Death, YOLO, and HS Flashbacks
I'm turning 39 soon. Memento Mori has been on my mind. If I live as long as I'd like, I only have 2,292 weeks left. YOLO, folks. YOLO.
“Five days to go before high school ends!”
The last few days of fourth year high, I started a countdown. I’d shout it out in the classroom everyday.
“Shit, guys! Four days na lang!”
I was frustrated that it didn’t matter to anyone else.
“Last three days of high school!”
I had too many fond memories. Ikot and running disoriented around the field. 🌳 Patintero. Retreats. Picnics. 🧺 The strangest basketball games I’ve ever seen. 🏀 Dancing to Nelly’s ‘It’s Getting Hot in Herre’ on the bus. 🎶 Boppin’ to Next Episode as the disco ball spun, then running to our seats when the next teacher entered the room. 🪩 Squeezing into a locker to see if we fit. Squeezing into Mara’s duffel bag to see if we fit. 😂
“Two. More. Days. Group hug!!!”
High school was a playground I didn’t want to leave.
“Waaah! LAST DAY OF HIGH SCHOOL!”
But no one else seemed to feel the end coming.
The trek to the end
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on mortality. With my 39th birthday around the corner, I’m embracing the idea that I’m nearing the peak of my life’s mountain. Soon, I’ll begin the trek back down, moving toward the end of this adventure.
I’m not trying to be morbid or depressing—just stating a fact. Our time on this Earth is finite. 🤷🏻♀️
What I am trying to do is be intentional—deliberate about how I spend my time. I want to push myself into action, to live this limited time to the fullest. I’m determined to chase the experiences that call to me, to fill my life with joy, awe, and love, and to share those gifts with the people I care about. 💜
What’s an end-of-life doula?
You’ve probably heard of a birth doula or midwife, right? Someone who guides and supports a family through the process of bringing a new life into the world. Well, an end-of-life doula is kind of the same, but for the other side of the journey. They help people navigate the emotional, practical, and spiritual aspects of dying.
I first heard about this beautiful concept in one of my favorite podcasts, where Dr. Laurie Santos interviewed death doula Alua Arthur.
Also known as a death doula, death midwife, death coach, or end-of-life coach, their mission is to make the final chapter of someone’s life as peaceful and meaningful as possible. They support not just the person who’s dying, but also their loved ones, creating a comforting, compassionate space where people can talk openly about their fears, hopes, and wishes.
Memento mori.
“Remember you must die.”
When someone passes, I feel a strange mix of emotions. On one hand I'm sad, heartbroken. I cry a lot. (Remembering Guylian still bring me to tears sometimes.) On the other hand, I know it's natural and a basic reality. Death gives life more meaning and value.
On top of it all, I see a dark beauty. I think about how loved a person must have been for so many to feel pain in their passing. It reminds me how deeply we can connect and impact one another.
After a good cry, I find myself with a smile and a full (albeit hurting) heart.
“What’s stopping you?”
Fear. And rumination. But mostly fear.
Whether it’s fear of failure, judgment, the unknown, falling, getting COVID, pain, running out of money, death, heartbreak—whatever might be scary, I can’t let it stop me.
Looking back at past relationships, I cringe at my clinginess and insecurities. I was ruled by the fear of abandonment and getting the shorter end of the stick. Do I love him more than he loves me? Am I sacrificing more? Is he pulling away toward someone new?
Ickkk! What an obsessive, negative, small way to see a relationship.
I still wrestle with those fears sometimes, but I no longer let them stop me from traveling on my own—or letting him enjoy his trips. My former job took me to Fuerteventura, Madrid, Málaga, even Miami! And Mikel’s had his fair share of surf road trips. If all this happened in my younger years, I’d be worried and clingy. EWW. (The anti-machismo culture here helps, plus being surrounded by the most decent dudes I’ve ever met. I love Mikel’s cuadrilla (barkada)!)
Sure, it’s more complicated than just fear, and I’ve got more personal issues to work on. But one thought I always return to: Don’t let fear stop you.
Fear is paralyzing, urging us to choose the comfort of inaction instead of the challenge of growth. But the only way to grow and learn is by doing. 🏃🏻 So go for it!
I’m throwing myself a dinner party!
Yup, I’m planning a salubong to ring in the last birthday of my 30s. Imma celebrate me and this life I absolutely love.
Is my life ideal? Nope. Have I made terrible decisions? Of course. Am I perfect? Hellz no. But you know what? I’m damn proud of my experiences, my growth, and my mindset.
Sure, I’ve had missteps, but I still try to live according to my values. And when I disappoint myself, guess what? I give myself a hug, forgive me, and keep moving forward.
It’s not easy. But we should fucking celebrate ourselves more! Right?!
Too full of myself?😅 Ang yabang ko ba?
D Mayabang
Back in high school at Poveda, I was part of section D. We formed this strong, quirky bond as evidenced by the photos.😜
In our fourth year, our new adviser felt left out because we didn’t let her into our "tribe." We adored the teacher who came before her, and this new one came at us with the energy of a fascist dictator.🙊 So, we didn’t include her in our epic group hugs that usually ended with all of us falling to the floor.
One time, she gave us a sermon and said, “Ang yayabang niyo.” 😳
From then on, we proudly called ourselves “mayabang.” Why hide what brings me joy and lets me be 100% my true self? Why would anyone want to ruin the vibe instead of being happy that you’ve found something special?
Looking back, I’m glad I had that countdown. But now I see that it shouldn’t be about fearing the end or dreading goodbyes. It’s to savor every drop of joy and wonder of the moment.
Time is fleeting, which makes it precious. YOLO. Gotta live it while you’ve got it!
