Vitamin Sea

Anilao, Mabini, Batangas. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Old and fresh wounds have opened up and as expected, I had trouble sleeping despite taking alprazolam. I hate this. I thought I’m done with this. I thought I’m mending. I thought I’m going to be alright. I thought wrong.

I’m still so, so far. A little thank you sends so many bitter memories and feelings. I’m like this broken vase that keeps cracking, breaking, and repairing itself with little bits and pieces of whatever could be salvaged.

I hope I’m not a zombie by Monday since Asian markets will be back again. Inflation concerns are creeping up. I should be alert and scoop up FMETF when it dips. I have US-East Asia de-SPAC stories to write. I have a lot of things to write 🤦🏻‍♀️

I want a huge dose of Vitamin sea now but I have to be careful. I checked with Blue Ribbon yesterday if my reservation for last year is still intact; they said it’s there and I just have to tell them when I will have the 4D-3N reservation. Probably we’ll go there when the winds are kinder and the diving sites are much pleasant. I would have to buy the doughnut and diving buoy. I should buy those fins meant for free dives, too. How about underwater camera???

By June probably we can go to Bohol (if resorts are already operating) or Moalboal for the sardine run. The girls suggested Palawan for my solo trip to refresh me. They know everything that’s why they are rallying behind me.

Do the things that I love to banish this pain. Do the things that make me ME and not feel small when others seem to lead shinier lives. I’m not like that. I like contemplative activities, as well as the outdoors, but I also like creating a home. I like taking care of others. K said he misses my cooking so I said we’ll have barbeque outside my apartment with other friends. Just no talk of his sexcapades with his one-night-stand boylets or else my neighbors will be scandalized.

Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I finished one panel. Two panels more for the girls’ bedroom. Then I will tackle the curtains for the living room.

Later today or tomorrow when I’m feeling much better, I will tackle the container garden. Seeing flowers make me happy. I like working with my hands, be it cooking, gardening or crafting. But I also like having battle of wits with CEOs for mental calisthenics. Putting a lot of platitudes on a social media profile only makes one look shallow. I’d rather have cerebral swordfights with these guys and earn their respect. During my last interview, the CEO of a firm abroad told me he enjoyed our conversation because I get it.

Hmm, maybe I should have a side gig interviewing people on TV. I can probably pitch…

Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I will get through this. One day there will be no more pain. I will look back when I’m 60 and say, yeah, I’ve lived a good life: raised my kids, have good friends, did the things I love and not chase shallowness and illusions. And yeah, libraries have the books I wrote.

One day, no more pain. Oh God, it hurts right now.


It’s 5:39 am. It seems like meeting daylight is a regular thing for me now.

I’ve come to hate the night. What used to be a time that offers rest and tranquility is now a time of chaos and restlessness. I can’t take alprazolam again because it’s a controlled substance, therefore, addictive. For goodness’ sake, it’s a tranquilizer!

When will this end? Haven’t I carried this cross long enough? I wish I could snap my fingers and boom–it’s gone. No, it doesn’t work that way.

I’m trying. I’m really trying.

If loving unconditionally means long-term suffering like this, then I no longer choose to love like that ever. I am really swearing off this thing called love. It’s just for my girls and the cats, that’s it. God, I can’t take this anymore.

Kittens for adoption

Kitties! Photo by my neighbor

My neighbor and my household have been sheltering street cats in our compound. One ginger mommy cats gave birth to four kittens but only three survived (or one is still missing/hiding). They are for adoption and then the mommy cat would be spayed as soon as I can get her into a cat carrier and have her scheduled at PAWS.

The kittens are already eating solid food.

I’ve posted on my social media accounts and sent private messages to friends and relatives just in case they may be interested. So far no takers yet. Poor kitties! They need a home/homes. I could no longer take them because my masungit cats are territorial and I no longer have space for one more kitty litter.


I was already doing fine and life is placid then this came out of nowhere via Grab. Life throws me curve balls.

Photo by CallMeCreation.com

I think this was the view of Laguna Lake on top of Mt. Tagapo in Talim Island. The canvas I bought J with the acrylic paints in preparation for the first lockdown.

I don’t know why he had to do this after a year when I’m already doing much better and working towards healing. Guilt? I dunno. All I can say is I got triggered and had a panic attack.

Grab tracker says it’s from Muntinlupa and the delivery guy says it’s from Nicole or whatever name. I always knew he had a girlfriend even before we broke up. That’s why he was so defensive. A woman just knows; I was just clouded at that time but I always knew–that’s why I fought hard to win him back. I suspected it was D since its just so happened it was her name that always that cropped up but deep down I knew it must be somebody else since he’s attracted to shiny people/things, like that girl from that co-working space that he pirated. He was impressed by/attracted to her because she’s shiny even though I knew she was wrong for the job but he still insisted. I was so tired of trying to be shiny to measure up to his expectations. I will never measure up. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Deep down I knew that right after we broke up, he already had somebody else in that condo, as I mentioned here several times before. That person was the reason why. He could have just told me when I asked was there somebody else even though I already knew the answer but I was just in denial. He didn’t have the decency to tell me so I had to suffer the whys. To the point I had to go into therapy.

Whatever his reasons for sending this painting, it doesn’t matter anymore.

I am closing this chapter. I’m so tired of the deceit and lies. I’M JUST SO FREAKING TIRED.

I could never measure up and will never be enough.

I’m just me. Simple. Earthy. I live by my wits. I don’t have the body, I don’t have money, and I only just have my brains to live on. I live by my hands, I want to create things, I’m not glamorous and will never be.

I have so much to give but to the wrong people.

I’m so done. I’m finally cutting this soul tie.

101 ways of cooking Spam

Of course I’m exaggerating but this video gives me lots of ideas.

Americans keep on asking us Asians (especially Filipinos), what’s with Spam? They told me they really don’t eat it and it’s usually the lower income people who just buy these in the US. I told them that our penchant for eating Spam has something to do with history and sociology more than its culinary characteristics.

I was told by elders that during World War II, Filipinos had no source of meat for years. When liberation time came, the relief goods that were parachuted from the sky contained Spam and corned beef. For people who had barely enough to eat, Spam was like luxury. My ex-father-in-law said that he was 13 years old when the relief boxes were dropped in their province and it was his first time to eat corned beef out of a can. And the experience was glorious. Since then he only ate corned beef straight out of a can, just like when he first tasted it.

But I digress.

So in the years following the war, Spam was still inaccessible to Filipinos since it was only manufactured in the US and imports were rarely sold in local supermarkets. Only those who had relatives in the US get to have Spam or those who are rich enough to fly to the US for holidays can buy it. Another way of getting the stuff is if you can get to Olongapo and buy it from the PX goods shops there. American servicemen who wanted to earn extra cash sell their personal supplies like soaps, shampoos, and canned goods to entrepreneurs outside the US bases in Pampanga (Clark Airbase) and Zambales (Subic Naval base). So in a way, having Spam in your pantry is like a status symbol then. I was not enamored of Spam like my brother because I didn’t grow up eating that. I remember having the Filipino luncheon meat (Gusto/Philips brand) or the Chinese one (Ma Ling) for breakfast. I think my brother had access to Spam because he stayed with my maternal grandpa during school holidays growing up and they always get canned goods from the US because half of the family lived there. And only special grandchildren get to have access to that–my brother was a favorite. He had chinky eyes like my grandpa.

I think this is the same reason why Okinawans had access to Spam–they have the American bases there. The Spam rice rolls and other sub-Japanese cuisine with Spam originated from there.

Later Spam became a regular in Filipino pantries across all economic classes after Purefoods San Miguel had formed a joint venture with Hormel and started manufacturing Spam locally. I have Spam in my pantry for emergencies, like when I run out of things to cook. I dice it to combine with fried rice and eggs. And now various ways of making onigiri.

Speaking of gimbap/rice rolls, I discovered this yummy condiment:

Roasted ginger sauce. Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Roasted Ginger Sauce. I can’t remember how or where I got it from (SM Marikina? Or someone gave it to me?) but it doesn’t matter. I use this on gimbap, onigiri, or egg rolls. Heck, I can use it on everything. It’s lovely, I tell you.


Today was basura day again. I did nothing but sleep–I literally slept all day, hence, I was a useless journo/editor again. I freaking don’t know why I was so tired. I tried sleeping early last night but I woke up at 3 am for some unknown reason and only managed to sleep at 5 am. I have to tell my doctor tomorrow that my body clock is messed up for weeks now. I HAVE A WEBINAR TOMORROW and a press conference and three stories to write. Damn it.

I’m still operating in a different time zone.

photograph of a person with her hand on her head
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Will my doctor take me off alprazolam immediately? I don’t know. I don’t think this is withdrawal symptoms because I was fine before this. I think she can take me off alprazolam now since I have less anxiety caused by J or anything to do with him nowadays. That’s why I keep on writing memories of him here so I can let it all out and I won’t get triggered as much. It’s like building my immunity; similar to injecting myself with dead coronavirus. The best description I have of me now, save for the sleeping issues, is I’m placid.

And as long as I don’t see that girl on social media as well, I think I’m fine. I don’t know why a girl almost half my age can get to me like this. She’s not even pretty but heck she caused me so much pain and insecurity.

I’m still fixing myself.

It’s funny. It’s almost 14 months and it feels like it just happened yesterday. This is the longest and most difficult heartbreak I’ve had and it’s not something to be proud of. It’s unfair to me, too. Here he was, gallivanting and chasing after very young girls four months after our breakup (or maybe earlier, I dunno), while I wilted and died. It’s not about him moving on quickly that hurts–I already expected that because it’s in his personality. It’s chasing people in my circle is the the hateful part. It’s like an affront to me. Like he’s deliberately letting me know that, “Hey, I have moved on, Bitch, and she’s just like you, a journo but almost half your age.” I don’t know if he’s that dense that he has forgotten that I have introduced the girl to him after my company’s event and our trade organization’s event was just in the next ballroom (where we crashed the dinner and we were pretty drunk then). And maybe he underestimated how wide my network is.

Anyway, that’s all in the past. I’m trying to heal. Getting bogged down and killed TWICE was something for the books. I have to admit he did break me. I have to stop pretending that I didn’t break because the truth is I succumbed to alcohol and I realized I needed professional help to get me out of that dark hole. I was already drinking myself into oblivion, for goodness’ sake! Imbibing alcohol every night to help me sleep was a perfect road to self-destruction. Because of my children I had to get help–I’m all they got. My family has no idea what I was going through. They thought I was being introverted again and I was being my usual self that I wanted to stay away from them. It’s equivalent to my teenage self locking herself up in her bedroom to be away from them. Being very near family is sometimes toxic, too. That’s why I’m still unsure if moving back into my hometown is a wise decision.

But this is for my kids. I’m doing this for my kids.

So as K asked me one time, are you ready to face him if by accident you bump into each other? I said I don’t know but I’m bracing myself. Eventually, that may happen, either here in Manila or Singapore. Our world is small. But hopefully I’m already well by that time. I don’t have a mean bone in my body so the desire to get even is not there. I don’t want to melt as well and have all my defenses pulled down. I hope I’m over him by that time so I won’t fall or get affected negatively. I hope I’m healthier physically and mentally, too, by that time.

I’m getting better. I should get better.

Messed up

My body is still battling with this weird internal clock of mine. I had trouble sleeping last night that at 6 am today I was still awake. I decided to go downstairs and tackle long-forgotten chores. I stored our Christmas decor in that closet under the stairs but I had to take out a lot of crap before I can shove it in. The crap got brought outside our gate for the dumpster divers. Then I cooked rice and steamed mantou before finally I was tired enough to fall asleep at past 7 am.

Woke up at 10 and cooked lunch.

Photo by CallMeCreation.com

After lunch I slept again until almost 5 pm.

I feel like a vampire. I don’t know if this is long-Covid, withdrawal symptoms from my alprazolam that my shrink is weaning me off from, or anxiety because of my blog entry yesterday. My body is so messed up right now.

Because I am basically a zombie today, I decided not to cook dinner. I ordered pizza from Yellow Cab.

Photo by CallMeCreation.com
Photo by CallMeCreation.com

Good thing I was too sleepy or else I would have gone to SM Marikina and would have shopped. I already see a pattern here. Whenever I get upset, I wanted to shop for crap. Some kind of serotonin boost, to make me feel better about myself. Because I was feeling sorry for myself yesterday, remembering how loathed I was/am.

The thing here is I shouldn’t be seeking sources of serotonin boosters because I have another medication for that (escitalopram) that balances this out.

Staying cooped up really makes things worse.

It’s a wonder that one person/trauma can really affect one’s life, no? It’s so fucked up that I want to scold myself for being so weak like that. It’s so unfair too. What did I do to deserve this?

Ok stop it. I need to get out more tomorrow.

Human appliance

white ceramic figurine of angel illustration
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

My colleague’s little girl died today. Her organs were failing and then she just gave up. Our fundraising is still ongoing as he still couldn’t pay the entire hospital bill. I said I will give him the funds by end of the week after our fundraising is over. As he was speaking to me he broke down, he let out a raw cry of pure anguish that you cannot just describe properly. He says he is overwhelmed with grief and at the same time gratitude to people he even doesn’t know who are helping him.

I told him, you know, we are parents, too.

He is also crying because he has soooooooo many regrets.

I was chatting with the girl’s mom this morning (we had been chatting throughout the years) and she told me:

I told my friends before that I am just a woman appliance. For years, I ignored my needs, and I felt like if I am low maintenance (tough and not needy), I am easier to love. Before, I thought I was a superwoman. I did most (if not all) of the house chores, childrearing, while working full time (work from home). But then it dawned on me, I also have needs. That’s why I hired 2-3 nannies with shifts. My stress disappeared, my shouting. For the past 3 years I was happy because I have efficient helpers with me for child-rearing. My children made me realize that I’m more than an appliance. I am thankful that I felt that with my little girl even if she is almost (a) non-verbal (autistic child).

The background here is that my colleague cheated on the little girl’s mom (wife) by having an affair and a child with a very young journo (what’s with young female journos??? because they’re gullible?). The only reason why they haven’t separated physically yet is because the little girl needed to see her dad regularly since instability is difficult for a child under the spectrum. But the (ex)-spouses aren’t on good terms. As I said before, we in our circle/trade organization know everybody’s business; we’re nosy like that. That’s why we’re journos; news spread fast. That’s why everyone knows about J, that other journo girl, and me even though I haven’t spoken about it.

Anyway, I know where the mom is coming from, feeling like a woman appliance. I know exactly how she felt and what she went through. I thought doing all those things for J and being tough and not needy would make him love me more. I ignored my needs. But I was wrong. She was wrong. We cannot make them love us if they don’t and if they just see us as human appliances. Someone useful.

I told her I completely understand her as I’ve been through that twice.

I said her little girl wants to go to Palawan with her now (they couldn’t do that before because they always had to be near a hospital for her sporadic seizures). This is her little girl’s way to make it possible for the her (mom), the little girl, and the little brother to go to Palawan. I told her take little girl’s favorite stuffed toy and take pictures/selfies in the places the three of them will go to, the trips that they will have. Make an Instagram account of that so we can see.

She said:

Yes will do that. I’ll just take a rest. Thank u again, CallMeCreation. I really love talking to you, for some weird reason it feels like you’re my sister.

I told her, “I am because we are bound by the same suffering and our love for our children. Take a rest. You still have a long journey ahead of you.”

As I said before, our children are the only ones who have given us unconditional love. No ifs and buts. Even if we smell like the kitchen and we look like shit, they still love us just because. We are their world. As parents, we would give our lives for them and if we lose them, it’s like we also have died with them. And as King Theoden in Lord of the Rings said, no parent deserves to bury their child.

Good night, little angel. Look after your mom and little brother. Oh, your dad, too.