eyes. I learned to love myself more deeply and to appreciate life more honestly. Whether I look back to my origins or around me now, I still believe the world is beautiful.

Because yes, the world is also harsh. And sometimes, cruel.

There was a moment I will never forget. A stranger told me to “go back to China.” Then came the words that cut deeper: Chinese prostitute.

I felt myself drop and then, strangely, I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was absurd.

How could they be so sure I was Chinese?

Do I really look like one?

Yes, part of my bloodline traces back to China through my grandparents. But blood does not define worth, and ancestry does not justify insult. And certainly, it does not make me a prostitute. Not all Chinese are prostitutes and of course, this goes for any nationality. My words are not meant to discriminate, only to reclaim my own identity from ignorance and hate.

That word was foul. Violent. Dehumanizing.

I carried the sting of it, but I chose not to let it define me. I reminded myself that this hatred comes from a small, loud minority of people who have never looked beyond their narrow borders, people unaware of the vastness of the world and the people in it.

Their ignorance is not my identity.

Over time, I realized something gentler, something freeing: home is not only a place on a map. Home is where your heart is. It is where you feel at peace.

Living between cultures did not erase me, it expanded me. I am made of many histories, many places, many truths. And even when the world tries to reduce me to a stereotype or a slur, I refuse to shrink.

I am still here.

Still learning.

Still loving.

Still becoming.

And I am me.

No one else....only me.

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Disclaimer: This post is based on my personal experiences and thoughts. It is not meant to offend or generalize any individual or minority. If you can relate to this post, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments and I would love to hear your perspective.

 

A Reflection on A Perfect Christmas

A Perfect Christmas by Jose Mari Chan has always been close to my heart. This year, we sang it during our Christmas Carols or Kolęda in Polish at our church Christmas carol concert. It is a song filled with hope, longing, and the desire for love and togetherness.

This year, however, singing it felt different.

During rehearsals, I struggled to get through the song. Every lyric spoke directly to my heart, reminding me that for me, there is no longer a “perfect Christmas.” Not because of a lack of blessings but because someone I love deeply is missing. I lost my brother, and with him, a part of the Christmas I once knew.

Last Christmas, I longed for home and for family that felt so far away. This Christmas, the ache is deeper. It hurts to imagine the season without his presence, without his familiar greeting, without the simple but precious words, “Merry Christmas… I love you, Ate (big sister).” Those words now live quietly in my heart.

I am still grieving. There are moments when my heart aches deeply, longing for a hug I can no longer give or receive. In my humanity, I mourn what was lost. But in my faith, I hold on to what is eternal.

And yet, even with all the loss, I have also found peace peace in knowing that my brother is no longer struggling, no longer carrying the pain he once endured. I trust that he is now resting in God’s presence, reunited with my dad. I believe they are at peace, praying for us, watching over us especially over his children. This faith does not erase the pain, but it gently steadies my heart. It reminds me that love does not end with death; it is transformed by God’s grace.

I also believe that wherever he is now, he is still wishing me the best Christmas, ending it the way he always did with an “I love you.” This belief was especially close to my heart when he appeared in my dreams on the second day of Christmas a quiet reminder that love remains, even beyond this life.

Though I can no longer see my brother or hear his voice, I carry him with me in my prayers, in my memories, and in my heart. God reminds me that He is present in my grief, near in my sorrow, and faithful in every season.

I may never experience a “perfect” Christmas again by the world’s standards. But I am learning that a Christmas filled with faith, love, remembrance, and hope is still holy.

I love my brother deeply, and I trust that one day, by God’s promise, we will meet again. Until then, I walk forward with faith entrusting my grief to God and holding on to the hope of eternal life.

much love,

xo

Ai

✨Between Loss and Becoming✨

2025 was a defining year for me. It wasn’t an easy one, but a meaningful one.

I lost my brother, learned how to sit with grief, and had to navigate my emotions with patience, honesty, and courage. This year asked me to trust again: people, life, and my own strength to slow and with intention.

Also, I learned that I will no longer accept the bare minimum in any of my relationships. Loss sharpened my clarity: energy, presence, and honesty are precious, and I deserve depth, reciprocity, and care in every connection.

At the same time, 2025 marked a milestone as a mum. My daughter turned 18, and watching her grow into a well-rounded, independent, and deeply loving young woman reminded me of the growth I’ve invested in her and in myself. Seeing her confidence, compassion, and authenticity is a reminder that nurturing, patience, and presence truly matter.

This year was also a year of risk and learning in my young entrepreneurship life. I started a business I had no experience running, figuring things out one step at a time. Along the way, I discovered people I never expected would step up to support me and, conversely, those I thought would be there didn’t show up. It taught me so much about true support, loyalty, and the power of community. The process tested my patience and perseverance, but it also reminded me that growth often happens outside comfort zones and that taking risks can create new opportunities for learning and success.

All of these experiences reinforced my GROW 2025 vision: growth in resilience, relationships, authenticity, and purpose. Even in grief, uncertainty, and challenge, transformation is happening quietly, steadily, and powerfully.2025 wasn’t gentle, but it was honest. It stripped away what didn’t matter and highlighted what truly does. Some years don’t bring comfort, they bring depth. And that, too, is a gift.

How’s your 2025? Is it more of a gift or a loss?

 

My Year in Reflection: Learning the Art of Not Giving a F*ck

This year 2025, has been one of the most painful and eye-opening chapters of my life. I’ve been on flights I never imagined taking, especially the one where I lost my brother. Yes! I just lost my brother. It has been a month since (That deserves a different post. ).

Loss came in many forms, and each one forced me to sit with myself, face the truth, and grow in ways I didn’t ask for, but needed.

In the midst of all the grief, change, and emotional exhaustion, I started to understand something deeply: the art of not giving a f*ck.

Not in a way that shuts me off from the world, but in the way Mark Manson writes about it in his book The Subtle way of not giving a F*ck, recognizing that my energy, my love, my peace are limited, and only a few things truly deserve them.

And learning that has been humbling.

This year taught me that I don’t need to give parts of myself to everyone. That not every opinion deserves space in my head. That not every situation is worth breaking myself for. I learned to build boundaries like real ones. The kind that protect my spirit, my time, and my emotional health.

I learned that loving myself isn’t selfish. It’s necessary.

I learned that choosing myself isn’t abandonment. It’s strength.

I learned that the person I must care for the most… is me.

Through all the difficult goodbyes and quiet realizations, I found my way back to what truly matters, my inner core. My truth. My peace. My growth.

I’m still healing. I’m still learning. But I’m moving forward with a deeper sense of clarity about who I am, what I value, and what I will and will not accept in my life. And this time, I’m choosing me. This time, loudly, boldly, and without apology.

Here’s to honoring what matters, releasing what doesn’t, loving myself fully, and holding boundaries that protect my heart. 💛

Cheers,

xoAi

When Life Changes Faster Than the Nervous System Can Heal

Understanding Adjustment Disorder, grief, and the courage it takes to choose healing after life-altering change

In 2024, I was diagnosed with Adjustment Disorder. At first, the diagnosis felt unfamiliar and heavy, but over time it became a language. A way to understand what my mind and body had been trying to communicate for years.

As a psychologist myself, I can sense when something is shifting in my mind and body. I notice the subtle tensions, the racing thoughts, or the fatigue before they fully surface. When life changes faster than the nervous system can heal, these signals become essential clues—reminders that we need space, reflection, and care.

Adjustment Disorder is a stress-related mental health condition that occurs when the brain and nervous system struggle to adapt to significant life changes or prolonged emotional stress. It is not a personal failure. It is not weakness. It is the result of being human in the face of experiences that require deep and repeated adjustment.

When Life Changes Faster Than the Nervous System Can Adapt

My journey toward this diagnosis did not begin in one moment. It unfolded over time.

It began with a complete change of environment: moving to Poland and learning how to rebuild a sense of stability in a new country, culture, and rhythm of life. It continued while I was living far from home when my father died in a tragic accident. Grief experienced at a distance has a particular kind of loneliness that the body remembers.

Then also came motherhood. Giving birth to two children is not only a physical transformation but an emotional and psychological one. It demands constant adjustment, identity shifts, responsibility deepens, and the nervous system is asked to stay alert for long periods of time.

Each of these experiences required strength. And I survived them.

But survival does not mean the body forgets.

How Adjustment Disorder Shows Up

Adjustment Disorder often appears quietly. For me, it showed up as emotional exhaustion, heightened sensitivity, difficulty focusing, and a constant feeling of being on edge. My mind understood that life was moving forward, but my nervous system stayed in survival mode.

Recently, unresolved stress was triggered again by family circumstances and the untimely passing of my brother. Grief has a way of reopening stored pain. The nervous system does not distinguish between past and present loss. It responds to both as if they are happening now.

This is the reality of stress-related disorders: the brain learns to protect first and regulate later.

Choosing Healing Instead of Silence

I am not sharing this story to ask for sympathy. I am sharing it to normalize truth.

It is okay to say that life-changing events impact mental health. It is okay to admit that sometimes we are not okay — even when we appear strong, functional, and capable on the outside.

Seeking therapy was not a sign that I was breaking down. It was a conscious decision to take responsibility for my healing. Choosing support, learning how to regulate my nervous system, and allowing myself to process grief and change was one of the bravest decisions I have made.

What deserves more questioning is not therapy but the normalization of mental, emotional, and sexual abuse that pushes people to the edge of losing themselves in silence. Healing requires courage. Speaking requires courage. Ending cycles of harm requires courage.

What Healing Has Taught Me

Healing from Adjustment Disorder is not linear. It is not about returning to who I was before loss, before change, before grief. It is about becoming more aware, more grounded, and more compassionate with who I am now.

I have learned to listen to my body instead of judging it. To slow down without guilt. To set boundaries without apology. To understand that adjustment takes time especially when life alters you in ways no one prepares you for.

A Closing Reflection

It is okay not to be okay sometimes.

And asking for help is not weakness. It is self-respect.

Healing has also taught me something simple but powerful: kindness changes a lot, and it doesn’t cost much. We never fully know what someone is carrying, the losses they are grieving, the transitions they are navigating, or the quiet battles their nervous system is fighting every day.

A gentle word, patience, empathy, or simply choosing not to judge can make a real difference. Kindness does not fix everything, but it can soften the weight someone is carrying.

If this resonates with you, let this be a reminder: be kind to people. Be kind to yourself. You are not broken, you are responding to life. And healing is not a destination, but a relationship you build with yourself, one honest and compassionate step at a time.

Cheers to those struggling but still living...you are not alone. And to everyone, a gentle reminder: be kind...always.

 

Much love,

Aixo

 

A week in the Philippines...

 A week in the Philippines...

It was quick, heavy, but divine!

I flew home to attend my brothers’ funeral, to hold my mum, my brother, and the rest of my family for even just a moment.

Everything happened so fast that my heart is still catching up. There wasn’t enough time to fully digest what was happening. It’s just moments that felt both painful and precious.

But in the middle of the rush, the grief, and the quiet moments in between, I found something I’ve been asking God for a very long time: clarity.

It’s an answer that hurts… but it’s also an answer that brings peace. And deep down, I know that when God closes one door with pain, He is opening another with purpose.

This trip broke me a lot, but it also grounded me. And I’m choosing to believe that something better is on the way.

🌿 From Depression to Self-Discovery: How I Rebuilt My Life Piece by Piece

A personal story of healing through art, faith, boundaries, and rediscovering what truly matters.

There was a time when I felt completely disconnected from myself. When even the simplest things felt heavy and meaningless. Depression can steal your joy quietly, one day at a time, until you forget what light feels like. But healing, I’ve learned, is not a single moment of awakening. It’s a collection of small, deliberate choices, gentle steps toward wholeness and peace.

This is how I overcame my depression and rebuilt my life piece by piece, day by day.

🎨 Rediscovering Art and Self-Expression

I found my way back through art. The watercolor and acrylics became my therapy. Painting gave me peace, perspective, and hope. Each brushstroke helped me understand my emotions in ways words couldn’t.

Writing, blogging, and journaling followed. I began to pour my thoughts out again, no longer afraid to see them on paper.

🍃 Rebuilding My Routine and Boundaries

I rebuilt my daily routine, making sure it was rooted in intention rather than pressure. I fixed my diet and reconnected with my body. I created a healthy workout habit that I don’t post about online because it’s my quiet date with myself.

I learned to say no to things, people, and situations that don’t align with my values and goals. I let go of toxic relationships and opened my circle to people who share the same depth and authenticity I now seek in life.

🌸 Choosing Growth and Curiosity

I started a business I knew nothing about, but I was curious and eager to learn. I read more books about psychology, philosophy, motivation, and self-growth. Each one added a new layer to my understanding of life and myself.

I discovered simple joys too: that pistachio ice cream and croissants make me genuinely happy. I mastered the Italian way of Dolce Far Niente — the art of doing nothing but in the right time and with purpose.

✈️ Finding Strength in Solitude

I traveled alone without more photos. I put myself in challenging situations to trigger my motivation. I learned to enjoy my own company and listen to my inner voice.

I joined an art group where people of different backgrounds gather monthly to talk about techniques, creativity, and life. It’s where I found belonging again through shared passion, not shared pain.

💫 Saying Goodbye to “Quick Dopamine”

I quit the cheap sources of dopamine, those mindless scrolling, impulsive online shopping, binge-watching, and sugary cravings. I’ve been free from sugar and dairy milk for some years now, and I feel great, lighter, clearer skin, more myself.

I began to choose slow satisfaction instead: the joy that comes from effort, purpose, and genuine connection.

🙏 Strength in Faith and Community

One of the most powerful pillars of my healing has been my faith. Having such strong faith has strengthened me in moments when I felt weakest. My prayer group - the CFC ministry & the English Mass Community I'm with are full of true prayer warriors. They became my safe space, my reminder that I am not alone.

Through prayer, shared reflection, and genuine fellowship, I found hope and comfort that no therapy or routine could replace. Their prayers, encouragement, and unwavering belief carried me when I could barely carry myself.

🌻 Living Authentically

I left a toxic work environment and stopped being afraid to speak my mind yet always with respect, never with resentment.

Now, I live by one rule: alignment.
Alignment with my values, my goals, my health, and my peace.

Healing, I’ve learned, is an art form. It's a daily act of courage. It’s not just about overcoming depression; it’s about rediscovering yourself and choosing to grow every single day.

✨In reflection:

Healing isn’t about going back to who you were. It’s about becoming who you were always meant to be.

Like painting, healing takes time. Every color, every mistake, every layer becomes part of a larger masterpiece of the person you are becoming.

My faith carried me when I couldn’t carry myself. My prayers became my breath, and grace became my strength.

much love,

xoAi

#HealingJourney #OvercomingDepression #SelfGrowth #FaithAndHealing #MentalHealth #ArtTherapy #PersonalDevelopment #Wellbeing #SelfDiscovery

The Filipino film - Only We Know

What is a great love? 💭

I watched the Filipino film Only We Know on Netflix last night. It's such a heartwarming story full of quiet truths about love and relationships. It made me reflect deeply on the kind of love I’ve known from the past, and even the one I have now.

I used to think love was about sharing the same passions, hobbies, or dreams… that being “compatible” meant liking the same things. But now I’ve learned, it’s more about how great life feels when you’re with that person. It’s not about being the same, but about creating a rhythm together from two different souls who somehow fit in harmony.

There’s a line in the film that asked: “What is a great love?”

That question stayed with me and reflected on it.

When I was younger, love was that kilig to the bones feeling (the butterflies) , the thrill, the excitement that makes your heart race. I thought great love was the one that never ends, the one you end up with.

But growing older taught me something deeper. That sometimes, great loves are the ones that remind you life is still beautiful, still worth living… even after heartbreak. ❤️‍🩹

This film also taught me about loneliness and grieving. How even the most beautiful love stories can end, and how losing someone doesn't mean the love disappears. Sometimes, grief is just love with nowhere to go. We grieve not just the person, but the version of ourselves that existed when we were with them. And yet, from that loneliness, we grow, we learn how to carry love differently, more quietly, more meaningfully

And maybe, loving someone isn’t just about being together, it’s about helping each other grow, even when you’re apart. Because real love doesn’t cage you; it lets you bloom. It’s about wanting the best for each other, even if your paths no longer meet.

The film also touched on companionship. That as we age, we long not just for the one who sweeps us off our feet, but for the one we can sit beside in silence and still feel peace. Someone you can talk to endlessly about nothing and everything, and never grow tired.

No one else can define the relationship you’re in. Not labels, not people, not time! Only the two hearts who choose to understand each other. And sometimes, the sweetest kind of love is friendship. 🌿

Only We Know reminded me that while we’re young, we shouldn’t stop loving just because we’ve been hurt. We shouldn’t stop searching for love because youth gives us the chance to experience many great loves. Each one shapes us, heals us, and teaches us how to love better next time.

Maybe that’s what a great love truly is....not the one that lasts forever, but the one that makes you see life’s beauty again. ✨

So, keep on loving and searching for that great love.

Who knows, it might just be in your neighborhood. 💕

I can highly recommend you watch this film. It is not the typical Filipino cringe love film, but heartwarming and full of wisdom about life and love in general.

Enjoy!
xoAi

Embrace the Struggle

One of the most fascinating truths I’ve learned is that the struggle is good.

It’s easy to wish for ease, to hope things would just flow without friction. But growth doesn’t happen there. Strength, character, and clarity are forged in the middle of discomfort, doubt, and effort.

It has been a hard week for me. I’ve had to navigate my emotions in such a way that I could find the lighter side of things. May it be from personal to work-related struggles. But one thing that really motivated me to embrace the struggle this week is the art of reminding and practicing gratefulness.

During one of our office events, we had a short workshop on developing the skill of gratitude in training ourselves to look for three things to be grateful for within the first hour after waking up. It might sound simple, but it truly helps. This daily exercise has shifted my perspective, allowing me to focus on positivity and see the brighter side of things rather than the negatives.

And in that process, I’ve learned to also be grateful for the struggles themselves because they help me grow as a person and appreciate this wonderful life we live in even more.

At the same time, this week in the office, I was recognized as one of the key players at work. Despite the stress, workload, and all the challenges I’ve faced, my efforts were seen and appreciated. That kind of recognition, being valued for your hard work is something no amount of money can replace. It’s such a great boost of confidence and truly rewarding. Definitely a dopamine high! 💫

When life feels heavy, it’s not a sign you’re failing it’s a sign you’re growing. The struggle is not our enemy; it’s our teacher.

💛 Here’s to embracing both the good days and the hard ones because together, they make life beautifully whole.

Cheers,

xoAi

#EmbraceTheStruggle #Gratitude #GrowthMindset #PersonalGrowth #Resilience #PositiveVibes