It's a little past 12 a.m. on the 29th as I write this, and the wee hours of the morning are waving back at me like my old friends. 2018 is almost gone, and it refuses to leave me in peace. It's mocking me right now, taunting me of all the words in my head that were left unsaid, along with all my plans that were left undone. And with the fast approaching New Year, it makes my existential crisis more real by the hour.

National Museum, July 2018

2018 has allowed me to do some things - I published another book which I have to admit, took me a couple of years to finish. I managed to have a 9-5 job that understood my situation as a chronically-illed woman who needs to be on leave once every two months for doctor's appointments. I met new people, made new friends and once again had the chance to prove myself that I can still be productive in the corporate setting despite my disabling situation. My world expanded, even by just an inch or two.

Si Saldang, Si Marvin at ang Halimaw ng Gabi (Stage Play), February 2018

Right Where You Left Me, published April 2018

It could have been better, though, had I said yes to the many opportunities for adventure that came my way. Yet here I am, wondering what could have happened had my fear didn't take over. I could have met more people, learned another culture, and brought home tons of memories and souvenirs if I wasn't too afraid to go on solo trips. Damn, I could've had a better feature image for this post. I could have written more stories and more books had I not allowed myself to sat idly over my cups of coffee. I could have been an inspiration to more people had I talked more about how I slayed my chronic illness every single day. I could have learned a lot of more useful things had I not buried myself in the slavery of social media.

Pangasinan, April 2018

Pinto Art Museum, June 2018

This year, I promise to make more things happen. I'd say yes to every adventure as long as it doesn't go beyond my moral boundaries. I'll wear more interesting clothes and throw away my drab possessions. I'll write down every idea that comes into my head and make stories out of them. I'll read more books so I could tell more interesting stories to people who'd like to listen. Most importantly, I won't doubt myself anymore. I'll take my own advice and explore the world, and discover what else I can do to be the better version of myself.

Before Nicole's departure Lucca Bakery, July 2018

A date for two, August 2018

2018 is leaving me, not exactly broken, but a little bruised and wounded. It taught me that people change, and what's true today can be a huge lie tomorrow. I kept my silence, not just because I didn't want to inflict more damage, but because I believed that's what classy people do. I also learned that friendships are not defined by how many years I've known them, but for how many times I wish I've seen them in my battles. How many of them actually laughed with me for my every triumph, cried with me for my every failure, and even got my back for my every surrender. I also realized that there's absolutely nothing to be afraid of about falling in love, except for keeping it all in and leaving the other person clueless, and myself plagued with "what ifs".

Korean BBQ with office peepz, October 2018

Over cups of coffee, October 2018

I shouldn't have kept my silence. Instead, I should have spoken my mind and stood up for what I know was true. I shouldn't have remained friends with the people who clearly don't value me as someone who could still be relied on to despite my own battlefields. I should have cut ties with those who never made the time to see me in my losing ground. I shouldn't have allowed them to drain me out of what little positive thing that's left in me, and risked my emotional, physical and mental well-being. And I shouldn't have kept my feelings for that person I fell in love with. I know it wouldn't change the person's mind but at least I wouldn't be hearing this tiny voice at the back of my head saying "what if" every damn time I hear the person's name.

Enchanted Kingdom, November 2018

VegFest, November 2018

This year, I promise to make better relationships. I'll make more time for my friends and family and everyone else that I love, as love requires time, presence and loyalty. Likewise, love also demands generosity, and this includes granting them the freedom of walking away without resentment from my end. I, too, will walk away from the unnecessary drama, and use the time to reflect on my own well-being, talk to God and ask Him if maybe some of the things in what I am writing right now are actually part of His plans for me. And if I ever fall in love again? I'd definitely tell that person. Rejection could have been better than being haunted by regret.

Mula Sa Buwan, December 2018

PGH, December 2018

Cheers to a new book for this year!

This year I promise, things will be better. In 2019, I won't let my fear take over my decisions. I will fearlessly write my tangled thoughts and share it to anyone who would listen. Until this platform becomes a formidable source of inspiration and empowerment. This will be me in real life.

90s-inspired Christmas Party, 2018

Cheers to a better year for all of us. Stay weird!

xoxo,

Beth G.

I didn’t have plans of watching it again – Mula sa Buwan broke my heart the first time I saw it, though I should say it threw the pieces in the right places. But I loved everything about it, from the songs (Tinig sa Dilim for the win!) to the actors, as well as the experience and the feelings it gave me in all life aspects. Talk about being attacked on a personal level. And I must say this play has left me with a bittersweet memory I’d never forget in my lifetime. So when I saw their Facebook announcement that they are going to do one final run on December 1st, I took it as a sign that I must see it one last time.


I told my friends that the 2018 version was better than that of the 2017. Though now I’ve thought it through, I could no longer decide whether it was true or it’s just that, the experience was better this time around. What I saw last weekend was the same Cyrano – Nicco Manalo couldn’t have done it more perfectly than he did. The Christians I saw were different, I like both Edward Benosa and Myke Salomon though I could barely remember how Ed did it really (it’s been more than a year, forgive me). Gab Pangilinan gave me the chills when she finally performed Ang Sabi Nila, but not the way KL Dizon made me cringe and cry and feel like someone was really dead. Hey, I love Gab, too, don’t get me wrong. Especially when she gives life to the #romanceclass MCs along with Jef. And Rosanna, what can I say more about her?


The story broke my heart, and I guess everyone who saw it would say the same. It was a sad love story, unrequited, unsaid and lost. It was also a story of defiance. Roxane told the priest that she should be married to the man she truly loved instead of the one who was pursuing her. The cadets fought bravely during the war. Cyrano went back and forth to the woman he loved the most just to send his devotion despite of the danger that awaited him, or the fact that the woman was already owned by someone else. The world has clearly changed after the war and yet they weren’t keen to embrace it. Roxane chose to grieve forever, refusing to take off the shroud of emptiness that prevented her to see through her best friend’s heart. All these broke my heart and made it whole again. I cried again, during that last scene with Cyrano and Roxane. This time, harder.


I really hope this wouldn’t be the last time they run the show. The entire experience was too violent yet too sweet and I would love to spend more just to get that feeling again, and I’m not even kidding. Mula sa Buwan will always have that special spot in my heart reserved for Filipino musicals.

xoxo,
Beth G. 💕

Not all disabilities are visible.

Life with chronic illness is unimaginably challenging - it’s stressful and has the potential to pull away every shred of hope and strength you have in every aspect of your life. It has the capacity to rob you of the important things, and most of the time including your sanity. It drains you of every positive thought in your head, forcing you to believe that you’re this little piece of scum that has no value or meaning at all.

I should know. I’m living this kind of life.

Around this time of the year not more than six years ago, I was told I have myasthenia gravis. I could only imagine the blank stare I gave the doctor because one, I didn’t know what it was and two, that called for the question I so dreaded to ask.

Is it curable?

It took her some seconds before the doctor answered me back. It is treatable, yes.

You see, myasthenia gravis is an autoimmune, neuromuscular disease that causes severe muscle weakness. When I say severe muscle weakness, it means I wouldn’t be able brush my hair and my teeth. My eyes would either be droopy or seeing double, or both. I wouldn’t be able to chew and swallow food. Or put my clothes on without help. I wouldn’t be able to walk up and down the stairs, or go to the bathroom and sit on the toilet. Hell, I wouldn’t even be able to smile and take a good selfie. On worst days, I would have to be rushed to the emergency because my breathing muscles are already affected and I wouldn’t be able to breathe. It’s a rare condition, so just imagine living with something that people would perceive to be just all in your head. Plus, there is no known cure, but like the doctor said, it is treatable, which means I need to take medications for a long time, to alleviate the symptoms. Maybe for the rest of my life.

Right now, I am living an almost normal life. I don’t even look like I’m sick, maybe except for my unusual chubby cheeks brought about by the immunosuppressants. I must say that I’ve come a long way in accepting the terms of this new life I had no choice but to sign up for. It was never easy, but I’ve learned a lot of things:

“It’ll get better, you’ll see” is a myth. Maybe I just got lucky that life got better, but it isn’t the same for everyone. I’ve been into different support groups and it allowed me to witness people who could only hope and pray for that day when they’re finally symptom-free. Most of them have been called home without any relief at all. And it’s sad, really. I guess, getting better got a whole new different meaning for me. Getting better now meant coming to terms of accepting it, that chronic illness doesn’t just go away, and I just have to be strong and always remember that I am not alone. I am not the only one fighting this battle.

People are mean, and it’s tiring to explain yourself. I always get stares whenever I stand in the priority lane. People would look at me from head to toe, assessing what’s wrong with me, given that still have both limbs and could walk properly. I could only stare straight ahead, ignoring theirs and console myself that their idiocy isn’t visible either (can’t we just be nice to everyone?). Sometimes I’d think I don’t need to explain anything to these people, but when a stranger asks, I just think of it as an opportunity for spreading awareness. I just pray to heavens my mouth muscles would cooperate.

An effective support system is hard to come by. Again, maybe I was just lucky enough to have a family that’s willing to understand what I’m going through. I found an amazing doctor that was able to manage my symptoms so well I feel like I’m already in remission. I’ve got witty friends who could make jokes and make me laugh about my condition. People that hit my phone up whenever I fall off  the radar just to check if maybe I was in an emergency situation again. But let me tell you that there’s a great pain involved in determining the people with genuine concern as opposed to those who only want something to talk about.

It is depressing, and there’s only so much you can do about it. I used to have a great life - I have an exciting career, I can go to places whenever I want without considering if there’s a nearby hospital over there, I can talk to people without worrying about embarrassing myself once my bulbar muscles failed me. But things have changed, and chronic illness has effectively stolen the self-confidence I used to rely on to steal great opportunities. Looking back, I would like to believe I earned every right to sulk in the corner, launch a one-person (or maybe three) pity party and be depressed. Do I have any other choice? Definitely. And that is, to cry in my pajamas overnight, wake up in the morning, get dressed and put my makeup on because queen’s got work to do. It’s hard, super hard, but I figured if I wanted to be better then I just have to shrug everything off my shoulders.

My resilience and tolerance to pain gets better, it only made me stronger. And yes, battling chronic illness has made stronger. It has effectively set my mind that, what else can I not surpass after this? The things I encounter in my everyday life has become too trivial I could just laugh at them. I no longer mind being rejected (at least not like before, hah!) because of how many times I have been rejected by institutions that would supposedly provide me with medical assistance. I no longer mind being alone because of the number of days I spent in the ICU room all by myself, with only the equipments-I don’t-know-what-they’re-called and their eerie beeps to keep me company. It no longer mattered if I got wounded and scratched, because I have been under knife and stitches (and it won’t matter if I would fall in love with the wrong person because, how many times have I fallen off the stairs just because my leg muscles won’t cooperate? 😂).

My relationship with God has taken a whole new level. I understand that not all of those who would read this would agree about the higher power. But I believe in God, and I even asked Him what are His plans for me while I was intubated some years ago, struggling to survive. There were too many questions, and I found the answers along the way. I figured I was never rejected - it was a prep for me so I’d be ready to face the amazing things that awaited me in this other, much brighter side of life. Kinda like a training for that new job you just landed. I find solace in talking to God in my waking hours at night, because I know someone is listening. And He’s always there. He won’t tell anyone what I told him (He won’t screenshot what we talked about, duh!). He won’t cheat. Best of all, God won’t leave.

All of us have our own life struggles. Sometimes it would feel like the world goes blacker and blacker each day you wake up, but when you choose to still try to deal with it, then that’s saying something. And it doesn’t matter how severe or big the battle had been. What we’ve learned along the way would be our determining factor for that. And in the end, we’d just look back and smile and say, “Whew! I made it!”

xo, Beth G.