Most of my oldest friends are people I met because we shared the same scholarship grant in college. We were the poor kids bound by not just our backgrounds, but by a shared, unspoken hunger to rise above them. We were handed nothing—no comfortable, stable homes, no college insurance plans, no savings—but instead, born to carry emotional debt, financial strain, and a handful of trauma.
We were wired for survival, trained to live on meager resources. And we had outrageous dreams that perhaps someday, we’d get out of this hellhole, along with our entire families.
We were all just clueless kids. Eager to take on the world, but with no idea how.
How do we get started?
In our quiet desperation, there was nothing but the echo of our own footsteps—taking tiny, doubtful steps into the unknown.
We know we would be hustling, but we never really imagined the amount of exhaustion that would come along with it.
How do we keep going?
In April, I had a conversation with my friend that never left my mind.
She’s there now—right where she always wanted to be. In a place she never thought she’d get to see. What was once a dream is now her reality.
But few people get to see the cost of getting there.
Before the dream could even happen, there was a battlefield she had to survive: the fear, the doubt, the guilt. And just when she thought she had made it, she realized that it was only just another war about to begin.
“I need to stay alive. I need to take care of me, but I’m way too occupied taking care of others. I have to keep going, keep fighting. But I don’t want to be tired forever. Please let me have some rest.”
Like her, most of my peers eventually found their way out. We may not have fully achieved our outrageous dreams yet, but we’re no longer where we started. We’ve built better lives, not just for ourselves, but for our families, too.
We’re finally earning enough to breathe a little easier. But with it, still comes a quiet kind of exhaustion.
How do we get to experience joy without the image of a struggling family or community at the back of our minds? When do we get to be fully present in a moment, unburdened by the passage of time?
When do we get to pause?
Sometimes, you sit in a pretty café, people-watching, and suddenly remember: “I just bought this cup of coffee with guilt stirred in.”
Somehow, anything done for others feels purposeful and noble, even. But when it’s for ourselves, it just feels off… indulgent.
Life isn’t fair, and maybe it never will be. But somehow, despite all the struggles, we didn’t fold. And for that alone, we deserve to long for rest.
We work ourselves to the bone for every single penny. We fly a thousand miles away from our families just to be able to provide better for them. We give up peaceful nights for long hours of work, just to earn a little bit more.
So here’s to the warriors,
to the hustlers and brave sisters.
To you: the single mom, the breadwinner, the OFW.
To the loving souls who never complain.
You fantasize about that day.
The day you wake up to rain tapping on the roof, and you can just stay in and keep warm. When you enjoy the slow morning with the aroma of brewing coffee slowly filling in your room. When you get to sit by the window, book in hand, pajamas still on, socks cozy on your feet.
The day you finally buy the ridiculously overpriced phone you’ve been eyeing for years. And you get to enjoy it taking photos of just about everything—of every dog you meet on the street. Of every budding flower you pass. Of yourself, every day, even if no one ever sees them.
The day you climb into the softest bed you’ve ever had, surrounded by a thousand pillows. With the soft, gentle scent from a fancy candle you randomly bought on your way home. And a window open to a moonlight that promises rest, and the quiet hope of a beautiful tomorrow. I pray that one day, you find rest that doesn’t feel like rebellion. A time that is truly yours.
Just yours.
You won’t be tired forever. You don’t have to stay worn out.
One day, you’ll have the version of life you have always dreamed of— a life where you finally get to breathe. And when that day comes, I hope you don’t question it. You’ve earned every second of it.
“Rested, we are ready for the world but not held hostage by it; rested, we care again for the right things and the right people in the right way. In rest we re-establish the goals that make us more generous, more courageous, more of an invitation, someone we want to remember, and someone others would want to remember too.” - David Whyte
One take away for me is the reminder that we are not alone. To the extent we are willing to express and share our fears (in writing, as you have done; in conversations with good friends; or other means), it is helpful to our psyche. I think bottling it up is not generally healthy. We need an outlet and, ideally, a healthy one
Compelling piece. I have sent you a DM with more details