by rossanahead | Jan 4, 2012 | career, children, Education, Lyra Pore, parenting, woman
By Lyra Pore Villafana
Every weekend I drive to the nearest aquatic center to take swimming lessons with other adult learners. My classmates are all parents to young children: one is a mother to a sixteen-year-old girl and a seven-year-old boy, another has three children all in grade school and yet another has a two-year-old son.
“I’m doing this for myself,” the mom to the two-year-old said last week. “I work and look after my family, but I need to get away from it all every now and then.”
“Me too,” the mother to the three kids agreed. “I don’t work but I need a bit of time for myself so I don’t go crazy.”
“I have the same reason for coming here,” I revealed. I work full-time and do my best to look after my young family too. It reinvigorates me when I am able to spend even just two hours a week doing something for myself. This is my “me time.”
The mother to the teenage girl and grade-school boy listened intently. She had told me on a separate occasion that she enrolled in swimming class to help her manage her asthma.
My swimming buddies and I are all Asians who have migrated to Australia with our families. None of us is really aspiring to become a strong swimmer. Of course, we want to be able to survive should we fall into the water but to us, it’s not simply about the swimming.
Life overseas is so different to what we’ve all been used to. We don’t have extended families to support us, we and our husbands have to do all the house work ourselves as there is no domestic helper who can do the cleaning, washing, cooking and other chores for us, and none of us has the benefit of live-in nannies. Amidst all these, many of us strive to hold a job as well.
But doing something for oneself isn’t unique to Asian moms coping with the stresses of building a new life in a different country. A few weeks ago, my family was invited to the home of an Australian family ― well the wife was Australian while the husband was British. They had a twelve-year-old daughter who’s been born and raised in Australia.
Every week the wife, who’s an operations manager in a chain of nursing homes, attends piano lessons. “I do it for my brain. I have to keep it working,” she said. So once a week, she spends an hour improving her piano playing techniques.
I do not view these one- or two-hour excursions without husband and children selfish at all. A busy mom has to take care of herself too. It does the whole family a lot of good when the mother takes a bit of time to do something that will help keep her mentally, emotionally and physically healthy.
Photo by Serena Repice Lentini on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Dec 22, 2011 | career, children, family, Rossana Llenado, woman
By Rossana L. Llenado
I’m a believer in making schedules and lists. It’s one of the best ways to stay organized. If I didn’t have a schedule mapped out, I wouldn’t be able to keep track of all my appointments and obligations. That’s why I need my planner and why I write out the day, week, month, and year.
Every day, I wake up then head off to work within an hour. I spend the day in meetings, making business decisions, troubleshooting, making plans, and networking. By 6 p.m., I am wrapping up my day and I’m at home by 7 p.m. to spend time with my kids. When they’re off to bed, I’m back catching up on what I was unable to do during the day such as checking my e-mails and so forth. I’m asleep after midnight to be ready for the daily grind the following day. Weekends aren’t spared from a structured schedule. As much as I try to set aside time to spend with my kids, there are days when I still need to go to seminars or other events that require my presence.
Even as a young child, I’ve already set a schedule for myself, not only for my day to day activities, but for my life in general. Early on, I knew that I wanted to be successful and I dreamed up all the things that I wanted to achieve and the time it would take for me to get there.
In school, I set my classes in such a way that I would be able to work in the afternoon so I could make extra money. I had so many things going on, the only way I could keep my head above the water was to schedule and prioritize things. If I were any less organized, I would have turned cross-eyed by now.
For example, I determined that after graduating from college, I would have my own business. Back then, I really thought I would have my own restaurant! By the time I was 25, I planned that I would be married. Then I would have kids spaced two to three years apart.
Things didn’t necessarily turn out that way. I was off by a year getting married. I certainly wasn’t able to put up that restaurant. Instead, I ended up establishing an entirely different type of business. When I put up my business, I never thought it would grow into what it is today.
As much as you organize things, life still manages to wreck havoc on the best laid plans. There are just some things you can’t plan for such as death, accidents, surprises, and other tragedies. I never guessed that I would have four children, with twins to boot! And I certainly never imagined myself in the field of education. Having a tutorial and review business is certainly a big difference from having a restaurant to call my own.
There is only so much that I can schedule in my life. I can’t account for the weather, nor can I be responsible for other people’s reactions. I can try to prepare for things as much as I can, but in the end, you can’t always stick to a schedule.
I have found that sometimes, it is the unscheduled things in life that are the most rewarding. Surprises such as a sudden hug from my oldest child after a long day, or when my youngest turns to me to tell me she loves me, are things that cannot be written in. Getting a call or e-mail from a long lost friend, or having to clear my afternoon so I can attend my son’s awarding ceremony at school are other unexpected and unscheduled turns, although pleasant ones. Other major milestones such as getting your first kiss, falling in love or even out of it are events that you can’t plan for or chart.
Setting goals and realistic time lines are ways to keep track of endeavors and to make sure that a proper course is set. I may not always meet it but at least I know it’s something that I am working on. I have several projects that are already delayed, but I don’t let that stress me. I know that some things take longer than others, and there are just some things beyond my control.
by rossanahead | Dec 17, 2011 | career, Education
By Paula Bianca Abiog
Since I was a child, I have always known I wanted to become a writer. I learned how to read by flipping through newspapers and magazines at three; started writing my own stories (patterned after my favorite fairy tales) at six; composed long entries in lock-and-key journals by 11; and seriously considered writing as a career when I was 16.
Five years ago, I got my dream job. I was finally going to write for a magazine. And with getting my dream job came plans to eventually become an editor one day.
I loved my job. I got to interview and write about celebrities and inspiring men and women; I was able to tackle relevant, sometimes controversial, topics, and more. I was able to go to different places around the country and write about what I saw, from Batanes in the north to Bohol in the south.
But as the years went by, while I still loved writing about people, places, and issues, I found myself doing the same thing over and over again. I felt that I was stuck in a rut, and lately, I felt I wasn’t improving as a writer. I also wanted to try other things, to see if I can do more than just writing. And after a few months agonizing over whether to stay or to go, I finally decided to try my luck in doing something new.
Even if I knew I made the decision for career growth, I initially felt I was abandoning my childhood dream, my plans to become an editor, and the friends I made in those five years. But life doesn’t always pan out the way you envision it, plans don’t materialize exactly when you want them, and friendships don’t end when one leaves to pursue something new. More importantly, I realized that I won’t stop being a writer just because I wanted to try a different tack.
Sometimes, getting what you want, when you want it doesn’t always lead to the fabulous ending you’ve always wished for. Perhaps one day you’ll get what you want when you least expect it, when God, or the fates, feel that you’re ready to finally have what you want. And to be able to grow and move forward, you sometimes have to take a different and unfamiliar path to shake you up. You have to step out of your comfort zone, test the waters, flounder a bit, and find your footing once more, so your growth doesn’t get stunted.
Paula now works for the corporate communications office of a large corporation. And yes, she is still very much a writer.
Photo by Estée Janssens on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Dec 3, 2011 | career, woman
By Leslie Lee
A few years ago, I made the monumental decision to leave Manila and carve out a new life in another country, thinking—just like millions of other OFWs—that I would earn more than what I was getting in my previous job. And I did: My salary rivaled that of a regional manager’s in a multinational corporation back home. “I’m rich,” I thought, while staring at the numbers printed on my pay slip.
There were plenty of reasons behind that decision, and one of them was that I was sick of living in third-world Philippines. I wanted to experience life in a more progressive country. I longed for first-world conveniences. I wanted to live in a country one would be proud to call home.
Then the universe hit me in the face with a huge serving of humble pie to make me realize just how superficial and simply wrong I was.
I was at the Philippine Embassy to register as an Overseas Filipino Worker. As I was filling up some forms, I noticed that the guy next to me kept glancing at my papers, probably checking to see if he had filled up his own forms right, too. He seemed so anxious and unsure that I took pity on him and started chatting him up.
The Filipino I spoke to used to be a government employee from Cavite. Like me, he wanted to seek greener pastures; unlike me, he got a job that was worlds apart from his previous one. He was part of a posh hotel restaurant’s service crew and, even if he was already five months into the job, was still struggling with the locals’ language. Like me, he would be reprimanded whenever he misinterpreted the locals’ English (chicken drumstick is known as “dark part” but “dark” is pronounced as “duck”—thus the confusion); unlike me, he would always swallow his pride and humbly accept the scolding.
To this day, I feel ashamed whenever I remember how I had tried to hide my Filipino identity. When I first stepped into that foreign land, I disguised myself with the other half of my heritage and masqueraded as being from Taiwan, Hong Kong, or mainland China. I spoke with a Valley girl’s accent to belie the fact that I am a Filipino.
Hearing tale after tale of Pinoys being discriminated—from the domestic helper to the fast food service crew to the vice-president of a bank—broke my heart. Regardless of rank, as soon as we are introduced as Filipino or from the Philippines, the tenor of their voices and the look on their faces change. Because of the color of our skin, the way we speak English, and our inherent docility, we get bullied and belittled. For most of them, being Filipino was something to be sneered at.
That encounter in the embassy was truly an eye-opener. Why bother to keep up this pretense? What was so shameful about being a humble, modest, cheerful, hard-working, and multi-tasking Filipino? Without our community, who will take care of their children, clean their house, wash the dishes, and help ensure that their household is running smoothly? Who will process their payment in the grocery store, assist them in finding the right shoe or shirt size, and serve them dinner?
As I bid farewell to my fellow countryman at the subway station, a thought popped into my head: I was not meant to seek greener pastures, but to realize that the greenest pasture is the one you were born and bred in. I understand now that to conquer this colonial mentality, and consequently change the way others view us, I have to remain true to my roots, and be proud of my heritage.
Photo by Helen Stegney on Unsplash
by rossanahead | Sep 15, 2011 | career, family, grandparenting, Mari-an Santos, woman
By Mari-An Santos
My maternal grandmother is 96 years old. She has led a very full life and is actually still very strong. More importantly, she is also very lucid.
She was a teacher all her life. At 19, she started teaching at a schoolhouse in a small town in Mindanao. Her job had her traveling for long distances to get to work every day to remote locations. She eventually became a public school principal and that’s how she met my grandfather, who was a Schools Division Supervisor.
She speaks and writes in Visayan, Chavacano, Spanish, English, and Tagalog. Even now, she’s a voracious reader. Hearing her recount details of her exciting life is like watching an exciting movie.
She tells of how some of her first pupils were older than she. Being farmers’ sons, they could not yet read or write very well even as teenagers. Then, they would also need to help their parents with soil preparation, planting, and eventually, harvesting the fields.
She narrates how she had to come to Manila to pursue higher education, traveling all the way from southern Philippines to the nation’s capital. It was a time so far removed from all the present-day conveniences of rapid travel and automobiles.
She even recounts how she aimed the barrel of a shotgun at my late grandfather one night when she had had enough and gave him an ultimatum: stop his philandering ways or say goodbye. He chose the former. He still survived years beyond that and saw his daughters grow up. But he passed away due to a heart attack not long after he retired from government service.
When I was a child and my grandmother would visit us from the province, she would busy herself with either making rosaries or translating the Bible into her native Chavacano. During breaks in her “work” she would go into the kitchen and make jams or cook snacks like empanada.
Later on, she would take on a project to compile a family tree, tracing from her roots of Spanish migrants to the present generation—with cousins dotting the globe. This is her life’s work that she has, thus far, not seen come into fruition. She has asked the help of some other relatives, but to date, the task is not yet completed.
I used to notice her, poring over her big manila papers, drawing and writing to complete the project. When I approached her to “mano”, she would look up and smile long enough to say “God bless you”, before resuming her work. I wondered at her perseverance then.
She recently had a minor accident in the bathroom. Because she had a slight fracture, she is now confined to a wheelchair. She finds it difficult to feed herself and does not talk much.
Somehow, this sudden change in her attitude has also changed us who are around her. Now, I have decided to take up where she has left off to complete even just a fraction of the family tree project she loved so much. I only hope that I can competently pick up from where she left off, and at last, present her with a project fulfilled just as she had envisioned.
