Chapter 42 loading

This week has been a whirlwind. On Tuesday, I sat in on a panel sponsored by Mommas Voices and again spoke about my traumatic birth experiences. I got to "meet" new faces whose stories were not quite the same as mine, but we've all come to this moment and space due to our motherhood journey. Bonus: I didn't cry. I merely listened, answered the question and added to them, as needed. 
And on Thursday, I went to my first Filipino American National Historical Society event. I was moved that there were a lot of people who wanted to listen to our panel - this one was how folktales or mythologies impacted our own stories. At first, it didn't feel like I should be sitting next to two women who have written their books with such beautiful Filipino mythology retelling. Who was I? I was this mom who just spoke about her mental health and preeclampsia to anyone who would listen. I wrote poetry and haven't written in quite a while. Someone told me that all the things I was doing was a big deal but as pumped as I was, it just didn't feel like I was measuring up.  
As these thoughts came so rapidly, I made myself stop. It helped that there were people - FILIPINOS - my people who in their own way told me to stop and be proud. I'm a Filipina. I write about mental health so that another Filipina (young or old) can see that they are absolutely not alone. 
I'm a Filipina - the women next to me are Filipinas - and we are, through our own journeys - are proof that we don't have to fit in boxes that society and our families try to put us in. We can simply create our own paths. And yes, it is rocky and filled with hardship, but that's life.
​And as I was sitting there staring out into the crowd, I was reminded of the journeys Filipinos in general have taken to get to where we are now. In the callbacks to our ancestral heritage, we came from warriors and peace keepers. We are children born out of jungles and ash. In our bloodline, our ancestors have seen fighting and liberation. Some of our brave ancestors took a boat and made it across the Pacific. Their stories and DNA are the reasons why some of us are born with a sense that there is something out there to be discovered; there is something here or there to be written about. We should honor the storytellers just as much as all the warriors that came and fought. 
And in them, I am me. I'm a Filipina and in less than 24 hours, I will be 42, and my lists of accomplishments are a big deal. 
- I've written a book (Love, Defined): - how many people can say that?
- I had preeclampsia twice and survived; postpartum depression, rage, anxiety and wrote a memoir consisting of journal entries and poetry (Storm of Hope). 
- I have spoken in a panel to a crowd of 500 people about my traumatic birth experiences (TCHMB summit).
- I was invited to film a series (Hear Her Texas) so that health care providers and educators can use my story as educational tools for how to treat their patients going forward. 
- I was asked to speak for a walk where people whose stories matched mine was able to walk with me (Promise Walk Dallas). 
- My poems have been in mental health anthologies and journals.
- My takes on Asian American and identities has been studied in a college setting. 
- I went from a WIC Nutritionist to stay at home mom and then decided at the age of 37 that I was going to be a teacher....and I did. I am. 

I'm Pinoy. An immigrant who moved here at 9 years old and these accomplishments are a big freaking deal and I should own them instead of merely waving my hand and go yeah, but so and so did this..... 
And I know I'm nowhere near done yet. 

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Minutes before I zoomed in to my panel. I have my very old 2020 tumbler from Mommas Voices reminding me that I am not alone and it's okay if my voice shakes. People need to hear my story.

At the FANHS conference in Houston, right before I get to talk to a couple of amazing young writers who are going to change the way we see Filipinas. Amazed and humbled does not begin to cover how I feel about them and the fact that I am included.

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