Mental Health Series

The Healing

October 31, 2017

Note: In remembrance of October being Mental Health Awareness Month, I want to post entries here on my blog about the dark and private aspects of my personal mental struggles. Normally, I don't like openly discussing my own trials with depression or past abuses but I want to shed light so people can have the courage to speak up and triumph over them. Some of these posts were written ages ago but weren't posted immediately for fear of being seen a different way. Regardless of my experiences and diagnosis, I am strong and brave. I may be messed up and messed around but I will not give anyone--especially myself, my own worst enemy--the license to mess with my life. 

First post to this series is in this link: http://agillandaway.blogspot.com/2017/10/im-speaking-out-in-time-of-harvey.html

Second Post to this series: http://agillandaway.blogspot.com/2017/10/being-confident-with-my-face-and-body.html
Third post to this series: http://agillandaway.blogspot.com/2017/10/im-survivor-of-many-thingsa-poem.html


Despite being a supporter for mental health, I rarely, if not never, talk about my own depression. I've had it for the longest time and I still find it difficult opening up about it to just anyone. I also think it is quite a heavy topic to discuss in my blog. I only ever speak about it to those close to me and even they do not know the whole scope. No one knows exactly everything I experience on a daily basis, not even the counselors and psychiatrists I go for help. If I must, I just share what I need to share but I won't detail the other highs and lows I go through.

To start, I am diagnosed with Manic Depression. First, I was wrongfully diagnosed as Bipolar 1 but later on, after consulting with other professional help, I fall under Bipolar 2. Along with my other diagnosis were Anxiety Disorder and Intermittent Eruptive Disorder although the latter was only ever mentioned once to me as the current help I seek now is focusing on avoiding the hypomania and depressive states I used to feel simultaneously before.

I feel like every time I discuss my exact diagnosis, I feel I owe people stories of what I actually go through because most always think I'm just so happy. They tend to doubt me and initially, I'd feel defensive because revealing what I have isn't something I share as if I'm calling for attention. It is as if it's so highly unlikely for me to experience all this because technically, I do well in my school and hobbies. The thing is, I don't owe anyone a heartbreaking story of how I had a tough upbringing or still have a dysfunctional family life or was betrayed by the very people I trusted or I break down whenever I'm alone. I don't owe anyone accounts of how I get tackled down whenever I have a huge manic episodes or attempted suicide a few times.

No. I don't need to share even if I have to.

In depression, it's always one's own struggle. I find it selfish when people think they have to force me to share just so they can understand better or when I open up to them about the difficulty they make it all about themselves as if they have the harder time. I guess the latter is the hardest I had to deal with because my trials, breakdowns, etc. that come with being manic is mistaken as me being toxic. The worst thing one can do to anyone who has depression is making the depressed think they are a problem or define them by their sickness. Believe me, I have known suicides of people who believed their condition was such a burden to those who "love" them. It's sad that they think they are the toxic ones when in reality, it's these really ignorant people.

As for the people who leave you especially when you needed them the most, it hurts. Honestly, it's still an ache I am trying to get over but remember, those suffering from their mental health aren't the problem. We tend to believe that we are unworthy because of what we experience but do realize that no one can truly understand. It's their fault if they leave. If they feel overwhelmed by you, do not blame them but they shouldn't blame you for making them feel less.

Just as much as you won't blame them for your condition, they shouldn't blame you for their shallow sadness, either.

I've also experienced being labeled for my sickness. Just because I broke down often and have revealed how often I struggle doesn't mean I will be defined by it. I am not my depression nor my anxiety. If you find yourself totally identifying with it because people in your life do, just stop it. You are a whole different personality who just happens to experience what you never asked for.

It's easy to be angry with those who shower you with false hope that they will stay regardless of your demons and skeletons but try to be forgiving. When I learned to still love the people who hurt me and forgive friends that betrayed me, I realize those were the most fearless and mature things I did. Some people think it is impossible, really and dismiss it as some sort of stupidity but you show to everyone else that you aren't the toxic one and the most important person you have to prove to that you aren't toxic is yourself.

Anyways, I really want to discuss healing within yourself. People think just because you go to psychotherapy or take meds means you are supposed to heal immediately like how paracetamol counters fever or chiropractors heal aching backs. It takes much more time and mental conditions aren't like typical sicknesses that just go away once it's addressed with treatment. I remember the painful truth of my mania when I was told by my doctor that it is chronic. It is something I'll have for the rest of my life. I was assured though that as long as I learn to manage, and for others it will take months or even years, I can lead a normal life. I can still triumph over it.

I hate it when I have to drink pills so plasticky and big I have a hard time swallowing them. I despise having to go to a counselor and psychiatrist often. While they all are huge help, I sometimes feel that void in my heart. I learn to manage and go on with life but what if I just feel always dead inside?

Healing for me took a long time. I still feel like I am still recovering. The thing with healing what isn't meant to be healed is that it will make you think how hopeless you are when you really aren't. Depression isn't a wound--I could say it is having something deeper than a cut--but one isn't "cured" from it. It never goes away. Like what I mentioned earlier, having a mental condition--regardless of what it is--is a lifelong battle but one can still learn to live life beyond it.

So, I guess what I really am trying to heal is not my condition but heal the state I'm left in due to it. I can learn to fix myself up even if deep inside, I'm too tired to put effort on myself. I can get my ass up so I can go somewhere even if I'd rather stay numb in the house. I will love fiercely even if I've been hurt so many times in the past.

Sometimes, I have no choice but to force myself to face life and all its ugliness. It isn't even sometimes, to be honest; it's EVERY FRICKIN TIME. I learned that in facing whatever bull I encounter in my life, despite being scared of these bulls' heavy breathing or strength to kill me, I still manage to take it by its horns and show them who's boss. I cannot eliminate my condition nor the terrible triggers to it but I can acknowledge that I was brave enough to still pull myself through even if it is so easy to give up. I will make sure I do it fabulously rather than looking like shit that's so easy to pity on.

And after facing the ugliness, you learn to see the beauty in everything no matter how small. I'd like to think that though I have problems bigger than me(I'm being realistic, not negative), I won't let them keep me from smiling over the simple stuff such as seeing the stars in the sky or drinking my favorite chocolate milk or smiling at a baby whose mom sits beside me during commute or reading recipes I'm dying to cook.

Contrary to what most think, it takes small steps to overcome such a big battle. This isn't a grand war between two states being told in 24 books(Yes, Iliad, I'm looking at you) because depending on who you are, it's a war within yourself that words cannot simply encapsulate. Unlike most battles, it doesn't stop by one side retreating but rather, it stops when you simply realize that fighting it won't make it go away. The only real way to heal is to be kinder on yourself and that in itself is more challenging than learning how to do combat.

Yet once you do, you will find it more rewarding. It's actually the bravest thing you can do because even if you find yourself still falling apart inside, you still stand up with a pure heart filled with a love so pure no one else deserves it but yourself.

Just because you learn to be soft in a tough situation doesn't mean you're prone to wilting. You're actually just surviving in the best way without being too hard on yourself.

Mental Health Series

"I'm a Survivor of Many Things"(A Poem)

October 29, 2017

Note: In remembrance of October being Mental Health Awareness Month, I want to post entries here on my blog about the dark and private aspects of my personal mental struggles. Normally, I don't like openly discussing my own trials with depression or past abuses but I want to shed light so people can have the courage to speak up and triumph over them. Some of these posts were written ages ago but weren't posted immediately for fear of being seen a different way. Regardless of my experiences and diagnosis, I am strong and brave. I may be messed up and messed around but I will not give anyone--especially myself, my own worst enemy--the license to mess with my life. 

First post to this series is in this link: http://agillandaway.blogspot.com/2017/10/im-speaking-out-in-time-of-harvey.html


Second Post to this series: http://agillandaway.blogspot.com/2017/10/being-confident-with-my-face-and-body.html





This month, I wanted to go back again to the world of spoken word open mics. Normally, in these places I'd normally recite my most "hugot" of pieces that would normally stir the crowd. Recently, as I've become a bit more open about my struggles I decided to post a poem I would have performed had some unfortunate circumstances happened on the actual event(like *coughs* organizers *cough cough*). This first one of three pieces I would've performed this month(the other two maybe I'd post when I have the strength to do so since they are pretty long and personal spoken word pieces as opposed to this which is just a short and sweet one)is about overcoming depression even if I still have it. It's chronic, after all but like what my counselor says, we learn to manage it so we can still live our lives meaningfully.


"I'm a Survivor of Many Things"


Mental Health Series

Being Confident with My Face and Body

October 22, 2017

Note: In remembrance of October being Mental Health Awareness Month, I want to post entries here on my blog about the dark and private aspects of my personal mental struggles. Normally, I don't like openly discussing my own trials with depression or past abuses but I want to shed light so people can have the courage to speak up and triumph over them. Some of these posts were written ages ago but weren't posted immediately for fear of being seen a different way. Regardless of my experiences and diagnosis, I am strong and brave. I may be messed up and messed around but I will not give anyone--especially myself, my own worst enemy--the license to mess with my life. 

First post to this series is in this link: http://agillandaway.blogspot.com/2017/10/im-speaking-out-in-time-of-harvey.html


Never in a million years would I dare be proud and confident with my body--plus sharing vain pics like this lol


The first time I was aware--and ashamed--of what I looked like was when I was in Prep. It was my first time in a big school that is all-girls. Prior to studying in that school, I studied in a small co-ed kindergarten where my only dilemma was how fast I finish seatworks so I can immediately play with my classmates afterwards. Imagine not having to worry about what I looked like to suddenly being told by a teacher that I was "panget". I remember during Linggo ng Wika I would beg my mom to let me wear a pretty baro't saya because when I wore a native Ifugao costume, that same teacher told me I looked even more ugly. 

That stuck with me a lot during my first few years in that school. I had classmates who don't like being with me because my face was "ugly" and I smiled funny. Some simply told me I just looked physically annoying. I had a seatmate in 1st grade who was the prettiest girl in class and she refused to let me  check her papers when the teacher would tell us to exchange because I was--you guessed it!--panget. 

Can you imagine a girl experiencing all this? A girl between 5-8 years old suddenly being insecure of her looks because girls her age then would notice how short she fell on that department?


Me as a prep student back in St.Scho and in the midst of hurtful comments about my face from my classmates and teachers.

As I got older, I became more aware with the fact that my mom used to be a former model and had beauty queens generations before me. Old fashioned and coming from an age where aesthetic is everything, I was pointed out as "fat" when I was a preteen whose waistline was 26-27 and has a sister who is skinnier. I had some meat in me and realizing this, made me shun the uso clothes back then. I would never dare wear sleeveless tops and I just stuck to wearing cargo pants or jeans.

The thing with me during my awkward stages growing up is I learned that though I will never win the crowd over with  the way I looked, I can always impress them with my brain. I liked studying, reading, acting, and writing even at a young age. I may not have money to surgically enhance every physical aspect I wasn't proud of(and hello, I'm just a kid!), at least I can enhance my brain. Soon, people noticed that I had some substance at least, even if I had no beauty.

But at a young age, I did consider surgery. I remember thinking how much I wanted to be successful so I'll be able to afford a rhinoplasty for my clunky nose. My nose was one thing I was insecure of the most because it wasn't as elegant looking as my mom's and her side of the family. I remember seeing before and after pics of a girl my age who had rhinoplasty and she looked so different. I thought it was my only shot to accepting my face.

An awkward 13 year old who can't smile and had stupid bangs.

Another thing also was in highschool, I was not spared from the same physical judgments. I looked "big" according to some girls and "awkward" in a highschool where you had to either be elegantly svelte or adorably chubby and not in between. My jawline was so prominent that one of the names boys would tease me with was "panga". I had hair that wasn't rebonded and straight like the rest and it was thick and unruly. When I would smile, people thought my mouth was too big.

Although I normally would ignore the comments people made(such as "panga" like really I can't possibly change my jawline), some I really took personally. For the way I smiled, I thought it offended people so much that I smiled wide so I started practicing doing pouts. For my weight, I did the most dangerous thing yet; I starved myself. There was a time that I just didn't eat anything during break times and if I did, I'd survive on just a pack of crackers. I'd feel guilty if I ate chips or drank juice. I ate well at home but not as much as I used to. Because of my "diet", I lost a lot of weight. It did come with a price though: I got sick one day and I realize I had ulcer. There was also a time my bestfriend pointed out that with the way I treated my body, I could be diagnosed for an eating disorder.

I also was still ultra conscious with dressing up. I still stuck to my favorite black shirts. I remember that although I admired a lot of high fashion street style stars and fashion bloggers, I only ever followed Elin Kling for her super basic style. A part of me believes I admired her style because it is only the one I had the guts to pull off: loose shirts, dark colors, little-to-none accessories. I ditched anything that had to do with dresses and skirts. I kept arguing that I wasn't girly enough but deep inside, any piece of clothing that has to show my kneecaps and fly with the wind made me shy away from it. I just want to cover my body and not put so much attention to myself.

The outfit on the right was my signature outfit: a loose-fitting shirt and denim skinnies. The outfit on the right was the most daring I ever went as a highschooler lol 

I still was proud of myself for other things, though. I was always in the honors list per quarter. I was always on recognition day every year. I joined quiz bees and never experienced leaving without anything. It was having confidence through my brains that I felt ballsy enough to accept my invitation to compete in a school pageant. I knew I could win because I felt the ones who joined were mostly airheads, anyway. But, reality did set to me that this was a BEAUTY contest. Come pageant day, everyone just looked glam while I felt like a boy in an ill-fitting gown and clown makeup. Even if I had much more brains than the ladies, it did crush me that I didn't pass the first round of looking more beautiful than the rest before I could show what I was really made of intellectually.

The feminist in me hated how I even allowed myself to join a pageant.

Acceptance with myself came in college. I went to De la Salle University which to be honest, probably might not be the best school for any girl with such insecurities. There were so many beautiful women and judgmental men. I could easily compare myself to the tisays and chinitas whom in a million years, would never compete with. I could look down on myself because most men I came across never preferred "homely" women like me.

Surprisingly, I NEVER let any of these be the reason for my insecurity.

I don't know how I suddenly had the courage nor confidence but I did. I told myself I'm in a new environment where I can be more flexible and liberal with my choices--as long as I don't flunk out of the school. I started experimenting with makeup without fear I'll be judged. I started wearing skirts in shorter hemlines. I just felt like I can pull off anything my heart desired because I felt I finally respected myself enough to really dress up for myself.

I love the rainbow--especially if it's on my lips!

But I realize despite having confidence to wear what I want and put on makeup, I still find a void in truly accepting who I really am without them by the end of the day. A part of me still felt like the high school girl who stuck only to jeans and t-shirts because I still can't remove the thought of not liking what I see in the mirror once I take off the colored makeup and nice clothes. Despite having much more openness to level up my style, I still was insecure with my face and body. I may not compare myself with other girls as I am realistic enough to know I can't change what I have biologically, I still put my own self-image down.

It's funny how I was told before by my mother that I have to wait til I get older to see what my face is really like since biology has a way of changing things in time. I was glad I never did anything drastic with my face and just let nature and genes take place. When I reached my late teens, I noticed I had high cheekbones since my face slimmed down with age and lost my my fleshy cheeks. Even the nose I hated suddenly was higher, pointier and thinner, similar to my mom's. I lost weight without even trying. My shoulders weren't as clunky and my mouth didn't feel awkward in smiling.

It's knowing I was capable of accepting, rather than condemning, what I have when I finally started to bloom and not just because of what biology had to offer me as I matured.

A monumental moment for me was when I started to get into selfies; I used to hate seeing myself in pictures! It helped me learn that this was my face, period. I can either learn how to angle it to make it look better and smile pretty or just hate myself the way I hated my face without it being pictured anyway. Another huge milestone for me is learning how to accept my face without the need of makeup. I love me some kilay or lipstick but it came to the point I was used to seeing my face with them. Once I took them off, I see a lifeless corpse. Yikes! Then I realized, it's as if I'm making cosmetics a vital part of my being when it shouldn't be. It's good to enjoy it--I love makeup, after all--but to literally breathe in it as if I'm not the same person without them is something I should work on.

The no-makeup selfie I had two years back. This was a step into accepting my face: something I loathed as a kid.
It was one thing to love my face and another thing to accept my body. I still think it limits me in a way because I don't look like those Instagram girls. What slowly made me love my body more is having that thought that it's basically the only one I've got. Pretty much a "duh" moment, but there was a moment when I have been having problems worse than usual with my battle with depression that I had to do something with how I treated my body. It turns out forcing myself to be content with only salads just made me miserable and coffee really does have a depressive effect as with anything caffeinated. Other than that, I knew I had to exercise since it is said to boost endorphins in the body.

After my first jog, I saw myself in the mirror and saw how glowing my skin was. More than the physical effects of the body, I also was more energized and motivated to do more active stuff. It felt like an accomplishment whenever I saw so much sweat on my shirt and even feel the burn on my body. Taking care of my body was the main reason why I learned to love it. Looking back to how I used to be so ashamed of my body and even made excuses not to exercise, I could only laugh because it greatly benefited me--having a toned(but honestly, it isn't really)bod was only a plus.

Glow is courtesy of jogging and yes, I wore lippie and kilay while sweating lol

Boxing away body issues one punch at a time.

I'll be honest now though. I won't lie that back then when I felt like an ugly duckling, that was all people ever saw me. I do admit that I had some suitors even back as a kid who found me pretty(daw) and had people compliment on me to which I easily dismissed. Years later, I realized that I only ever gave in to those who thought I was ugly because deep inside, I wholeheartedly agree with them. I never agree with those who thought I was beautiful because I myself can't even call myself that way. Had I been a confident little girl I could have easily shake off the snide comments of my childhood and the terrible remarks growing up. I look at my photos especially when I was a little kid and saw that to be honest, I really do not get why people could put down someone who looks so young. How could people put an innocent person through a lifetime of self-loathing and insecurity?

And that is the sad reality of it all: little girls starting to view themselves negatively and later making it affect their self-esteem until they get older. With the culture these days of media seeming to revere whoever is the most physically beautiful and making fun of those who aren't, who could blame those who get insecure with themselves? Also, imagine how young girls also learn how to judge OTHER girls? That in itself is equally appalling. It's how those young girls are raised by their parents. I wish that culture of someone's worth being measured by how they look will stop.

I still am struggling to accept myself fully but right now, I'm much more content with who I am and what I have more than I ever was in years. I learned that beauty isn't always in the eye of the beholder but in the eyes of how a person views themselves. I'll laughingly say that I think I am beautiful but not because I learned to clean myself up decently but because I finally radiate the self-acceptance it took years to achieve.

Loving every part of me--face, body and fandom.
So to all my haters throughout life, I guess you succeeded in making me feel like my insecurities got the best of me. I guess you excelled in thinking you can be better than me just because I wasn't facially pleasing to your eyes. Despite all that, I didn't dwell on it and learned to mature from it. 😛😛😛




Mental Health Series

I'm Speaking Out In the Time of the Harvey Weinstein Case and Nothing will Stop Me Again

October 17, 2017

Note: In remembrance of October being Mental Health Awareness Month, I'm posting a series of entries here on my blog about the dark and private aspects of my personal mental struggles. Normally, I don't like openly discussing my own trials with depression or past abuses but I want to shed light so people can have the courage to speak up and triumph over them. Some of these posts were written ages ago but weren't posted immediately for fear of being seen a different way. Regardless of my experiences(Insecurities,bullying, and sexual harassment)and conditions(Manic Depression and Anxiety), I am strong and brave. I may be messed up and messed around but I will not give anyone--especially myself, my own worst enemy--the license to mess with my life now and in the future. 




Everyone knows that the Harvey Weinstein case is all over the news these days. The last time I have tallied on how much women come into public over a dirty man was when Tiger Woods had his many mistresses! But slight jest aside, the amount of articles I read about women being sexually harassed and abused since this incident have skyrocketed. Look into sites such as The Cut or New York Magazine and you see the prevalence of women's articles relating to sexual harassment and assault plus their own personal Harvey Weinstein's.

The one article that prompted me to make this post was one of The Cut's entitled "I'm a Coward." I read this on my birthday and seriously, I cried. Now, I won't get into details of past incidents of inappropriate behavior done on me because I had my reasons which I will explain later on why I kept it under wraps, some incidents with only myself and the perpetrators as the only people who knew about it. Even if the Weinstein news has been triggering me a lot, I was still adamant to bringing whatever happened to me to my death. Anyway, the author--Liz Meriwether--discusses how she kept silent and submissive to the disgusting treatment towards her. One quote of hers in the article resonated with me and had me breaking down:

" I had just never imagined myself as the kind of woman who stayed quiet in those situations. I thought I was like the characters I wrote about — I thought I was a plucky young girl who fought back against injustice. A rebel. A feminist. An avenger. It turned out that I was none of those things."

These words stung. Although I'm not a published writer and don't really write about strong female characters, I deemed myself as one in real life. I'm a feminist and am a woman for women. I speak out against the unfair social issues. I refused to be the stereotypical feminine prototype because when an old suitor told me once he wanted me to be the typical housewife who gives his briefcase before he leaves for work and shit, I fucking told him off that I'd be a better provider than him. Even with the way I look, I wear tight miniskirts, like weird colored lipstick and have eight piercings. When I'm either casually dating a guy or in a serious relationship, I am vocal when I feel uncomfortable and have a strong control against anything stupid that could happen between him and I. I've also successfully avoided many situations where I know deep inside would be dangerous for me because I knew the men were lewd and suspicious.

I am far from the very description of someone allowing herself to be a victim.

Turns out in reality, there is no definite "description" of what a victim should be. Men--or women--prey on whoever they believe they have power on. I may believe to be a defender of women's rights or a tough girl for potential suitors to win over--but in reality, I allowed myself to submit to these situations, more than once and in different ways. Even if there were times I was able to keep myself safe, I was not spared from unexpected events that terrified me.

I refused to be a victim even if in reality, what's done was already done. This was probably why with some of the men who sexually harassed me--from close friends to acquaintances--I still chose to be civil with them. To those I don't speak to at all--like the estranged friends and random strangers--I act like nothing happened nor did they existed. Though a part of me already had a sense of distrust towards them, I felt it was better than putting myself in a seemingly pitiful position which was making everyone know how affected I was or how I was easy for these men to victimize.

Worst I thought was what if I lose to these men even more if I did stand up for myself? Like Meriwether, I chose to keep silent and still be in the presence of them when called for. This was the most cowardice thing I did even if it is painted as faux bravery on my end.

Evan Rachel Wood spoke out not too long ago about her rapists and why it took her long to keep mum on it. She said it was emotionally taxing and also financially difficult. People are so easy to judge on women when they keep silent over something serious such as sexual harassment but when these women come forward, it becomes a risk for the latter. You are placed under scrutiny and people will question why you were in that place and time at all. You are constantly bullied for being a slut or liberal especially if prior to those incidents, you weren't Virgin Mary to begin with. It also becomes even more difficult because even if you choose to be a great example to women by getting justice for this, the emotional trauma will never leave. The feeling of being used and abused never really goes away.

Financially, it is traumatizing because it becomes a gamble more than an investment. You bring a case to court, allow jurors to decide, and if things don't go in your favor you are left even more devastated. It ends up as a waste of money and energy especially in these times where you see sexual harassment and rape cases on TV that are usually in favor for the men. Or let's say the victim wins the case; what I couldn't handle is that so much people will know. There will be so much attention on something I find really personal and painful.

Sometimes, the more you involve people in a matter that is of your own makes things more complicated. It can make things more difficult than you're already left with.

Personally, I never spoke out because I've been judged a lot on many of my choices. I remember one time while riding a jeep, the driver literally felt his hands in my legs. I never told him off because I got stone-cold and powerless in this situation. Once I got home, I told my family about it and the first thing I was told was why I even commute in a skirt. Imagine if you tell others about the more serious things? I'll be nagged on why I even go out at night or be alone with these men. Also, let's say that my family and friends side with me; they will be heartbroken and disappointed. They will also be angry and fuming. I wouldn't want to make them go out of their way and feel miserable for me.

People question why the female celebrity victims who came forward or the women spoken about by others as victims just allowed themselves to be treated this way. I knew in my heart why: They were afraid of a worse consequence than what was happening to them. Weinstein is powerful, figuratively and literally. The men who victimized me? They were powerful in their own way too like they were usually taller and stronger or had a reputation of being "the ultimate good boy" or had the connections I needed. On my end, the worse consequence was getting hurt. I'll usually read about murder cases of women who said no but got killed for not giving in or women whose faces was ruined because of acid thrown at them. I SERIOUSLY REALLY GET SUPER PARANOID OF MANY WAYS I COULD GET HURT. I was also worried about being emotionally threatened against the things I worked on. Like for example, I knew this one guy was powerful and he'll do what it takes to sabotage me. Lastly, I already felt like I will lose to these men. I had done stupid and wild things before I decided to be completely clean since seriously, even if I achieved well in school I didn't want to be seen another way. One of the men who harassed me is the most clean-cut person I know til he violated me a few times. Who are you most likely to believe in this situation: a girl who was shamelessly reckless before or a guy saint in making?

Of all those reasons, I want to further emphasize on the first one. It is what keeps me cold and immobile during these horrible past events. I'm only 5'2. The only muscle I have that is strong is my heart(lol). I'm typically underweight. I hate violence and don't get into physical fights too much(Usually, petty catfights I had in the past lol). I get bruised easily. I bleed AN AWFUL LOT when I get cut or wounded or have a pimple popped. I have had hurt my bones for uncool reasons like hitting myself in a wall or tripping on a rock. I have incorrectly used my pepper spray in situations I needed it the most(and it BURNED MY EEEEYYYYESSS). I may have the capability to think of ways to get out of a situation or run fast enough to tire people but someone else's greater physical might and power has proven before to have defeated me. In every circumstance for me, my mind is always in a blur and fear of my safety is the main cloud that causes it.

Since the Harvey Weinstein case first came out to public, I have always wondered if I should speak up about my own experiences. Honestly, I still really don't want to but what I can share is how I felt and learned. I was ready to bring this all to my grave but the day such as my birthday and reading the article sparked a little confidence in me. Even before sharing everything today, I have always been proud that many people around me see me as a strong woman. I have battled many fights before especially with my manic depression, constant bullying, toxic past lovers and tough upbringing.

After writing this, I pledge to be stronger. Recently, I have a friend come forward to me about her major depression and how her personal experiences of being objectified and harassed by men for many years has contributed to it. I feel a sense of responsibility because I'm being approached for support. I'm looked up by my friend who is younger than me as an example of how I prevailed my own depression and I know I cannot keep my sexual harassment secret forever. I knew exactly how it felt like to have that trauma haunt you and make you want to isolate from people. It made me the angriest person in the world. There were times that I was able to handle the demons in my mind but a few times the past few years, they mercilessly taunt me and make me think that even the men I truly trusted are also capable of hurting me the way my harassers did--maybe even worse. I have gotten so much nightmares about it, so much paranoia, so much heartache...

No victim deserves to blame themselves regardless of how they put themselves in that situation. We don't hang out with a certain person and expect to get harassed or raped, do we? If you have the strength in those situations to fight, damn fight that asshole and defend yourself. If you chose to not stand up in that situation, I completely understand. People will easily say that it can be easily avoided or stopped, but they don't know us. They don't know why we choose to go on with life despite knowing letting these incidents go feels wrong. People tend to say that the ones really to blame are those who still decide to go on with the act but in all honesty? I think the one who initiates the act is really to blame. They won't put their victims torn with a decision they are not supposed to make because they are not even supposed to be put in that situation at all.

No person wants to be violated, period. It wouldn't be a violation at all if they did and they would never feel the way I just shared if they really "wanted" and "expected" the harm that came their way.

To those who read this and have never experienced these at all, don't be too quick to judge. Recently, I opened up to someone about these dark secrets of mine and I was scrutinized as to why I still submitted in something wrong. Why wasn't I wiser in this situation? Why didn't I expect this to happen? Why did I still give in anyway? Simple: NO PERSON EVER EXPECTS NOR WANTS THIS TO HAPPEN AND IS AWARE SOMETHING WORSE COULD HAPPEN. I see that people can be understanding with me but at times they also can't help but point to me why I'm dumb enough to still allow it to happen. All I can say is when it happened to me, it removed all logic in my brain and replaced it with vacuum. Every cell in me was filled with fear: fear of getting physically beaten, fear of being taken away of privileges, fear of being outcasted even more. Especially since I had a history of being harassed in the past, it didn't make me braver. It made me become even more stone-cold scared whenever it happens. I  also was conscious of how my immediate circle will react to it; better I'm the only one experiencing the pain of knowing this than they feel it too.

To the girls and boys who have experienced personal violations before and are reading this now, you have the right to remain silent if you want to be silent. I knew how much silence has benefited me but do remember that with that comes with a lot of downsides. We are basically allowing these disgusting beings to get away with it. In all honesty, even if you stop one harasser or rapist, there are others more. Ideally, we want a world free from evil but even the world itself is evil. I believe in justice but I know it won't ever take away the feeling of dirtiness and disrespect. It won't break down the wall of fear and distrust for men I built. Justice won't help me give me peace. Justice won't give me the assurance I need from the people I love. Despite this, I will still live life the way I lived: striving hard for my goals and being surrounded by people who won't hurt me. I won't allow other men who will think of pursuing me to think I'm easy because I'm not.

To those who are still experiencing ongoing and continuous mistreatment from someone, I say speak up no matter what. Stop that cycle in your life of being someone's pleasure thing. You may justify why you experience what you experience, maybe even blame yourself for the whole thing. Just remember that it is never your fault. It will always be the fault of the dirty old men who take advantage.

For all the Weinsteins of the world, may you lose your hands that aggresively grope, castrate your balls that forcibly penetrate and finally rot in hell with the real demons.

fashion

Okay Mag-Ukay: A No-BS Guide to Ukay-Ukay Shopping!!!

October 06, 2017

LET'S TAKE A BREAK FROM MY LITERARY ESCAPADES AND TALK ABOUT MY OTHER PASSION...

Yes, this cover-up is just as affordable as my ice cream cone.
My love affair with ukays started when I was grade school. Though I was initially banned from buying clothes from ukays for whatever reason("DI MO ALAM KUNG SAAN GALING YAN!" "MALAS GUMAMIT NG GAMIT NA!" "THE CLOTHES ARE DIRTY!" "YOU'LL GET A RASH!" Ahh, my parents.), I was always fascinated with the idea of vintage. I'd watch and read about stylish people going to vintage stores and although ukay-ukays are WAY DIFFERENT from what I expected in its Western counterparts, I still dreamt of purchasing good finds someday. 😊

In highschool, I was able to check out a famous ukay in Pateros. This really got me excited and deepened my love for ukays! I was able to find a classic LBD for 50 pesos. Though I rarely go to ukays then, the few times I did were memorable just as my purchases were. From going rarely in highschool, I went to ukays more often in college. Being in a school that doesn't require a uniform, I find myself having to wear my usual clothes way more than I should. Every once in a while, I'd buy a whole new wardrobe from the ukay. I get more compliments on my ukay pieces than my mall-bought stuff! 💖💖💖

I've been asked by some friends on where is the best ukay or what are some tips to find the best deals. Think of the ukay-ukay experience as if you're in an Indiana Jones movie--except you don't hear action instrumentals nor Forever 21-esque music but odd country music in an undetectable local dialect. Basta! Kakaiba! So here are some things I live by whenever I ukay. 😁

1. First, BUDGET!

It is important to put a ceiling in how much you want to purchase. It's easy to spend a lot on crazy discounted stuff or maybe splurge on the full-priced new arrivals. We do not want another clinically diagnosed shopaholic! Maawa ka sa wallet mo at sa closet space mo! I've learned this the hard way, trust me. 💸💸💸

2. Know what ukays to avoid.

I don't believe there is a bad ukay since you will never know when that one perfect piece is waiting for you but I normally steer-clear from those ukays that NEVER(well, maybe never is too much but RARELY)go on sale. Yes! There are those ukays like this one ukay I normally pass by for years in Bicutan and only once in my life have I seen their pieces drop to less than 100 pesos. GRABE KAPITALISMO NILA, CHAR. Ukay-ukays in Harrison Plaza also don't easily go on sale but I tolerate them at times because once they do, you get good deals and their selections are usually great.

Another ukay I typically avoid but browse in caution if I have to are those ukays that sell mostly basic shirts and bottoms. Alam mo yung tipong Surplus Shop that sells mostly Abercrombie, American Eagle Outfitters or Aeropostale stuff but just rattier, dirtier and mustier? Not unless kailangan mo ng bagong pambahay or have a kilo of Tide to wash the dust out, I suggest not wasting your time. Also, these ukays smell the worst and I really do not know why.

3. Browse the cheaper racks first!

Some of the ukays I frequent have some racks of clothes that go as low as 10, 15, 20 pesos each. In most ukays, the cheapest racks would be the 3 for 100 ones or the 50 pesos each ones. Basta, unahin niyo ang mura! From there, you can proceed to the more pricier(but not as pricey as the mall)items. Since there will be racks and racks, it will exercise your patience! And you will need it because duh, you are reading this and wanna ukay probably.

4. Know the worth of the item.

Just like you should know your worth! Chos! (But not chos! Totoo! Love thyself, mga lodi ✌) Anyways, always, always know the item's worth. That is when you will now if what you bought is a steal or nah. Learn how to feel fabrics or check the item's brand. Check the item's tags, too! You might be spending more on maintaining the clothes than purchasing the item itself and if you're alright with that, bahala ka(I'm guilty of this lol).

As for brands, you'll be lucky to pick up the more branded stuff if you can look well but beware: some ukays price them higher than they're meant to be! I once saw this H&M dress in the ukay that sold for hundreds of pesos. A friend of mine had that same exact dress and bought it at that price from the H&M store. Ang daya, diba? But! When you do find that item that is cheaper than its actual worth, GET IT, AND RUN AWAY! Ay este, BAYAD KA MUNA, OF COURSE! 😆 (No to shoplifiting! Lumelevel up ibang ukay kasi may mga CCTV na sila! At sabi sa 10 Commandments Huwag Magnakaw! Puso lang pwede! 💁). I was able to buy Alexander Wang Frida booties for 400 pesos when its original price is $$$$ in Net-A-Porter(and I hear AW doesn't sell it anymore). Bongga, diba? 💯

5. Learn how to peruse the item for damage and stains. (Pag di mo alam ang peruse, GMG!!!)

This should fall under the item's worth but I decided to put it in a separate number instead. Ideally, you wouldn't want to buy something with a stain. It is convenient though to learn how to discern stains that are removable in case you see something you really want! I was able to score that famous Zara wide-strapped tank top in white before but it was filthy with brown stains! Brown stains are tricky because they could either be easily washable brown dirt marks or unfortunately, the indestructible wood or rust stains. It's really a gamble to still stick with something(or someone)you love! Charot! Some stains to look out for:

  • sweat stains(EWW! HAVE RESPECT FOR YOURSELF AND GE RID OF THAT THANG!),
  • makeup stains (Baka the person tried on the item before you and her foundation and lipstick are not transfer-proof. Pabigyan mo nalang, not the clothing's fault!)
  • Paint marks (Not unless ganun talaga ang style niyan na tinalsikan ng pintura but nonethless maybe the former owner was a frustrated painter who needed to sell clothes for food)
  • Ink stains or stains that you just know will never, ever get away--like your feelings! #Hugoat

For damage, you should be aware of some rips and tears. Torn stuff are unfixable. A damage that is fixable, though, are loose hems whose seams need to be taken up. You can ask a tailor to sew it for not more than 50 bucks or utilize your home economics education by repairing it yourself #IkawLangSapatNa

6. More than knowing what is fixable, know what's workable as well.

Maybe you super duper like those pair of pants that fit well around your waist and butt except they are just way too long for you or maybe they're too flared for your taste. You can take them to the tailor, you know! I purchased these Levi's jeans and they were super bootcut. I just asked the neighborhood tailor to alter them in a baston(tapered leg) cut and voila! These ultra flattering mom jeans! (Yes I know, super paradoxical sentence. Mom jeans are never flattering but whatever these look good on me oh yeah haute momma 👯). Same goes for tops! I've altered some really wide tops so they can fit me better. Normally I'd only do this to clothing I really like but other than that, I won't buy what won't fit me.

7. ...But learn to let go, as well.

Just like your bulok love life! *badum tsss* Seriously, ukay shopping can be heartbreaking. I've experienced seeing shoes that look gorgeous but they don't fit me since ukays, I notice, seem to be a haven for size 5 shoes. 😕I also rarely buy pants from the ukay because pants are either too darn big or just too damn tight. One of the most terrible things you can experience in the ukay is seeing a cool piece of clothing but they don't look good on as much as it looks good in the hanger. It's one of life's greatest scams but at least you get to save your money from something that doesn't look bagay on you. No more heartbreak!!! Philippine politics is already too much to handle, unflattering clothes pa kaya? 💔

8. Know some hacks in case there are no dressing rooms.

Your lola is right; in a pinch, you can tell if bottoms fit you by wrapping the waistband around your neck. You can also measure a blouse's sleeves to the length of your arm to see if it is too long or not. As much as possible though, do fit your clothes in the store whenever they have dressing rooms because I personally do not rely on these hacks. Sure, it fits in the waist but what if those pants fit oddly in the leg area? Or that long sleeved polo looks lousy even if the sleeve length isn't too long? It will spare you from bad purchases whenever you try it first in the fitting room. You'd rather have something you can wear no matter how cheap it is! 😊

9. Remove your disgust and doubts and search the unusual racks and boxes...

If there is a children's section, check it out! I bought a piña jacket from the kid's section of the ukay for a mere 25 pesos! Some large ukays have boxes filled to the brim with accessories. Don't be afraid to browse those, too! I've bought beautiful scarves for 25 pesos after unearthing them from the dusty boxes. Also, if you are adventurous try looking in the underwear racks din! One thing I'd never buy are panties(but then NEVER SAY NEVER CHAROT)but I did buy some lingerie in the ukay before and they were branded ones at that--probably my favorite was a La Perla bralette I had for 70 pesos! Just learn to wash them carefully. 😃


Some ~~Irrelevant~~ tips just because 

10. Never Haggle

I know, I'm saying the opposite of what others say. Maybe because from personal experience, whenever I make tawad for a shirt or skirt it is always met with a "DI PWIDI LAST FRICE NA YAN." (Frice? Watdapak? Pagkaen? Pagkaen, besh?). Be like me and avoid rejection because life is already hard in itself. 😂(Although I suggest you try making tawad with higher priced items like shoes or bags and whenever you buy a lot of clothes).

11. Bring alcohol

Isopropyl one for sanitizing your hands and champagne for a job well done lol joke lang! (But bacteria isn't a joke, though. To prevent sickness, sanitize your hands always).👌


Now for the question many ask: WHERE DO I GO UKAY?

To be honest, I go everywhere. I tend to frequent the ones below the EDSA station of the LRT because I pass by them a lot when I commute. Pateros has this really old ukay that has been there ever since and I like going there once in a while. I've gone to Libertad to check the ukays lined up there. I also dropped by the famous Anonas area and it's a goldmine. Harrison Plaza has some great ukays, too! The best ukay for me, though is this one store I only went to once in QC area. I remember going there and getting crazy because there are so much great stuff. I'm not sure if it is still there nor do I know its exact address. I have yet to go to the Baguio and Tagaytay ones but someday I definitely will.

I hope my tips will help you all in your ukay adventures! Below are some of my ukay-ukay purchases through the years:

My first ever ukay purchase! It took me 6 years before I first wore it, though.


The 45 peso loose black dress is used as a kimono(super uso in 2015 lol). I forgot how much that top was and my skirt was 50-60 pesos. Yes, head to toe(or above the knee lol)ukay.

A Uniqlo plaid flannel dress I scored for 70 bucks. Mas mahal pa ang Chickenjoy...
I bought this skirt back in highschool and I really loved its Aurdrey Hepburn-Roman Holiday vibe. It was 55 pesos, I think!
"Like, chyeah! Like, this #OOTD was from the ukay! This shirt? So cute! It's only 50! And this skirt? I know! Only a 100 bucks! I know, I'm a great bargain hunter like whatevahhh!" 
Dress: 45 pesos. Class: I was born with it. Cheret!


These eyes be checking out my 50 peso kumot este poncho lol
Rat tails look good on a tux, not on your hair! Eww! One of my favorite finds is this tuxedo jacket for 120 pesos.
These are the Levi's I bought for 180 pesos and altered into a baston fit. 
My most recent purchase. This top is just as cheap as your bus fare: 15 pesos! Lakad ka nalang! 
Other recent purchases: This midriff(a Hanes sportbra, to be exact)I got for 20 pesos. The highwaisted pants are 35 pesos. O ayan may pang clubbing na ako! 
I was excited when I bought these Jordache shorts last year(?) for 50 pesos! Tried them on and I realize I'm not Kendall Jenner lol
Another LBD that took me years before I finally wore it! Bought it back in highschool for 120 pesos. 
This jacket is made of fur faker than your fake friends and cheaper than his cheap hoe for 20 bucks! 

The jacket that launched a thousand compliments! My highschool self bought this for 160 pesos which I considered pricey then but I got so much use of it in college. The best part also is IT ISN'T LEATHER #NoAnimalsWereHurt #PeroIkawHurtPaRin #LooksLikeLeatherButFeelsLikeFeathers #WalangKwentangHashtagsMuch

A 25 peso piña jacket with capiz-like buttons I got from the kid's section! It was timely when I bought it because I wore it to this Filipiniana-themed event. #Tadhana

Hope all these shameless tips and even more shameless photos will encourage you to discover the world that is UK--not United Kingdom, but UKAY-UKAY! *plays the odd country ukay-ukay music* 😃