@maxchesxyd 18 October 2022

𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞 Back when I was in grade school, I always loved art class. I'd draw patterns out of my name, carve 3D objects out of soap, made flowers out of threads, painting in different mediums, and many more. But what I loved most was sketching. There was just this unexplainable feeling of putting my thoughts into the shadows of charcoal. Teacher Rosie Uy —oh that woman! I will never forget how she breathed forth such art in me. I was never at par with Ate Pauline —the school's artist. Pau's drawings were in such precision that my Iñigo Oñas Lopez de Loyola sketch looked like a fat monk with a wide forehead and a crooked nose, never minding the iguana eyes. I have always been proud of the little progress I made, but I'd felt disheartened whenever I see Pau's. Comparison is indeed the thief of joy. But Teacher Rosie kept telling me to focus on myself, my work, and my progress. She even pushed me to join a particular art competition kahit alam ko sa sarili ko na conceptualization lang naman ng poster making ang kaya ko. HAHAHA! The woman had balls to sign me up in a fight she knew I'd never win. The same woman also had the foresight to teach me art lessons I'd never forget. I clearly remember wasting newsprints and charcoals at home when I was young. Art had always been my expression —my escape, my haven, my comfort, and my safe space. But life was harsh and that season of my life broke me. I ended up saying goodbye to these things and surrounded myself with the solace offered by characters in my books. And, it's as somebody enlisted me to battles I never even signed up for, let's just say the brokenness and the chaos thrived until I'd pick up my pencils and sketch again. Pain and pleasure always gave me reason to sketch, to draw, and to create. I'd hide my sketches in my dorm cabinet when I was in college. Alang, daghan kaayo'g manulod taga-CAFA sa among kwarto. Kanchawan unya ko. HAHA. Whenever I made sketch progress, something inside tells me it's a waste of my resources. I'd abandon it at a time, then go back to getting comforted by it once again. As my age nearly race the end of the calendar, I have found that part of who I am as a woman and as a feminine has always been to CREATE. That the more I limit, control, or rationalize my behavior to the standards of this world, the more I hurt myself. How will the world know who I am when I am not able to truly express myself? Expressing, as a woman and in nurturing forms, is liberating. ——— So, here I am...beginning to express. I'm finally learning to pick up the pieces and start back where I left off...in whatever forms of art. ——— In partnerships, there are uncomfortable conversations that offer different perspectives on the matter. Sometimes, these perspectives become so polar that no one sees eye to eye...yet. Today, my husband and I had that type of conversation. For the past years, most of my spiritual sisters know I've been through depressing & isolating circumstances that left me to question my value as a wife, as a mother, as a sister, and as a woman. I felt I was stagnating when deep inside I know I should be growing. These feelings were validated when I got to converse with a mom-friend, Cess. Cess is a brilliant woman. I admire her in ways more than one. What struck me most during our conversation was even when she was fighting her demons and surviving her way through life, she said something like "Kung wala ko ni take ug risk 3* years ago, magpabilin ra unta ko nga ingon adto karon." And I tell you, I had an emotional tower moment right then and there. From that day on, I promised myself I will take a risk. And as all risks, there are sacrifices to be made in order to gain several things. I took a risk on my personal growth. It has been a year since I started taking risks and, as a married woman, it has been a crazy ride. This may not resonate to everyone but I will try to explain my thoughts in the simplest way possible. If I can. HAHAHA. You see, there were things I wasn't able to do and fully heal as a child. Now that I am married, I've shared some of these dreams and healing plans with my husband. He is my husband after all, so whether he likes it or not, he's in for the ride —the good, the bad, and the crazy. There was a time this year that I wanted to party. For those who know me since childhood, that's something I DO NOT DO. For those who know my husband, loud parties aren't his thing. But I wanted to try and go party. So I asked him if I could go, under one condition: HE GOES TO PARTY WITH ME. Dili mahitsura ang question mark sa nawong sa akong bana. But Bianca has her ways and eventually my husband went onboard with my request. I got to party, drink, and dance...while my husband was quietly judging me on the side. Nagtindoga ra siya sa kilid oy, sige'g katawa nako. Usahay gatagbo iyahang kilay, pero NAA SIYA. I had the time of my life and went home like a happy little kid. On one scenario, I was out at night with a few colleagues and my husband was not with me. Knowing that it's way past the time I allowed myself to stay, my childhood friends offered to send me home. Interestingly, one person went to tell on the friend who was driving "Ampingi bya nang anak ni Uncle Loloy ha. Hadlok raba kaayo iyang Papa ana." Funny. What do these two stories have in common? 𝘾𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂. As a woman finally trying to open myself to the feminine side of me, I have understood that covering is a powerful thing. We meet a lot of people everyday, and we don't share the same beliefs and moral principles with these people. There are those who thrive in lawlessness, who know no moral code, and who prey on the married men and women like a new game. I now know that there are things I like to do outside the bounds of my husband's territory and that these things may possibly end up hurting me in any way or form. So I establish my boundaries and set forth conditions to be able to protect myself. Scenario 1: I wanted to party because I have never tried to experience that when I was single. I know full well that partying alone, even if there's a wedding ring on my finger, may not protect me from the harms caused by men enslaved by liquor. So, I invite my husband to check that bucketlist with me. Ayaw niya, pero mahal niya ako. He understands my reasons, so he was there. The first boundary was me submitting to my husband by asking his permission if I could go party. The second boundary was requesting him to party with me. The third boundary was us partying at the side —with the company of my childhood friends. These people that I grew up with and trust that in "susuka or susuko" moments, they'd have my back. As a woman who wants to grow and knows her limitations, I've always wanted my husband's covering. Boundaries aren't meant to limit you but to safeguard you from those who want to take advantage of you. Scenario 2: My husband was not with me while I was out with colleagues post-work. I did not know that the certain someone knew my father. In his lifetime, my father built a reputation that has allowed me to do things and still end up safe because of the care of people around me. While I was out with colleagues, some acquaintances kept asking me where my husband was. Pinaka-lingaw ato nga part kay giignan ko "Asa si Jake? Nganong wala siya nag uban nimo? Isumbong tika sa imong Papa!" HAHAHA! Covering is influential. The fact that people around you know the tribe you belong is powerful energy that protects and safeguards you. Tinuod, naay mga talapungo sa kalibutan. This is why I always ask my husband to go with me: dining, drinking, doing small errands, etcetera. I don't always get to enjoy his company kay introvert kaayo siya and he is oftentimes exhausted from all the work. But my heart truly longs for the covering of my man. I love to be held by him when I read in peace at bookstores. I love to feel his presence even when he's out in the crowd as I host events. I love to send him memes or random photos of my lakaws. I love to be me around him. But when this safe space that I need is not honored, I end up getting wounded inside. The feminine in me wants to grow —but I only want to experience and share these growths with my man. When this need of a masculine covering is not met, something inside me goes survival mode. Can you imagine how much energy and stress it is for a woman to deprive herself of her built in femininity? I have been there growing up. It's one hell of an exhausting war within yourself...and you end up hurting people around you. Sometimes, damages to our relationship coverings are also being done by me. I admit, I do often tell my husband what to do even when he has a mind and a plan of his own. The covering I should've set forth as a woman in his life is to support him, honor him, counsel him, and work with him. I completely disregard the masculine energy in him that's meant to lead, provide, and give. Imagine ha, when both adults in the relationship take reverse roles, they eventually might end up in burnout and contempt with one another. When both adults in the relationship, strangle, limit, and deprive his/her significant others to grow all because of selfish reasons and anxious thoughts, what a nightmare it would be for that family. I wish people knew how much it would be easier, safer, and harmonious if we'd all find ourselves yielding to our true forms. Tinuod man, we are all wounded. But the path to healing starts from within. So, to all who long to see their significant others grow...I hope you understand that your covering does wonders —with the right person and for all the right reasons. It doesn't have to be a grand gesture of love. Sometimes, intentionally being there is more than enough.