It’s a conspiracy!

Fuelling up with black coffee

The digital gods must have conspired so that finally, I can get this blog rolling.

I’m currently at a small bakeshop that offers good coffee (not free) to while away time until my little girl gets off from school located just within the building. My routine is to get some writing done—either for work or for my other projects.

It’s a Thursday, my day off. I was actually planning to finish writing a health story for a magazine. But, both my mobile internet and pocket Wi-Fi are not working. (What else is new in the PH?)

So, instead of staring at the steam rising from my black coffee, I decided to start this. I’ve been wanting to pour out my thoughts, vent frustrations, trumpet dreams and share my two cents’ worth into the cyberspace abyss for quite sometime now but I just never gotten to doing it until now.

I realized that for the past three years, I’ve been neglecting myself. Not that I have regrets about it. Believe me, giving birth and having a child is something that you cannot really put into fine, flawless words.

The cliches are true—it’s a blessing, a miracle, an extraordinary gift. If everything in my life were a mistake, having my little girl is the only exception. It’s something that I won’t ever trade for anything.

But raising a child is an everyday struggle. You think of yourself less so that you can think about her all the time. You spend little or no time with yourself so that you can give your full attention to her so she would grow up with the love that could last her a lifetime, or at least until she finds someone who will giver her the kind of love that will bloom into another tiny being she could love.

The constant tug-of-war is not confined within. It is real even in your professional life.

You rethink about your career. I am a working mother. I believe I have one of the most exciting jobs in the world. No day is ever the same and it takes us to places we never thought to visit and makes us meet all kinds of people (yes, even assholes we want to kick in the balls or punch in the face).

Getting real stories out in this noisy, polarized world is the work of the brave. I really love my job even if sometimes I think of quitting it for good.

But as they say, you can’t serve two masters at the same time for you will love one and hate the other.

Three years ago in October, I chose to take the backseat. I asked my superiors to give me a relatively lighter beat so I can raise my child with all the time and love I can give. Fortunately, they were so understanding enough to grant my request. Now, what I do is mostly enterprise stories so I have enough time to spend at home.

But I still miss all the action, that adrenaline rush when you get a scoop or hustle to a very important coverage and write stories that matter to the people.

Sometimes, I achingly yearn to be that person I was before. I want to be at my best at work but it is impossible right now when I also want to be at my best as a mother.

I chose the latter. So here I am at this little nook in this small cafe every other day on weekdays most of the time, waiting for my daughter’s dismissal time.

Every other day, I get three precious hours to do things for myself. And in those few hours, I vow to write for myself. To refigure out myself. To give attention to myself. Make up for the three years to catch up with myself.

So thank you digital gods (Smart Telecom to be exact) for this morning’s glitch.

Now, I would just have to figure out how to book an Uber ride home without the internet.

View from my little corner at the coffee shop



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