heartbreak

Olivia is heartbroken today. So let’s collect all the tried and true, and the cliché, and my own pearls of wisdom to help her through it.

Eat. I have a voucher for Free Delicious Oklahoma Baby Back Ribs at Burgoo in Podium. You can have it (Terms and Conditions apply). Experience tells me that it's hard to be sad when you're full.

Don’t wallow in misery, like a pig in a mudhole. Stop the ‘Poor me!’ litany. You’re not the only miserable person in the world. The death toll for the Japan earthquake is now at 9,000+, they had an earthquake, a tsunami, and it’s snowing over there, so what’s their loss compared to yours?


Do something that usually makes you happy (but doesn’t necessarily remind you of the good times with him). Something that’s only for you. Buy a nice pair of 5-inch-heels. Get a Powerbooks overdose. Get a new guitar. Cut your hair and dye it purple.

Take some time alone. Check in a hotel, get a single room, and soak in the bathtub. Take a long drive to where there isn’t so much pollution and you can actually see the sky. Take a book and hit the beach. (But don’t stare at the half-clothed couples while they’re necking; it will make you feel worse.) It will give you space to think and listen to what your heart really says. After a while, it will tell you that alone doesn’t mean lonely.

Stop hunting Mr. Right. Sometimes it’s better to be content with Mr. Right Now. You cannot equate every man you meet with visions of sitting side by side on rocking chairs when you’re both 80 and happily senile. Men will always fall short of your expectations of forever, because they’re human. What life often gives you is the chance to live fully in the present, because now is the only time you own.

Don’t hate the happy people around you. If you can’t stand the sight of lovers entwined in SM Megamall’s escalators at lunch time, don’t throw dagger looks at them. Go eat somewhere else, or spend your break Unfriending people at Facebook. Jealousy is a social disease, so quit it.

Allow yourself a good cry, then move on. Every loss deserves a tear, but there’s no sense wetting the pillow night after night over it. At some point you have to stop, because all it leaves you is puffy eyes in the morning and a pile of laundry. Go get drunk with friends instead.


Love yourself. A break-up diminishes your self-esteem, but it does not diminish your worth as a person. Remember all the reasons why you were loved in the first place, and that is your assurance that you are worthy to be loved again. You are smart, you are financially independent, you are talented, you have good friends, you have a car that doesn't break down in the middle of Edsa on a Monday morning. And so what if you don't feel so beautiful today? That's why they have Avon. :-)

Life is like a wheel. You’re heartbroken today, maybe tomorrow you’ll meet the next man who will make you laugh. Ever think why the sky looks so much nicer after a hard rain? The rain washes off all the grime and dirt and gloom, and the sunshine lights up the world again. So it is with the loves of your life. A heartbreak comes. You cry to wash away the hurt and pain. And it leaves you free so you can feel warm again.

for carla

Hi, Carla.

You said you’re considering being a full-time mom, now that you have a small kid and another on the way. Let me tell you a little about the choices working mothers make, for the sake of perspective.

My two-year-old is sick today. Her tonsils are infected, and she’s been running a fever for the third day now. I took a leave from work a day ago so I could take her to the doctor and have antibiotics prescribed.

She hates taking medicine. It’s like a wrestling match every time we have to give her antibiotics and fever medicine, even at two a.m. She ends up looking like she took a shampoo and body wash in sticky, orange-flavored goo, and we use up about three towels, only to repeat the whole thing because she managed to throw up. Then it takes her about an hour to calm down and go back to sleep, then we wake her up again for the next dose.

I lose sleep, but I have to wake up at 5 a.m. to get her older sister ready for school. I go to work and battle paperwork that was pending because I took a leave. And I call home six times to check whether she still has a fever, or if she has eaten, or if she threw up the medicine again.

I feel like I should take another leave, but my supervisor is leaving for Viet Nam on Monday morning, today is Friday, and we don’t have a visa yet. There is a 106-slide Powerpoint presentation to check, three meetings this afternoon, and plane tickets for release. I will worry the whole day about the visa and about my kid, but the only thing to do is to hope that both will be fine.

On one hand, I wish I were home right now taking care of my child. I also wish I could stay home to help my older daughter with her homework, or bring her to school in the morning and chat awhile with her class advisor, or cook my husband’s meals in the evening, or sew curtains in the afternoon while the little one is taking a nap. I long for things like that. I resent it when I come home in the evening and the baby has a new trick to show (like dancing along with Willing Willie), and it’s the yaya who taught her to do it.

On the other hand, I am thankful that I have a job, because my daughter has a health card, and that means I can bring her back to the doctor tomorrow without worrying about the doctor’s fees and the new set of prescription. Because I’m working, my other daughter goes to a private school, has a computer at home, has an iPod (that she lost a week ago), and can collect Barbie dolls. Because I’m working, I can dream about sending both girls to Ateneo for college, or give them cars as graduation gifts.

A child doesn’t care if you plan to send her to Ateneo for college. She cares that you’re there when she’s sick. But you, as an adult, weighs the option of being able to afford medical care when your child needs it.

Working to help provide for the family, or staying home to take care of the kids, should not be how you measure love as a parent. It’s a balancing act, and you tread a fine line for the choices you make. It’s there, every day. Had I been the mistress of a millionaire, and I receive fifty thousand pesos as shopping money every week, I wouldn’t even blink. I’d stay home and raise kids. But then, we don’t know the choices such a woman would make, or whether that makes her a better mother than I am.

So you see, Carla? It’s never an easy call to make. I chose to continue working, and I try to make it light by saying I feel good about putting on eye makeup and wearing heels every morning, but it also makes me look forward to the evenings when I come home to my daughters. And if they’re asleep by the time I get home, I’d still kiss them and tell them how much I love them.