Day in the life of a Filipina Nurse Practitioner

December 20, 2025

Good morning.
Happy Saturday.

Today feels slow—and I’m learning not to rush that feeling away.

My mom and my brother are driving up from San Diego, and for now, I’m in this quiet in-between space. Alone, but not lonely. The kind of alone that feels intentional. I have RuPaul’s Drag Race Down Under playing in the background, rain tapping softly outside, and my thoughts gently asking to be heard.

It’s December 20th. Five days until Christmas.

This will be the first Christmas my mom and brother will spend with me here in San Francisco. That still feels surreal to say out loud. For so many years, the holidays passed while I was working—long shifts, scrubs on, caring for everyone else. As an ICU nurse, and as a Filipina nurse, holidays were rarely mine.

This year is different.

Even though I’ll still be working most of this week, my family chose to come to me. That effort alone feels like love.

A New Kind of Holiday

I’ve spent holidays by myself.
I’ve spent holidays with chosen family.
And now, I’m entering a season where my blessed family—my mom, my brother, my partner—are all here in the same space.

It’s quieter than I imagined. Softer. And maybe that’s exactly what I need.

Matthew is staying here too. France can wait. Flights are expensive, yes—but more than that, presence matters right now. Being rooted matters.

I want to show my mom the city lights, the decorations, the parts of San Francisco I haven’t even had time to see myself. Work has consumed so much of my energy. And lately, I’ve been asking myself honestly:

What am I prioritizing?
And what do I want to prioritize instead?

The answer keeps coming back to the same thing: time, peace, family.

Choosing Peace on Purpose

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately—more gently than before.

I’m choosing peace over worry.
Calm over anxiety.
Reflection over survival mode.

Solitude has been healing in ways I didn’t expect. I’m not constantly bracing for the next thing anymore. I’m letting moments arrive as they are. Even now, as I talk through my thoughts, it doesn’t feel chaotic—it feels grounding.

That feels like growth.

Keeping Doors Open

I have an interview coming up on Tuesday for a telehealth nurse practitioner position. I’m going through with it—not because I’m unhappy where I am, but because I’m learning that curiosity doesn’t mean disloyalty.

What stood out to me most was this: they waited for me. They held onto my résumé until I reached two years of experience. I didn’t even have to reapply.

That tells me something.

I want to be clear—because clarity matters to me—I love my current job. I love my coworkers. I love the patients I serve in primary care and internal medicine. There is meaning here.

But I’m also listening when the universe gently taps me on the shoulder and says, “Just take a look.”

Old Dreams, Still Alive

I’ve been putting my dreams back into the world lately.

More time with my mom.
Going home to the Philippines.
Farming.
Maybe owning a coffee shop someday.

I remember a date years ago when I was asked what my ideal future looked like. Without hesitation, I said I wanted to own a coffee shop. I even had a name for it—Heavenly Cupcakes. I laugh at myself now, but there’s something tender about remembering who I was back then.

Some dreams don’t disappear. They just wait for us to be ready.

In February, I’m going back to the Philippines. I asked for four weeks off—and it was approved. I’ll book the flights while my mom is here. That feels like alignment.

Grief Lives in the Body

I’ve gained weight. I see it. I feel it. I notice it in my videos.

Part of me criticizes myself. Another part understands: grief doesn’t only live in the heart. It lives in the body, too.

I lost a friend.
I’m carrying that loss quietly.
And sometimes I cope in ways that aren’t perfect.

But I’m aware. And awareness is where compassion begins.

Boundaries, Even When They’re Messy

Last night, Matthew’s friend stayed over. I didn’t introduce myself. I didn’t feel confident enough. I felt bad about it—but I’m also learning that boundaries don’t have to be perfect to be valid.

I’m shy. I’m introverted. I open up slowly.

People often misunderstand that about me.

Letting Go with Grace

I saw something recently that reminded me of my ex. He didn’t look happy—to me. But maybe that’s just my perspective.

I genuinely wish him happiness. I always have.

Some people misunderstand us. Some stories don’t end the way we hoped. And sometimes, love lingers—not as a wound, but as a memory we’re still learning how to hold.

For Now, This Is Enough

Soon, my mom and brother will arrive. The apartment is ready. The bed is made. Our little dog is waiting. The space will fill with laughter, food, stories, and familiar voices.

This season doesn’t need to be loud to be meaningful.

For now, I’m letting life arrive—one quiet Saturday at a time.

Thank you for being here with me.