As I discovered a new passion which was fitness and running, I also became more independent and brave to do things on my own. Like a new born thrown into the ocean to learn how to swim, that’s how life unfolded itself. I had my angels on earth guiding me. One by one they let me go into the deep waters of life. I had to drown and struggle, at first. Next I learned how to paddle and breathe, swimming gracefully against the current like a precious koi.
In the 80’s our stores were making a lot of money. My parents could hire help, like drivers, cooks and nannies for us. Like a normal child, I yearned for a nurturing mother. In the Filipino language, a nanny is called a “Yaya”. My “Yaya” of 30 years, didn’t marry, did not graduate from school and did not have children of her own. To her, my sister and I were her children.
My yaya is the most selfless person I know. Whenever I got sick or when I broke my arm, she was the first one I asked for. Her love was unconditional. There were times I would say the meanest things that would frustrate her, but she would always defend me and tell people how much she loved taking care of my sister and I. Everyone knew she was part of the family.
Her loyalty to my family was unwavering. I said to myself, “When I grow up and have my own kids my yaya will be there, just like how she was for us.” It was painful for me when she told me she wanted to retire and go back to the province. Back then I did not understand. I was selfish and I was manipulating her to stay. I was not ready. “You will not have anything to do there! What about us? Don’t you feel anything?”. I never begged and cried so hard in my entire life. So she stayed as long as she could. It gave me time to be strong and process that she was getting old. She did not want to be told what to do anymore. She wanted to live simply in her own home. It took me 3 years to accept it. I was just thinking about myself, and yet here she is, still selfless by leaving. She and I knew that we couldn’t afford to keep her around.
After her retirement, I knew that life in the Philippines was truly difficult. It was only easy if you have a stable business. I knew that I cannot be idle. I cannot depend on the fact that I would just inherit this business and hope and pray that things will get better.
In our culture, the eldest child is responsible to carry out expectations to keep your family’s legacy alive. Who wants to be disowned anyway? Even though I was rebellious, I was fortunate to be able to graduate from prestigious institutions. Truthfully, I am amazed with how I graduated with all the peer pressure college parties and bad academic records that I had in that time. An obedient daughter will learn how to speak English, will finish college, and will be the future of the company.
Ironically, I did not have any direction. People say I don’t need to worry because my future is secured. All that my family has worked hard for was for us. I made it a point that I found a way around not repressing my ambitions completely. I convinced my grandfather that doing two more years of studying Fashion will let me grow his empire even more. Despite hearing him say, “I only finished third grade, and look what I have built for all of you? and you need two more years?”.
In design school, I met my two fabulous mentors Sir Gerry and Sir Alcs. They were well known gay fashion designers in the Philippine industry. For two years, I spent almost every day with them. Shadowing them in their work. Following them around. Sir Alcs and I would wear matching nail polish and hit the same spin classes. I would sponsor Sir Gerry’s shows and he would visit me in my shop from time to time.
My mother’s absence was much more bare-able. I am grateful for Sir Gerry and Sir Alcs. They instructed me like protégé but cared me as if I was their own daughter. They introduced me to the realities of the world of fashion and at the same time they protected me from it. I looked up to them and loved them.
It was hard to say goodbye when they both passed away, a year apart from each other. Gerry had a sudden stroke, just before we visited Alcs deteriorating in the Intensive Care Unit. After Alcs’ leg was amputated, above the knee, he did not want to live anymore. This broke my heart. It made me wonder if Manila was the place for me. It reminded me of so much pain.
Sari was the CEO of the best Fashion Magazine of the country. The first time I met her was when I auditioned for Project Runway Philippines. She was one of the judges. Seeing her in shows and parties, I thought to myself she was just going to be one of those people I would watch from a far.
Manila is so small. In a year or two we ended up hanging out with the same group of friends. Our intimate group met almost every weekend in each-others’ homes. I was the youngest and the age difference didn’t matter to any of us. They all liked me being around. They joked about how nice it was to bring down the average number of all our ages. It was an unusual bunch. We were all so different. We loved the company and hosting dinners became “our thing”. It’s those type of group of friends, you can always come back to. I matured so much spending time with them.
One of the worst years of my life, was when we had to downsize a big chunk of our shoe business. We had intense financial woes. Things were getting harder and harder. I had an attachment to one of my stores I handled over the years. We had to make the difficult decision to cut our losses and close the shop. I was young and filled with ideas that needed to come into fruition. I wanted so much to make a difference and make everything more efficient. Our big problem was that so many family members were taking part in the company. Everything got very personal. It was depressing. I felt unappreciated, defeated and fed up. While this was happening and my yaya finally retired and I had to drop her off at the airport.
My support system was falling apart but I was a lot smarter this time around. I did not downward spiral and go back to my addictions and lash out heavily. Yes, I was broken inside, but I was seasoned enough to know my responsibilities. On the surface, I was able to keep it together but was a terrible with the relationships I had with people. I was detached and empty. I didn’t mean to take it out on them but I did. All I had was my running and fashion.
I did my own secret training in the morning. After work I ran and trained some more at night to keep my mind off the truth. My mom could not comprehend this “jogging obsession”. I was a stubborn athlete. I was turning into one of those fake people I was friends with at parties. I was a social butterfly that was eternally on the guest list, had front row seats in shows, I had VIP, or should I say VVIP tables, tickets or back stage passes, yet I was so unhappy.
To survive Manila, you need to know people. I started reaping the benefits of attending the country’s “cream of the crop schools”. As a designer, my work started to be recognized. I was not one of the best one’s out there, (heck I didn’t even get in Project Runway when Sari was in the panel) but I consistently and shamelessly self-promoted whenever I could. It was tiring and I had to do it. I was desperate for a distraction from thinking about how sad I am. To me, that little shallow acknowledgement was enough to keep me going. Looking back, it was a little pathetic.
Sari knows fashion like the back of her hand. She identified right away why I was transforming into this robot. Sari saw ME, and knew how heal me. I can’t quite put it in words. She cried with me and in that moment, I was moved. It’s as if she heard my cry for help even before I broke down. That connection with her was indescribable. I have been looking for this connection for so long but did not even know what it was, really.
It took some time. Day by day she put me back together. I had a new set of eyes seeing the world and people around me. I stopped hanging out with my old friends. To them I probably seemed like I was turning into a hermit or a hibernating bear. I had to shed all the masks I wore to impress an audience. I was delusional to even think I had an audience. I was not scared anymore, it was wonderful. From isolation, I started to feel the sadness less and less and instead I was whole. Strong on my own. I loved asking for a table for one at restaurants. I spent Saturday nights running for hours in places nobody else knew. I think people wondered what Sari was doing seeing a friend like me all the time, those people included my own family and friends.
The last time I cried with her was when our friends planned a dinner at her oriental stylish home mostly made up of large windows and glass. Sari was Chinese so she Feng Sui her 180 degree balcony on one of the most expensive apartments in Manila. The place would have light coming in from everywhere. She had the prettiest sunsets in the city. We loved watching those perfect sunsets for early dinner. She waited for the right time to get us together after the sunset.
Being the strong woman that she is she remained composed telling us she was battling cancer. I was speechless and doing this stupid ugly cry thing I do whenever I hear bad news. Sari’s light, love and wisdom shinned through even when she was sick, even when we watched her CNN Philippines interview together about her cancer, and even when she talked about losing her hair. Her words kept me in check wherever I travelled in search of finding my path in life and contentment.
The moment I found out of her passing, I told myself I would follow what she told me that last time I saw her. She told me to leave a toxic relationship. A relationship that was based on fear, bribes, bitterness and an imbalance of love and power. It’s sad that it had to take the mourning of her death for me to finally listen to her. My life has been more peaceful thanks to Sari’s last advice.
Despite having a childhood where I constantly yearned for tenderness, I have priceless and painful memories of losing my four mothers. Now that it’s my turn. I have a calling inside me that one day will be a mother myself. I know I would not be the perfect mom but I will have it in me to be, by their side, nurturing and loving them. I wouldn’t have it any other way. No yaya, no other mother figures but me.
I miss my yaya, my two mentors and my dearest Sari dearly but when they had to go, it woke me. I saw every goodbye as a way to be resilient. Thanks for the truths about life and the lessons that will guide me always.
She Walks Over Water 