I have always been a fighter, or so I thought.
I grew up looking up at my relatives who were able to make something of themselves, "from the ruins of my failure will rise the pillar to my success. Fight! Fight! Fight!" as my late Tita Meng used to say in her high pitched voice at almost every family gathering. As someone who has had it tough at an early age, it was difficult for me to show vulnerability to other people, I just always have to be "strong" or at least my own definition of the word. However, these past few months proved to be one of the most challenging seasons I've experienced so far. If for anything, I learned that I am not as strong as I hoped to be.
I am a quitter. Yes, a quitter.
Most of the people who know me might disagree. But I am.
They don't have an idea of how dark and ugly my mind can be, they don't know how I've failed so many times that I've lost count. They don't know but I do.
They don't know because they've never seen it. The push and pull of my thoughts, the struggle of will inside me.
No, I am not a fighter. Oftentimes, I would complain to God, I would beg Him and cry out:
"Ayoko na! Lord, ayoko na, pagod na ako" (I quit Lord, I quit, I am exhausted)
The only reason why I am able to make it this far is because God has been giving me unlimited chances to start again. No matter how many times I quit, even when ill-deserved, God has a way of giving me a fresh start, of giving me the grace to start over without shame.
Yes, I am the girl who quits but I have a God who doesn't.
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