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Bad Anak to Better Human: Lessons Learned (Too Late)

Hey y’all. It’s me, TR, a fellow queer, nonbinary, neurodivergent Filipino immigrant. Thank you for choosing to be a part of my journey. It’s both beautiful and chaotic. A blessing and a curse. It really is true; the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know shit. 

2020 was one hell of a year, with the pandemic shutting down the whole world. You experienced it, I don’t have to remind you of the fear and pain that year. And to add sprinkle on top, I lost my mom September of that year. And it had nothing to do with COVID. 

My mom’s health had been declining. She knew, yet we were too busy with our lives to pay attention. She’s always been pretty delicate when it came to her health - she was scared of finding out something was wrong with her so she kept how she was feeling to herself. And she was, I think, afraid of dying. My mom was diabetic so she tried her best to navigate that. 

One of my last memories of my mother was her not knowing where she was, speaking only in Tagalog as if she never knew how to speak English. And I remember being so annoyed. Yes, I was worried. Yes, I spoke to her in the little Tagalog that I could use. And yet, I was annoyed. Annoyed that I had to drive to her house to make sure she’s okay. Annoyed that here we go again with her health. If only she would have gone to the doctor earlier. If only she would stop drinking soda. If only she would be more assertive. I was definitely the problem - instead of being compassionate, I was blaming her for inconveniencing me. 

I remember back in 2016, I read the book The Monster Calls by Patrick Ness. It was about a child who started acting out and he didn’t really know why. His mom was battling cancer and it was a rollercoaster with her health. It turned out that the monster within this kid was trying to get him to accept the truth rather than avoid it - that he thinks his life would be better if his mom would pass away already. This hit me like a truck because as my mom struggled with her health, I remember thinking, “Damn, life would just be so much better if mom just passed away already.” What a fucking horrible thought. And I ended up getting that big hideous monster tattooed on me as a reminder that there are hard truths, truths that are sometimes so despicable and shameful, truths that have zero business being around. 

Needless to say, my life, 4 years after my mom’s death, isn’t particularly better because she’s gone. If anything, grief has played an integral part of me reshifting my priorities, unlearning toxic individuality mindset, disrupting pride and ego, relearning my Filipino identity, and learning how to be grateful for the moments that I get to experience with people I love, no matter how challenging things may be. Most importantly, I’m exploring and embracing who I am as a human being - a person that Mama would be proud of and/or excited about.

I never thought that I would lose my mom at 32. My youngest sister was only 17. I didn’t realize how much I depended on my mom to teach me life lessons even though we didn’t get agree 75% of the time. I also didn’t realize how much my mom had been suffering and how selfish and arrogant I was that I didn’t see it. I didn’t get to cherish my mother when I had the chance, and I think that’s the only regret I’ll ever have in this life.

Even though Mama is gone, she continues to live on through me. I am because of her. The way I experience this world is because of what she taught me as a kid - lessons that were both impactful and harmful. I am learning how to forgive myself for not being the best anak to her, and I navigate this life honoring her wisdom, her stories, and who she was as my mother. 

So here’s to No Mama, Just Issues - a blog that shares my weekly learnings without my mom’s guidance and a monthly podcast with my two sisters to memorialize our stories, get to know each other’s perspectives, and an attempt to disrupt generational trauma.