Trigger Warnings: abuse, manipulation, love-bombing, narcissist, mental illness, cheating, trauma, suicidal ideation, gaslighting, rape
There's no way to skip this part or to just jump into the next phase. In order to succeed in life, you have to go through bad experiences in order to grow, develop and develop healthier habits.
As we've already established in previous entries, I didn't have a great home life when I was a teenager.
My mother had just given birth to her last child and my brother, Neil, so she expected me to come straight home after school to look after him. My siblings and cousins were also expected to keep an eye on him since he was still less than two-years-old.
Papa, on the other hand, was busy with his gambling, drinking, cockfighting and living the life. He didn't have the time or attention span to give to his four children.
It was Mama who did her best to keep our family together and she wanted us to have a normal life. Even though we couldn't afford it, she wanted me to go to college so she helped me get a scholarship.
She gave me a daily allowance and a stern warning that I should never, ever have a boyfriend until I graduated. I was the hope of our family and her golden child. I should never, in any circumstances, get involved with a boy, get pregnant and throw away any chance of helping my younger siblings who were both attending high school. Let's not forget that I also had an infant brother and I needed to secure a bright future for him.
In college, I didn't have a lot of friends. I was short, chubby and horribly awkward with bad skin while my classmates in my BA Mass Communications class were all slim, pretty and chummy with each other.
Unfortunately, they started bullying me at the beginning of freshman year because of my weight, my awkwardness and my fluent English accent. Let's just say that I didn't like my school, my mean classmates and my lack of career options after four years but I had to roll with it.
We got into a study group and hung out after class by having lunch at the nearest karinderya. I clearly remember that I had a half-day schedule so I would often go home immediately after school to look after Neil. When I met other students, I started to feel less of an outsider because I could hang out with them.
My closest girl friend in class, Jen, didn't like Carlo and often told me not to hang out with him. He was short, thin and plain-looking. We have a saying in Tagalog that describes him perfectly: mas matangkad pa sa kania ang yabang niya.
When translated in English, it means that he's too full of himself and arrogant. He's not that smart, good-looking or even charming. He's just plain annoying! I am now truly horrified that I became known as his girlfriend.
As an insecure teenager with an absent father, I was susceptible to Carlo's schemes. It's no surprise that I fell straight into his trap without any idea of how it was going to ruin my future.
He started on love bombing me in our first semester by paying attention to me, treating me to meals in the cafeteria and walking me home. When he got my phone number under the pretense of a group project, we spent tons of time on our landline phone just chatting. If I wasn't looking at him then I could get to know him. It's a smart move actually.
We began an unlikely friendship that lasted well into the second semester of freshman year. Then he was also introduced to one of my pretty female high school friends and we ended up competing for his attention. Nakakadiri! (So gross!)
To be fair, I was insecure, lonely and possessed an incredibly low self-image. I was seeing my classmates hooking up with gorgeous guys and showing off their boyfriends while I had nothing.
No one was interested in me because I was fat, ugly and unattractive. I was pretty grateful that someone was even paying attention to me. I've grown up watching anime shows that featured a young heroine falling in love for the first time in high school and going through all of the fun, painful and enlightening parts of growing up. I've expected it to happen to me in college but it didn't.
I was in love with the idea of Love. I wanted to have a boyfriend to show off, call on the phone and walk me home. I wanted to have my first kiss. I wanted so many things! Most of all, I wanted someone- anyone- who will be willing to have pitiful old me. So it's a perfect storm waiting to happen.
In the end, he managed to convince me to agree to a relationship on New Year's Day. I guess I was desperate for him to choose me instead of my friend so I confessed feelings that I didn't really have.
My mother's intuition was right when it came to my first boyfriend. She told me time and again that he was trouble. He didn't come from a good family, he was disrespectful and he was too possessive of me. He was distracting me from my studies and he wasn't going to step up to the responsibility if he got me pregnant.
Worst case scenario was that I would be trapped in a situation wherein I would have to support, provide and care for this man who was obviously bad news. Even my friends laughed and teased me mercilessly about him. They even went as far as dubbing him as the "Australopithecus" and the "Maligno" because there was no other explanation on how he got me wrapped around his little finger.
As stupid as it sounded, I eventually fell into a deep infatuation with him. I became deaf to my family's pleas, my friend's teasing and my teacher's admonitions. I was proud to be a part of a couple without thinking of the future consequences. Yeah, I had a lot of growing up to do as a person.
Our relationship lasted for nearly two years before I left him. Carlo became unbearable as time passed because he was jealous, possessive and old-school macho. He demanded my email, Y!M account and Friendster password. He always checked on me via text message or calls just to know where I am and who I'm with.
He made my world very, very small and groomed me into believing that my family and friends was wrong about me. He'd manipulated me into thinking that he was everything that I needed.
When I turned 18, he took my virginity without asking me. This is rape. I understand and I acknowledge that we've done very heavy petting and necking in the past but I've held off on giving away my V-Card. One day, he just inserted his penis inside my vagina and then I wasn't a virgin anymore. I said, No! No! No! But he continued the sex act in spite of my protests.
I remember thinking that day that I wasn't a virgin anymore. Nobody would want to have me after Carlo. He raped me! I was damaged goods. I was done for.
In hindsight, the experience triggered a hypomanic episode that led me to explore my sexuality with my bf so we ended up doing it a few more times. I just pushed my first time to back of my mind and used the experience to find out who I was sexually in a cold, clinical manner. All I wanted was an orgasm and I didn't even need to look at him.
Honestly, I was not interested in having children at the tender age of 18 so I did all of my research about sex in secret. Having a boyfriend means having sex. But I wasn't ready for sex yet so I avoided the topic whenever it came up as much as possible until he raped me.
I was already taking care of my little brother so I knew how hard it was to raise a baby. I didn't want to have my own baby so I wanted to be safe and protected.
In my hypomanic state, I was like an animal in heat and in a constant hypersexual state. There was a time when I conveniently forgot about my relationship with Carlo sometimes to entertain other men like that model named Joey or chatted with other guys.
Other hypomanic activities included working hard on my internship in Up-Up Batangas, selling Herbalife and working on a film project alone, being the editor in chief for a newspaper project and working on a baby thesis at the same time. I had lots of racing thoughts, lot of energy and lots of projects that I started but never finished, especially my fanfics.
I managed to break free from Carlo when I started working in a call center in December 2008. He'd already transferred to a different college but I stopped going to school so I can go to work. Thanks to my graveyard shifts, I slowly stopped answering his calls, his texts and going to see him on dates that I paid for.
In March 2009, I found out that he'd started a relationship with a classmate in school so I broke up with him immediately. The girl had the gall to text me even though she was a stranger to ask me about my relationship status with Carlo. I told her that we were still together and then she started crying to me because they were in a relationship too. Talk about drama!
After our breakup, Carlo still tried his best to say sorry to me in an effort to win me back. But I stood firm and said "no, thank you" with some satisfaction. I've already gotten out so I was not going to go back to him ever. I've got bigger fish to fry, baby.
Since I was already a part of the workforce, I'd gotten crushes on some of my coworkers who obviously had a lot going for them. They were mature, smart, responsible and cool. I thought that I deserved an older, more mature man as my next boyfriend.
Working in a call center for the first time also pushed me to change and to grow. It taught me to be punctual, financially responsible and how to take care of myself. Adulting is so hard!
Even though I lived with my parents and enjoyed a relatively pampered life, I still had to face the pressures and expectations at work, the toxic calls and the crazy graveyard shift. Of course, I made friends with people who were my age. As new adults, we all decided to blow off steam by partying, drinking and sleeping around.
I think that I had one night stands (4),fuck-buddies (FUBU) (3), affairs with guys who had a girlfriend (2) and kissed random guys in this era. I explored my options and slept around. I was nothing but a bundle of sexual energy. Deep inside, I just wanted to fall in love again because these encounters left me sad and empty.
My state of mind in the 2000-2010 era was recorded in a bunch of Papelmelroti journals. It's fairly obvious to my psychiatrist when I showed it to him that I was suffering from depression, mania and mixed episodes. How can you be depressed and manic at the same time? It's still hard to explain but it's the only explanation that I can give for my actions, choices and other questionable lifestyle decisions for that time.
In 2010, one of my coworkers introduced me to Jerome. He used to date her but she didn't like him so she passed him off to me. Nothing happened at first because I was smitten by his older brother. Even then, nothing happened. I was rejected twice. It was funny because it took me a while to understand that this boy was just not that into me.
Things only changed when I started chatting with Jerome over Facebook about anime, video games and manga. It started one night in August and we didn't stop talking over Facebook and the landline phone.
I began to appreciate Jerome as things between us progressed like an Otome game. He was shy, sweet, gentle and timid compared to outgoing, overtly sexual and excitable me. I was his Manic Pixie Dream Girl and he was my shy, gentle boyfriend with the looks and body of a Greek god. I felt like the prettiest girl in the world because I managed to nab a hot boyfriend like him.
We had a great time together because we watched movies, Failtube and anime a lot. He played a lot of video games, arcade games and watched anime. To be honest, he was always very sweet and gentle to me. He was a hopeless romantic too who knew exactly what to say or do in every situation.
Unfortunately, I was his first girlfriend and he was younger than me by a year so I had to show him the ropes of how to handle a relationship. He didn't know how to pull his weight and left me to decide for a lot of things. He's very passive and allowed me to drag him around. I, on the other hand, suffered from a lot of mood swings and tended to dump my own issues over him. Yeah, we weren't good for each other.
What's funny was that I was celibate with him in our 14 month-relationship. Jerome believed that sex should be done after marriage and other romantic reasons. I didn't agree but I tried very hard not to press the issue or to ask for it. But I guess we broke up because of that too.
Jerome broke up with me a week before Valentine's. (Smart move!) He told me point blank that his family didn't like me and that we should just go on our separate ways. He'd already tried to break up with me on our 7th month but he came crawling back. When I heard him, I knew that it was for good this time.
That was painful to hear. To my 19-year-old self, that was horrible! Why didn't they like me? It's probably because you're not practicing the same religion and they think he could do better than you. Why didn't he stand up for me? It's because he's gotten tired of the mood swings, the frequent fights and the other toxic bullshit I've done to him. My family and friends didn't like him for me either so it was good riddance.
What I distinctly remember was listening to the entire Taylor Swift discography on my way back home. I cried to White Horse, The Story of Us and Back to December.
When I arrived home, in classic Seductive Venus fashion, I took out the vodka and started making iced tea. I called my cousin and sister to drink with me at 6 PM. I cried, listened to emo songs and posted sad Facebook statuses throughout our drinking session.
I love my cousin for her #RealTalk advice, "If nobody loved you then why are we drinking with you right now? I hate vodka but I'm going to down these shots with you!" Cue more crying and hysterical howling from me.
Anyway, I remember thinking that I gave myself a free pass for that summer. I could sleep with whoever I wanted, I could drink whenever I wanted and I could fucking do anything that I wanted. I didn't need a boyfriend to make me feel like a million dollars.
Guess what? Manic Mimi kicked down the door and took over the situation just like that. She's the reason I went back to work in a new call center while finishing my college degree, went on Herbalife, started running two hours a day and a strict diet.
Thanks to her relentless drive to lose weight and become fit to show my ex what he was missing, I weighed in at 114 LBS. That was the first time I was actually underweight. Looking back, I was slim-thick with a 24 inch waistline with a great butt. I also got into this fantastic skin care routine using organic products, wrote a lot and became 100% committed to my internship in Up-Up Batangas.
When Manic Mimi took over my life, I felt more beautiful, more confident and more productive than ever.
Unfortunately, I was also delusional because I thought I could compete in our local beauty pageant in spite of my lack in height. I also slept around, started a fling with an older boy and didn't care about what other people thought anymore. I was trapped in my own head where I believed that I was at the top of the world and I could do anything without any consequences.
Manic Mimi also changed my mood to irritable, combative and defensive. I was always at odds with my family and my relationship with my mother broke down. You can bet that I was a real pain in the ass. It was obvious to anyone that I was going through something but nobody said anything. If I'd known about psychiatrists then I would have paid a visit to one.
In the end, I still managed to graduate from college on October 2011 without attending the actual graduation ceremony because I was so tired from work that I mixed up the dates.
When looking back at the bigger picture, I was doing well because I had a job, finished my college degree and had my ideal body. But I was deeply unhappy and unsatisfied with myself with no real tools or resources to help me out of the quagmire. I was just itching to get out of my parent's house without realizing the terrible price that I have to pay.
If I could go back in time, I would've hugged my younger self and told her to slow down. I would have told her to seek a psychiatrist, stop developing her dangerous coping mechanisms like her unhealthy reliance on fleeting sexual connections with men and to learn to self-soothe.
I love my cousin for her #RealTalk advice, "If nobody loved you then why are we drinking with you right now? I hate vodka but I'm going to down these shots with you!" Cue more crying and hysterical howling from me.
Anyway, I remember thinking that I gave myself a free pass for that summer. I could sleep with whoever I wanted, I could drink whenever I wanted and I could fucking do anything that I wanted. I didn't need a boyfriend to make me feel like a million dollars.
Guess what? Manic Mimi kicked down the door and took over the situation just like that. She's the reason I went back to work in a new call center while finishing my college degree, went on Herbalife, started running two hours a day and a strict diet.
Thanks to her relentless drive to lose weight and become fit to show my ex what he was missing, I weighed in at 114 LBS. That was the first time I was actually underweight. Looking back, I was slim-thick with a 24 inch waistline with a great butt. I also got into this fantastic skin care routine using organic products, wrote a lot and became 100% committed to my internship in Up-Up Batangas.
When Manic Mimi took over my life, I felt more beautiful, more confident and more productive than ever.
Unfortunately, I was also delusional because I thought I could compete in our local beauty pageant in spite of my lack in height. I also slept around, started a fling with an older boy and didn't care about what other people thought anymore. I was trapped in my own head where I believed that I was at the top of the world and I could do anything without any consequences.
Manic Mimi also changed my mood to irritable, combative and defensive. I was always at odds with my family and my relationship with my mother broke down. You can bet that I was a real pain in the ass. It was obvious to anyone that I was going through something but nobody said anything. If I'd known about psychiatrists then I would have paid a visit to one.
In the end, I still managed to graduate from college on October 2011 without attending the actual graduation ceremony because I was so tired from work that I mixed up the dates.
When looking back at the bigger picture, I was doing well because I had a job, finished my college degree and had my ideal body. But I was deeply unhappy and unsatisfied with myself with no real tools or resources to help me out of the quagmire. I was just itching to get out of my parent's house without realizing the terrible price that I have to pay.
If I could go back in time, I would've hugged my younger self and told her to slow down. I would have told her to seek a psychiatrist, stop developing her dangerous coping mechanisms like her unhealthy reliance on fleeting sexual connections with men and to learn to self-soothe.
I would have asked her to learn yoga, meditation or continue working on her writing to release all of the unhealthy feelings. I would have asked her to open up to her family and friends about the dark thoughts, the suicidal ideations and the pervading feeling of hopelessness. I would have told her that I loved her and that she should wait for the man who will love her as completely and unconditionally as she does.
At the end of the day, I'm a survivor and I'm doing my best to work out my own issues through writing. It's the least I can do for the scared, little girl who lives inside my heart.
At the end of the day, I'm a survivor and I'm doing my best to work out my own issues through writing. It's the least I can do for the scared, little girl who lives inside my heart.
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