{"id":24468,"date":"2014-08-30T13:03:19","date_gmt":"2014-08-30T05:03:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/?p=24468"},"modified":"2014-09-02T14:17:14","modified_gmt":"2014-09-02T06:17:14","slug":"things-ive-learned-so-far","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/2014\/08\/30\/things-ive-learned-so-far\/","title":{"rendered":"Things I\u2019ve Learned (So Far)"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Photo<\/a>
Photo by Ching Dee<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I haven\u2019t been around very long, barely thirty years.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not going to say I already know everything there is to know about life and living\u2014perhaps I never will. But just like any human being, I\u2019ve had my fair share of lessons. Some lessons were learned the hard way, some epiphanies, some sweet revelations.<\/p>\n

Nevertheless, lessons I would like to share with you today.<\/p>\n

With this assignment, I decided to rummage through my blog archive. Boy, am I thankful for my prolific blogging days when I was in college (and through my unemployed-slash-confused phase).<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On Putting Up Walls<\/strong>
\nBack in 2008, I was going through an angsty phase\u2014much like any college kid held back by failed subjects. I wrote this during that phase.<\/p>\n

“I’ve just put up another wall\u2014it’s called harshness\u2014to cover up the thick insulation of hurt and the braces of frustration. It keeps hidden the layers upon layers of wallpaper of bitterness and a heart as fragile as that 14th century chandelier in Queen Elizabeth’s ballroom. To the south, you find the wall called strength; to the east is dominance; to the west is self-reliance. If the roof called \u2018alone\u2019 didn’t need the other walls to stand, it would choose to embody its name. It would choose to be alone.<\/em>”<\/p>\n

Today, roughly six years later, I\u2019ve learned that while being alone isn\u2019t all that bad, it is definitely better to surround yourself with people who love you unconditionally and those who will support you no matter what.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On Having Huge, Callous Hands<\/strong>
\nAs a horticulture major, I was no stranger to hard and dirty labor. I\u2019ve spent many a days under the sun\u2014tilling the soil, tending my plot, watering my experimental plants. These things eventually took a toll on my hands.<\/p>\n

“I’ve always wanted someone to like my hands. They’re huge for a girl’s hand\u2014all callous and rough. Fingers hardened by work and skin toughened by toil, hands that have tilled the soil and caressed the land. Out-of-proportion and rickety joints ’cause of constant ‘phalanges popping.’ Hands so rough that even my own mother is not a big fan of them. She has given me numerous kinds of hand creams and lotions to soften my hands even just a little bit, but to no avail. ‘Because I’m a farmer, mother.’ I myself am not a fan of my hands, but unlike my mother, I do understand why my hands are the way they are. It’s my fault why my hands are like this. It doesn’t really bother me, unless somebody brings it up: my mom, my sister, my bestfriend, the manicurist. And now I came upon a thought and I figured that I actually look forward to the day when someone would like my hands more than I do, but would like me for more than my hands.<\/em>”<\/p>\n

Later on, I learned that my friends and my family do like (and some even love) me for more than my hands. I just had to look beyond my imperfections and see what these wonderful people can do despite of me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On Keeping My Mouth Shut<\/strong>
\n“I’ve learned that keeping my mouth shut when someone makes fun of me says more than when I actually say something back;<\/p>\n

I’ve learned that keeping my mouth shut and keeping my ears open when a friend is grieving is more helpful than when I actually try to come up with some psycho babble crap I haven’t even tried myself (keeping my wallet open helps, too);<\/p>\n

I’ve learned that keeping my mouth shut while I’m angry will save both me and the other party further pain. I’ve also learned that the keyword there is “while;”<\/p>\n

I’ve learned that when I keep my mouth shut, I sometimes deprive someone of loving words or needed encouragement;<\/p>\n

I’ve learned that a basketball game, a discussion group, a metered phone call and sitting next to a thirsty soul is not the place to keep my mouth shut;<\/p>\n

I’ve learned that keeping my mouth shut and moving on when I’m (being) replaced saves energy\u2014at least I won’t add to the earth\u2019s rising entropy;<\/p>\n

And I’ve learned that keeping my mouth shut is harder when it counts.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On Being a Waste of a Good Woman<\/strong>
\n“Girls, never forget that trying to act like a man is a waste of a good woman.” \u2013 Christine Caine<\/p>\n

I agree. And for me, this is a reminder.<\/p>\n

I should let myself be a woman and I should let them be a man. I\u2019m not saying that ladies should always be like damsels in distress. It\u2019s 2014, for goodness\u2019 sake! Strong, independent, capable women are everywhere\u2014even in the mirror. I\u2019m just saying that we don\u2019t always have to be Superman, especially when Superman\u2019s already around.<\/p>\n

Dudes, protect your woman. Any woman, for that matter. She will not hesitate to hand over the reins when she knows she’s in good hands.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On Rejection<\/strong>
\nLet me tell you something about rejection: It really sucks. And to be honest, the only thing that’s worse than rejection is being too poor to buy cheer-up food so you can wallow.<\/p>\n

On the other hand, I did learn one thing when I got rejected for a job post that I really wanted back in 2013: I’m at that point in my life when I actually know what I really want. That’s why, I figured, when I don’t get it, it hurts more than usual. It’s a learning process, this whole rejection thing. Not that I don’t get rejected. Believe me, I’ve had my share. It’s just that rejection is something that never gets easier even if you experience it a lot. It’s just something you have to deal with by bouncing back and doing better than you did that first time.<\/p>\n

As I traveled home that day, basking in the un-glory of my rejection, I was reminded that the only thing that matters is that I did my best. It is the state of my heart that matters most, and my heart is at home with Him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On Being a Boss<\/strong>
\nRecently, I\u2019ve learned that being the boss doesn\u2019t mean you\u2019re always right.<\/p>\n

Most of the time, being a boss means listening to several great suggestions and choosing the best one for the benefit of the entire team\u2014not just your own profit.<\/p>\n

Being in charge of the PCI website taught me that there are some things that you really have to say no to in order to say yes to something more important. But there will always be a way to make up for it.<\/p>\n

I learned that making mistakes are okay, as long as you learn from those mistakes. My boss once told us that making mistakes are okay because it means “you\u2019re trying.”<\/p>\n

I learned from a boss-friend who\u2019s about to move on to greener pastures that you don\u2019t have to be stern all the time just because you\u2019re a boss. Grace, understanding, and encouragement will always be better approaches compared to fear and intimidation.<\/p>\n

Being a boss also sometimes means making unpopular decisions. Period.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On Trusting the Unseen<\/strong>
\nOn Thursday, my Dad will have been in the hospital for two months\u2014confined to his bed, unable to move. He suffered a severe stroke due to a massive infarct in his brain. He\u2019s hooked up to a mechanical ventilator, pumping his chest up and down, filling his chest with compressed air and then emptying it again slowly. Nurses turn him to his side every 3-4 hours to avoid getting bedsores.<\/p>\n

He opens his eyes a lot, but even his neurologist can\u2019t really say he\u2019s \u201cawake\u201d because we\u2019re not sure if he\u2019s conscious. We\u2019re not sure if he knows I\u2019m his daughter when he sees me. We\u2019re not sure if he knows what\u2019s happening around him.<\/p>\n

There are no words to describe how unbelievably heart-wrenching and soul-crushing it is to see my own father like this. I\u2019m sure I\u2019m not the only one in the world who has gone through this. I\u2019m sure there\u2019s somebody out there who has been through worse. But it\u2019s not a contest. It never is.<\/p>\n

If there\u2019s anything I\u2019ve learned in the two months that we (me, my mom, my sister, my dad) have been hospitalized, it\u2019s that we can count on God. We can trust the unseen.<\/p>\n

We can trust His ways and His love and His unending grace. We can trust Him despite my extended family\u2019s lack of support, despite some of my friends who “seen-zoned” me when I asked for help, despite all those sleepless nights (and days).<\/p>\n

We can trust Him that He is moving in the hearts of those people who truly care\u2014those who cared enough to even just ask how we\u2019ve been doing. Those who gave without being asked.<\/p>\n

I learned that He is a God worthy of my trust, that I can entrust my father\u2019s life to Him because He knows what\u2019s best for Him. I can trust Him that He will turn all this unpleasantness into His glory.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

With all this, there\u2019s one more thing I\u2019ve learned: that I haven\u2019t learned anything at all.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I haven\u2019t been around very long, barely thirty years. I\u2019m not going to say I already know everything there is …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":44,"featured_media":24469,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-24468","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-lifestyle","mauthors-ching-dee","mauthors-philippine-canadian-inquirer"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24468","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/44"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=24468"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24468\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/24469"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=24468"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=24468"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/canadianinquirer.net\/v1\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=24468"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}