Please Hear What I'm Not Saying

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I'm afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.

Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled,
for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well
as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command
and that I need no one,
but don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.

But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,
and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to, I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.

I don't like hiding.
I don't like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings--
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!

With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator--
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.

Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me
the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.

Charles C. Finn
September 1966

LISTEN

When I ask you to listen to me, it means I needed to be heard. You won't be able to hear me when you're also talking. So when you listen, it means you have to keep quiet.

Quiet. Silence. Idle moments. Sometimes, you also need to listen to those 'uncomfortable' gaps. There are times when I just need you to sit around, with me, for me. Be there for me. Even if I'm not saying anything. And you don't have to say anything, too. If you can't bear my silence then I guess you don't know me enough.

Sometimes I blabber endlessly, sometimes I'm loud, incoherent, even nagging. But that doesn't make up a great fraction of my life. Most of the time, I can't bear loud people. They talk too much, they hardly make a point.

When I ask you to listen to me, it means you don't judge me or blame me for screwing up my life. It simply means I need your compassion and understanding. It means you try to see the person that is me, am I broken? Am I sad? Am I angry? Am I tired? But really you don't have to blame me for being any of those. Just be there for me.

When I ask you to be there for me, you don't have to solve my problem. I will certainly solve it myself. You can suggest things for me, just suggest. Don't impose. Because you are not me. And don't feel bad if I don't choose to do what you suggested. You being there for me is helping me more than enough.

Your presence, your company, your gentleness, is already an encouragement, is already an assurance that you care. Of course you care, I know you do.

I just need you to listen.

HOW MOTHERHOOD CHANGED ME

at work with my son

Last night my son came up to me and said, "Nay, it's already Mothers Day tomorrow. I should give you a flower." and later went on and said "and you will say thank you and I would say you're welcome!" He went to bed with this funny looking paper he might just have picked up somewhere around the house and a little stick. He said we would make it into a flower. He slept with his 'project' in his hands. Right now, while I am typing away, he is seated beside me with that paper and a pair of scissors waiting patiently for me. After greeting me, he said we should get going and make the flower for me.hahaha my cute little boyfriend.

These are just one of the many things that give meaning to my daily existence as a mother. Life as a working mother hasn't been easy. But I always see to it that my relationship with my son is something that wouldn't get neglected. Thepast months have been quite horrific for me. I could have screwed up my life. I could have thrown in the towel. My son gave me strength to bounce back. His daily i love yous, hugs, and forever cuteness are more than enough to pull me through.

The other day I was taking one of these fun quizzes on FB, What is Your Feminine Philosophy. The result I got was "Womanist".

Feminist doesn't quite fit you. You believe in women's rights, but there is
more to it. You appreciate the roles women play and recognize that this varies
somewhat with cultural background and socio-economic status. Women can be strong and wise. They can be survivors. Men are not the enemy of women, but women can influence men and support and empower men for the betterment of their communities..

I always thought I was feminist. Or maybe I was. This quizz has got me pondering over how being a mother to my son has changed me. How can I keep thinking men as enemies when I have a son who proves me otherwise?

My Dear Gabriel,

You are the wind beneath my wings. Your love teaches me a lot of things: forbearance, patience, humility, ability to hope, above all, faith in God. Because of you, I don't want to give up. I don't want to make stupid decisions. You make me want to decide to be a better person, on a daily basis. There are good days and bad for the two of us, but I praise God for them. They make up such a healthy, beautiful relationship that I am so happy and proud of. I love you with all my heart.


Love,
Nanay

PS: Finish your breakfast before watching Nick Jr.

showing off the flower he and tita dit made