Thrive & Flourish

Sometimes I look around and realize, I’m in that phase people always talked about. Late twenties. No boyfriend. No big milestones. Just… life. Quiet, steady, and honestly, not bad at all.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about where I am in life. Not in a heavy, panicked way, just a quiet awareness. A gentle pause in between everything that’s happening.

I’m in my late twenties now. That weird, blurry in-between where society starts whispering louder: Settle down. Find someone. Build a life. And yet… I’m not there. Not in a relationship. Not rushing toward marriage. Not searching, even. And surprisingly, I’m okay.

I’m actually more than okay. I’m grounded.

Life looks different for me right now. I’m working far from home, doing my best to stay strong in my role, both professionally and personally. My mom is sick. And while I’m not physically there with her, I carry her with me everywhere. Every day, I think about her and my Dad that’s taking very good care of her. I think about how they’re feeling, if they’ve eaten, if they’re resting. I make sure whatever need is taken care of, even from miles away.

There’s a specific kind of ache in being the responsible daughter from a distance. It’s a quiet guilt that settles in the background, no matter how much I do. I wish I could be there to help them stand up on hard days. I wish I could cook for them, hold their hand when they feel weak. But this is the life I have now, and this is how I show my love. Through consistency. Through presence, even if it’s virtual. Through doing what needs to be done, even when it’s hard.

I think that’s one of the most invisible parts of growing up:
The way you love your family changes. It deepens. It gets quieter. But it never weakens.

Somewhere amidst all of that, the long work hours, the quiet personal battles, the unseen emotional labor, I decided to give myself something, too. I went on my first solo trip. Singapore.

It wasn’t a grand, luxury escape. But it was mine.

I booked the flight, packed light, and told no one except my sister, until I came back to the Philippines. It wasn’t about showing off. It was about reclaiming something. I walked through gardens alone, sat in cafes with no one to entertain, watched strangers, took pictures of things only I found interesting. I wandered aimlessly, let my mind breathe, and gave myself permission to just be.

That trip reminded me of something important:
I can hold space for others and still take space for myself.
I can be responsible and still be free.

I didn’t post much. I didn’t make it a moment for validation. It was quiet. Intentional. Healing. I didn’t go looking for anything, but I came back with clarity, with lightness, with peace.

So no, I’m not in love right now. There’s no hand to hold, no good morning texts, no one waiting for me at the end of the day. But I’m surrounded by love in other ways. In check-in messages from friends. In the strength I’ve found in myself, not the loud, aggressive kind, but the type that stays calm even in silence.

I’m learning that happiness doesn’t always need an audience. That fulfillment doesn’t always arrive in romantic wrapping. That I don’t need to “catch up” with anyone, I just need to stay true to the life I’m quietly building.

There were no fireworks this year. No big milestones. But there was growth. There was healing. There was softness in the way I now speak to myself. And there was pride in the woman I’ve become, in the way I keep showing up.

Maybe one day I’ll fall in love. Maybe I’ll build a life with someone. Maybe not.
But I know now that I’ll be whole either way.

Because right here, in this season, far from home, heart open, and still becoming, I’ve already found something worth celebrating.

And honestly? That’s more than enough.