Finding Calm Amidst The Storm

Every morning in Baguio, the thick fog rolls over the pines, mirroring the heavy cloud inside my mind. As a junior architect, the expectations to build a perfect career felt like a skyscraper collapsing on my chest. I spent my nights staring at blueprints, my hands shaking as I held my drafting pen, wondering if I was ever enough for my parents' sacrifices.

My Nanay would often leave a warm mug of ginger tea on my desk, whispering, 'Magpahinga ka muna, anak.' But I couldn't rest. I was so caught up in the 'what ifs' that I stopped seeing the beauty of the city I loved. The constant palpitations and the suffocating feeling in the evenings became my new normal, a quiet battle I fought alone while the rest of the family slept.

One Sunday, while walking through Burnham Park, I watched an elderly man tending to his flowers, completely unbothered by the passing crowds. I realized I was so busy drawing the structure of a future life that I forgot to live in the present. I sat on a bench and finally whispered to God, 'I am tired of carrying this weight alone.' In that moment, the anxiety didn't vanish, but for the first time, I felt the lightness of surrendering my blueprints to a greater Architect.