Find Anything to Hold onto When You Have Nothing: Advice from My Strict, Filipino Parents

I’m still trying to wrap my head around these past few months. I get out of bed daily, look at myself, then carry on. I have a lot of things wrong with me, really. I mean, first and foremost, I can’t stop googling, “Do people see me as I see myself in a mirror, or is it flipped?”

I know I have an eating disorder because I have the worst relationship with food. I know I have body image issues because I can’t remember a single time when I fully embraced and loved my body in its entirety. Truthfully, I have a condition that only my closest people know about. I’ve been listening to a Julia Jacklin song called “Shivers,” and I couldn't relate more to its opening line: “I’ve been contemplating suicide, but it really doesn’t suit my style.” If life could give out free awards, I’d win the award for tackling intrusive thoughts, dealing with another consecutive family death, moving to, yet, another new place, experiencing the trauma of past heartbreak, and losing friends as fast as I gained them, all over again, in one sitting.

I think of a balloon when it pops, losing every little inch of what it once was. I’m not a science geek, but everyone knows that it doesn’t take much for a balloon to POP. It doesn’t take much for it to blow up and change its shape. I think a ton about change and going through it, for us to be “better” and “bolder” as humans. I hate the fact that you have to go through so much, without any notice sometimes, within a few months time, most of the time. As a Filipino, raised by immigrant parents, moving to the States when I was only two, there are instances where I feel like my culture and generational differences can suck the living life out of me. There are days when I struggle with my identity because I always look at my culture in a positive light, in hopes for it to be by my side when I need it the most. In Southeast Asia, depression is taboo, so, that’s not always the case. We’re against pills of all sorts, and you have to be on a “restrictive” diet to change your shape for the better, to look “better.”

I think we do things as humans, in our own regards, to fuel something inside us bigger than ourselves. Things are instilled in us from our past, and we use them at our own discretion. When you hit rock bottom, what is it that you turn to most? I’ve realized that it’s not about “meaning” anymore but simply about “surviving” and simply “trying to survive” in a world that forgets the meaning of grace. My family is pro at acting like “we’re fine.” I learned the meaning of sacrifice at a young age, and simultaneously, I know the meaning of “showing up” even when you’re broken inside. I owe a lot to my parents for being so deadass blunt with me all the time. Though we butt heads and have different viewpoints, I respect the fact that they’re always coming from a place of love. They don’t want their kids to repeat their mistakes, and ultimately, they’re just shielding us from an unfamiliar world that they’re not really accustomed to. I like to think of parents/old people as young people trying to get by, with the unfortunate responsibility of raising “mini thems” in the process. Just kidding. But in all honesty, I wish that Filipino parents would set aside their egos a bit more, simply tuning in to the headspace of their children clearer and with more openness and intention overall. I think, if they refuse to do that, then it’s my responsibility, for better or for worse, to step in and flip the script…

My dad hates night shifts and always complains about the time. Whenever I wake up, he gets ready for bed. He works with planes, draws a lot, and sits down a lot. He’s good with tools and measurements and knows exactly what to say to me, more than my mom. We hardly have family dinners anymore… It was on a regular fall day, when I was eating brunch, at the same time that I always do, when I saw a red origami dragon sitting right in front of me on our kitchen table. I was surprised when my dad told me that he made it during work. Not all at once, but whenever he had free time—whenever he was stressed. On that specific day, when my dad was feeling all kinds of feelings, he just turned to origami to save his day.

At that moment, I never really thought my dad could hold an ounce of creativity because he’s always been the practical, “do it myself” kind of guy. I didn’t really think the little things mattered to him, as the red figure was so detailed, precise, and pristine. I guess I underestimated my dad. From that moment on, things were different. (He was more in tune with his feelings than I thought), as he was capable of finding presence and calmness in the art of origami—something that I’ve NEVER seen him do, EVER. When he had nothing, when all he had was paper in front of him, he still managed to work with paper.

I was talking to my mom the other day too. How she deals with her problems is a whole other mystery to me. She’s a huge fan of TV series, and she’ll watch literally anything to distract herself from other things. My mom’s been through a lot, but she doesn’t show it. Whenever I feel too much, she likes to dismiss it in her own ways. Again, I know that she’s coming from a place of love, but personally, I wish she was more empathetic. Sometimes, I feel like my mom is more hardcore than my dad, but essentially, that isn’t her core. My mom and dad are both very religious. I grew up Catholic and still am. I find that my dad acts more “Godly,” while my mom talks to God more. I’m not hardcore religious, but when I had nothing to turn to one day, I tried to talk to the man up above, (and it did help).

My parents say that there are a variety of things to turn to at the end of the day. There’s always artificial things, things that we can reach for, whether it be art, an outlet, a TV series, or a friend. However, when those things are overused, and we have nothing else, religion always was at the top of that list. My mom cried to me once and said that God was that “thing” that was invariably going to be there no matter what. Items and people fade, but my mother’s trust in the man up above was unmovable. Though we can’t see him, I was always taught about “this feeling” and the act of “trusting,” which to this day, is something that I use as a weapon—something that I’m very open-minded about because it’s a beacon of hope for any believer. Sometimes, hope is a good thing.

I think with this, with everything this world has to offer, with everything we have to endure, living on this earth, it’s important to be aware of what we can hold onto when we are nothing. I guess with all the noise, it’s easy to be distracted, distraught, and uncertain. With circumstances we can’t control, with our family being our family, there’s something more to living and being amid all of this. I think we find meaning in order for life not to hurt as much. Maybe we find meaning so that we can live our days with something to hold onto. As humans, we need to hold onto things or we’ll go AWOL.

Have you ever felt like you’ve had enough, physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually? Again, what do you hold onto when this weight is all on your shoulders, alone? We’re not supposed to have anything figured out in its entirety, but I know that we hold onto things when we are feeling this way, because there is no other way. Again, I’m no science geek, but I know that there’s meaning in surviving and trying to survive because things are always changing. We’re always changing, and we’re always knowing. Each of us has different ways of being and coping and living and loving, but, at the end of the day, each of us has something similar. Although we carry different meanings, though we have different ways of doing things, each of us, individually, is always finding a way to make it out alive. (Whatever that may mean to us). My mom seems to be holding onto religion. My dad seems to be holding onto origami. And… myself? Well, I guess I am trying to hold onto the stuff that sticks.

Photography by Mitzi Rian