Inspire Authentic Living | Filipina Nurse Practitioner Diaries
Hi everyone. Good morning.
Today is January 2nd, 2026, and it’s another beautiful day to be gorgeous.
This morning, my mom and my brother dropped me off at work before starting their drive back to San Diego. It was one of those quiet goodbyes—the kind that doesn’t need many words but still sits heavy in your chest. I tried to smile, tried to keep it light, but there was a softness in the moment that reminded me just how deeply connected I am to my family.
The past two weeks with them here in San Francisco have been simple, rainy, and slow. We didn’t check off tourist spots. We didn’t rush from place to place. Instead, we lived inside the ordinary—shared meals, casual conversations, laughter in between chores, and moments of comfortable silence.
And honestly, that was everything.
Living Simply, Loving Deeply
Sometimes I catch myself feeling guilty that we didn’t do more. That we didn’t explore more of the city or plan bigger outings. But the older I get, the more I realize that love isn’t measured by how busy you are—it’s measured by presence.
Being around my mom and my brother reminded me of what matters most to me. Family grounds me. Family reminds me who I am beneath all the titles, expectations, and roles I carry.
This season of my life feels less about accumulation and more about alignment. Less about proving, more about being.
The First Workday of the New Year
Today was my first shift of 2026.
Sixteen patients on the schedule. A full, busy day ahead. I was sleepy—so sleepy. It’s only the second day of January, and my body was already negotiating for extra grace. Starbucks became part of the plan, and I gave myself permission to need it.
There was something grounding about stepping back into work after the holidays. Familiar routines. Familiar faces. The quiet rhythm of patient care.
As a family nurse practitioner, I feel fortunate that I get to practice in a way that feels aligned with my values. I get to show up as myself—not just clinically competent, but emotionally present.
Holding Space for Others
One of the most meaningful parts of my day was listening.
Listening to patients share what they’re going through. Listening to stories that don’t always make it into charts or diagnoses. Listening to the unspoken weight people carry into exam rooms.
Every time a patient opens up to me, I tell them:
“Thank you for trusting me.”
Because vulnerability is not weakness—it’s clarity. It’s how healing actually begins.
We are all human before we are anything else. We all move through fear, grief, stress, and uncertainty. And sometimes, the bravest thing someone can do is say, “I’m struggling.”
What Vulnerability Has Taught Me
This lesson feels personal.
For most of my life, I kept things to myself. I learned early how to stay quiet, how to blend in, how not to take up too much space. I carried shame that wasn’t mine—about where I came from, about being different, about not fitting neatly into expectations.
Now, at 37, I’m learning how powerful it is to speak.
Sharing my experiences—especially the parts I once hid—has helped me reclaim pieces of myself I didn’t realize I had given away. I am no longer ashamed of growing up poor. I am no longer ashamed of feeling awkward or different. I am no longer ashamed of being shy.
Being shy was never a flaw.
It was protection.
And today, I choose to honor it rather than erase it.
Finding Strength in Authenticity
The more I allow myself to be exactly who I am, the more confident I feel—not in a loud or performative way, but in a grounded, quiet way. The kind of confidence that comes from self-acceptance.
These reflections—my drives home, my tired thoughts, my Waymo Diaries—have become mirrors. They show me how far I’ve come. They remind me that my story holds value simply because it is real.
Sometimes I still question myself:
Am I sharing too much?
Am I being too open?
But I’m learning to trust that authenticity will always find the people it’s meant to reach.
Trusting the Process
Choosing to live honestly means choosing uncertainty. It means letting go of control and trusting that what’s meant for me will arrive in its own time.
I’m trusting myself more now.
I’m trusting the universe.
I’m trusting that redirection is not rejection.
And that trust feels lighter.
Ending the Day
By the time I was heading home, it was already dark. San Francisco looked different—wet streets reflecting city lights, a quiet calm settling in. I was exhausted, but my heart felt full.
Today was busy.
Today was emotional.
Today was real.
And still—
It was another beautiful day to be gorgeous.
Thank you for being here.
Thank you for listening.
Thank you for allowing me to share my truth.
If you’re reading this, I hope you give yourself permission to live gently. To honor who you are. To trust your voice.
With love,
Jasmine
Sharing authenticity, presence, and healing—one ordinary day at a time.
Day in the life of a Filipina Nurse Practitioner 
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