Krizhna & Zarnee’s Journey to Parenthood

Krizhna and Zarnee’s love story began in 2009 at Westmoor High. They started off as friends their first 2 years of high school, but that changed their junior year. They had multiple classes together and always seemed to be partnered up in English class. Krizhna explains how she always saw Zarnee as just a friend, until she realized that he was always there for her in her time of need, even if that meant venting about another guy. The best friends slowly but surely turned into lovers. This was the start of their journey. Zarnee made their relationship official on December 22, 2011 at the local Macy’s. His support and presence – what initally drew Krizhna to Zarnee – would be tested as they experienced parenthood together.

The couple was 4 years into their relationship when they decided to start their family in 2015. They were both barely 20 years old, and knew people would think they were insane to try to have a baby at that age, so they kept it hush hush. They didn’t have an exact reason as to why they wanted to start a family so bad, but knew it was something they both wanted. At the time, Zarnee and his family were not on talking terms, and at that point, he was out of their house for 2 years already. In a way, starting their own family would compensate for his broken family relationship.

During her break one day, Krizhna went to Target to purchase a pregnancy test. Her best friend and co-worker at the time, Kadigah, was actually the first person to know Krizhna was pregnant. She texted a photo of the positive pregnancy test to an ecstatic Zarnee who was doing laundry. Their joy was through the roof, and they were excited to finally have a family of their own.

“I think that was the first time in a while he was genuinely happy,” Krizhna reminisced.

When it came time to telling Krizhna’s family, she felt as though her mother’s intuition kicked in. Krizhna, her siblings, and her mom sat at the kitchen table in their grandma’s 1.5 bedroom inlaw. She explained that she had something to tell them, but her mom already knew before the words came out of her mouth. Her mom was disappointed but was still supportive. She had the “well, it already happened,” attitude and knew that being upset would not change the fact that she was pregnant. Her siblings were shocked, but followed their mom’s lead. They supported Krizhna’s decision to keep the baby and start a family.

At the time, her dad was still in the Philippines. Krizhna jokes that, “thank god,” her mom was the one that broke the news to him. He was astonished. His attitude was similar to her mom’s. He had told Krizhna, “Well, it’s there already. We just have to accept it.” However, her dad took matters into his own hands and messaged Zarnee on Facebook – asking if he had plans to marry his daughter. In the Filipino culture, being married before having a child is seen as an “essential” step. They felt the pressure of feeling like they “had to” get married, but decided that if they were going to get married, it would be on their terms, not because they feel forced into it. Having a baby on the way didn’t mean they had to rush into marriage to do it the “right way.”

The support from her parents and siblings made Krizhna feel more at ease. But she knew she had one more important person to tell on her side – her grandma. Krizhna, her mom, and siblings lived in her grandma’s home. She has always had high expectations for Krizhna, so when she told her she was pregnant, her grandma had no words. She said very little, sighed, and walked away. Her grandma expressed that she should’ve been focusing on going to college instead of starting a family. Her mom tried to talk to her grandma, telling her that there wasn’t much they could do, they have to just deal with it. Still, her grandma’s mind was made. She wanted Krizhna out of the house – she was so disappointed, she didn’t want to see her. So, she left, at about 2 months pregnant.

She moved in with Zarnee, who was living at a friend’s house. He got kicked out of his family home 2 years prior, and now, his pregnant girlfriend was in the same position. Surprisingly enough, Krizhna expected this reaction from her grandma. She knew that once she told her the news, she was most likely going to get kicked out. Zarnee and Krizhna stayed at their friend’s house a little over 2 months, but they quickly had to find their own place. They looked for different places that they could call home, but ended up getting scammed out of an apartment. Their only option was to live out of their car. They were homeless and living in their car for the remainder of her pregnancy. She was about 4-5 months pregnant.

She was never upset with her mom or siblings for not vouching for her to stay to her grandma. Krizhna’s mom was aware of their living situation, and tried her best to sneak them in when she could. Her grandma would work on the weekends and sleep over her patient’s house. On those days, Krizhna’s mom would sneak her and Zarnee into the house and let them sleep over. When it wasn’t the weekends and her grandma didn’t sleep over at her patient’s house, her mom would still find gaps for them to come to the house to shower or eat. From the beginning of their relationship, Krizhna’s family always liked Zarnee. Prior to the pregnancy, he would offer to drive her family places, and in return her mom would cook more food when she knew he would be coming over, knowing his rocky relationship with his own parents. So even though she got kicked out of the house when she told her grandma she was pregnant, her mom and siblings’ support was still apparent, and she was grateful.

Zarnee, on the other hand, was very conflicted about telling his family about the news. He was kicked out of his family home back in 2013. Their relationship was rocky and he didn’t even know if he should tell them that he was going to be a father. His parents also had high expectations for him, and when they realized that he didn’t want to take the college route, they were very upset. They didn’t agree with his life choices and resented him for not wanting to further his education. The route he decided to take was to work and eventually become a mechanic. Zarnee was confused as to why his family didn’t support his choices. He knew that telling his family that Krizhna was pregnant would be another can of worms, and honestly, he didn’t know if he wanted to open it up.

When Zarnee finally reached out to his parents with the news, they didn’t take it well. They voiced how disappointed they were that the two were going to be parents so young. After he broke the news to them and recieved that reaction, Zarnee and his parents both cut off communication. He didn’t reach out to them and they didn’t reach out to him. He tried his best to remain positive and not let his parents’ words get to him. When he and Krizhna got evicted from his friend’s house, they had nowhere to go. Living in the car with his pregnant girlfriend during cold Bay Area winter was getting the best of him. He knew he had to reach out to his family to ask for help.

He called and let them know that he and Krizhna got evicted from their previous living situation. Zarnee expected some sympathy, but instead, he was greeted on the phone with “I told you so’s.” His parents told him that he put himself in this situation by not listening them. It was “his fault” and he had to deal with it. Alone. Zarnee begged his family to take them in, especially since it was around the holidays during winter time. But his parent’s did not budge on their decision. They couldn’t stay at Krizhna’s grandma’s, they couldn’t stay at Zarnee’s friend’s, and now his parents refused to let them stay at their house as well. Zarnee couldn’t believe it. He felt so betrayed and hurt by his parents’ decision. With still nowhere to stay, they tried their best to remain positive.

“I couldn’t believe that my own parents were not concerned that me and my pregnant girlfriend were sleeping in the car,” Zarnee shared. “I felt like I couldn’t do anything right at that moment.”

On the days where Krizhna’s grandma was home and her mom couldn’t sneak her and Zarnee over, the couple would sleep in their car. When they would saved enough money, they would rent hotel rooms so they could sleep comfortably on a bed. Being homeless and expecting their first child put a lot of a stress on them. They really struggled to weather the storm – not only figuratively, but literally as well. The Bay Area winter was taking its toll on the already struggling couple with more rain and freezing nights.

Krizhna remembers January 18, 2016 to be a very rainy – at times even hailing – day. She and Zarnee were really happy to have a hotel room that night because it meant that she could rest and relax on an actual bed. That night, Krizhna started having intense stomach pains, which prompted Zarnee to call the nurse. This angered Krizhna since she was only 31 weeks pregnant. She knew that she had a handful of weeks left until she would deliver, and didn’t see the need to go to the hospital. But since he already called, they took the advice of the nurse and went to the hospital, straight to the Delivery Department.

When they got there, two nurses quickly admitted Krizhna in and wasted no time hooking her up to machines. She remembers being so confused because no one was really telling her what was wrong or what they were hooking her up to. To add to the confusion, she wasn’t asking many questions either. It was all happening so quickly. They waited at the hospital for a couple of hours because they were told that the high risk doctor wouldn’t be coming in until later. Krizhna dosed off, and a few hours later she was woken up by the doctor who informed her that she would have to be transferred to another hospital. Why? Because they didn’t have the proper equipment to deliver her 31 week old baby. They were in shock, a full term pregnancy is usually 37-40 weeks.

Krizhna was transferred to CPMC. And in her room was the isolette, the little plastic crib where they place new born babies. She asked her nurse if she was going to be giving birth anytime soon since the isolette was in the room. Her nurse confirmed that she indeed was going to be giving birth in a matter of days. Krizhna and Zarnee couldn’t believe it. And on January 22, 2016 – 3 days after being transferred to CPMC – they welcomed their first born, Reginald James.

Krizhna remembers how heartbroken she was. After giving birth to Reginald, she didn’t get to carry him. He went straight into the isolette and then to the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit). Seeing Reginald in the NICU was tough. They remember he was so small and thin that they could see his bone structure. When he was born, he weighed 5 pounds, but he started to lose weight and got down to 2 pounds. The first two weeks of his life were the toughest. They didn’t know if Reginald would make it because he was losing so much weight.

“It was really tough,” Krizhna said. “We witnessed him become a needle bag, lose so much weight to where you could literally see his little tiny bones, to having a feeding tube because he didn’t know how to feed with a bottle.”

“The most challenging was seeing him in the incubator getting smaller and smaller,” Zarnee said recalling how he felt during Reginald’s stay in the NICU. “He had a feeding tube, IV, and a lot of monitors attached to him. There was one instance where he kept moving around too much that the IV wasn’t staying still. So the doctor told us that they had to give him a PICC line. They described it to us as a long thin needle that went from the tip of his finger through the arm to his heart. I remember being so worried…”

Reginald was in the NICU from January 22, 2016 to March 1, 2016. In that time, they got in contact with a social worker who was completely unaware that the couple was homeless and living out of their car. The social worker informed Zarnee and Krizhna that they could stay in one of the rooms in the hospital since that floor was vacant. This way, they could be closer to Reginald since his stay at the NICU would be prolonged, and Krizhna had to pump every 3 hours and supply him with food anyways. This way, they didn’t have to worry about the commute or not being by Reginald’s side. Without hesitation, they accepted the offer. Though the circumstances were unfortunate, they were just relieved that they had a bed to sleep on for the time being.

They stayed in the hospital room the whole time Reginald was in the NICU, about a month and a half. In that time, they really wondered what their next steps would be. Where were they going to live? They had a new born baby now, living in a car would not be ideal. Zarnee had just left his previous job, and Krizhna was on unpaid maternity leave. They felt like they were running out of options. It was when Krizhna’s mom asked her what their living situation was going to be once Reginald was discharged from NICU that made Krizhna realize she had no choice but to reach out to her grandma.

Krizhna knew that she had to put her pride and guilt to the side if she wanted a home for Reginald. She knew that enough time had passed, and that her grandma wasn’t that upset with her anymore. There were times before Reginald was born where her grandma visited her at the hospital, giving her food and checking in on her often. When Krizhna told Zarnee that she planned on asking her grandma if they could stay with her, he agreed. He knew that this was the best decision. And after a lengthy conversation with her grandma, she let Krizhna – and now Krizhna’s little family – know that they were welcome to stay at her house once Reginald was discharged. Krizhna’s grandma was not the only one with a change of heart. Zarnee’s parents brought Krizhna comfort food after she had delivered Reginald, and they were slowly on track to building a relationship again. Things were looking up.

With a roof over their heads, their son out of the NICU, and family bonds being rebuilt, Krizhna and Zarnee felt a weight lifted off their shoulders. They were so eager to start and have a family, and now here they were. Unfortunately, instead of feeling complete and happy, Krizhna felt the exact opposite. The day after Reginald was discharged from the NICU, she drowned herself in work. She remembers working 50+ hour weeks to avoid going home and spending time with her son. She didn’t know why she felt so distant and cold towards the baby she and Zarnee both planned for. So, she used work as a distraction.

Postpartum depression hit Krizhna hard. She felt immense guilt and directly responsible for Reginald being born premature. She blames herself for being under a lot of stress, especially because of being homeless, and taking on a new job at 6 months pregnant to make ends meet. Krizhna believes that it was her fault for why Reginald was not carried to term. He was born at 31 weeks and 5 days, Krizhna beats herself up over the fact that she had 9 more weeks to go. She remembers her last month of being pregnant, she was working double shifts almost everyday and doing a lot of physical work like carrying 30-50 pound boxes.

Krizhna remembers one night where she was so upset. She didn’t know exactly why she was irritated and upset, but all she knew was she wanted Zarnee out. Not fully understanding her emotions, she got so frustrated and took her emotions out on her little family. She told Zarnee to take Reginald and leave, stating that she wanted nothing to do with them. Instead of arguing back and being upset, Zarnee held her and let her cry it out. He was still the guy to be there for her and listen after all these years.

“That moment was when I knew I started a family with the right man,” Krizhna said.

It was confusing for Krizhna because she knew she loved Reginald, but a huge part of her felt like she didn’t want to be a part of his life because she caused him so much physical pain by not carrying him to term. She remembers that first month of his life over and over again in her head – how much he suffered, how scared they were, how helpless he was. And she really believed she was the main source and the one to blame for it all. She used work as a coping mechanism because if she worked more, she wouldn’t have to focus on the fact that she wasn’t bonding with her son, she wouldn’t have to see him, she wouldn’t be reminded of the guilt she felt. So Zarnee cared for Reginald for the first 5 months while she worked.

For the first 5 months of Reginald’s life, Krizhna felt no bond with him. It was really hard because she was still living under her grandma’s roof and being surrounded with family. She felt as though she had to put on a front for her family’s sake because depression is not something that is normalized in her family and her culture as well. There would be times where she would be crying about something that upset her or show that she was upset and her family would brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Having people treat her postpartum depression like it didn’t exist or was something not to be upset about really bothered her. She knew her family was supportive of her, but she didn’t feel comfortable to open up about her inner turmoil. Krizhna knew they just wouldn’t get it.

There were many times where Krizhna really felt like seeking professional help for her postpartum depression. But she was terrified. Her worst fear was that they would end up taking Reginald away from them because they’d probably deem her “unfit” to care for a child, and then send her off to a mental hospital. She didn’t feel a connection with him and wanted nothing to do with him, but at the same time she knew that if they were to take him away, she would lose it. Looking back, Krizhna knows that her feelings were in conflict with one another. But she wasn’t going to take that chance of Reginald possibly being taken away.

It wasn’t until Reginald was 5 months old that Krizhna started to bond with him. She remembers the event that changed it all. Reginald was about 5 months old and was really sick. He had a high fever and a boil on his bottom. Zarnee and Krizhna had to take him to the emergency room where they cut his skin open to remove the abscesses from the boil. Reginald was crying like she had never seen him cry before. She could tell that he was in pain by how hysterically he was crying and clenching onto her and Zarnee. Seeing him like that made Krizhna’s heart break.

“Seeing him in that position made me realize how much I love him and how I would do anything to take away his pain,” Krizhna said remembering that emergency room visit. “Ever since that day, I grew closer to Reginald and started appreciating the fact that even though he was born early, he is alive and healthy.”

A little after Reginald’s first birthday, the couple had startling news. She was pregnant again. Krizhna was on the pill briefly, but stopped because she was getting bad side effects. She was not ready for another baby. She called her best friend, Karina, and told her about the news. She cried and vented out her frustrations and worries. After the call, she showed Zarnee the positive pregnancy test. He was so shocked that he didn’t know what to say. Krizhna explained to him that she was not ready to have a second child so soon, and she didn’t know if she wanted to keep it. Zarnee supported her in whatever decision she chose, but they both slept on it. The next morning, she still didn’t make a decision.

It actually took a couple of days of going back and forth on the idea of keeping the baby or not. A few days after finding out she was pregnant, they finally came to a conclusion. They were going to follow through with the second pregnancy. What made them sway in that favor? The two of them thought about their first born and how much he means to them. They couldn’t picture what life would be like without him and they loved him so much. Reginald was the best thing that has ever happened to them, so they knew that even though they weren’t ready, they’ll get through it as long as they have each other.

They were both hesitant to tell their families about the news. Not because they thought they wouldn’t be supportive, but because of how her first pregnancy went and how recent it was. When Krizhna finally told her family about the second pregnancy they didn’t react the same way as her first. Her intuition was right. Instead, they voiced how concerned and worried they were about how the pregnancy would go, given that Reginald was born premature. Little did they know that this time around, it would be worse.

Krizhna and Zarnee describe the following events that took place:

 “I had my first prenatal appointment on February 10, 2017 where we had an abdominal ultrasound and saw a healthy heartbeat. Zarnee and I were so happy and relieved. Our doctor told us that my due date was October 5, 2017 and I was even more happy because our baby’s birthday would be close to mine and Reginald’s birthday is close to Zarnee’s and so we felt like it was all meant to be. We started talking to our doctor about what I would do differently this time around to prevent another preterm delivery and we even started guessing what the gender of our baby may be. We were hoping for a girl.

After our ultrasound, we came to accept and embrace our pregnancy, we were filled with joy. I couldn’t wait for my bump to grow and take lots of pictures, have a baby shower – since we didn’t get the chance to have it when we were pregnant with Reginald, for Reginald to be a big brother, to give birth – I was ecstatic.

On February 22 or 23 I believe, I was working one of my double shifts and I had cramps that felt very familiar and I knew something was wrong but I disregarded the pain hoping that if doing so, it would go away? I don’t know, I really don’t know why I had that mentality. I remember it was so painful that I was in the middle of what I was doing and I had to hold my stomach in a fetal position. The pain lasted about 5 minutes. I had a follow up appointment on the 27th and yet had another abdominal and transvaginal ultrasound, but this ultrasound was different from the first one… we no longer saw the healthy heartbeat of our baby… Our doctor didn’t know what or how to say that the baby may not have been alive anymore so he gave us the option of going for a second opinion to see what is going on. I knew right then and there we had lost our baby but Zarnee had hopes so we went ahead and got another ultrasound on March 1 and received the same devastating news. I was numb when she told me that there was no more heartbeat. I felt like I lost a part of me that day.

We went back to our doctor in which he told us that we would need to do a procedure called Dilation & curettage (D&C) to remove whatever part of my baby is in me. He told me that the procedure would take no longer than 30-40 minutes including the rest time. Crazy how fast it is to remove something so precious from me like that. He also gave us the option of bleeding out until clots come out but it would have to come out within a week otherwise I’ll get an infection. He let us know to think over it and call the office back to let them know what our decision was. I didn’t think about it. I told him that I made up my mind and proceeded with the D&C. I didn’t want to bleed out by myself and go through more trauma than what I was already going through. I don’t think I could’ve handled that. He scheduled the appointment for March 3 and he prescribed me 2-3 medications in which I believe one of them was to soften the cervix to make it easier to vacuum whatever is left. I was numb, I was broken.

March 3rd we went in to do a D&C. I was drugged from whatever pill I took but I still felt what was going on and I still knew what was going on but I put up a front in front of Zarnee to distract him from what I was going through because I knew that it broke him seeing me like that. My doctor had come in and I remember seeing this vacuum like machine that he brought in and my stomach dropped. I knew it was time. I knew it was time for me to let go of something that has not been there for a while. I knew it was time. He asked me if I was ready and I said yes but deep inside I wasn’t. I wanted so bad for a miracle to happen but I knew that I was hoping for something that is not going to happen. He did his thing with the vacuum and I remember holding onto Zarnee’s hand so tight because it was painful. I felt the suction of the vacuum and I don’t think the physical pain I felt compared to the emotional trauma I suffered.

Right after the procedure, my doctor said that I was no longer pregnant and everything was out. I died inside hearing that. I did not know what heartbreak felt like until I heard that I was no longer pregnant. I laid in the patient bed for 5 minutes and left. I cried hysterically in the car and we went home and I cried some more. I think I cried for about a week straight. Something in me that day died along with my baby.”

“After hearing our doctor say that there wasn’t a heartbeat anymore, I was very hopeful that there would still be one and that he was wrong. I kept telling myself and Krizhna that there was (a heartbeat). I tried to assure her and myself that from the time we left to the next appointment.

When we got the second opinion, my heart dropped. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. I felt like I got played. I felt crushed. It’s like, there was just a heartbeat and now you’re telling me there isn’t a heartbeat anymore? How could that be? I don’t understand. I didn’t want to understand. When Krizhna got the D&C, it made it so much more surreal that our baby is gone. Dead.

Seeing the doctor use the vacuum to suck out whatever was left of our baby was heartbreaking but what was even more heartbreaking was seeing Krizhna laying down there, sad because there was nothing she could do. Her body is practically being invaded by this tool and I was scared of what could happen to her. When the procedure was done, I didn’t want to leave her side or get her out of my sight because I felt that the least I could do was be there for her after what she had just gone through. That was probably one of the worst days I’ve ever had to this day.”

Krizhna was 4 weeks along when her pregnancy test read positive. When she miscarried, she was about 6-8 weeks pregnant. When Krizhna and Zarnee got out of the procedure, the first person she called was her mom. She cried hysterically on the phone saying, “I lost my baby, I lost my baby.” Her mom advised her to come home. Zarnee also called his parents in the car and when his parents answered, Zarnee lost it. He broke down crying, and they comforted their son saying that everything will be okay.

Krizhna knew that her mom didn’t know what to say or how to comfort her. It was the same with Zarnee’s parents. Nobody knew what to say to make them feel better, and honestly, nothing they could say would make them feel better anyways. By the time they came home, the household was aware of what just happened and they were welcomed with homemade soup from her grandma. Her mom and grandma cared for Reginald all day while she locked herself in her room. She knew that taking care of Reginald while she detached from the world in her room was her family’s way of comforting her. She couldn’t talk about her postpartum depression, and now she found herself in a position where she couldn’t talk about her miscarriage either.

After the miscarriage, Zarnee and Krizhna’s relationship was on the rocks. They were both hurting, but didn’t know how to communicate it or comfort one another. She felt like Zarnee wasn’t hurting from the loss of their child because he wasn’t reacting the same way as her. She acknowledges that Zarnee was trying so hard to understand what she was feeling, but she kept pushing him away. Every conversation seemed to have the same outcome. Whenever they talked, it would turn into an argument, and all of a sudden the miscarriage would be brought up, it would always be followed by silence and tears.

“I don’t know how we got through it,” Krizhna said. “I think it took us a while to be a team again.”

Zarnee handled the miscarriage by going back to work and taking care of Reginald. Having a 1 year old kept him busy, and it also kept him sane. Krizhna recalls only seeing Zarnee cry about the miscarriage once, and that was after the procedure. To her, it seemed like Zarnee didn’t care because he would only talk about it when she would breakdown. She sees now that maybe it was for the best that he reacted that way, because if they were both a “mess,” they couldn’t care for Reginald. Zarnee saw Reginald as his strength during this difficult time.

“Having him kept me sane,” Zarnee admitted. “He made me want to fight and get through it… Even though he doesn’t know it, he really saved me when I was going through it.”

After their miscarriage in 2017, Zarnee and Krizhna started trying again in 2018. And to their surprise, they were pregnant again in April. However, in a span of 3 days, they found out that she was pregnant and then she wasn’t. She knew she was pregnant so she went to the doctor. They did a blood test on her twice to confirm she was pregnant. Her HCG levels were dropping, which meant she was miscarrying. She was exhausted. However, the 2nd miscarriage didn’t effect her as bad because she didn’t get to hear the heart beat, and she wasn’t as far along. But, it did still hurt them. They were discouraged and didn’t want to even talk about trying again.

But a year later in June 2019, she found out she was pregnant again for the 4th time. When she found out she was pregnant, she took a pregnancy test everyday until her 8 week appointment. That was her way to make sure she was still pregnant, and it brought her and Zarnee peace of mind. They were so excited to be pregnant again, but didn’t want to show it. They were very hesitant with being excited, in fear that they would miscarry again. They just didn’t want to have false hope after everything they’ve been through.

Because of their past experiences with miscarrying, they only told a handful of people they were expecting the first 3 months of being pregnant. Krizhna’s mindset was : if I miscarry again atleast I only have to explain it to only a couple of people. But when she reached 16 weeks, she knew she was in the clear to let the secret out of the bag! Now they were beginning to get excited again after 2 years of back to back heart break.

This pregnancy was so different than when she was pregnant with Reginald. Krizhna was nauseous all day everyday, hated the smell of fried food, and was exhausted all the time. She had to take progesterone, a pill that makes sure the baby attaches, and take it vaginally. They would go to bi-weekly appointments to make sure that the baby was okay, given her history of pregnancy. This time around, every little pain she had, she would go to the ER. She was taking no chances. Zarnee was very over protective and made sure that Krizhna was taking it easy and eating all the right foods.

On January 10, 2020, Krizhna was at work when she started to have really bad contractions. She managed to finish her shift and went home. That night, her contractions were so bad that Zarnee took her to the hospital. They informed her that she was only 1 cm dialted, and sent her back home to rest. The next day, her contractions intensified. She really couldn’t take it anymore and her parents couldn’t stand to see her in pain. By 8 PM she was at the hospital and Zarnee met her there coming from work. She was 6 cm dialted, and they informed her that she would be giving birth in the next 24 hours. She was only 34 weeks pregnant and had another month to go.

On January 12, 2020, Mia Alea-Luna was born. This time around she got to hold Mia before they put her in the isolette and to the NICU. Krizhna remembers how much more smaller Mia was compared to Reginald, and this made them worry. Having their 2nd born in the NICU made them nervous. And this time, they didn’t have the housing that came with Reginald’s NICU stay. It was harder because once she was discharged, she would have to pick up Zarnee from work at night and they would visit Mia. Reginald wasn’t allowed in the NICU, so they had to wait until he was asleep to visit as well. Fortunately, Mia only stayed in the NICU for 2 weeks.

Krizhna still experienced postpartum depression after her 2nd child was born. But this time was different. With Reginald, she didn’t want to be around him or connect with him. But with Mia, she was very overprotective. She believes this shift happened because she felt so guilty about how she felt after Reginald was born, that she didn’t want to act like that towards Mia. And it wasn’t because she loved Mia more, but because she knew that Reginald was old enough to witness everything. She didn’t want him to see a disconnect between her and his new sister, in fear that it would traumatize him. And most importantly, she sought help. She sees her therapist once a month and is taking medication for her depression and anxiety.

Their parenthood journey has not been easy. They have faced a lot of heartbreak together. Krizhna and Zarnee try to celebrate the first miscarriage by just being together as a family for what would’ve been the baby’s due date. They don’t celebrate the 2nd miscarriage because they never knew what the due date was since she miscarried very early on. 2 years after her 1st miscarriage, Reginald would always tell Krizhna that he would see his brother. There would be times that he would be alone in the room saying “I’m playing with my brother,” and instead of being scared, it comforts Krizhna, knowing that their baby is still around them. They never got to find out what the gender was either.

“Take all the time you need to mourn your loss,” Krizhna advises other parents who have miscarried. “It is more common than you think it is. You are not alone.. even though it feels like it right now you’re not alone. The loss of a child you never got to meet and hold is something you’ll carry with you for a very long time and  although it’ll hurt being reminded of what happened, you are resilient. You will get back up again. As each day passes it’ll hurt less than the day before but the sadness when you’re reminded of it is going to be there so do whatever you need to do to heal – whether it be celebrating the anniversary of the miscarriage or the due date or talking to someone who shares the same experience. There’s always a rainbow at the end of the storm.”

And Zarnee and Krizhna definitely got their rainbow at the end of their storm. They are now raising their beautiful children together in Zarnee’s childhood home. Once Mia was born, they desperately looked for houses that they could call home. There just wasn’t enough room in Krizhna’s grandma’s 1.5 bedroom inlaw. Zarnee knew how important it was for Krizhna to have her family with her, so they searched for houses that fit everyone’s needs. They toured about 10 houses in a span of 1 month, but nothing felt like “the one.”

One day, after touring yet another home, Zarnee went to his parents’ house to pick something up. He updated them that they still didn’t find a house. It was then that his parents asked if they wanted to live in the old family house, and even extended the offer to Krizhna and her family to come along. Zarnee couldn’t believe what his parents were telling him. He gladly accepted the offer, and went home to tell Krizhna and her whole family. He was so happy that his kids would have enough room to run around and for each member of the family to have a room and bed to sleep on, rather than the floor. Zarnee loves the fact that his kids get to grow up in the same house he grew up in.

“To this day, I thank my parents every time I leave their house of the blessing they gave us,” Zarnee explained.

Zarnee and Krizhna have been through hell and back with each other. They never expected that their journey to parenthood would have so many twists and turns. They mended family relationship, they went through heartbreak, they witnessed their children in the NICU, they went from homeless to home owners, and never gave up on each other even in their darkest times. Their main focus now is to raise their children together and be there for them. They embrace every part of their journey to parenthood because it gave them their most precious gifts – Reginald and Mia.

What Will Make My 2020 Meaningful

“What do you need to do by the end of the year to make this year meaningful?” -Wordsmith Deck

When 2019 was ending, my goal for 2020 was to get a job in the writing/ journalism industry. I wanted to finally put my degree to use. That was one of my biggest fears – graduating and not using my degree. I know that’s not uncommon, a lot of people graduate with a certain degree and end up in completely different fields. And that is completely fine. But for me, I wanted to make sure that I gave it my all in the industry, and I know that meant starting from the bottom.

The running joke of journalists is that the money just ain’t there, even though the field takes a lot of dedication and passion. When I was still in school, it seemed like a lot of the professors and professionals that came in to talk about their experience as journalists had to put work above personal life to be successful. This was always something that worried me because I always knew I wanted a family, but I also wanted to be successful in writing. It seemed ironic that the girl who is so set on staying in the Bay Area got into a field that literally calls for travel and possibly living in different places in the world to be successful.

When 2020 started, I was motivated. I started getting my resume together and applying to journalism jobs. When COVID-19 hit, I used that time to apply to many entry level positions. I was applying and applying, but getting nothing but rejection email after rejection email. It was disheartening. It sucked because the positions I was applying for weren’t even what I was passionate about. It seemed like starting from the bottom to get experience just meant being a corporate sellout for a while until I have some experience under my belt. Not only was I getting rejected, but I was getting rejected from jobs I wasn’t even excited about. Finally, during the shutdown, I got my first follow up email that wasn’t denying me. In fact, they wanted to move forward with me and sent me some more information to reply back to where they would see if I was a fit.

It felt so good. My first non-reject email. May I remind you, I didn’t even get the job. But not getting denied after what seemed like 50 rejection emails was a fresh of breath air. This job could be a 1 hr drive with traffic from where I lived. But with public transportation, it was almost 1.5 hrs one way. It wasn’t even worth it. And it wasn’t even something that I was passionate about. I want to write with purpose and tell stories, but this job would’ve had me writing replies to people on social media under the company’s handles. There was nothing wrong with the job, but I felt like my passion was on the line for the price of getting my foot in the journalism door. And that wasn’t worth it to me. But, it still felt good to know that atleast a company was interested in me. Before this point, I was feeling super incompetent and pathetic. I had the degree, some experience, but nobody wanted me.

I felt a lot better knowing that I could’ve had a “journalism” entry level job if I wanted to. That email gave me hope and encouraged me to keep trying. By this time, COVID was all over the news. We’ve been shutdown for a couple of weeks. 2020 was not looking like how I planned it would be. If I thought it was hard to find a journalism job before COVID, how much more with everything shutdown? People were losing their jobs, businesses were closing down, unemployment was at an all time high – this didn’t seem like the right time to get a new job. The shutdown time kept getting extended. By this time, more than a quarter of the year had passed. My goal was for me to get a journalism writing job in 2020. I felt like my time was running out.

Then, my current job proposed an opportunity that I just couldn’t pass up. The new living situation would be at least a 2 year commitment to my current job. I felt like if I took the offer, I’d be taking the “easy way” out, and I’d be prolonging my writing career. I didn’t want to put my dreams on hold. But like I said in my previous post, I decided to pivot. Applying to all those entry level journalism jobs discouraged me because it seemed like they had nothing to do with what I wanted to do with my writing. I know everyone starts from the bottom and has to work their way up, but at the rate I was going, I felt like the journey was going to take a long time, and the experience I would be getting didn’t even seem relevant to my end goal.

I took the offer and decided to commit to atleast 2 more years at my current job. But in doing so, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let writing fall through the cracks. Since I graduated at the end of 2018, I used 2019 to just take a breather. I also felt like I was stalling, because I feared rejection and also didn’t know what steps to take to get to where I wanted to be. I didn’t see it at the time, but all those entry level irrelevant jobs made me realize that maybe the traditional path isn’t my path. And maybe it was supposed to be this way… Or shit, maybe I’m just telling myself all this to make me feel better. But all I know is, with how America is handling COVID-19, with no luck in landing an entry level position, feeling some type of way about how I’d feel unfulfilled at most of these entry level jobs even if I did get it, and then having the once in a lifetime opportunity living situation on the table, I knew it was all thrown at me for a reason.

I decided to pivot. I changed my whole plan when I took that offer. But I feel like it was a better plan than my original. I came up with a solution where I can still be the manager at the preschool 8-5 and feel fulfilled as a writer. Like I said, this situation opened my eyes and made me think – Maybe the traditional route isn’t for me. I decided that I’m going to use these next 2 years (or more) to spit out all the passion projects I haven’t pursued yet. If not now, then when? That’s the phrase that kept popping up in my head. It’s the same feeling I felt when I decided to post on this blog consistently over a year ago.

If I do all the passion projects that I have up my sleeve and they’re unsuccessful – 1. Atleast I know I did them and tried. 2. I did it all the while being a responsible adult and working a whole ass full-time job. 3. At least I’ll never have that “what if” in my head. 4. I’ll be proud of myself regardless if they’re successful or not because I know I did it for me as a personal goal and 5. I’m content with the fact that I followed my heart and took the unfamiliar path. And if I try all these things that I’m passionate about and nothing comes out of it, that’s okay too. Then I’ll just pivot again and consider the traditional route. But until then, my passion projects are my goal – and honestly, they always have been.

Just starting those passion projects will make my 2020 more meaningful. It sounds like a small step, but starting is always the hardest part. There is so much more I want to do in writing, this blog is just 1 passion project out of many. I really thought my 2020 was going to be a flop year. But it has really proven to be a year that has challenged me and forced me to grow. Because of the events that transpired this year, I had to re-evaluate a lot of my plans. And now I’m excited to follow through with those plans and finally get started on all the ideas I’ve had since college.

It’s one of those things where you have every detail thought out in your head, and the only thing you have to do is start. You already have the idea, how you’re going to execute it, you did your research, and now it’s just on you to get the ball rolling. I sat on the idea of me posting consistently on this blog for years before I actually went through with it. And now, here I am over a year later, and I don’t remember what it’s like to not post every Monday. I know I am capable, and I know the time to make moves is now.

Getting started by the end of the year on my other passion projects will set the tone for the next 2+ years. After such a rocky and stressful 2020, I’m happy I’m finally settling down and starting to make moves in the right direction again. I was so confused and stressed about what path I would take for almost half of the year. I’m excited to take those baby steps to start. And hopefully, I can stop and smell the roses with this journey because I feel like I always forget to do that. I’m always overthinking, stressed, or worrying about something. It’s nice to finally be in a spot in life where I can take a step back and realize life is pretty great right now.

At the start of 2020, I had completely different goals. Now, towards the end of 2020 (holy shit, I can’t believ it’s almost the end of 2020) I have a completely different vision of what I want to do. I feel so much more content with my decisions, when not too long ago I would’ve reacted the exact opposite and stress. I’ve said time and time again that I believe what’s meant for me will happen in due time. For once, I’m excited to start my passion projects, not scared. I’ve been talking about them for so long, it’s time I stop talking and start doing. I will really look back and see 2020 as the year I got the ball rolling. I’m content in knowing I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be right now.

In 2 Weeks’ Time

One thing we can all agree on: 2020 is a year we will all remember. This year has brought so much chaos, pain, confusion, and a lot of change. From the COVID-19 pandemic, to Sheltering in Place, to police brutality, to protests, to wearing masks on a daily, to shutting down (again), to California fires, to COVID-19’s 2nd wave, to highly favored celebrities passing away, and all the above. Whatever plans we had for 2020 clearly changed when all this went down. I had to learn to be adaptable, to pivot, to not cling to any specific plan because I knew with the pandemic’s end nowhere in sight, everything is unpredictable. Sheltering in place from mid-March until the end of May really had me living day by day, having no idea what would happen in the next month, or even the next day.

Sheltering in place and 2020 in general has also brought a lot of change for my best friend group and I. I feel like in one way or another, everyone is walking out of 2020 a completely different person. There is so much change that has happened / will happen in the next couple of months. But let me rewind it back, before decisions were made and tears were shed. In blog post #32: “Time,” I ended the post by saying I could feel change coming soon. That was towards the end of February. I felt change coming just over the horizon. Something in my gut was telling me things were about to shift, and I couldn’t have been more right.

Sheltering in Place was something so new to all of us. Do we have enough food? How long are we supposed to do this for? What’s the plan after? Should we stock up on everything? Is everything shutting down? So we can’t hangout with other people? When can I leave the house? Here we are about 6 months later, and the policies and regulations are not going anywhere. Nobody thought it would last this long. The first 3 weeks of official shutdown was the hardest for me. It’s like I was relieved I got to chill and relax, but I was concerned about the state of the world. I had no idea how long this would last or when the next time I could see my friends. After all, what’s 3 weeks off when you can’t go anywhere or see / hangout with people you want to? It’s one thing to be a homebody and be antisocial from time to time, maybe even all the time, but it’s another thing when you are being told you can’t leave.

My friends and I tried to cope by downloading apps like Houseparty and Zoom. We really tried our best to set up meetings so we could catch up and check up on each other. We wanted to make sure that we were all there for each other – whether that be to talk about personal issues, anxieties, or just to keep each other company during these confusing and lonely times. At first, it was all about Houseparty and playing games. It gave us something to do and something to look forward to. Especially since with time, sheltering in place made every day look exactly the same. We would set up little game nights or Zoom calls.

In the beginning, it was literally all fun and games. Until, Cam and I had suddenly had decisions to make. And when I mean “suddenly” I mean for real suddenly, all this shit came out of nowhere. For me, an opportunity came up where I could move out of my family home without worrying about any added responsibilities but still gaining some independence. It would also be an opportunity for me and Christian to take the next step in our relationship. For Cam, she had just taken a pregnancy test, and it was positive. We have joked for years that Cam would be the first in the group to have a baby, and finally, our predictions were true. Cam and I were both at a crossroad.

For most people, my predicament wouldn’t even be a tough decision. But for me, I was scared. For one, in the Filipino culture, it is frowned upon to live with your significant other before marriage. But I have always told myself I would never marry someone without living with them first. This decision really brought to my attention how scared I am of change and how I fear commitment. Which is ironic, because I have always been very traditional, in the sense that I wanted to graduate college, get a job in my field, get married, and have a family. But here I was, in the middle of a pandemic, not where I want to be in my writing career, not even knowing when I would have the opportunity to even get a job in the journalism field.

On top of that, I had a time limit to make up my mind whether I would take the once in a lifetime housing opportunity or not. The feelings of being overwhelmed took over me. This would be a great little baby step in figuring out if marriage was in our cards, especially since we have been together for over 5 years. Not to mention a great opportunity for our future together. But I was scared. I would be the first in my family to move out and change the status quo. I wasn’t feeling confident in my choices – if I said no, I’d regret it for the rest of my life, but if I said yes, what if it doesn’t work out the way I planned? I was also scared shitless to bring it up to my parents. How would they react? I desperately wanted their support, but couldn’t get the right words out of my mouth to sell it to them.

Meanwhile, Cam and Mark were having similar issues. Were they ready for this responsibility? Cam had just graduated from SFSU, earning her degree, so technically she was at an okay stage in her life. But was she ready for this? Mark is in the thick of starting his business and working on getting known and having connections. Would a baby put those dreams on hold? Everything was up in the air. And Cam and Mark really had to weigh out their pros and cons, for this was a big decision – bringing another life into the world. Having a baby meant that their days of focusing on just themselves and their relationship would be a thing of the past. Were they ready to take the next step in their relationship?

The girls and I had our Zoom call. Up until this point, conversations about both of these topics were either through group chat or on the phone. It felt good to see each others’ faces and hear advice and feedback. On my end, there was a lot of venting, going back and forth on why I was conflicted on making a decision. I did a lot of ugly crying, snot dripping, and heart pouring that night. By the end of my rant, I was leaning towards no. I wasn’t ready to leave my family home, this isn’t how I pictured moving out to be. I felt under pressure. This time frame wasn’t enough time to decide a life changing event. So, my answer would be no. And whatever happens from my decision being no is just how it was meant to be. I was exhausted. My friends supported whatever decision I chose, but they did give their 2 cents on why it’s a great opportunity. I heard what they had to say, but dismissed it. I was too scared. I’d never grow the courage in time to do it and follow through. I knew it would put a huge strain on my relationship, but at this point, I didn’t care and if things were to fall apart, “it just wasn’t meant to be.”

I calmed down, wiped those tears away, and after about 45 minutes of my friends just watching and hearing me cry and vent, we moved on to Cam’s situation. Cam was the opposite of me. She was level-headed, calm, and didn’t seem too conflicted. Which was so surprising to me, because my situation was nothing compared to hers. She caught us up on her and Mark’s train of thought. They weren’t ready. They still wanted to do things like travel, get the business on its feet, get a better job in her field, etc. Now would not be the best time to have a baby. Cam said they were leaning towards no. There was a silence in the chat. We supported our best friend in whatever she wanted to choose. It’s her body and her life. But I will say it was so obvious that all of us hoped she would keep the baby. We would always talk about how we wish someone in our group would have a baby so we all can spoil it. We were happy and shocked when she told us her test was positive.

We hoped she would keep it, but we knew that we wouldn’t be living the reality of caring for a child. It would be her reality. It would be Mark’s reality. Only they knew if they were ready or not. And we fully supported our friends in whatever decision they chose. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it looked like she made up her mind. She explained that she planned to make an appointment to terminate the pregnancy. We gave our words of support. It just wasn’t in the cards for them right now. The “MotherFlickers” would have to wait a little while longer for a baby to enter into our friend group.

After a couple of hours on Zoom, we finally called it a night and hung up. Damn. Here I was, feeling like my world has been turned upside down not knowing how it could effect my relationship and my family relationship. I was stressed out. I would wake up everyday, and it would be the first thing I think about. It was all too much. I didn’t want to overthink anymore. But I had to make a decision. This wasn’t in my plan. My plan for 2020 was to find a journalism job, and now, with the pandemic and this new offer on the table, I didn’t know what my plan was anymore. It also made me reflect on why I was so afraid.

I was scared to fail. I was scared of wasting time. I was scared of what extended family would say. I was scared to make a move. And by being so scared, I was making no moves. And that probably is what scared me the most. I desperately tried to cling onto how things have been. But nothing lasts forever. I had planned to maybe move out at 26 and get a place with Christian. But this offer that was right infront of me was once in a lifetime, and put us both in a position where we could save up for our future, live in the most expensive city in the country and still be a 20 minute drive from my family, and not to mention test out the waters in our relationship. What was I waiting for?

I began to realize my fear of commitment. The girl who has talked about marriage since forever, now found herself scared to even take the first step. It’s one thing to talk about the future when you know it’s a few years away. But it’s another thing when you realize, holy shit, the time is now. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to do. Moving in meant that people would expect us to get married ASAP. Was I ready for that? I had to talk myself out of that mindset. I had to remind myself that I was 25, the time is now. Living together will reveal if marriage is the next move. But I’ll never know until I try. I was also worried because if I took the offer, I would be commiting to atleast 2 years in the living situation. What would that mean for journalism? Does that mean that I put my writing dreams on hold for another 2 years? No. It means I should pivote. And I thought up a whole other plan that I can stick to while working as a teacher, but still feel fulfilled as a writer.

If you’re wondering how conflicted and stressed I was, please refer back to Blog Post #41 : “I Saw The Sign.” I wrote that blog post while I was in the thick of my confusion. Knowing the back story now, I’m sure that post will make a lot more sense to my readers. But suddenly, I felt my perspective changing. Who cares if it’s not exactly what I planned? This living situation is even better than my original plan to move out by 26 and get an apartment. I had to force myself to come to terms with the fact that not everything is going to be how I exactly envisioned it. It’s okay to change the plan. It’s okay to switch up the status quo. It’s okay to take a risk. It’s okay if there is no sign, because not everything will.

Meanwhile, Cam called the hospital line to schedule her “appointment.” She talked with an advice nurse who was being very supportive. The nurse asked some questions about if this was a decision Cam was making for herself. She was right about to finalize making the appointment and getting the date and time, but then… she hung up. Suddenly she had a change of heart, and she didn’t want to make any sudden decisions without thoroughly thinking it through.

Was she ready to be a mother and take on that responsibility? On the Zoom call, she told us that her decision was 60 / 40, in favor of terminating the pregnancy. But then she thought of what were the real reasons why she didn’t believe she was ready. She weighed out her pros and cons. Cam knew she was in a position where she could care for a child. She just graduated, she had a stable job, she knew her family is the type to be supportive. But she didn’t know if her and Mark were ready to be parents. Sometimes you don’t know you’re ready until you put yourself in that position.

We scheduled another Zoom meeting – two weeks after our last one. Everyone entered the room and we greeted each other. I broke the news to my girls that I have decided to accept the housing offer. They were shocked but supportive. I honestly shocked myself, because I didn’t think I had the guts to make a decision like that. My friends told me how excited they were for me, but they could see it in my face that I was still a little iffy about my decision. They reassured me that they would always be there, and if things don’t turn out the way I had hoped, it’s okay and it’s just something I had to experience so I wouldn’t regret not taking the offer. I knew they were right. They started to get excited about my place being the new hangout spot, and it made me excited as well. This was going to be a new chapter in my life.

Then it went quiet. “What about you, Cam? How are you?” Suddenly it got serious. Since our last Zoom call, we knew that Cam was scheduling an appointment to terminate the pregnancy. We didn’t know if she had already went through or if it was scheduled. She was very adamant in the last call that it was something she knew she had to do. We asked and tried not to sound sad. Then she broke the news to us.

“So…… we actually decided that we’re going to keep it.”

Everyone’s jaws hit the floor. Everyone covered their mouths in pure shock. Silence. We internalized what was just said, and the silence turned to screaming. NO. WAY. We couldn’t believe it. We all screamed and rejoiced, we were so excited that we were going to have a little one in our group!!!! This was the best news. Of course we would’ve supported our girl either way, but especially the last 2 years, Justine and I in particular, have been itching for one of the MotherFlickers to have a baby that we can spoil. The cover photo is a screenshot I took of our reaction to Cam’s news.

It’s crazy to me that in just 2 weeks’ time, Cam and I made such life changing decisions. It’s even crazier because we had originally said we weren’t going to go through with it at all. And in just 2 weeks, we decided to do something completely different. We were both scared, unsure, and doubting ourselves. We were scared of change and the unknown. But sometimes you don’t know if you’re “ready” for that change, until you actually put yourself in that situation.

2020 brought a lot of change. And things are going to continue to change a lot in our friend group in the next couple of months. I’m so happy that I have the support of my girls to vent to, to share my worries to, to go through life with. The day we have all been talking about is finally upon us. For years we have talked about how we’re going to start adulting and before we know it, we’re gonna have whole ass families and completely different lives. That time is now. And I’m so incredibly excited and giddy for what’s to come. I feel like we all evolved, and broke out of our shells. Change makes you mad uncomfortable, but that’s how you know it’s time. When you realize you’re scared to take the chance, but at the same time you’re also scared to stay in the same position, that’s how you’ll know.

The girl that has feared and avoided change for so long has finally embraced it. And by January 2021, she will have a Godson to share new memories with. In 2 weeks’ time, Cam and I shifted the direction of our lives. And I can’t wait for what life has in store for me and my girls.

Tui and La

Tui and La, your moon and ocean, have always circled each other in an eternal dance. They balance each other. Push and Pull. Life and Death. Good and Evil. Yin and Yang.” -Koh, The Face Stealer

Avatar the Last Airbender is hands down my favorite cartoon of all time. The first episode aired when I was in the 4th grade, and the show concluded when I was in 8th grade. I religiously watched the new episodes when they first aired, and watched reruns during the off seasons. It is such a good storyline, and anyone that knows me knows that I’m a die hard Avatar fan. In school when we had Book Fairs, I bought anything and everything Avatar. And even as an adult, I still try to watch the whole series from beginning to end every other year. I’m not exaggerating when I say that growing up watching this show made me a better person and helped shape me into the person I am today.

I bet some of y’all who aren’t Avatar the Last Airbender enthusiasts are probably thinking, Calm down, bitch. It ain’t that serious. Let me explain. The fact that this is such an inspirational and well written show is one thing, but also taking into consideration that it aired and came out when I was at an age and time in my life where I was the most impressionable is another thing. When you mesh those two aspects together, you get a die hard fan. I was always a Nickelodeon kid growing up, so this show appealed to me already. But by episode #3, “The Southern Air Temple”, when Aang found Monk Gyatso’s skeleton surrounded by skeletons of Fire Nation soldiers, I was completely sold that this show was gonna be the shit. I could tell this wouldn’t be a regular kid’s cartoon.

Talking about the 4 elements – water, earth, fire, air – has always been something I was interested in. It gives me horoscope vibes, which is something I’m a fan of as well. It has a very spiritual aspect to it, and I loved how they represented each nation by showing their strengths and weaknesses. Knowing each nation’s history and backstory made the show that more interesting. It gave the storyline a sense of “We is greater than I,” when you learned how each nation was responding to the war. Especially a war that has been going on for a century at that.

The Water Tribe’s people are strong-willed. Even though the Southern Water Tribe was small, they still played their part in helping end the war by gathering all men that were of age, leaving Sokka to be the “man” of the tribe. In the show, they explain why the Southern Water Tribe is so scarce. After the air nomads were wiped out, all water benders from the Southern Water Tribe were imprisoned, leaving the village small and benderless. Then a couple decades later after rebuilding, all the men of the tribe headed off to battle. This left the Southern Water Tribe very vulnerable – leaving behind the women, elderly, and children. That is why family and loyalty are very important to Sokka and Katara.

The Northern Water Tribe was grand, stuck to it’s old traditions, and was way more developed than the Southern Tribe. The Northern Water Tribe is gorgeous. Their city is basically a winter wonderland. As beautiful as it is, the Northern Water Tribe values their traditions and elders. Katara, a forward thinker and the only water bender from the Southern Tribe, found it impossible to conform to the Northern Tribe’s ways of living. She was unaware that being female meant that she could not learn how to bend for self defense. Her only option was to become a healer like the other girls / women in the Northern Water Tribe. Because of Katara, the Northern Tribe started to loosen its grip on their old ways. In the show, they described the Northern Water Tribe as a nation that has kind of “minded their business” and stayed out of the war for as long as possible, and only entered it because they housed the Avatar while he mastered water bending.

The Earth Kingdom of Ba Sing Se wants to be the Northern Water Tribe so bad. In the way that the Northern Water Tribe was not included in the war / was unproblematic in a sense. But, Ba Sing Se is anything but that. The people and refugees that enter Ba Sing Se are expected to forget the life outside of the walls. Within those walls, the war does not exist. It is not spoken of. It is prohibited. This great Earth Kingdom is just a facade. Inside those walls, you see systematic oppression at its finest. Though Ba Sing Se is corrupt, those that come from Earth territories are tough as nails. Just like earth, they are rugged, strong, and grounded. Each member of Team Avatar represents their nation so well. And Toph does not disappoint. She is a hard worker, has a tough exterior, and blunt.

In season 1 episode 16, “The Deserter,” the great firebending master, Jeong Jeong, thinks of his bending as a curse. This is a different viewpoint we get from someone in the Fire Nation. Before this, every firebender we were introduced to has been proud and cocky. Jeong Jeong states that fire only brings destruction. And we as viewers are meant to feel negative feelings towards the Fire Nation. But as the series goes on, we begin to see that fire is like a “little heartbeat”, and only in the wrong hands is when people should fear it. In the 3rd season we get a glimpse into the Fire Nation world. Even members of Team Avatar have their reservations about entering the Fire Nation and how they view its people. By the 3rd season, we are introduced to a few characters from the Fire Nation. Some are very die hard Ozai supporters, but a lot of them are regular people.

And that’s something that Aang really struggled with when he was deciding Ozai’s fate. His Air nomad beliefs were telling him that even though Ozai is a horrible person, at the end of the day he is still a human being. I admire Aang’s way of thinking, and I think if I were to choose to be from any nation, I believe the Air nomads would fit me best. They are detached, free spirits, that value life. The monks really seemed to preach about forgiveness and being content and happy with yourself.

I really like the spiritual aspect of Avatar. The concept of “past lives,” has always intrigued me. I feel like I strive to be spiritual and wise, and just the thought of having someone guide you from your own shared past is pretty cool. It’s interesting to see how each Avatar handled their role in their lifetime. From Avatar Kyoshi, to Avatar Roku, to Aang – completely different personalities, but have the same duty and shared past. I loved when Aang would take trips to the Spirit World, because he always discovered some new piece of information, or got visions of the future. I really feel like there are people from the other side that are trying to guide us, whether that be loved ones that passed away, or our own past lives.

A reoccurring theme in Avatar the Last Airbender is struggle. Every character in the show has battled their own demons, outside forces, problems that weren’t even inherently theirs to begin with, etc. And that’s what made this show so real. Seeing every character’s struggle to be a better them. From characters feeling incompetent, hopeless, fearful, proud, shameful, disgraced, to hopeful, content, proud, and accomplished.

Redemption is another theme we see in the show. I joke all the time that I strive to be as wise and level headed as Iroh, but I’m still at my Prince Zuko phase of life – where I’m just trying to find my own way and make my own path. Oh, and also being a grumpy asshole at times. Being the Firelord’s son has always had Zuko conflicted. We see that at a young age, Zuko has always been the empathetic and more compassionate in comparison to his psychopath little sister, Azula. Zuko has always struggled with what’s right and what’s wrong. But he has always had Iroh to guide him and be the positive “father figure” rolemodel in his life.

Talks about true evil versus good and war also seemed way too real. There’s a lot of similarities in Avatar the Last Airbender and even The Legend of Korra that I can see translated in modern day American history. It’s pretty creepy. I feel like I can write so many different pieces about Avatar, so this post will just graze the surface of why I love it so much. And now that it’s on Netflix, I feel like so many people have rewatched it and fell inlove with the series all over again.

This show has meant so much to me since I was in 4th grade. And since forever I always wanted to get Tui and La tattooed. I debated on getting Tui and La, the 2 dragons, the lotus game chip, the 4 elements, even the big glowly black and purple cosmic Aang that carried actual Aang into the Avatar state. At one point, I thought about it so hard that I didn’t even want the tattoo anymore because I exhausted myself searching hashtags of other people’s tattoos. But finally, I said “fuck it,” and for my 25th birthday I decided that this indecisive girl was going to commit to something for life!

Tui and La, the moon and ocean spirits, gave up their immortal lives to live amongst the humans in the physical world. They took on the appearance of koi fish. It is when Aang is meditating and focusing on these koi fish that he enters the Spirit World. Commander Zhao’s plans to capture and kill the Moon spirit puts enemies and friends on the same team. Here is when we see that Iroh has no problem choosing between good and bad even though he is Fire Nation. Iroh speaks about balance, and how everyone, not just the Fire Nation, needs the moon. Without it, the whole world would fall out of balance, and it would cause havoc on the world.

The “eternal dance” that entranced Aang, as he slowly saw the two fish turn into yin and yang, stuck with me. That season finale was so powerful to 4th grade me, and watching the series to this day still gives me chills. For my 25th birthday, I decided to gift myself Tui and La for life! Hoping that it reminds me everyday that life is a balance. Also for my 25th birthday, 1 of my best friends made me an Avatar Aang amigurumi! I’ve been suggesting to her for a long time to try to make an Aang one, and she surprised me with it, and it’s even better than I imagined.

For those that know me, it’s not even a surprise that my first tattoo ever had to be dedicated to Avatar the Last Airbender. ☯️

Money In Your Palm Don’t Make You Real

“Money doesn’t buy you happiness,” is a phrase we are all familiar with. That’s a saying that has been engraved in my mind since I was a little kid. And I’m sure you’ve heard that saying since you were a lil ol’ lad as well. This saying was much simpler when I was younger, and ironically, the older I get, the meaning behind this saying starts to get blurred. In my opinion, I feel like it takes a lifetime to understand, practice, and actually believe this quote.

Growing up, we are taught that money doesn’t buy happiness. But as we get older, that phrase quickly turns into, “_______ doesn’t pay the bills!” At a young age we are taught to follow our heart and dreams. We are taught to stay true to ourselves and at the end of the day true happiness is all that matters. Then out of nowhere, it’s as if our main focus has to be money, money, money. Why and when does the conversation switch?

Somewhere down the road, we realize that talent alone won’t help you make a living. You have to be smart about what moves you make, and what route you decide to take with your talents. Suddenly, we outgrow the “money doesn’t buy you happiness” phase, and all of a sudden making and saving money is top priority. We grow older and start to realize that shit costs money, and without money, you can’t do shit. It takes money to start your dream.

I’m at a weird time in my life. I’m 25 years old. I go on social media and I am bombarded with updates of old classmates and acquaintences. Some people are getting engaged, some are married and on their X number of kids, some are graudating school, some are just starting school, some are still kickin’ it like high schoolers, and some are on a completely different route. And for the record – that is all okay. I feel like around 25 years old you look at those you grew up with and realize, “holy shit, we are all on some pretty different paths.” Some are starting families, some are still living at home, some don’t know wtf we’re doing with our lives.

But around my 20’s is when I started to see a shift. And at 25 I can see it more clearly. I am currently at the age where money and salary is starting to be a big deal. Some people have been graduated from college for a few years now. Everyone is moving on, everyone is getting their entry level positions, everyone is hopefully moving up the ladder. And now, everyone wants the money. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but with the help of social media, people amplify their desire for a bigger check. Especially living in the Bay Area, one of the most expensive places to live in the world, making good money is necessary if you want to stay in the area.

6 figures is what everyone desires around here. That’s the goal. 6 figures in the Bay Area means you made it, but most importantly, it means you’re not struggling to make it and live here. Straight out of college, that is the dream – to be successful and make 6 figures. And to those that have already achieved that, I salute you. Good shit! In my opinion – and I know there are people that may disagree – I would rather silently manifest that bigger check while my moves and monetary accomplishments stay quiet. Though, there are some that will exclaim from the mountain tops that they finally got that 6 figure paying job. There’s nothing wrong with either decision.

However, I was raised to never ask about how much someone gets paid, never ask to borrow money, never give money, just all things money related was off limits. I was brought up on the notion that other people’s money is none of my business, and my money shouldn’t be their business either. I was taught to never flex or brag about what I got. In fact, if anything, I was taught to hide / act like I ain’t got shit. And if you act like you don’t have money, you won’t have to worry or question people’s motives. That’s a whole other story on its own though.

“Money doesn’t buy you happiness.” That’s such a loaded statement. Because it’s true, all the money ain’t shit if you’re not happy, but also, having little to no money can be the cause of your unhappiness. Especially being in the Bay Area, if you’re not a techy or making that 6 figure salary, I’m pretty sure money would make you a lot happier! So we’re stuck in this cycle where we keep wanting more and more, hoping that our growing savings account can accumulate enough where you feel content and secure. But everyone starts somewhere.

I mean, I’m sure majority of us don’t have inheritance money. So we all got to start somewhere. Money ain’t shit if you’re making it the only reason for your happiness. But also taking on the role of broke bitch your whole life isn’t cute either. You know what I mean… I know y’all know a couple people. The kind of people that use being broke as an excuse to mooch off others or just an excuse in general, but you see them rocking the latest shoes? That’s none of my business though.

It’s a shame when people value money over everything else. Suddenly, working is more important than quality time with loved ones. There are people that think money and material things will solve everything, and that’s just not the case. Usually seeking validation through monetary value is an indication that you are trying to mask some unresolved pain within yourself. Money always brings problems from both ends – having a lot of money and being broke. A lot of famous people overdose and die despite having the big house, comfortable life, and lavish lifestyle. While people who are barely affording rent dream of the day when their big break will happen. We’re all just waiting.

At the end of the day, getting paid the big bucks doesn’t make you any better than someone who is still making minimum wage. There’s this weird notion that the more money you make, the more important you are. There’s nothing more sad than seeing someone who “made it” forget where they came from. As clichΓ© as it sounds, it’s not about what and how much you got, it’s about who you got.

I feel like if you’re looking to fill a void within yourself, then there will never be enough money in the world. And that’s why money can’t buy happiness, because happiness is something you determine for yourself. No amount of money or material things can make a person feel whole. Money doesn’t make you real. Money doesn’t make you more important. Money doesn’t make you happy. I guess that’s why they call it “paper chasing,” because you’re always going to be after something that can’t be caught.

Butt Of The Joke

My sisters and I have this ritual where we clean out our closets and pile everything we don’t want or that isn’t ours in the livingroom. By the end of our cleaning spree, we are left with a a huge mess of clothes on the livingroom floor. From there, anything is free game. Claim what is yours, take what you want, separate what you don’t want, take your smaller pile of hand-me-downs to your room and pray it ends up back in your room after laundry day. Anything that is left behind after all 4 of us girls go through it – yes, my mom included – gets thrown into a garbage bag and is given to our many relatives in the Philippines.

There are a few verbal warnings that come with this ritual. A lot of, “Look through the clothes so you get first pick,” “_____ already looked through it, now you have to,” and most of the time we’ll be lazy to check. “Just give it away,” which is usually met with, “You better look through it, some of your clothes that you still want might be in here and you better not ask me where it is later.” It’s pretty overwhelming to see that enormous clothes pile in the middle of the livingroom floor. But it’s true, if we don’t look through it, some of the clothes we still want / have been looking for might be mistakenly given away due to our own laziness.

That’s what almost happened a few months back. I didn’t care to look through the pile, and everything was in trash bags already. Meaning, the next step would be to give those trash bags to my aunt who would send them off via Balikbayan box to the Philippines. I got the threat once more, “You better look through it before we give it away.” Ugh, fine. I peeled myself off of the couch and started looking through that garbage bag.

Inside I found something that I made 15 years ago. I was going to just leave it in the bag, but I decided to take it out and keep it for the sake of memories.. It was a shirt I designed when I was in what… 5th grade? Back then, my older sister always expressed wanting to be a fashion designer. So, of course, as any little sister would, I wanted to be a fashion designer as well. I got those little fabrics from Joanne’s and started crafting with my sewing needle and thread.

I took my old black shirt from Old Navy and began to sketch out what I wanted my design to be. “I love food” with an ice cream cone is what I decided to go with. I looked at the black shirt infront of me, and I started laughing. It’s a nice little breath of fresh air when you see something you made years back. I was looking at a shirt I had made 15 years prior, and it dawned on me.

Here I was, 15 years later, laughing at 10 year old me’s shirt design choice. I know it wasn’t that deep, and it probably wasn’t even what I was thinking 15 years ago, but it got me thinking : how we make ourselves the butt of the joke. And I know 10 year old me just wanted a “happy bunny” -like shirt. You know, before memes were on the internet and instead we just wore it on our shirts? As in the graphic tees that said random things like “I don’t care,” “music lover,” “My other half” with a picture of peanut butter and jelly hugging. I know that was my intention, but it made my brain wonder.

For the most part, I think joking around about yourself is fun and healthy. It’s pretty whack when you can’t take a crack at yourself from time to time. So for the record, I am a fan of capping on yourself for shits and giggles. But sometimes, people make themselves the ass of the joke for other reasons. How do you know when the jokee is not joking about themselves anymore?

Sometimes making yourself the ass of the joke is bringing to light how you really feel about yourself. Sometimes insecurities are masked into jokes to make them more lighthearted and easier to swallow. I used to get teased a lot when I was younger by family and sometimes even friends about being overweight. And it used to really bug me. You know that feeling where you just feel embarrassed and moded? So you sit there looking like you’re about to cry because you’re like… 7 and don’t know how to cope with being teased? That was me.

As I grew up, I found myself making myself the ass of the joke around certain people. Mostly certain family members. I found myself trying to be funny, and by being “funny” I’d put myself down for their own amusement. It was all in the name of “joking,” but really, I was joking on myself to justify how they treated me back in the day. Oh they’re just joking, just like how I’m just joking. But was I? Sometime in my early 20’s I had to take a step back and think, “ew, why am I playing myself like that?”

Joking is a coping mechanism that some adopt. Sometimes it can be for the good and all in fun, but sometimes it can be a very toxic game we play with ourselves. Sometimes toxic joking can feel like you’re explaining the obvious before anyone else has the opportunity to bring it up. Are you joking about yourself being fat? Having no curves? Or maybe you’re joking about your accent, how unintelligent you are, your appearance, about your love life – or lack there of. We all joke. But if you really listen to some people’s jokes that are consistently about themselves, you’ll get a feel for how they really feel about themselves.

It’s one thing to make jokes, it’s another to just be bullying yourself in the name of fun. Sometimes we don’t even realize. I guess what makes joking about yourself healthy or not is how content you are with yourself. If you’re making fun of yourself because you genuinely think it’s funny, that’s one thing. But if you’re taking jabs at yourself about things that make you feel really insecure, you might want to ask yourself why you feel the need to call yourself out and get others to laugh at what you struggle with.

I just wanted to share how 1 thing led me to a completely different train of thought. I enjoyed seeing the shirt though, and I’m glad I checked the garbage bag before it went to the Philippines lol.

Congrats On Adulting

By now, I bet it’s safe to say that my consistent readers know how I feel about change and how I handle it. I’m so sentimental about everything. And the more I think about it, I’ve come to realize that the things that make me sad are just … a part of life. I get so sad over certain things – some might even say I can think myself into a deep depression. I get frustrated with myself at times because I feel everything so deeply, I analyze everything, and overthink myself to the point where I’m exhausted. But what exactly gets me so melancholy?

Change as a whole. I’ve written so many blog posts about different scenarios and topics. I put a lot of my fears and anxiety filled thoughts out there into the world, and a common factor is how stubborn I am with change. And it’s crazy, because I am all for growth and improvement. I’m completely aware that there’s no growth without change, and you can only excel so much in a certain environment. And up until recently, I would’ve described myself as a go with the flow laid back type of person. I believe it’s due to the fact that from preschool until you graduate college, it’s pretty much a set path. Of course, not everyone’s journey is the same, but education wise it’s kind’ve the same route. Once I graduated from the school environment, I felt lost, and change seemed scary.

And to some, I bet I sound mad childish and pathetic. Why is this bitch so sad about change? It’s normal… Trust me, sometimes after posting a blog post I wonder why I get overly emo about normal shit that people go through. But, I know I can’t be the only person in the world who feels an enormous sense of sadness, gets mad sentimental, and nostalgic when things begin to shift. That feeling of “nothing lasts forever,” gets me every time, and I feel myself desperately clinging onto the present day and not wanting things to change. I try to fight and resist it, even though deep down I know that this is just another part of growing up.

It’s funny because when I was younger all I wanted to do was be “grown.” I dreamed of my house, my future family, my life. The yearning to be an adult as a child is something we all go through. What’s even more cringe is the fact that I thought I was grown at 16 – 18 years old… L M F A O. At that age, I thought I could handle everything and anything. I was ballsy and would take the chance in any situation. What happened to that invincible feeling? I mean, I’m 25. I’m not that old, some might even say I’m not even “grown” yet. But somewhere along the line, that ballsy “I’ll do whatever I want, when I want, I can do anything and everything, don’t tell me otherwise,” feeling faded.

Well, maybe not faded, if you catch me in the right mood, probably after listening to my encouraging music – aka J.Cole’s The Warm Up and Friday Night Lights, you can find me with confidence and motivation. Which for the most part, I am. I’m a dreamer, and I have my ups and downs when it comes to achieving my goals and dreams. But then I have those days when I’m hesitant, anxious, and unmotivated. When did I become so calculated with my next move? What happened with going with the flow?

I guess a part of that can be because I’m an adult now. I realized that spontaneously doing whatever I want at the time can have consequences. I started to realize that some decisions are irreversible in this game called life, and I wasn’t about to make a foolish misguided calculation. And that’s kind’ve the position I’m in. I’m so focused on making the right “move” and right decision that making change to get to a better place is hard. I fear choosing the wrong path.

But I know being stubborn with change will only stunt my growth. Out of nowhere I went from a college student to a graduate who is now in the real world. And being in the “real world” is a little overwhelming. Now is the time to do all the things I’ve hoped to do, all the things I’ve dreamed of. Nobody talks about the hurt that comes along with growing up. People move away, people get busy, people start new lives, and suddenly, all the good memories are a thing of the past. I even catch myself living in the present moment and soaking in everything around me, and getting sad that it won’t “be like this” forever.

I think about how I grew up, being around my whole extended family from both my mom and dad’s side. I was telling my little sister how it’s crazy to think that I can remember being 3-4 years old, hanging out with my aunt and her now husband, thinking that they were grown as shit. Now, I’m that aunt with the boyfriend that kicks it with the nieces and nephews.

It’s all a part of growing up. And I’m not on some Peter Pan shit where I don’t want to grow up. But, I do get very nostalgic and sad when I think of things changing and never going back to how it “was.” Knowing that everyday, little changes happen, and then one day you wake up and realize shit is completely different. I guess the main thing about “growing up” and having things change is the fact that I know just like times and memories, people don’t last forever.

One day I was talking to one of my best friends about this concept. That I’m afraid to make moves and changes because I fear I’ll miss out on family events and I’ll feel guilty if someone passes away. “That’s such a toxic way of thinking,” he told me. He explained that of course we want to be there for big moments, and deep down we all know nobody lives forever, but that’s no way to live your life. And it’s true, and I’m aware of the fact that I get sad about things not being like how it was in the past, for example : meeting at my grandparents’ house every Sunday after church for lunch and hanging out with all of my cousins. They’re nice little reminiscent memories that make you feel like “awww, I miss those days.” But even in the present day I trip off things I can’t control. Like the fact that we’re in the middle of a pandemic and we haven’t hungout at our 97 year old Tatay’s place in months with the whole family…

As much as things and memories give me happy-sad memories, I know it’s all a part of adulting and going through life. This is literally nothing new, and I finally get the saying “that’s life.” When I vent to some friends and those close to me, sometimes I feel foolish because it’s like, dude… you’re just sad about “adulting.” It’s just the journey of life and becoming more independent. I never knew adulting could bring up so many emotions. For me, it’s anxiety, nostalgia, being sentimental, scared, with a hint of excitement. I know there are people out there that are the total opposite of me, and crave change and welcome the unknown with open arms. But this post is dedicated to the people who want that growth and want to charge forward with life, but still get sad and wrapped up in their feels. It’s okay to feel this way. Nobody really brings up the emotional side of growing up. It’s okay to want change but feel sad about it…

Old Kanye

Kanye West during Outsidelands festival in San Francisco in 2014.

I miss the old Kanye, straight from the go Kanye / Chop up the soul Kanye, set on his goals Kanye / I hate the new Kanye, the bad mood Kanye / The always rude Kanye, spaz in the news Kanye / I miss the sweet Kanye, chop up the beats Kanye / I gotta to say at that time I’d like to meet Kanye…” –“I love Kanye” by Kanye West

To be honest, that’s ^^^ how I really feel about Kanye West. I used to be the biggest Kanye fan. When I tell you I was obsessed, it is not an understatement. To put it into perspective for you, before J.Cole, Kanye West was hands down my favorite living rapper. In 6th or 7th grade I got my first iPod, the iPod nano 3rd generation in black. Oh that little chubby square device, how I loved you. For once, I didn’t have to sit infront of the computer for hours on YouTube to listen to music. I quickly downloaded every single Kanye West song that I could. Some of these songs still had Kanye down as “Kayne West.” I had every single song he ever made on that iPod, I knew every song’s lyrics by heart, and “Bittersweet” was my MySpace song for the longest.

I admired Kanye because he was obnoxious and talked about issues that some people wouldn’t dare to. He jeopardized his reputation and name for the sake of saying what’s on his mind. He didn’t care that some of the topics were taboo for famous people to bring up. And I liked that. Kanye had the fame and the money, but still knew where he came from. However, he went from “George Bush does not care about black people,” to suggesting that slavery was a “choice,” saying Harriet Tubman didn’t actually free any slaves, and publically supporting Trump… Oh, Kanye, how did you get to this point?

Many believe that the death of his mother, Donda West, in 2007 is what caused Kanye to snap. I agree. In many of his songs, Kanye talks about how he was raised by his single mother. He was a total mama’s boy in its whole definition. Kanye understood all the sacrifices that his mother endured for him, and he appreciated that she always had his back through whatever stage, even if that meant dropping out of college to pursue music. He wanted to pay her all back for it – all the sacrifices, jobs, pain. When Kanye finally started to make a name for himself and make money, his mom benefited as well. The song “Hey Mama” released in Kanye’s 2005 album Late Registration, gave his fans a taste of how much his mother meant to him.

Under the circumstances of how Donda West died, I know Kanye must feel a lot of guilt and anger. Donda West underwent cosmetic surgery, and had complications which resulted in her death. She got liposuction, a tummy tuck, and a breast reduction, and returned home the same day of surgery, even though she was advised to recover in the hospital. Because of these surgeries, Donda West had complications the following day, she ended up collapsing and was taken to the hospital where she was pronounced dead. In the article I linked above, they claim that Kanye blames himself for his mother’s death saying in a Q Magazine interview, “If I had never moved to L.A. she’d be alive.” Meaning, if he never made it big, his mom would still be living.

Before his mother’s death, Kanye was a man who wanted the fame, money, and respect. And Kanye West wasn’t ashamed to admit it. The irony is that when he finally “made it” and had all those things, he was trying to extend the high life to his mother, only to have it backfire in his face. His mother’s death was a result of his fame and wealth. At the time – and still to this day, regardless of everything that Kanye has said and done – my heart ached for him. What a tragedy. Imagine, finally being successful and wanting to share your success with the person who raised you and stuck by you, only to have that feeling of pride and accomplishment replaced with shame and guilt in a matter of 24 hours.

I can’t imagine what it must feel like to feel responsible for your mother’s death. The fame, wealth, respect, the name he made for himself, doesn’t even matter anymore. Kanye worked so hard to make it in the industry, but the fame and recognition only brought him pain. The thought of being famous probably fills him with loathing feelings. The one thing he wanted the most in life is what caused him his greatest loss. Especially under what circumstances his mother passed – this wasn’t life saving surgery that was needed. That’s what probably adds salt to the wound, the fact that these surgeries were by choice to alter appearance and make his mother feel more confident and healthy.

After his mother’s passing, it’s as if Kanye went down a steady downward spiral. He became more obnoxious, but not in the way that I applauded before. I found myself defending him to everyone that had something negative to say. This was a man who was acting out and asking for attention, maybe even help. This “I’m a genius and I’m the shit” attitude seemed like a cover up for the tremendous amount of grief he carried on his back. That attitude and way of thinking is what made past fans change up on him. But not me, I was loyal. I still defended him and listened to his music – old and new.

Then he got married to Kim Kardashian in 2014. It seemed like he was happy to be settling down and starting a family. The running joke is whoever gets with a Kardashian gets destroyed. But to me it seemed like they were a good match. It seemed like there was a period of time where Kanye wasn’t making the news for saying or doing something out of pocket or controversial. I used to be an avid watcher of Keeping Up With the Kardashians in high school and early college. When I went through my social media / media cleanse, the Kardashians were the first ones I unfollowed because their content made me compare myself and generally just made me feel shitty about myself. But I’ve gotten to a place over the years where I can watch the show every so often, I don’t really keep up with them anymore in terms of watching every episode. However, I feel like there’s no escaping their updates through social media.

Everytime I saw Kanye West trending on social media, I cringed a little. Oh God what did he do now? I supported him knowing that he’s grieving publically and maybe is suffering from mental health. I felt like I was defending a friend from all his critics that I knew in real life. But what drew the line for me is when he started to publically support Trump. Even then, I thought it was a publicity stunt and still tried to look past his political views. I thought, There’s Kanye, just saying whatever for attention. But the cherry on top was when Kanye West said slavery was a “choice.”

I was astonished. What. The. Fuck. How did he stray so far from his original views? It seemed like he turned his back on the Black community. This wasn’t the same Kanye from The College Dropout. No way. It was then, in 2018, seeing Kanye in the MAGA hat, supporting Trump, and speaking this hurtful nonsense that I threw in the towel. I could no longer defend him. That’s not the Kanye I grew to love.

Whenever he would make headlines, it felt like that feeling after a bitter break up to be honest. I would see his name in the news or hear about whatever else he said, and I would feel some type of way. I used to look up to you… now look at you… what a shame. I didn’t listen to his new music, but still listened to his old albums – the Kanye I was a fan of. I didn’t want his current choices to over shadow the fact that he was once a great artist. I fell off his fan wagon in 2018.

Everything Kanye related from 2018 to now I didn’t really keep up with. All his Trump supporting content or obnoxious outbursts, I would just take with a grain of salt. Up until now. His recent outbursts on Twitter is making the public go crazy. He’s serving all the hot tea on the Kardashian family, and he’s not holding back. Not to mention that he was running for president, or still is? I’m not sure. All I know is, it was all too much for the internet to handle. The video of Kanye West saying Harriet Tubman never actually freed slaves, then having a meltdown about saving North’s life, then taking it to Twitter, it was like following a movie. What the hell is going on? Yet, my eyes were still glued to Twitter, knowing that @theshaderoom would have screenshots for me if I missed anything.

People were outraged with his comments. I was outraged. The same feelings of what happened to you, Ye?! crept up on me. Reading the comments made me realize that some people agree with Kanye, some don’t, and some think that he is trying to drop hints or clues to whatever deeper meaning he is trying to get to. The “read between his tweets” kind of people. I don’t know where I fall under. In the past, I was so over him and his commentary outraged me. But now I read the tweets of this man who has been under the public eye for almost 2 decades, and I truly pity him.

He’s exposing his wife and her family on Twitter, all their personal secrets, everything they’ve gone through in private – it’s a true shit show. Some people are blaming the Kardashian family for Kanye’s instability, some are egging him on, some blame him. Kim Kardashian posted an update to her followers stating that Kanye has been battling bipolar disorder for years, and she’s trying to help him get the help he needs. However, she makes a point to add that, legally, she can’t force an adult to seek help for themselves. I know the Kardashians get a lot of hate for how they rose to fame, their family and who they date, etc. But these are still real people dealing with real issues broadcasted for the world to see.

When I was reading Kanye’s tweets, I imagined what Kim must be feeling like. To have your husband air out your dirty laundry like that, having this be on the internet forever, and having your daughter possibly find out in the future that you wanted to abort her, all the while dealing with your husband who is having a mental health crisis. We often hear stories about people explaining what it’s like to live with mental health issues, but we rarely hear the stories of the people in their lives that have to deal with the second hand outburts and moodswings. Just because Kim doesn’t have bipolar disorder herself, doesn’t mean she doesn’t carry a lot of shit from the result of being with someone who is bipolar. It’s a rollercoaster for the person with the mental health diagnosis and their loved ones.

Instead of bashing this family and egging Kanye on, I wish people would just let them be. Don’t give him the attention that he so desperately craves (even though it’s so hard to look away sometimes). We know that Kanye says out of pocket shit, but the more we feed the obnoxious behavior, he’ll just try to one up himself. Not everything he says deserves headline attention. We have given Kanye the power to enrage us when we really don’t have to be. Whether he is just making a scene to promote his new album or if he’s really reaching out for help – this is a person who has gone through a tremendous amount of grief and guilt. I hope he gets the help that he needs and finds peace within himself. Fan or not – it’s unfortunate to see someone who was once so great go downhill over a span of years. I feel like this is his rock bottom, and I hope he decides to get help for the sake of his children.

Wear a Mask, Asshole

It’s crazy to think that in mid-March we really thought that we’d only be Sheltering in Place for 3 weeks. Here we are over 4 months later, and things are actually worse than when we originally shut down. It’s nearing the end of July 2020, and 3-4 weeks ago businesses started opening back up in the Bay Area. Doing so caused a spike in COVID-19 cases, so some businesses are retracting and closing back down again. Was America really ready to enter phase 3?

Sheltering in Place, wearing masks, and social distancing is the new normal. But when I look back on the timeline, it wasn’t always like that. This new “normal” took some getting used to. It really does blow my mind how 2020 took such a turn so quickly. I started hearing about COVID-19 talk around December 2019. Of course I knew what was going on in China, but I never thought it would be as big as it is now.

As I mentioned in previous blog posts, it wasn’t until I came back from Massachusetts in late January that I started to see the severity of the situation at hand. I swear, I left for Boston on Thursday night, January 23, 2020, and returned back to San Francisco that Sunday afternoon, January 26, 2020. It was like I came back to a different world. In Massachusetts I heard side conversations of COVID-19 and people fearing that it will be a problem in the U.S. I was naive. I really didn’t think that COVID-19 would explode in America, or anywhere outside of China, to be honest. I thought maybe a couple hundred cases total worldwide aside from China, but this thing isn’t going to be a big deal. I couldn’t be more wrong.

When we stepped out of the plane at SFO, everything just felt different. There was news of planes coming in from China the same time we were at the airport. I started being aware of what I was touching, and avoiding touching anything at the airport. It’s like we left the Bay Area for less than 3 days, and came back to news of people panicking. One of the Ubers we got into, the driver was in a mask and wearing gloves. He was straight schooling us on facts about COVID-19 and how China basically fucked us all by trying to keep the outbreak hush hush. He explained how it’s going to come to the U.S. and how life for us is going to change. He told us to get masks and cleaning supplies while we can. I thought he was being overly paranoid. But what he was saying shook me up enough to think “…Maybe he’s right?” But I still had the “out of sight, out of mind” mentality.

It wasn’t until about mid-February that I realized, Yeeeeeah… that Uber driver that I thought was trippin’… what he was saying… he’s right, this virus is spreading around… And it started to get real. It’s like my eyes were glued to the news. Slowly, different states started reporting their first confirmed cases of COVID-19. I had constant anxiety knowing eventually it would make it’s way to California. All of a sudden I was slapped in the face with reality. What I thought was very unlikely – COVID-19 turning into a pandemic – was a hard pill to swallow. At the end of February and early March I would wake up everyday to get ready for work and think, I can’t believe this is for real. By this time the cruise ship with COVID-19 patients were docking in Oakland.

By March I was completely paranoid. I take public transportation to work everyday. I started fearing for my health and thinking everyone and anyone had it. Colleges, high schools, grade schools started to slowly shutdown in the Bay Area. Sports gatherings, events, concerts, started getting canceled. What the actual fuck was happening? I really couldn’t believe it. Everything was happening so fast but it was like I was experiencing everything in slow-mo. The 2nd week of March, my boss called it. Friday, March 13, 2020 would be our last day in session, then we would be shutting down for 3 weeks to be safe. I never thought that would happen. I really thought we’d be back after the 3 weeks. You’d think at this point my guessing would get better, and I’d realize that this was a big deal. Nope. Naive! I really thought 3 weeks we’d be back at work.

Those first couple of weeks of Shelter in Place were tough. I’m a home body, and I usually like staying home anyways. But it’s a different story when you’re told you can’t go outside. All of a sudden you get antsy, even though it’s something you would’ve preferred anyways. It’s all mental – wanting what you know you can’t have. After the 3 weeks, it was finally April, things were supposed to reopen after 21 days. Instead, the Shelter in Place got extended. By this time it was mandatory to wear a mask or face covering whenever going in public areas. It was like everyday was the same routine. I would wake up and think, holy shit, it’s really a pandemic right now, and go upstairs to watch Gov. Gavin Newsom give his daily speech and updates. I was hooked on the news. It’s all I wanted to watch, even though it was making me stressed.

New cases, hospitals overcrowding, not enough ventilators, New York getting hit the hardest, essential workers quarantining from their loved ones, people dying, people losing their jobs, unemployment sky rocketing, toilet paper and cleaning products clean off of the shelves, not making testing available to all, people refusing to wear masks, this was the new reality. Nobody would’ve expected 2020 to be like this. I felt like I was in an episode of Black Mirror.

Towards the end of April, everyone was antsy. Would the shutdown extend until May? Yes. And it did. And people were upset, refusing to wear face coverings and protesting. People wanted to go back to work, and they were upset that Newsom kept extending the order. But by this time, I was used to Sheltering in Place. In fact, I was scared of readjusting to life after the pandemic. I was getting used to the routine of working from home and straight chillin’. The first 3 weeks of Shelterting in Place and shutting down was the hard part. Everything after that just reminded me of my summers back in the day when I didn’t have a job and didn’t have anything to do. I enjoyed doing nothing.

But obviously this situation was a lot different than my lazy boring summers back in the 2000’s. People are dying. The world is battling something we can’t see or control. It’s a whole pandemic. I feared for those I know, but especially my Tatay who just turned 97 this July. We were extra cautious to not see him or come in contact with him. He doesn’t really understand what’s going on pandemic wise, and that makes it all the more sadder. Does he think we’re just not visiting him? Is he getting weaker? Will we get to celebrate his 97th birthday with the whole family? (We didn’t). What if we never get to see him again? Stop. I didn’t want to think of it anymore. Because it seems like these are all valid possibilities, especially with how long this pandemic is being dragged out.

Towards the end of May, Gov. Newsom revealed the “phases” California would take to slowly open back up the economy for Californians. June 1st I was back at work because I was part of phase 2 reopening. It felt weird being back at work and taking public transportation. My hands are cracked from how often we wash hands at work. We are working wearing masks our whole 8 hour shift. This is the new normal. Since I’ve been back at work for almost 2 months, sometimes I forget that we’re in a pandemic. I’m so used to wearing a mask now, that it’s almost second nature. When I take bus home is when I am reminded – we’re still in a pandemic. The MUNI buses are significantly less crowded, traffic is not as congested, the SamTrans buses’ fare is free because they aren’t letting passengers in through the front door, BART is a ghost town, and nobody sits next to you. I’ve gone back to a semi-normal routine again since being back at work, but I forget that majority of people are still working from home.

When California started its phase 3 – the opening of restaurants, gyms, malls, in mid-June, it didn’t take long for the stats to come in showing that the COVID-19 cases were skyrocketing again. Meaning, the 2 and a half month Shelter in Place order that started mid-March was basically for nothing since California reopened prematurely. California is in a shittier spot than when we originally shutdown. And I’m a little surprised that a second mandatory shutdown hasn’t happened yet.

It’s crazy to think that more than half of 2020 is already over. At the end of 2019, no one could have guessed that this would be our reality. With the pandemic, upcoming presidential election, and civil unrest, America is showing it’s true colors. When I go on social media and see videos of Karens and Kens being ultra mega racist, it makes my blood boil. But I know that these incidents been happening, and the only difference is people are starting to record. It’s crazy how Black Lives Matter and COVID-19 became political issues.

From the get, people believed COVID-19 was a hoax. And we have the idiot president to partially thank for that. He foolishly took the side of entitled Americans who put their own wants and needs over what is best for the country. All the while calling BLM supporters thugs. It’s disgusting. COVID-19 really brought to light everything that is wrong with America. People have to prove why others should care about black lives, we have to encourage others to care for their neighbors, we have to deal with idiots who don’t want to wear masks.

The people who don’t believe in wearing masks or COVID-19 as a whole are the same people that believe wearing a mask makes you a conformist. These are the same selfish people that believe that wearing a mask and Sheltering in Place is “taking away our freedom.” I can’t help but laugh. How fucking entitled and privileged is that πŸ’€πŸ₯΄?! These are the same people that talk down on the BLM movement and argue that if these “thugs” just comply with law enforcement, there wouldn’t be a problem. Yet here they are not complying with mask orders. Ok.

Selfish. That’s all I got to say. It’s frustrating because things aren’t getting better because people act as if there’s no pandemic – not wearing masks, not taking precautions, not getting tested- because they believe this is a joke. But at the same time they want to complain about not going back to work. This pandemic really put into perspective what this country values, and that is self.

It’s “please comply and follow the rules,” until it’s a minor inconvenience. Then it’s “well this is taking away my freedom and my rights.” Please have a thousand seats. People are so selfish and will only care if it’s someone they know. And that’s why America is taking so long to recover from COVID-19. We have a weak leader that refuses to see the weight of this issue. He turns a blind eye to the information, data, and experts. He refuses to comply because he doesn’t want to seem like he’s going back on his previous statements. So, some follow his lead.

I don’t care if you think COVID-19 is a crazy conspiracy theory. The truth of the matter is : REAL PEOPLE ARE DYING. Regardless of how COVID-19 came to be, people are losing their lives. And the fact that some people are refusing to wear masks in an act of defiance is truly pathetic. If wearing a piece of cloth over your mouth and nose is “taking away your freedom,” I’m not sorry to say that you’re privileged, selfish, and entitled. And describing wearing a mask as “taking away your freedom” is so insulting to those in this country whose freedom is actually in jeopardy.

Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait for the day where I don’t have to wear a mask anymore! They can be uncomfortable, I can’t get fresh air, and it’s definitely hard to talk and teach to little ones. BUT they save lives. And no matter how uncomfortable it is, wearing a mask 46+ hours Monday to Friday (don’t forget that 1+ hour commute back home), I’ll continue to do it because I know this pandemic is real, I know people are dying, I know I’m doing my part. So, do your part and wear a mask, asshole.

1 Year Blog-versary

On Monday, July 1, 2019 I finally made the decision to consistently post on this blog. I didn’t know how long I’d roll with it, I didn’t have tons of content lined up, I didn’t care if I had 1 viewer. I just knew that writing consistently was something I’ve been wanting to do, but kept putting off. Here we are, a little over a year later. A few weeks ago was my 1 year blog-versary! πŸŽ‰

I originally made this blog for a journalism class when I was still in Skyline Community College, 4 years ago. I had to make X amount of posts for the semester, and after that, I didn’t really keep up. I would post here and there, usually articles I wrote for Xpress Magazine or a project I did for a class while I was at SFSU. I was kind’ve just keeping everything I wrote in one place. Every now and then I’d get inspiration to post a blog post that wasn’t an article I wrote for something else. But I was never consistent. It was one of those things where you say you want to do “XYZ” but never have the time or courage to follow through with it.

A year ago when I decided to revive my blog, I was in the thick of my post-grad blues. I graduated in December 2018, and July 2019 I decided to take that leap and start up this blog again. But it wasn’t that easy. That was 7 months of me just debating on whether or not to make this happen. 7 months of making myself feel like shit. Feeling lost. Feeling like I’ve lost all sense of self since I was no longer a student. Feeling stuck and confused on what path to take next.

The hardest part was starting. As clichΓ© as it sounds, it’s the truth. Making the decision to start was the biggest hump I had to get over. Posting consistently on this blog was something I wanted to do since the class ended (the class that made me start this blog). That was in 2016. So it took all of THREE YEARS to actually follow through with it. It was that last 7 months, the hard-core post-grad blues, that gave me that push. I walked the stage in May 2019, and before that I felt the post-grad blues creeping. But after I walked the stage in May, I knew I was in for a sea of emotions. I knew I’d come down from the high eventually, but I didn’t think I’d crash that hard. The last month and a half after my graduation ceremony is what made me start. That antsy feeling of “wtf am I doing with my life?” set in. This blog was hope I gave myself in my darkest times.

And for the record, I’m still somewhat in my post-grad funk, 1.5 years later. This blog helped me pull myself out of the gutter, but I still have my days… Shit, weeks is more accurate. In no way am I saying that I was depressed after graduation so I started writing and now I’m all good. Nope. In fact, if you keep up with my blog, you’d know that that is far from the truth. But, this blog did turn into my outlet.

I’ve poured my heart out online to people I know and people I don’t know. For everyone to see. For anyone that knows me personally, that is totally against how I am as a person. With close friends and those I trust, I can vent my heart out, complain, cry, be angry, all the above. But only a select few people know me. The real me. Only a handful of people know what I really feel and how I really think. It’s not like me to put all my business out there for the world to see. I mean, stalk my Facebook circa 2009 and that’s a different story… But over the years I have evolved from wanting to share every stupid “who even cares” opinion and cringe selfie, to barely posting, to only posting pictures, transitioning to Instagram, being pretty active on the ‘gram, but slowly posting less and less. Yeah, I would still post, but never in depth into my life. I realized I wanted to be more private. The less people knew about me, my family, my relationship, and my life in general was better.

When I decided to start my blog again, I wasn’t posting much. I debated on if I even wanted people to know my business like that. I weighed out my pros and cons of making my experiences public. Was I ready to be vulnerable? At the time I wasn’t sure. I just knew that writing and actually keeping up a blog was something I had to do for myself. I’ve always admired how some public figures I follow on social media could be so transparent with their struggles. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone in what I was feeling. I was tired of seeing the same filtered “always smiling,” “always good,” “no problems over here,” “I’m livin’ my best life,” type of content.

I wanted to bring attention to topics and issues that aren’t talked about often. And I knew in order to reach out / get people to care, I would have to get very personal. Starting with myself. And by doing that, a lot of people have reached out to me with their stories, their struggles, their truth. Whether that be in private, or featured as one of my blog posts.

A response I get a lot is people telling me, “your story made me cry.” And that’s one of the best compliments I could get as a writer. Not because I’m a bitch and I want people to be depressed, but because I know that it made my readers feel something. It touched my readers in a way where there were no words, just emotions. If you’re feeling it that hard, it’s probably because you can relate to the story you just read. And it warms my heart when people tell me they go back to reread certain blog posts when they’re feeling down or need a reminder that they’re not alone. Sometimes you need to read someone else’s story to realize the similarities in your life. It brings healing.

And that’s part of the reason why I write for myself. It brings healing. I can express exactly how I feel in writing. Sometimes I really can’t express my emotions verbally. It’s either I hold it in, or I say how I feel very bluntly and then feelings are hurt. Starting up this blog again and writing my very personal stories forced me to deal with some of my inner turmoil. What am I afraid of? What gets me emotional? Why is XYZ important to me? Sorting out my feelings and writing out my train of thought really helped me within this past year.

When I decided to finally post consistently, I had no idea where this blog would take me. I had no end goal. I didn’t know how long I would continue it, and honestly expected myself to fall off after about 5 posts. But I held myself accountable as if this blog were paying me. It’s something I had to prove to myself, that I could do it. That what I’m doing matters, and no matter what anyone else thinks, I believe in what I’m doing.

In July 2019 I started off with 6 followers on WordPress. 1 year later, I’m at 97. To some, that ain’t shit. But to me, someone who was happy if 1 person viewed my story, this is an accomplishment. I mostly get all my views from sharing on Instagram and Facebook, but it’s nice to know that I have followers on WordPress who don’t even know me in real life.

A few months ago TrapxArt reached out to me to be featured on their website. It felt so good to be recognized as a writer and as a creative. So, I just want to say thank you. To all those who have supported me, who have cheered me on, who have read my content, those who promote my content, have been the subject of one of my stories, thank you. Thank you for sharing your stories, reading my stories, and keeping it real with me. I still have no idea where this blog is headed. I don’t know how long I’m going to keep this up, or where this blog will take me. But I do know that in just 1 year of posting consistently, I have 50 blog posts to show for it (this post will be #51), and a small following of people that read my content consistently.

Thank you for reading, for keeping up, supporting me, crying with me, laughing with me, and taking this journey with me!

Cheers to 1 year πŸ₯‚! *hot cheeto toast*