MOVING

My last log was when I was in the Philippines.

I lost my child one hour and 39 minutes after childbirth, I buried her beside my parents, and I grieved like I have never grieved before. Surrendering was the last thing I did back home. Surrendering to the fact that I have lost loved ones, surrendering to grief, surrendering to a life I have fought so hard to keep, and surrendering a place I have called home for 43 years.

Moving to Canada was not the scariest thing I have done in my life. In fact, moving here felt like being given a brand new lease in life. Here, I am able to get to know myself again and really know who I am. I also get to reinvent myself and embrace everything in me that I love and hate. It is easier to live an authentic life in a place where practically nobody knows you or cares about your thoughts. Making friends is a bit hard, but I have spent most of my time caring for myself, my husband, and my children. I have always told myself that the second part of my life is dedicated to being a mother. And embracing all my other roles that support my role as a mother. Being a mother comes first, as well as being a wife.

I didn’t realize that moving meant journeying from my mind to my heart. It meant moving back to my core being and truly embracing it - scars, successes, failures, and beauty. It meant moving towards my children and holding their hand as they try to figure out their lives to. It meant moving alongside my husband, who finally embraced what it is like to validated and to find his self-worth.

And here I am, moving in place. Learning how to recognize my mind’s worry, and my heart’s desire to let go of it. Moving with the people I love as I watch them grow from where I am. Moving as I learn how to spend time with myself in seclusion - in my art, my writing, my pottery, and my work.

I am moving like the wind - cannot be seen, but felt.