Glow by Lady E

  I really liked this dress. Enough that I stood there looking at it for far longer than necessary, having that familiar little debate with myself. It was black. Simple. Very me. I could already imagine how I would wear it. There was only one problem. The fabric was thick. And perhaps in another climate, or another version of my life, that wouldn’t matter very much. But I live in the Philippines. We’re going through El Niño. Heat and I are already not particularly good friends, and my histamine sensitivity has made me even less willing to wear something that might leave me uncomfortable simply because it looks good. Still, I stood there. Because sometimes walking away from something we like is strangely difficult, even when we already know it isn’t right for us. We start negotiating. Maybe I’ll only wear it indoors. Maybe the fabric isn’t that thick. Maybe I’ll regret leaving it behind. Then I realized I was trying awfully hard to convince myself to buy something my body had alrea...

  There is a photograph of me setting up a booth filled with books I created. I remember that version of me. She was building something she believed in. She had plans for where it might go. Ideas about what came next. Things she wanted badly enough to spend her time, energy and creativity making them real. She wasn’t pretending. She really wanted that life. And then, eventually, I didn’t. I think one of the strangest things about changing is looking back at something you once wanted desperately and realizing that you no longer want it in quite the same way. For a long time, that unsettled me. Because if I could change my mind about something that had once mattered so much, what did that say about all the choices I had made before? Had I been wrong? Had I wasted my time? Had that earlier version of me simply not known herself well enough? After that particular chapter of my work ended, I went through a period filled with realizations and questions I hadn’t expected to have. Not beca...

  There is an invisible schedule I sometimes carry around in my head. By this age, I should have done this. I should already own that. I should have reached this milestone, built that life, earned that much, figured this part out. No one handed me this schedule. There are no deadlines printed on it. And yet somehow, it can feel very real. It gets louder when I look at other people. Someone is buying a house. Someone is traveling. Someone’s business is growing. Someone has reached the milestone I’m still working toward. And suddenly, their progress becomes evidence that I am late. But late for what? We passed by this sculpture of fishermen recently, surrounded by the tall buildings of BGC. The contrast struck me. Behind them is a world measured in meetings, deadlines, promotions, targets and calendars. But fishermen have always understood another kind of time. The tide comes in. The tide goes out. There are seasons for going farther and seasons for staying close to shore. You cannot...

  I have a habit of trying to solve my entire life in one sitting. It usually starts innocently enough. I’ll sit down because there’s one thing bothering me. Maybe it’s work. Money. Something at home. Something I want to make. Something I haven’t finished. Something about myself that I think I should already understand. So I start thinking. And then I think about the thing connected to that thing. And the thing that might happen three months from now because of that thing. And while I’m there, perhaps I should also figure out what I’m doing for the rest of the year. Very efficient. Except it isn’t. Sometimes I’m already tired when I begin. That’s the strange part. I can be overwhelmed, underslept, emotionally wrung out, with too many things already competing for space in my head, and some part of me will still decide that this is an excellent time to develop a comprehensive strategy for my entire existence. I think I do it because figuring things out makes me feel safer. (And also...