Severe winds violently scrape against my window like white noise lulling me into light sleep. Winter storms soothe me better than chicken soup for the soul. Snow flurries twinkling from the moonlight, purifying the ground in solid white. I take comfort in knowing I’ll wake in a frosted wonderland instead of brash sun rays of urgency..
There’s magic in still mornings.
My mother has told me many things about her father, his good and his secrets. Anger equivalent to an entire army, war in his mind, unable to see red once begun. The many sins of a father she’d forgiven so I’ve learned to forgive mine. Simple psychology, daughter sees, daughter will do.. we both haven’t forgotten, we can’t because even when forgiven, the daughter always ends up paying for the sins of her father. And like all nuclear families are their atomic secrets.. we’re all alike in this way so I say let’s focus on our good. What did his good look like? My Grandfather helped the local children by organizing concerts where he filled the role of their band conductor, filming their performances. Pozorrubio’s humanitarian from what their society labeled him. He subsidized faltering local businesses, in return they provided for his family. Whatever his children needed from clothes, dental work, food to school supplies, you name it. A local powerhouse involved in the city council. A power of his that feels like a possession in me emerging when there’s injustice and slack in my own districts. My grandfather had support from all the right places, able to put a roof over his family with nannies at hand. Hard work was not lost on him, my mother still had to pick rice in the rice paddies and was expected to excel in her studies; first chair and top in her academic classes. I remember being in first chair when I had my run at the flute in 6th and 7th grade. Mannerisms of who we are trickles down for centuries.. trickling down the bloodline whether we know it, like it or not; Unknowingly inheriting his spiritual background, vivid dreams and knowledge of the occult. We must stay aware of the purpose in what we do once siphoning the breath of life through our first cries. If there’s Yin, we all have Yang, that’s why we glorify the good in others because at least they still try. Giving up is disgraceful and I won’t bother with others like this nor be someone like this. I am refusing to pay for the sins of the men in my family any longer. In me I feel there’s something I need to do, to be prevalent in the good that comes to the lives of others.. a sense of duty broiling my insides that feels like I inherited his good, his strengths and am going to break the karmas of my ancestral sins once and for all.
Upon the topic of wild rice soup brought us to a staple of one of my partner’s cherished memories. I had ordered myself a bowl at the Twin City Grill and loved it while Sam felt to mention his mother had a favorite spot they’d go to for that dish, it being twice better. I appreciate the way he allows me into his psyche and I thank him by imbuing our daughter, our boys and I into his prospective memories. A year after and I’ve penciled it into our itinerary for our MN trip. In this way I feel that I honor her by introducing their history into our daughter’s life so that she has an understanding of how important her grandma Ginny will always be to him, while cultivating our own unique and personal traditions that are meaningful to us. And most importantly to me, embracing exactly who she came from in order to form a strong sense of identity because her grandmother was a fine, virtuous woman. I learned second hand that those do not heal completely, never, even though I haven’t lived this kind of strife myself. It’s within these “full circle moments” that they learn to look forward to from which their loved ones live on. I watch his childhood videos and already my mind is making the connections of the type of woman she was. A strong woman, not said lightly, unafraid to defend her own and couldn’t care what others thought of how she lived her life; practical and down to earth. It mirrors in the way he brings me down to reality, keeps me on path. He’s my voice of reason. It shines in his intellectual sister, successful in what she sets out to do and willing to fight for her own. A commendable trait, safe in knowing she will bring justice if anything must come his way. And another woman my daughter can look up to. It all trickles down in the grand scheme of things, I can feel her memory now more than ever as I watch my daughter develop more into herself.
What are our defining moments — the ones that broke us or the path we carve to get to the light at the end of the tunnel? Maybe that’s entirely up to us. I am healing from so many things.. I sit with them with no release and that’s what this journal is for; a medium that’ll allow me to let go this one last time before I leave it behind me. Apart from typical family pains, my ex illegally withheld my sons from me and my partner the start of 2020, they didn’t get to meet their baby sister for a while. It was beyond me when I called, texted and contacted his family. They blocked me altogether. I received a letter from the court stating he tried to send my boys away without me knowing. My lawyer and I talked about contempt, to me there really was no credible reason for his behavior against me except for self-interest (money) and revenge from what had transpired between us before. The beginning of the case was in my favor because I didn’t cast the first stone, his mother puppeteered his actions to secretly sue me, 18, we were so young.. He lost that case since they had lied and then he lost me. Not by his cheating I kept to myself because of embarrassment from friends, our social circle, especially because both girls were well known in our community, once before and after the pregnancy. No one knew the demons he created in my head, my self-worth deteriorating as I sit at home with a newborn in my arms and he at hers. Sweating palm bullets because I’ve kept this to myself for years. When I finally had the courage to break it off, friends coaxed me out into reality. I couldn’t have primary custody while enlisting, years I’ve tried to keep this memory buried — regretful of this entire military plan forced onto him and I by our parents. Without the boys I didn’t know how to be alone so I sunk into the sins of my nectar until I couldn’t feel anymore. This newfound “freedom” felt more like punishment, I’d go to work then come home so lost and empty. I didn’t know how to be without them, all lights were kept on while Netflix played in my bedroom and living room. I searched for company in anyone who’d give it and when I started putting myself out there more, people in our circle started treating me differently. I heard the things he told people, he saw me confident again and chose to completely tear me down and obliterate my reputation with exaggerations, withholding what he’d done to provoke me. A rift between family had cost me my apartment. Around this time of my life, I would sleep in my car when I stayed in an abusive relationship, as he held my financial situation over me. I was failing college, terrified and directionless with no one to guide me. So it was always “she’s a terrible mess” when I was barely holding my head above water, with a stubborn co-parent who wouldn’t meet me halfway no matter how much I begged. On top of family issues, a failed path in the military and the mess he initially created amongst other things, the odds were severely stacked against me — doomed from the start. They kicked a horse who was already months into a carcass. How? Why? Will I ever recover from this? Before I knew the military plan would fall through I moved to a different city to enlist National Guard where I met my current partner. I finally had career stability at Tesla then my ex completely cut me off. I’ll never forget, the way my oldest son was visibly excited to meet his baby sister then never seeing their faces again after that. I could cry about it now because I was pregnant while he did this and I was afraid the stress affected me badly. It was another traumatic experience, have I not already gone through enough? As if he hands them out to me like free flyers at the market. It no longer affected just me, his coldness was affecting two innocent boys and their baby sister. He never answered the court as to why he did this to me, no explanation whatsoever but I get to see the boys any time and he goes to jail if he ever tries to send them to Philippines ever again without my knowledge. I sat with myself this whole year registering ALL of it. This is how I recovered, I was unburying what I didn’t want to remember. I needed to be brave in order to sit with the echoes of my past by feeling it all over again. I cried, howled screaming in my pillows somehow thinking the pain will leave this way. I did everything; holistic, therapy, medications, nature, spirituality. I can’t continue holding this grudge against anyone and myself, this trauma made me mentally strong and focused but will eat away at me if I don’t let go. I can’t hate anyone or hate what had to happen to me, we are all just completely different people now and their karma’s are not up to me. What helped me the most was time, all that’s left is release for it to come to a close. I didn’t finish just a chapter, rather a whole book, defining moments in form of a series. My next book? Prosperity.
This past year I felt obligated to heal from anything I’d left up to the very circumstances themselves, to finally move onto the next life chapter I know is coming in a flip of a page. I let it all out to anyone I had left abridged for me to finally reach the next step — restoration. The friendship I had with my mother, the friendship I never seemed to have with my sisters, father issues, gratitude for old friends and hopefully a healthy co-parenting dynamic. Truths only needed to flood the terrain but not without breaking the dam just to finally be taken seriously, to see that it takes two for this to work. 2022 was so painful to start until I realized I had to find where it was hurting me, to sit with myself in silence and ask what this is teaching me. I was never fond of growing pains but I’ve never been more ready for this growth spurt
Luna shines past me as I walk by the window until she disappeared behind thick grey sky, soon passing into Earth’s shadow. Lately something is changing around me, the atoms vibrating slower in this thickness that surrounds. Reality is not what it seems and from time I’ve become a bag of bones after being puppeteered by this cosmic renaissance.. I finally surrender and fall deeply into myself, becoming a reflection of the moon’s full metamorphosis.
This is my personal journal of random prose and first person allegories. A visual diary of words I wish I said; words I speak for others. I must write because the soul wants to feel understood. I want to lead, help and connect with others through my experiences. Don’t be afraid to interact if you desire to be understood too.
A third generation Filipina Guamanian navigating motherhood, marriage and life as I know it.
The Wise Old Owl 