Day in the life of a Filipina Nurse Practitioner

Choosing Myself & Choosing Peace | Healthcare Burnout, Gratitude & a Much-Needed Reset

Good morning.

Today is January 29th, 2026, and it’s another beautiful day to be gorgeous.

I’m writing this in the quiet space between exhaustion and gratitude. The kind of space where your body feels heavy, your heart feels full, and your mind is trying to make sense of everything it’s been carrying. The kind of space where you realize that you’ve been strong for a very long time—and that strength, while beautiful, still needs rest.

Choosing Myself, Choosing Peace

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about choosing myself. Choosing peace. Choosing softness without guilt.

For so many years, my focus was survival. Then it became ambition. Then it became purpose. I poured everything into building a life rooted in stability, impact, and service. I wanted a career that mattered. I wanted to show up for my community. I wanted to be someone people could trust when they were at their most vulnerable.

And somewhere along the way, I did it.

I reached the place I once prayed for.

I’m a Nurse Practitioner doing meaningful work. I listen. I see. I advocate. I sit with patients in moments that are raw and real and often unspoken. I hold space for stories that don’t always have words. And every once in a while, there’s a moment so human, so sacred, that it reminds me exactly why I chose this path.

The Sacred Moments That Remind Me Why

Yesterday, I shared one of those moments with a patient.

We didn’t have the same life story, but we shared something deeper—a lived experience that doesn’t need explanation. There was an understanding between us. A recognition. We paused together. Sat in silence together. Felt the weight of what had been carried.

I offered a hug. It was accepted. We were both tearful.

And in that moment, I remembered that healthcare isn’t just about diagnoses, plans, and documentation. It’s about presence. It’s about being human with another human. It’s about letting someone know they’re not alone, even if only for a few minutes in an exam room.

That is the dream. That has always been my why.

When Burnout Whispers

But here’s the part we don’t talk about enough.

You can love your work. You can be good at it. You can feel affirmed, appreciated, and aligned—and still be tired. Still be anxious. Still feel the quiet whisper of burnout.

Burnout doesn’t always scream. Sometimes it whispers.

It shows up in the long days. The skipped lunches. The emotional labor no one sees. The moments where you replay conversations in your head, wondering if you could have done more—even when you already gave everything you had.

Today was one of those days.

I can’t share details. And honestly, I don’t need to. Just know this: being a healthcare provider is hard. Even when you do your best. Even when patients are grateful. Even when you care deeply.

You cannot please everyone. And learning that—truly learning it—has been one of the hardest lessons of my career.

There are days when I question myself. When I wonder if I’m in the right place. And then there are days when a patient looks at me with relief, trust, or gratitude, and I know without a doubt that I am exactly where I’m meant to be.

Both can exist.

Representation, Trust, and Being Seen

I work in a space where people like me are not always visible. A Filipina provider with lived experience. Someone who understands what it means to navigate systems that weren’t built with you in mind. I take pride in that—not out of ego, but out of representation.

When I tell my patients that I receive my own care where I work, it matters. When I tell them I trust my colleagues, it matters. It shows them that I believe in the values of the space I’m in. That I feel safe being my authentic self. That I am seen, heard, and affirmed—not just as a provider, but as a person.

And that is the kind of space I want to create for my patients.

A space where they feel reassured. Where they feel respected. Where they feel held.

Choosing Rest Without Guilt

As I prepare to leave for a one-month healing journey to the Philippines, I’m realizing how much I need this pause. My schedule has been full—patients wanting to see me before I leave—and while that is humbling, it’s also a reminder that I’ve been running on empty.

This break is not a luxury.

It is necessary.

I’ve been anxious lately. Not because I don’t love what I do—but because caring deeply comes at a cost. And I’m learning that rest is not something you earn after burnout. It’s something you choose before it consumes you.

I’m choosing rest.

I’m choosing to slow down. To show gratitude for how far I’ve come. To remind myself that not knowing everything doesn’t make me weak—it makes me human.

Learning, Growing, Becoming

Saying “I don’t know” has become an act of courage.

Because when you say it, you ask questions. You seek help. You learn. You grow.

And growth doesn’t stop just because you’ve arrived at a destination.

I am enough—even on the days I doubt myself.

I am doing my best—even when it doesn’t feel perfect.

I am allowed to take a break—even when the world keeps spinning.

A Gentle Reminder for the Tired Hearts

If you’re reading this and you’re tired—especially if you’re in healthcare—please hear me when I say this: your work matters. Your presence matters. And you deserve care, too.

Choose yourself.
Choose peace.
Choose rest without guilt.

The work will still be there when you return. But you need to be whole enough to continue.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for witnessing this journey. Thank you for choosing to live authentically alongside me.

It’s a beautiful day to be gorgeous.
Always.