My identity as a mixed-race, first-generation Filipina-American often leaves me feeling like a chameleon that code-switches between the cultures. Being “mestiza” comes with a profound sense of context that allows me to see the duality in the world, my community, and everything that I do. But it also can be somewhat confusing to be Filipina-American due to the many complexities that come with our culture. Geography, religion, language and education are just some of the factors that contribute to each person’s individual “Filipino-ness,” but lacking one aspect does not make someone less Filipino, nor does having more aspects make someone “more” Filipino. That lesson is one that I’ve spent my entire life trying to understand and accept about myself. We are not a monolith and having particular experiences does not make one more or less Filipino than another. As a people, Filipinos contain multitudes and although we try to fit into societal boxes, we are too unique and ubiquitous to be generalized and boiled down to stereotypes. I feel a constant push/pull between my Filipino and American sides, as many of my mixed-race mestizo/a friends can attest to. However, there is an intense beauty that comes with the duality of my experience, and over the years I have grown closer to my Filipino heritage and have made more of an effort to seek out knowledge about my homeland and our people. My Lola, Nanay Helen as we called her, grew up in a small town outside of Manila and is the true definition of resilience and strength. As a child, she experienced unimaginable trauma that is unfortunately very much a part of the Filipino experience. During Japan’s attack on the Philippines during World War II, at the age of eight years old, she lost both her parents and younger brother in a brutal attack. My Nanay, the oldest of the three surviving daughters, was bestowed the unbearable weight of being responsible for her younger sisters. They were passed on to a family friend who tricked Nanay into signing away her family’s money. Nanay and her sisters became servants and received less than a middle school education. She married my Tatay at a young age, and he was not the kindest. He was an abusive alcoholic but her resilience helped her endure the abuse and raise five boys and one daughter - my mother. Nanay was a true matriarch that everyone looked to for guidance. Her resilience and strength were important attributes that she passed on to all of her kin. Because my mom was the only girl, her daughters, myself and my younger sister, were the lights of Nanay’s life. And she was the light of ours. Growing up, Nanay was my best friend. I struggled with relating to other children because, like Nanay, my mother ended up with an abusive alcoholic. Keeping my home life a secret was terribly stressful so I sought comfort with Nanay. She would tell me stories about the Philippines and my cousins there; how if we went there, we’d be “artistas” and famous! We watched her favorite game shows, she would paint my nails and play Barbies with me. The joy that she exuded was something that I only began to value into my adulthood. Because her childhood was ripped away from her, the time we spent together was a way for her to make up for lost years. She spoke to us mainly in Tagalog and when I was younger I was able to converse with her. But when I entered school, it was emphasized that we should only speak English and I eventually lost my ability to speak Tagalog. Fortunately, I’m still able to understand and am actively trying to relearn my mother tongue. A lot of my Filipino friends don’t posses the ability to speak the language either, which is an interesting by-product of being Filipino American. We are so proud to say that we’re Filipino, but embarrassed to admit that we can’t speak the language because we were conditioned to assimilate and become “American.” The short time I spent with my Nanay was truly formative. She was sick when I was growing up but her health became a larger issue when I was around the same age that she was when she lost her parents. She was diagnosed with Colon, then Cervix cancer and her health rapidly declined during her last few years. During that time, I followed in Nanay’s footsteps and began to take on a caregiver role at a young age. I helped my mom, who was working full-time, raising two kids and an alcoholic partner, care for her dying mother. Nanay became frail and weak but always maintained her spirit. During the first few months of 8th Grade, she passed away. I spent 13 short years with her and in those years, she laid the foundation that helped shape my identity as a Filipina-American and as a woman. My Nanay has been gone for longer than she was part of my life. But the things she taught me, her strength and resilience, have stayed with me and will continue to do so for the rest of my life. I feel her in everything that I do, in the conversations and laughter shared with my mom and sister when we talk about how funny she was. Nanay taught me to be proud of my roots and to never forget where I came from. She taught me to always lead with kindness and compassion no matter what. She showed me how to be a respectable, kind, funny, gracious Filipina woman and to always put others before myself. While this trait can have it’s negative consequences, the core of that lesson is one that I hang onto. Family, friends, and community are important connections that need to be watered and maintained, which I learned from her. She remained extremely close to her sisters, even when she moved to the states to help raise me and my sister. Even though they were separated by distance, they were as close as ever and she always taught my sister and I to watch out for each other because there is nothing like a bond between sisters. Being a Filipina-American woman is filled with nuance, complications, joy, compassion, and a sense of responsibility and care for everyone around you. If it were not for my Nanay Helen’s lessons during those formative years, I would not be the kind, caring, compassionate, resilient, and brave woman that I am today. I feel her spirit in everything I do, and as I embark on a new career path, her presence envelopes and guides me. Because of how much she cared for her family and gave herself to others, I have chosen to dedicate my life to helping others help themselves. I am working toward a Masters degree in Clinical Psychology with an emphasis in Marriage and Family Therapy, and I know that she would be so proud of me. Those foundational lessons that she taught me about being a Filipina have laid the groundwork for a future of providing care to those who have experienced and survived trauma, like my Nanay, like my mom, like me.

Substance abuse is a debilitating disease that not only affects the person who is physically abusing drugs or alcohol, but their entire support system suffers as a result. Growing up, my father was a drug addict and alcoholic who spent various stints in county jail on drug charges and spent many nights blacked out from his daily alcohol binges. My mother is an immigrant from the Philippines who’s father was also an alcoholic during her childhood. Her experience made her the perfect enabler for my father’s substance abuse issues. My mother, sister and I were all caught on the rollercoaster that children and family members of addicts and alcoholics often find themselves on. The years of my father’s addiction struggles and my mother’s enabling of his behavior shaped my entire worldview and caused me to grow up in a constant state of anxiety and fear; anxiety about how we would get through the day and fear of what would happen if anyone at school ever found out the secret we were all keeping. As a child of an alcoholic, I developed some of the characteristics of an alcoholic, without the addiction. The way in which I argued, my temper and the way I interacted with others was a mirror of my father’s drunken behavior. The anxiety loops that I would enter mimicked that of my father and how he would spiral during his blackouts. I learned later in life that my father suffered from mental health issues and used drugs and alcohol as his coping mechanisms. He did not have the vocabulary, access or resources to help him fight his addiction and still suffers from alcoholism to this day. I found that I have had difficulty with romantic relationships due to the trauma of my father’s alcoholism. There was also a point in my life where I heavily relied on alcohol to have romantic experiences. That reliance on alcohol and the comfort it brought me paralleled the relationship my father had with alcohol. Seeing the similarities and the familiar path that I was going down shook me to my core and was the catalyst for reshaping my relationship with alcohol. My beliefs toward alcohol shifted and I no longer saw it as something that was harmless, but something that had the ability to take over and alter my life in many negative ways. The trauma that I endured during my childhood due to my father’s alcoholism was a contributing factor in the altering of my career path. After spending almost a decade in marketing, I decided to change my path and pursue a career as a mental health therapist. Many factors, including an injury related PTSD diagnosis, influenced my decision to change career paths, but my father’s alcoholism inspired me to help those who have had similar experiences with alcohol and are working toward breaking the grip that alcohol has had on their lives, directly or indirectly.

I entered high school in the mid-2000s, well before Olivia Rodrigo was a household name. The complexity of being a teenager left me feeling exhausted and dizzy by the end of the day. I felt like when I was in high school, I was just going through the motions, unable to fully process or grasp anything that was happening to me. Rolling with the punches as they came, not asking myself why I was feeling the way that I was feeling, probably because I didn’t have the vocabulary or space to do so. When I discovered Olivia’s music, I was 30, in a completely new stage of my life, learning what it means to be a woman living on her own for the first time; it was like experiencing puberty all over again. Yet Olivia’s music felt like it was made especially for my younger self, while also for the adult who was still healing from past experiences. Not only do Olivia and I share the experience of being mixed-race Filipino, but she captured the angst and anger that I felt so deeply growing up, but at the time I felt there wasn’t a female artist that captured that aspect of the teenage experience. There is a level of context that comes with being mixed-race that sets Olivia’s music apart from what I listened to growing up and why I’m able to connect with it on a deeper level. “GUTS” perfectly captures the teenage experience; the jealousy, obsessive thoughts, constant comparison of your appearance to others. When I listen to her music, my younger self feels understood; she doesn’t feel like the anxious and “ragey” sides of her are something to be embarrassed by. Instead, the first time she feels seen, like she’s not the only one going through what she’s going through, as so many of us feel during our adolescence. The song “the grudge” holds particular resonance. When I was young, everything felt like it could be the end of the world and I struggled with taking things personally. I would hold onto my grudges for dear life, as if they were only the only things that could sustain me. The hurt I felt was so visceral and the pain turned into emotional scars that I carried into adulthood. It felt so much better to hold on because if I let go, what would I have left? I put on a brave face and like Olivia, pretended I didn’t care, but on the inside, I was all but consumed by pain. “And I try to be tough, but I wanna scream How could anybody do the things you did so easily? And I say I don’t care, I say that I’m fine But you know I can’t let it go, I’ve tried, I’ve tried, I’ve tried For so long” The vulnerability that Olivia illustrates in “the grudge” emulates the messiness, complexity and pain of what it means to be young and feeling betrayed, whether by a romantic partner or by friends. Feeling betrayed is a universal theme that crosses generations and I think Olivia gives her listeners, no matter their age or background, the space to process old feelings in real time because her experiences are so relatable. Yes, we may not be in the same stages of life, but those emotions are ubiquitous. Olivia’s ability to lend her words to experiences that we’ve all been through at one point or another, feels like she’s helping people heal from past trauma, no matter where they are at in their personal journey.

My mental health has a very present impact on my academic performance and personal life when it comes to school and work. I’m currently a working professional who will be juggling my professional responsibilities while working toward a Masters Degree in Clinical Psychology, followed by a license in Marriage and Family Therapy. When I was obtaining my undergraduate degree almost a decade ago, I was also working part-time while balancing a full class load and holding leadership positions in my various on-campus organizations. Trying to balance responsibilities while also experiencing mental health struggles requires careful coordination and building up and maintaining my personal “toolkit” of actions and items that help me regulate my mental health. I’ve struggled with anxiety since I was a child growing up in an alcoholic, multi-cultural household where making it through the day was the only goal. That anxiety fueled every aspect of my life. While my anxiety was seen as “normal” because it was all I knew, I wasn’t aware that it was an issue until I reached adulthood. When I was 25 years old, I was diagnosed with PTSD after suffering a traumatic injury in my home. I was plagued by depression, debilitating anxiety, fear, thoughts of suicide and angry outbursts. The “normal” anxiety that I had experienced until that point was broken open and I began to feel and experience mental health issues that were completely new and frankly, scary to me. Those instances led me to seek professional help and I began seeing a talk therapist and an occupational therapist to help me learn how to manage what I was experiencing. From there, my toolkit was started and has been actively growing over the years. It has been four years since I started therapy, and while I no longer see an occupational therapist, the tools and practices that I learned from those sessions have become staples of my toolkit. In addition to therapy, writing and journaling have been an incredible outlet to help sort out my anxiety and a life-saving processing tool. Carrying my notebook around or finding time at the end of the day to write out my stressors and triggers has proven to be very cathartic, therapeutic and necessary for me. I’ve always enjoyed writing and majored in Journalism for my undergrad but ultimately turned writing into an important pastime and processing tool, rather than a career. Spending time in nature, exercising, meditation and aromatherapy are among some of the other practices that have become an integral part of my toolkit. I’ve noticed that all of these different rituals and practices work in symphony together to make sure I’m operating at my best. When I’m lacking in one of those practices, I definitely feel a shift in my attitude and heightened anxiety and depression. Being in a good mental health space takes maintenance, just like getting regular oil changes for your car. I’ve begun to treat my mind in that way and am constantly performing “maintenance;” and that maintenance has shown a drastic improvement in my mental health. So much so that last year, I decided to completely change my trajectory and dedicate my life to helping people heal from their mental health struggles. I’ve lived my own struggles and because of the way I’ve been able to overcome, my goal is to help others do the same and change their own lives for the better. The anxiety may never go away, but there are ways to live despite it; I hope to share that message with everyone I can.